Cockroaches, Whine, and Cheese

My week in pictures:

and because you can't have whine without cheese

I'm ready for a new week

Surviving the Storm

For weeks I have felt it coming. I could feel it in my bones. A storm was brewing and a big one at that. Even though I tried to prepare for it, even though I did my best to stand against it, I crumbled. It picked me up and tossed me about. Ripped at me. Crawled inside of me and tore me open. Then when it was through, when it had satisfied its craving, it threw me aside like unwanted trash.

Discarded by the side of the road. Frightened and alone, I lay there. Wondering if someone would come along and pick me up or if I would lie there for eternity. Forgotten.

Unwanted.

So there I lay. Exposed. Vulnerable and scared. Until from nowhere, she appeared. Beautiful and strong. Radiant and alive. She kneeled down beside me and for a moments just stared. I was afraid she was going to pass me by. I was certain that she would not want me. No one wants me. I am unwantable. Then before I realized what was happening she scooped me up and placed me in her pocket.

Safe.

And there I remain. No longer discarded. No longer abandoned. Protected in a pocket. I snuggle up and sleep.

Preserve the SELF At All Costs

 

 

Smash365: Self-Protection

Jul 21, 2011 by rus vanwestervelt

Self-protection is our strongest reaction pattern — it seems to be programmed into every cell of a living being in order to maintain, defend, and perpetuate itself. It is the essence of the life program and is also functioning within our elaborate me-structure. The entire me-structure demands to be protected and perpetuated as though it were a living being. The moment somebody says something critical about me, the instant reflex of preservation, defense, and aggression springs into action. ~Toni Packer, The Wonder of Presence

When we are aware of this instant reflex, we are better able to slow down or halt the defensive measures we take for self-protection. Spend some time being aware of your feelings and your reactions to certain situations, personal or otherwise. When you are aware of your inner reactions, how does your “public” response change? What if you prepared yourself before probable confrontational situations. What would those preparations look like, and how might that bring about a different outcome?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I learned at a very young age that either I took care of me or I would be food for the carnivores. My fight or flight response is super sensitive and kicks in without me even being aware of it at times. While I am accutely aware of preserving my self, I am extremely unselfish. I do not take more than is my fair share and in most cases, I actually take a lot less. However, I give multitudes more than I take. Having said that though, I am always aware that if I do not look out for my self then no one will. I must always be on guard. Always in protective mode. Always on the look out for dangers to the self. The self must be protected, guarded at all costs.

This feeling of self preservation keeps me at arm's length from people. I cannot fully trust anyone because of the fear they may harm the self. I cannot allow anyone to get close because if I do then they may hurt the self. They may take from the self leaving it with nothing and alone. Scared. Frightened. Protect the self at all costs.

This is my mantra. My manifesto. My singular purpose in life. Simply to survive. Not live. Not even exist. Just survive. At times I feel like I am in a war zone. Constantly fighting an unseen, unknown enemy. Anyone and everyone could potentially be a danger. Even those I do allow close to me, there are times where I see their words and I wonder "is there some hidden threat behind what they are saying"? I will distance myself from them until I am certain that the threat  to the self has passed.

This type of survival is exhausting. It is why I prefer being alone. When I am alone I don't have to worry about hidden dangers. I don't have to worry about people taking from me. Leaving me with nothing. Abandoning me. I don't have to fight for basic necessities.

I do this. I hide food. I gather things and save them. Just in case. In case I have no food. In case I have no shelter. Just in case. I have done this for as long as I can remember because since I was little my life has always been uncertain. I never knew where I would be living the next day. If I would have a place to live. From as far back as I can remember these fears have been with me and the more my illness grows, the more they grow. There are times where I am not hungry but if I am served food I will eat it. Every last bite. Until I am about to vomit. Until I can feel it sitting in my throat simply because it may be the last time I eat. I don't know when or if I will eat again.

Now these fears, in my current situation, are groundless. I have a home, food. I don't need to worry about these things. We don't have much, but we have. We always manage. There is always something. Even if it's a little, but I cannot let go of this preservation of self. Sometimes when I am eating even though I am not hungry and these thoughts are rolling through my mind, I realize how ridiculous and irrational it is, but even though I recognize the irrationality of it. I cannot stop myself. Just in case.

Preservation of self at all costs. Even from the imaginary ones.

One Roof Different Worlds

The events of the last 72 hrs have been turbulent to say the least. Not on the outside but on my inside. On my outside, I have smiled, laughed, joked, and nearly bitten my tongue in half. On my inside,  a volcano has been erupting, lava spewing in all directions, a crazed missing link deseparately searching for a way out of its cage. It's been a very long 72 hrs.

But one of the things that I came to realize once I stopped for a few moments and simply breathed is that while we all may share the same roof over our heads we are from very different planets. I have watched with disgust as the people around me complained about things which they had no right to complain about and silently I seethed at them. In my mind, I plotted their deaths. Threw unseen daggers and filled their glasses with poisonous venom.

I came to realize one very important thing. Non crazy people disgust me. They are vindictive, unappreciative, greedy, selfish, and jealous. At least the ones I know are. While I am certain there are some crazies out there who are just like them probably even worse, I have not come across them. I don't know if it's the fact that we live inside of the chaos and therefore are more willing to lend a helping hand, a comforting word to someone who is hurting or in need. Or maybe it's because our worlds are so turbulent that whenever someone took a moment to offer a word of kindness to us it was worth more than gold and we want to give that to someone else.

