Romancing A Crazy

The other day Jigger came home with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. "What have you done?" I asked because neither of us can truly keep secrets from the other. It's like we're each other's kryptonite and whatever one does the other instantly knows. He didn't say a word and just handed me a plastic shopping bag with something very hard inside. A bit skeptical I peeked inside and while I'm not really  a squeeing kinda person I think I did just a little. 

"Really?! Is this for me?!"

"Yep"

"Awwwwww thank you!!"

So what was in the bag? What makes a non squeeing gal go squee? Diamonds? Fur? Gold? Nope. This:

This isn't exact but it's close. He bought me a little tiny pot that's big enough to make about 2 cups of tea in and not much else. I've been complaining about how it's winter and freaking ass cold and I can't always make tea when I want. So he found a little pot for me to be able to make tea in our part of the house whenever I want. I am so seriously spoiled.

Triggers Not the Horse

Knowing your triggers. Absolute must for anyone with any sort of bipolar, BPD, PTSD, anxiety and more big medical words I don't know or have forgotten to mention. Triggers are to insanity what peanuts are to allergies. Know your triggers and avoid them or at least have 911 on speed dial so you hit the button before going into anaphylaxis shock. Yes, they're that bad. 

Triggers. I have many. Some I know. Some are hidden. Some sneak up on me when I'm not looking. I try to avoid them, but somehow they always find my hiding places. The last two days I've been triggering HARD. My safety nets were being pulled from under me. Even though they aren't real safety nets, they're actually harmful to me. In all truth, my so called safety nets are one of my biggest triggers. Fear, rejection, and abandonment. 

Yesterday the perfect storm was created. A long time friend who in many ways has helped me and in many ways not, I confronted. I stood up for myself. I refused to be treated like a steaming pile of dog shit he was scrapping off his shoe, but for ten years he's my one and only friend. The only person my insanity hasn't driven away. Even though he was at times verbally abusive, I clung to him because he was always there. I didn't fear him leaving me. Abandoning me. If that meant being called names, told I was stupid, and used, then that was ok. Because I wasn't alone. 

Except now I have started surrounding myself with people who don't use me, don't abuse me. Who respect me. Who see my flaws, my  broken pieces, and accept them. Who look over the frazzled me and see what lies underneath, and I like that. I don't want to be treated like dogshit anymore even if it means I'm alone. I'd rather be alone than be someone's dogshit. But still it's a trigger. 

Then there are normal worries, financial worries, that pretty much every person who sucks oxygen on this planet has, but when you put those worries inside of a mind that works overtime they become blown out of proportion. So I fight to keep my grip on reality. While things aren't great, they're not that bad either. While some things haven't worked out exactly like I wanted, they are at least working and I'm constantly looking for other ways of gaining income. At the very least I don't feel entitled. I don't feel that it is ok to sit on my ass while others support me. I might have little but it's all fucking mine and I worked through insanity to get it. It's mine fuckers and you can't have it. 

So I'm on a bit of a roller coaster. I'll have to start taking sleeping pills today. I've been awake for two days now. Not good. Not sleeping is definitely a sign. So today I'll take little pink tablets with my grape juice so my mind will slow at least enough for my eyes to close and for a few moments the ping pongs bouncing inside my head will lay quietly on the floor. Shhhh......

While He Sleeps

I whisper to the darkness
Encompassing me
Devouring me
Cheeks wet
from silent tears
Unseen
Unheard
he doesn't know
I hide from him
My fears
My pain
My worries
I don't want him to see
The real me
The me I hide
But when he sleeps
Out I come
For a moment
Inhale
Exhale
I breathe the saltiness of the tears
For just a moment
Then back into the darkness
Before he wakes
Before he sees
Before he knows
I hide the me
That bleeds

Even My Dreams Aren't Normal

So I have to write this down because I'll seriously forget it and it's too bizarre to forget. I don't dream. I never have not really. Maybe it's because I don't usually fall deep enough into sleep to dream or that I fall asleep with some major narcotics in my system and sleep so deeply the dreams sort of fade away upon waking up, but for the most part I don't dream. Last night however I did. I only remember the end part of. About 4 secs in time of it, but it was so fucking weird that it woke me up with a "wtf was that all about" coming out of my mouth. 

I dreamed I was updating my Facebook status and for the 3-4 of you who happen to be my "friends" on Facebook you know I haven't actually signed into Facebook in months let alone updated my status. Doesn't seem too weird, right? Well my status update said, "FYI to all my co-workers who are visiting me. You can still visit if you're lactose intolerant. Just because I'm breastfeeding the baby doesn't mean I pass out samples when you all come to visit. Unless of course the price of diapers goes up, then I'll be freezing that shit and selling it as ice cream." 