I truly don't know, but what I do know is that I have been disgusted by these people. A resentment is building inside of me. I fear that there will come a day when I can no longer contain it and it will erupt. When it does, there will be casualties. I fear that I will be amongst them.

For all of the hardships, difficulties, and loss I have faced, in some ways I am glad I am bipolar. If being bipolar is what makes me offer kindness to a stranger, even if the only thing I have to give is my ear to listen, then I would gladly be bipolar instead of being the selfish vindictive non crazy that I seem to be surrounded by.

Poison Ivy

When I was about 10 or 11, I went to visit my mum. It had been months since I had seen and I hated visiting her but since it was summer I got out voted by the adults who felt that I needed to spend time with her. She lived with her boyfriend who was also a drug dealing gun trafficker. Real upstanding role model. He had a son from a previous relationship who was about two years older than me. We went to the same school but since he was two grades ahead of me we didn't hang out much. Merely smiled and said hi if we happened to pass each other in the halls. Neither of us really wanted to have to explain to our friends how we knew each other. It was an unspoken understanding and we both kept our end of the deal.

However that summer we both were there and attempting to make the best of it. One Saturday night our parents (my mum his dad) went out leaving the two of us alone. There was no A/C in the trailer so we were sitting on the front porch. The porch light glowed behind us as we chatted about school, parents, and not wanting to be there. Suddenly a car sped past. It was a black thunderbird. It didn't go far before it stopped. We could see the red of its brake lights. I remember Junior saying, "Wonder who that is" as the car slowly reversed. It stopped right in front of the house. It seemed like eternity but I am certain only seconds passed as we sat on the porch squinting through the darkness at the figures huddled in the black thunderbird.

That was when three figures exploded from the car and we were bombarded with loud bangs, but mostly I just remember the ping ping sound the bullets made as they ripped through the front of the trailer. I was frozen in place. Fear and the ping ping sound would not allow me to leave that spot.

I most likely would have died that night if Junior hadn't been there. I remember him grabbing my hand and screaming "Run". At his command, my feet unfroze and we ran. Through the night, through the darkness behind the trailer, through the woods, through the fields of corn, through the poison ivy and down a sloping hill. The entire time we could still hear the ping pinging of the trailer and voices coming closer so we ran.

I don't know how long we ran, but suddenly Junior stopped. I slammed into him and he dragged me down behind a tree. He placed his finger upon my lips and pulled me close to him. There under the moon behind a tree surrounded by weeds and creatures of the night we sat and waited.

Eventually the pinging stopped. We heard tires squeal, loud voices, and after what was probably only minutes the bouncing beams of flashlights slicing through the night. We didn't move. I remember my teeth chattering as sweat poured down my face. Junior held me tighter. The bouncing lights danced on all sides of us. We didn't breathe. Finally a voice called out, "Junior, it's your dad. Where are you guys? Are you ok? Come out. They are gone. It's ok now."

Junior was skeptical. I remember his hot breath against my ear as his lips whispered "stay here don't move I'll be right back" and he disappeared into the night. He backtracked, up the hill, behind the bouncing lights, behind the voices, behind me. After he gone as far as he dared go, he finally stepped out into the night. I prayed he would come back for me. The bouncing lights fell upon his face and it was his dad, his uncle, and a friend of theirs. His dad hugged him, asked if I was ok. Junior said "Yes one sec I'll go get her" and he walked to our hiding place and helped me out. I remember holding his hand so tightly but he didn't complain.

My body was almost convulsing I was shaking so hard. His hand in mine and his arm around my shoulder we walked back to the trailer. Back to the ping pinging. As soon as we reached there, I phoned my gran. It would be a year before I visited my mum again. That would a decision I would also deeply regret.

Take the Dates NOW

Gooey lumps of goodness

Seriously get them away from me before I become a date. I have eaten more in the last two days than I have in the last two months and if someone doesn't take this damn box of dates away I am going to eat every last one of them so help me I swear I will.

 I know those of you living in US/UK are saying ewwww no thanks because you are stuck eating those crappy turds they call dates. Come visit me and I will show you what a true date tastes like. It's almost as good as chocolate. Almost.

Oh I almost forgot to mention:

He's baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!

Actually Jigger got back Saturday morning and it's been a hectic two days. I am hoping fingers and eyes crossed my SIL leaves Monday and everyone stops coming. The steady flow was just a mere trickle by Sunday afternoon so I am hoping hoping hoping it's over. Things can calm down. He and I can have a conversation that lasts for more than two minutes without someone msging, calling, and/or knocking on our door. There are moments when I just want to throw all of the gifts out the front door and say "have at it don't bother us take what you want" but that's not how it's done. I smile and pretend. Like always. Tradition first.

Hopefully I get my computer back tomorrow. Jigger had them do a total overhaul so it is getting new innards and some clothes as well. Super excited about that. I realize I am using his computer but it's not the same. It's not MINE. I need to use MINE because it's MINE. I have a thing with my things. No one but me touches them and I don't use other people's. It freaks me out. I literally will have a full blown panic attack if you touch my stuff. It's not even like my stuff is fancy or expensive or irreplaceable. It's just MINE and you can't touch it. There is no logical rational explanation behind this. It is what it is. So don't touch my stuff.

So maybe I'll be less whiney than I have been for the last two months, but most likely not. This is my place to whine. Not gain followers, be snarky or popular. It's my space to be the weak, whiney, nagging person that I am not in real life. In real life, I suck it up and push ahead. I sacrifice everything without complaint. I don't have to be asked. I just do. As much as I can. However all of that frustrations and resentments builds inside and if I don't let it out somewhere, then it comes out in unhealthy ways like me screaming at Jigger or sliding a cool blade which btw I have NOT done in a few months so I am super happy about that.

Happy dance. 

I have had the urge but I haven't given in. Sometimes when we are lying down Jigger traces the scars with his finger. I know it makes him sad to see them, but I always feel calm looking at them. It's not something that I can explain. It just is what it is.  

I have been exercising everyday except the last two and once I get my computer back I plan on starting again. I have been doing ZUMBA and it nearly kicks my ass, but I love it. It's easy for me to do especially with my back and leg being stupid. When I was in the states I had a treadmill which I miss terribly. It was awesome. I walked for miles and moons on that thing. That's what I have been up to the last few days. Don't worry we'll return to your regularly scheduled insanity shortly.

Maters, Taters, Beans, and Greens

What I wouldn't give for a big ripe juicy tomato and mayo sandwich right now. Yum. A little salt n pepper sprinkled on top. On white bread. The only time I get racist is when it comes to sandwich bread. Only white will do. Must be why I never date white guys. Evens things out.

Or some waffle house hashbrowns scattered, smothered, and covered. Don't act like you don't know what that means.

However, this is what we'll be having though.

It is one of my favorite meals though so I can't complain too much, but still there's nothing like a mater mayo sandwich. We're going to have a full house this weekend. Again. I don't like people. I might have mentioned that a time or thousand before. But it's just a few more days. By Monday fingers and eyes crossed they should all be gone. Things will be quiet or at least quieter. We'll also be having a bunch of these. That one is my favorite

I can only eat about one unless I want to have the shakes like I am having DT's or something. It's basically fried donut hole soaked overnight in a sugar syrup. Although it's so damn good there are times I am willing to risk the sugar coma just to eat a whole box of them. In case it's not obvious I am just trying to pass the time and make you hungry. Is it working?  



Any Moment Now

The whirling, twirling, spinning vortex will spin into nothingness

The rumbling, moving earth will break into a tiny pebble
The ocean wet with life will become little more than a trickle

Any moment now....

The abyss will close and the inky blackness of its cloak will wrap tightly around me
The raging turbulence will become a lullaby soothing the crying infant

The roaring thunder will be silenced

too afraid to speak

too afraid to break the nothingness of what surrounds him

too afraid of shattering the protective arc that has covered its roar

Any moment now...

So in the abyss I wait

Wait for that moment

Unknowing when it will come but certain of its coming

Unknowing if it will be this one or that

Watching, waiting, patiently silent

As each moment passes by

Smiles and gently cradles me

Helping to ease that which is growing

Helping to calm the savage beast

Helping to silence the raging fire

Any moment now....

Life will begin

Then the Universe Laughed

You know the other day how I wrote about being proud of handling, coping, and duct taping. Well apparently the universe would have no such thing and set about to literally break me in half. It almost did. 

It's been 25 days since Jigger left. 25 days since I had a shoulder to cry on. A warm body beside me to let me know the world is not cold. A calming voice to soothe the raging volcano that simmers constantly inside of me. 25 days since I didn't shake. 25 days of uncertainty. 

It might not seem like much but it's a very long time. 

So the other day when I said I was coping. Barely but coping, the universe apparently having nothing better to do and no evil villain to chase set about making me eat a little crowpie. And yesterday I broke. 

During the last 25 days, I have managed a flooded house, having my two Sil's and their 4 children here, disconnected internet, a twice broken computer that died on the second go round, a computer that is my lifeline to the world, a computer that keeps me on the edge of sanity, a computer that is my freedom, and it died, but I didn't break. I duct taped instead. I configured my husband's computer to mine and used my husband's instead. I didn't break, but I was barely holding on. 

Then day before yesterday I went to get a drink of water. I was thirsty I mean after all it was 120 degrees. That makes me thirsty. Except the water wasn't cold. It was lukewarm. I passed it off on not being in the fridge long enough and went to bed. But when I woke up the water was completely hot and the fan was off. You remember the fan? The fan that sits behind the fridge to keep it cool so that our stuff is cold. Yeah that fan it was off. That's when I broke. 

32 days ago we spent a month's salary repairing that fridge. A month's salary that we didn't have. A month's salary that we got by selling things. Things like room air coolers that make the air feel slightly less like it came from hell. But fridges are more important than not sweating. 

So upon the fan off and the water hot, I broke. I had a full on panic attack.There were tears. Lots of tears. And snot. Lots of snot. I become a snot factory when I cry. It pisses me off. Which makes me cry more which makes more snot which pisses me off. I hate snot. 