I shit you not that is what it said. I have no idea what part of my subconcious mind that came from but it was full on weird. Just weird. Anyways not what this was suppose to be about. It was suppose to be about mania and how I'm sitting on the edge of a major manic episode.

I can feel it's familiar tickle up my spine, the panic slowly starting to whirl and twirl through my veins. I can the 3 normal brain cells trying to calm the other 3000 down and telling them it's ok. Don't panic. Everything is ok, but they're not listening. I have worked very hard to get where I am. I don't want to undo it. A few of my safety nets have been removed this week. Even though they weren't real safety nets, at least I could pretend they were and I've finally cast them aside and I think that is contributing to the frenzy that is building inside of me. 

Panic. It's the worst feeling a person can have. If you're a parent, and you've ever turned around for 3 secs and then turned back and not seen your child standing there, that feeling that starts to rise from the tips of your toes and then courses through your entire body. That is what I feel like inside. For a few moments as the panic rises I'm coherent, I shout my name. Then the panic takes hold and I run around crazy in my underwear for no apparent reason other than the crazy told me to. It doesn't help but it calms me. The part of me that is freaking out. The part of me that is coming unglued because of some minor reason that my brain has magnified into a full on catastrophe. I am my own worst enemy. 

So this time I'm fighting back. Fighting back against the panic that is slowly rising within me. I don't know how much of it I'll be able to hold back before the dam breaks, but hopefully it'll be long enough the damage will be minor and 3 normal brain cells will be able to climb to safety. Hopefully I won't destroy all I've worked so hard to build.

Ah-Choo

I hate being sick. Especially cold sick. I hate the stuffy head, the runny nose, the cough. I am such a baby when I'm sick. I readily admit that during sickness my normal bitchiness seems tame compared to how I behave while I'm sick. I will slap the fuck out of you for looking at me when I am sick. I am THAT bad. But Jigger ignores my whining, brings me juice and soup and vicks and warm socks. I don't know if he just has developed super powers that enable him to ignore my whiny bitchiness or what, but if he has, then I so am going to figure out how so I can put that shit in a can and sell it on craigslist. So yea I'm sick and whining.

True Ghost Whisperer

I have this friend. She chases ghosts. Not Casper type ghosts, but the ghosts that haunt people's souls. The ones that cause you to drink or run or be scared or crazy or lost. Those ghosts. Ghosts that you might not even know are there, but frighten you and cause you to shed tears and you don't know why. She chased my ghosts away. And I didn't even see her do it. She works her magic in such a way that you don't even know you're being hypnotized by her spells. 

Until one day you stick your hand inside your gut and realize the hole that was there isn't as big as before. Isn't as empty and the whispers of your ghosts aren't quite as loud or scary. She replaces their whispers with her laughter, her love. She's infectious, contagious. You can't know her and NOT love her. You can't hear her words and not become mesmerized by the way they bend and twist and twirl to her commands. You can't be near her and NOT be healed. If you walk away from her, then you never truly heard her. Never truly saw her. Never truly let her wrap her words around you and tease your ghosts away. 

But I did and now I'm watching her do the same to someone else and it's amazing. When she was working her magic on me, there were so many little things I didn't notice. A twinkle, a sparkle that I couldn't see from my darkness, but now I can see her. See her purpose. See her drive. She's a fixer of broken souls and a ghost chaser. 

She chased my ghosts away.

Conversations I've Had Recently

I talk to myself. Not in the muttering under my breath, aliens can hear, wear my tin hat kinda way. Also not in the "I hear voices that tell me to slap the stupid out of you" kinda way either. 

Take for instance, my BFF Sam. I talk to Sam pretty much on a daily basis. Literally and in my own quirky way. If I read something, see something, or think something, then in my head I tell Sam. I know Sam well enough I can pretty much guess what her reply will be and in my head I not only hold my end of the conversation but hers as well. I don't know what part of bipolarism this falls in or if it's just part of my own special blend of awesomeness, but after one of our conversations, I have the same exact feeling as if I had actually just spoken with Sam. 

I don't just do this with Sam, but pretty much everyone. Even people I've never actually spoken with. Some random nijjit on the internet might write something that amuses me and I'll make up a conversation with them. Maybe their replies are what I'd want them to say. Maybe it's a conversation I'd hope we'd have. Why I don't just actually message or talk to the person I'm not quite sure. Maybe it's some form of self protection. Maybe I"m just mind fucked (that's my word of the day btw). I've searched on the googletron, but that was less than helpful. I don't really know what to call this or if anyone else even does this. I've never actually told this to anyone either. Not even Sam. Even though we talk everyday.