I couldn't eat dinner. What were we going to do? I had no idea. I couldn't keep duct taping. I can't keep carrying burden after burden after burden. I lay in the pitch black dark in my room and cried and cursed. I swore at my BIL who was sitting on his ass watching TV who had done jack shit nothing to help. Who had done absolutely nothing for me in these 25 days. Whenever I needed anything I had to call a friend of my husband's. He's a little guy. Younger than my BIL by about 4-5 yrs. Not even 21 yet. Not family. Nothing. Just a friend who worships my husband. Whatever I needed, big or small. One text to him and he was at my door within 15 mins. No grudges. No complaints. Happy that he could do something for me and all the while my BIL sat, watching TV, stomach full while mine rumbled. Not once did it cross his mind that he needed to get the fuck up and do SOMETHING. Then I cried some more and made some more snot. 

After about 8 hrs of snot making, I got up off of the floor, sent a few emails. Pretended I was chicken little and "the sky was falling". Made more snot. Then slowly I took out my duct tape and began to work. I pieced this and poked that. A plan slowly began rolling in my brain. A small plan. Was it possible? Maybe. Dunno. WTF let's try it and see.

Yep, that worked. Let's see if this piece fits here. No not really but that one does. More duct tape less snot. After about 5 hrs, I had a plan. It wasn't perfect but it would work. I could get the fridge fixed without having to sell my lifeline to the world. Without having to surrender my freedom. I felt better. Calmer. 

Then the universe threw me a curveball because fucking hell that is what the universe does. I went to give my MIL the monthly house allowance except I only gave her half. I told her that I would fix my computer and fridge and depending on how much I had left next week I would give her some more. 

She didn't complain. She was helpful. And pissed. Pissed at my BIL who lay sleeping a few feet away. Pissed that prices of everything have doubled AGAIN from last month. Pissed that only I seem to try and her son who is responsible sits there and does fuck all. I was shocked, but decided to see how far I could go with this. 

She wanted him to bring the fridge repairman. You know the one we paid 32 days ago a month's salary. She said she wasn't paying him a damn dime. He would fix it but she couldn't get him to come because my BIL wouldn't get off his ass. She asked me to ask my lil guy if he would bring the fridge repairman. It was a bit of abuse of my position but fuck I needed a drink of something cooler than brimstone so I agreed to the evil deed. A few hours later I msged him, 15 mins he was at my door. Fridge was duct taped. 

I sit here writing this post with a cold glass of water sweating by my side. It's not permanently fixed but when my husband comes he can make the final adjustments. It didn't cost me a month's salary. I still have both my kidneys. At least until the next crisis then who knows.

How much do you think I could get on craigslist for a kidney? I need to keep my options open.

Am, Is, Was, Were Bipolar

Last week I read a post over at Ask a Bipolar. They said they were receiving emails that the title of their blog was "offensive" so they asked if people thought it should be changed. I often am NOT politically correct. I find whenever the PC brigade are around common sense seems to go out the window so I tend to do what makes sense not what is necessarily PC. It seems the saying "I am bipolar" is offensive to them. Now this has stuck in my brain for almost a week now. I don't understand what is so offensive about it because hello I am bipolar. What am I suppose to say? I am crazy. I mean I am but that is beside the point. 

I find that people tend to be too sensitive about things. They jump on ill formed band wagons because they want the glory of "making  a difference" and "standing up for a cause" but they don't really care if they make a difference or actually have a cause. 

A title doesn't define who you are. I am also female, but I guarantee you if you lined up 1000 females you wouldn't find two that were identical. Well unless you put Mini Me in the line up with me then you might but we are superfabfly and you either are or you aren't. It isn't something that can be taught. 

So I don't understand what all of the hype is. If you really want to remove the stigma of bipolar, then accept it for what it is. Insanity. It comes in all shapes and sizes and all different amounts of crazy. People often comment about how self aware I am, but I think that by embracing my illness. Yes it is an illness. That I have opened a door that has been closed for years. It has allowed me to become comfortable in myself. I guess in a way I came out of the bipolar closet. I finally admitted I was different. 

 I am bipolar, but I am also strong, confident, flawed, weak, intelligent, caring, giving, loving, demanding. I am many things and bipolar is only one of them.

I define bipolar. It does not define ME.

Culmination of all Things Catastrophic

So last night as I lay on the floor staring at the ceiling through the pitch black darkness, I had an epiphany. I was thinking about the events of this week. All that happened. All that I had managed on my own. All that could have gone wrong but didn't. What may still be wrong but I am not sure of. I thought that I should write this all down each week as a way of seeing what I did right or wrong. What I could have done better or just remember what I did good. Then it hit me. Fucktard you have a blog. Oh yea I do. So I thought on Sundays I would sort of do a weekly wrap up. I don't necessarily blog about some things that are too personal or that are identity revealing but on Sundays I could still sort of throw hints and innuendos in there and it would be a way for me to look over the week, see where I still need to improve, where I am doing ok with, and sort of chart my progress through the insanity.

So this marks the first week of wrapping the crazy in pretty paper and pretending it's not dogshit. Let's see what happens:

I had a lot of issues this week. My computer decided to go batshit crazy and nearly gave me a heart attack. I am proud of myself for the way I handled it. Ordinarily I get all chicken little "the sky is falling let's head for the hills" when things go wrong. Regardless of how small or fixable things are they seem world ending to me. It's as if my world has shattered into a million pieces and I don't know how to put them back together again.

However this week, I managed to duct tape things back together. I was offered an amazing gift of friendship. Which is even more shocking to me than my not falling apart this week when everything that could go wrong did go wrong. I am truly amazed by the kindness of strangers. My view of people is very negative. I am always on the look out. Waiting for them to attack me, waiting for them to turn on me, because it always happens, but the people I have met through blogging have reminded me while I have made bad choices in the people I had around me, that not everyone is an asswipe. There are good people out there. People who would move mountains to help you, who do so much just by listening. People who are truly human.

What else happened this week? I got quite a bit of work done on my project. I am truly excited about this project. It is simply amazing. I have learned so much. I always do whenever I do these projects. I learn things that I didn't even know existed. Things I didn't even know I didn't know. It just amazes me at how much there is out there. How much we have to learn and how if we learned just a little bit then we truly could do so much more than we are doing now.

So all in all it's been a pretty good week especially compared to the week before. I was told to focus and I did. I have to remember that I need an extreme amount of focus, planning, and scheduling to keep my skin from wanting to crawl off. My gran use to say "idle hands are the devil's work" and for me an idle mind sends me to that place of unease. That place where I want to go forward in a 1000 different directions all at once but I don't want to move. I don't like that place. I do stupid things when I am in that place, but focus keeping my mind focused on one particular thing keeps me at least eased enough that I don't feel like peeling my skin off and sowing it together so that it fits better.

That's about it. It's all I remember anyways but that's not saying much. There are days I barely remember my own name. So I shall leave you with this little diddy:

Lynching Lemons

When life hands you nothing but

Lynch It

and slap the jack into it

or just cover it with this shit

or you can have both and call it a day

What My Innards Look Like

“I hate quotations. Tell me what you know.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

What message is yearning inside you?  What is something you know deep in your soul?  Don’t look for someone else to describe it.  You do it.  Write it down.  Write it as a poem, a sentence or even just a string of words.  Just make sure you get it to paper.

Through silent waters
Knee deep in mud
Struggling and straining


On and on
Never ending maze
Circle unbroken
Eternal flame

Into the vortex
Slip and slide
Forgetting tomorrow
Lost in time

Broken petals
Pierce the sky
Darkness evading
Passing by

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Getting back to some writing prompts. This is a past prompt but it's something I struggle with every single day.

“Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Mirror, mirror on the wall… find the nearest mirror. Look. Keep looking for 3 minutes. Write about what you see.

(Author: Esther Poyer)

 First let's talk about the quote itself. This speaks volumes to me. I lie to myself so much that I very rarely know the truth. I have found a sort of peace and calm within the lies that I don't want to leave them. I am now having to face some harsh realities and a part of me wants to run back to the fictitious world that I had created. A world filled with happiness and calm, a world that is slowly crumbling around me. I know it is important that I face the truth even if it is ugly, but a part of me wants to stay in the fantasy land. In the lies because there is no pain there. Even though the pain returns there are at least moments without it and to have just a moment without pain is all I really want. 

However to be honest, I could not do this. I cannot look in a mirror at myself for 3 minutes. On the very rare occasions I do look in the mirror, I do not even recognize the person standing there. It's as if I am looking at a stranger. There is such a sadness in the eyes of the person staring back at me. A sadness and an emptiness that pains me to see. 

The longer I look the uglier the reflection becomes. It morphs into this evil, repulsive creature that I don't want to believe is me, but it is what I think people see when they look at me. I just can't bear to look at myself. I see all of my flaws. All of the wrongness that is me. Even if it is a lie, I just want a few moments where I am not that broken creature staring back at me. So if I don't look, then it doesn't exist. If I pretend it's not there, then it disappears and for a few moments, I am free from the pain. Free from the past. Free from the hurt. 

In the end, that is all I really want. To be free. 


Edited to add:

I wrote the above but now having hit publish and sort of reading the quote again, I have had quite a few thoughts run through my mind, but the one that stuck out the most was the truth is not beautiful. It is a raging ugly beast that ravages everything it touches. I much prefer the "lies" of my fantasy world over the "truth" of reality.

Making My Skin Suit Fit

As my ever so lovely Sam pointed out. I need to make my skin suit fit better because right now it's itchy and crawly and I feel like I have a wedgie and basically am just uncomfortable. One thing that I have basically stopped since I got married is dance. I am extremely self concious about any type of exercise in front of people. 

Even in front of my husband. 

So while I do yoga (when he's sleeping), I have sort of slacked off the last few months. I haven't been doing yoga or any other exercise for that matter and I really think that is part of the reason I am just raging. 

Whenever I exercise it works out some of the pent up energy. It relaxes me. It helps my skin suit fit better and I think I need to somehow figure out how to make exercise/dance/yoga part of my daily routine again. 

When I lived alone I use to dance for about two hours a day so from that to nothing is a major change. One my body and mind are apparently revolting against. I exercised/danced today for about 45 mins.

Afterwards I was drenched in sweat but I felt the most peaceful and calm that I have felt in several weeks. So I am definitely going to figure out how to make this part of my daily routine. The difficult part will be continuing it once Jigger comes home.

R.A.G.E. Against the Machine

Lately I have been filled with rage. Frustration. Anger. I just want to DO something. I feel like I am stuck in a hole that I cannot get out of and it makes me angry. I want to scream, shout, kick, punch, something. Anything. 

Anyone. 

I am angry at everyone and no one. I have so many things I want to blog about but I don' t because the frustration inside of me is so overpowering. It is all I can seem to talk about these days. 

I feel so emotionally lost. I feel that I should be doing something but have no clue what that something is. 

I just feel R.A.G.E. 

I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to be consumed by this. It blinds me to everything around me. It keeps me from moving forward, but no matter what I do I cannot get rid of this frustration. It just keeps growing. 

Festering. 

Every day I feel like I lose a part of myself to it. Every day I feel like another piece of me disappears.

Two Sides to Every Coin

I am a masochist. I apparently enjoy torturing myself. For the last several weeks I have been on a stalking campaign and driving myself even more insane than I already am. The one thing I hate in a person is hypocrisy. I don't care what shit you did, how often or with who. Just be honest about it. This is one thing Jigger has trouble understanding about me. I am not embarrassed to admit the wrongs I did in my life. He sometimes sees it as pride, but for me I have a very strong faith. I know the one who created me can see me. I know He knows so for me there is no point in lying or pretending that I am something I am not because the most important person knows and everyone else can go to hell. 

The person(s) I am stalking are the very definition of hypocrisy. A couple weeks ago on facebook, the status read "creating problems between people is very wrong". Which to me is laughable because hello you broke up a marriage by fucking the husband and we won't even mention what happened between the kids. Then there are today's messages. Which cut my heart out like a rusty spoon. 

How can you claim to love, follow, and respect someone and then do every single thing they despise and are against. This logic I am unable to comprehend. It makes no sense to me. How can you claim to be a follower of something and then do every single thing it tells you NOT to do. 

I hate hypocrisy. Just be honest. The only person you're fooling is yourself. Not the people who matter. They see you even if you don't realize it. Even if you don't have any real clue as to who they are. They know you and one day you will know them, except it will be too late then. 

Random Verbosity

Days and nights 

spin the world

shades of gray

cloud the sky

thoughts of you

pass the time

Did You See That

Don't act surprised. I warned you that I don't follow rules. There is a prompt today ,but yea I don't wanna play because yesterday's prompt opened a wall and I think this is one hole I should follow the rabbit to the end of. 

Delusions. 

I read many blogs written by people with bipolar. However, the one thing they all have never experienced is the grandiose delusions.

Grandiose delusion or delusions of grandeur is principally a subtype of delusional disorder (GD) that can occur as a wide range of mental illness, including in two thirds of those in manic state of bipolar disorder, half those with schizophrenia and a substantial portion of those with substance abuse disorders. GDs are characterized by fantastical beliefs that one is famous, omnipotent, wealthy, or otherwise very powerful. The delusions are generally fantastic and typically have a supernatural, science-fictional, or religious theme. There is a relative lack of research into GD, in comparison to persecutory delusions and auditory hallucinations. About 10% of healthy people experience grandiose thoughts but do not meet full criteria for a diagnosis of GD.

Grandiose delusions are distinct from grandiosity, in that the sufferer does not have insight into his loss of touch with reality. (thank you wikipedia)

At the moment I seem to be alone in this which is one reason I wanted to continue my train of thought on this subject because I know I am not the ONLY person to experience this and I know there will be people googling about this. So maybe reading about my personal experiences will help them or help them to understand a loved one because delusions take away a part of you that I am not quite sure can ever be repaired. 

Even though today I am for the most part "stable" I still worry. I worry that I am lying to myself about my stability. I worry that my view and perceptions of my surroundings are not accurate. I do not trust my perceptions about pretty much EVERYTHING. I doubt myself to an extent that I never did before. I worry that maybe tomorrow is the day I wake up and I will become lost again inside a fantasy. I worry that I will spend another 2-3 yrs not even knowing that everything around me isn't real and then another who knows how many years trying to undo the damage of those 2-3 yrs. 

I have huge gaps in my memory. Even the memories I have are mostly just flashes of this or that. I have very few real memories, and now having experienced years of delusions I worry that those flashes may not be real as well. I even sometimes wonder if I was even sexually abused. If maybe I didn't just make that up too or maybe my brain twisted a flash. I just don't know. 

I just don't know.......

Jigger knew a lot of the things I did during those few years and he use to always ask me "why". Because he knows me now and he never could reconcile the person I am now with the person I was then. He needed to know WHY and I never could tell him that I was delusional. It took me 2 yrs to be able to tell him and when I finally did I was so afraid of what he would think of me. I was so afraid of how he would look at me, but it probably saved our marriage because for him everything made sense. Everything became ok and I realize I am extremely lucky to have him because most people would have never looked at me the same again, but he isn't most people.

Just admitting that I have had a psychotic break is one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. It is much easier on my blog. I don't know you. You don't know me. I can disappear tomorrow and reappear as anyone I want so it's easier to write about it here, but to put voice to the words. 

It's one of the hardest things I have ever done. I am certain there are others out there who are like me. Afraid. Afraid to give voice to the words because it is like the final nail in the coffin. The ultimate proof of insanity. Bipolar is a fashionable disease in many ways, but delusions aren't. They are the dark side. The side people don't talk about. The side you hide away when company comes over. 

I don't really know what my point is. Not even sure if any of this makes sense, but I just need to get it out. To put it out there somewhere so that maybe one day I will find some understanding. Some reason for it.

I don't mind being bipolar. I was diagnosed when I was 13. I don't know any other way of being. Bipolar is as much a part of me as breathing. I don't know where I end and the illness begins, but the delusions terrify me because they have the ability to erase me in ways that nothing else can. If I could change one thing, then it would definitely be the delusions. I don't really have much regret in my life. From every bad I have learned. Grown. Become better.

But if tomorrow I were given the chance to change one thing, then that would be the one thing I would change. I never want to go through that again.

Never.




                                                                                             

Unleashing the Apocalypse

“Self-censorship is not just self-betrayal and self-abandonment (which would be bad enough), but soul-betrayal and betrayal of our Muse, out inner voice, our highest self.”

Too often we censor ourselves, our actions, and our work in hope or fear of what might happen if we otherwise don’t. What words would you write today, and what actions would you take, if you had nothing to fear, nothing to lose?

(Author: Tanner Christensen)

This is today's prompt in the #Trust 30 challenge that I recently found. This actually started in May I think so it's not actively going on or it might be and I just don't know which is totally possible. Anyways I just found it and as a few of these prompts speak to me I thought I would write about them. I really need some focus right now because I am just lost in the darkness at the moment. 

Self-censorship. I do this A LOT. I know if you read my blog for more than 5 secs you would not really think that I censor myself, but I do. Especially in real life. I hate confrontations. I hate rejection. I FEAR abandonment. I worry about displeasing. I very rarely say what I truly feel. I do this mostly because I think what I feel is wrong. I am wrong. I feel this deep within me that I am always wrong. My thoughts, feelings, actions, all wrong. So I don't say what I truly feel or want. I edit my thoughts and shape them around what I think is appropriate. What I think the other person wants to hear in hopes that they won't reject me. Abandon me. In hopes they won't become displeased by me. Stop liking me. 

Leave me. 

What is the strangest thing about this is that in many ways I truly don't give a flying fuck about what people think about me. But yet I do this and I don't know why sometimes. The fear that grips me at times is so overpowering that I just become a slave to it and I am forced by demons from within to alter my true thoughts, feelings, emotions, words. A vicious cycle  begins and I get so lost in trying to be this "person" I have created that I lose myself and become unhappy. This makes those around me unhappy. I appear "fake". Stop pretending is something I get told a lot. Yet in many ways I am not pretending, but I am. I convince myself that I want and feel what my mouth is uttering even though I truly don't.

I get so lost in trying to "be" that I forget who I "am".

Jigger was the first person to truly see through my bullshit. To see that there was something under it. Something more than just a game. He pushed me in front of the mirror. Forced me to say the things I didn't want to admit. Not even to myself. Forced me to open my eyes and I have become much better at not censoring myself. 

Except in my writing. I don't often truly say what I am feeling. I write in riddles and metaphors that I am certain people would never understand because I don't want to deal with the shit that comes with having to explain where I live and how. I don't want to have to answer the inevitable questions that come. I have answered them so many times in my life and for now I am done. I just want to be alone but not really. 

I don't really want to be alone. I just want to be allowed to be the me that I am instead of the me that I should be. The me that lives deep inside of me. The me that has never seen the sun or felt the rain in its face. I just want to be that me without having to explain why or how or because. I want people around me who accept that flawed broken me. Only there are very few people who are like that. 

What words would you write today, and what actions would you take, if you had nothing to fear, nothing to lose?

 I would tell my children the truth. The real truth. Not the PC truth. Not the truth that is padded or bent to keep them from feeling pain or hurt, but the complete truth. Except I would never do this because I could never hurt my children. I would rather they hate me. I never want to be the reason they hurt except I am and I don't know how not to be. 

I would tell you how the delusions of bipolar have removed my foundation. They have made me doubt myself so much that I don't say what I truly feel, want, desire because I am not certain if it is real. I lived for so long inside of a delusion that now I never trust myself. I never believe that what I am feeling is real. Being fake. Saying what the other person wants to hear is real. I have lost the ability to trust myself. Trust my feelings. I have lost the ability to believe that what my eyes are seeing is real. That what my ears are hearing is actually there.

The delusions have broken me in ways that I cannot explain and now I feel very lost. I don't know which way to go. I don't know what is real and what isn't. Bipolar has broken me in ways that rape and abuse never did. It has taken from me my ability to believe in myself. To believe that what I am feeling is real. 

It has taken away "me".

Freak Show and Inspiration from a Dead Guy

I had intended to talk about how I was part of a freak show today, but then I visited Haven's blog because that is how I start my day each day, and as always I found something amazing. She is doing this 30 day challenge thing called Trust30

#Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Use this as an opportunity to reflect on your now, and to create direction for your future. 30 prompts from inspiring thought-leaders will guide you on your writing journey. (I copied this from her blog)

Now I most likely oh who the hell am I kidding I will not follow the rules I am certain, but some of the prompts really spoke to me. I have joined quite a few places that have writing prompts and usually after just a few prompts I feel bored and uninspired. Fruit and letters to my 16 yr old self are not what I consider inspiring. No offense to those who are inspired by such things, but they do nothing for me. Yes my g-spot is hard to find and yes I know where it is. 

So the second I saw the writing prompt for today I knew I had to do this because it literally gave me goosebumps, my heart started beating faster and I felt a sudden urge to just "create". The prompt for to day is:

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could.”

What is one thing you can do that would make today worthwhile? What’s stopping you from getting started right now?

(Author: Jessica Dang)

Now I realize there are questions there but psfht yea whatever. I want to talk about the quote because holy hell me do I ever need to learn how to do this. Each day I beat myself about what I should have, could have, or ought to have done but didn't. I never see how much I truly have accomplished. I never see how much I have done and how far I have come. I only see how far I have left to go. I only think about how far I could have got if I had pushed a little harder or worked a little longer. No matter how much I do it is never ENOUGH. I should have always done MORE.

This is really something I need to work on. I need to start seeing the things I accomplish. I need to start acknowledging them instead of demeaning them. Belittling them. I would not belittle it if another person did it so why do I belittle myself? 

I really have to accept that I am human. I have limitations. I cannot move mountains even though I belittle myself for not being able to. I need to accept that this is life. I need to let go of that imaginary siren that beckons to me from the darkness. I need to just be. Right here. Right now. Be the flawed me that I am. Just be. 

So what is one thing I could do today to make today worthwhile? Just breathe.

Stuff, Life, and More Stuff

I have no idea where this post will end up or if you will even be bothered to make it to the end. If not I understand. Just to forewarn you I have comments turned off at the moment on my blog. Why?

Well, no rational reason. Just that it's rubbing my exposed nerve endings raw so I figured it best to just turn comments off before I end up ripping someone a new asshole and inserting my foot into it. So yea it's definitely me not you. Bipolar in full force. It makes no rational sense to anyone not even to me.

So there is a lot going on I haven't written about mostly because well I don't know why. Just cause that is the mood I am in. A fucked up mood that even I have no clue as to what it is. In this post I intend to drop the random shit that has been floating around my head the last few days.

My pregnant SIL left a couple days ago. She is about two months away from her due date and her mother decided she should have the baby in her home. So my SIL is there and will stay there until after the baby is born. What is sad is that my BIL is a really great guy. He isn't the smartest or the richest, but you won't find a better husband than him. He works his ass off 15 hrs a day 7 days a week to provide for her any and everything she asks for. He gives her. Whether she meant to become a bitch or not I haven't quite decided. I know her mother plays a major role in the turmoil.

My MIL does the same thing but I ignore her. They make little snide remarks about so & so down the road whose husband bought this or did that. Little snide remarks that build up over time and create friction between husband and wife. IF the wife allows it to. Maybe it's because I was raised differently I don't know, but I have no issues putting my MIL in her place. I don't like anyone being between my husband and me. He is the same way. We always stick together. It's us against the world. We still argue from time to time but I have no doubt as to whether or not he would take my side.

My SIL could have a wonderful life with a wonderful husband if she were strong enough to keep her family out of it, but she isn't because that is not how things are done here so. Anyways that is my soap opera. No need to watch them on TV my life is a never ending one. 

As for me, I still am lost down in the rabbit hole. A hole so deep and dark that I am not certain I will ever dig my way out of. I realize I have no one to blame but myself, but fuck me I just need a break. Just a moment where it's not so hard. Where I am not fighting or struggling or worrying. Just a moment where I think maybe just maybe there will come a day when it's not so fucking hard. So I guess I have been mostly having one big pity party for myself because well someone has to so it might as well be me.  I am literally just holding on by the skin of my teeth. Scratching and clawing trying to keep my head above water, but mostly just drowning.


Edited to add: I forgot the more stuff part


I ended a job I had been working on. Why? Well because I just felt something "bad" about it. Now in all rational logical forms of thinking there really wasn't anything bad about it, but I had this "feeling" and we all know in bipolar land feelings reign supreme. No matter how much I tried to overcome this feeling I just couldn't so I just left the job. I hate being controlled by irrational illogical emotions. Emotions that even I know are fucked up and make no sense, but still I must obey them. And obey them I do.

Virtual Reality

These days I exist through another. The legs that walk and carry me from place to place are not my own. The fingers through which sand falls belong on a hand I cannot feel except in the darkness when I am alone. Through his eyes I see a brightness that I did not know existed. Through his lungs I breathe in the hot humid air. I pull it deep into my being not wanting to let it go. I refuse to exhale until my lungs revolt against me. I want to keep that air inside of me for as long as possible. Even though it is tainted with oppression, it is still the sweetest air I have ever tasted. 

Even though its banks are miles away, I can feel the cool water as it surrounds him. As he dives deeper within, I feel its wetness creep through me. I can hear its waves beating upon the shore. I can taste its saltiness upon my lips. I allow it to completely envelop me. I disappear within its waves. As they toss me here and there I finally understand what it means to be "calm". 

A distant sound forces me back to reality. Back to the paint chipped walls and dirt covered cement floor. Even though my body is contained within these four walls, my heart beats in another.