The Storm

 A storm blew in last night
gusting gales of rage
I couldn't stand against
With lightning strikes of despair
and a deluge of pain so strong
it was agony
I screamed and screamed
while no one was home
until the worst of the storm was over
Then the gentle patter of tears began
and hasn't stopped yet
I hate to cry but I know I'm safe
from taking my life
as long as I can puke out the pain
and not bottle it all up
No one can help me, not even
others weathering the storm
All anyone can say is "hang on,
you'll make it through it"
Maybe.

Just A'Swingin

I had a rotten weekend.  My worthless son and a friend of his were supposed to come help us put up Christmas lights.  Hubby and I neither one care much to get on the roof.  It's not the roof, per se, it's the effing ladder we don't like.  

Needless to say son/friend didn't show up.  They were supposed to come Saturday, then changed it to Sunday.  Sunday a.m. my son's friend was having "back problems" so they didn't come.  This is after my son helped his friend put up HIS family's lights.  Supposedly they will come next weekend but I'll believe it when I see it.

So, I'm expecting no Christmas lights this year.  Of course we've called a moratorium on Christmas this year due to financial concerns but still - the lights would've made it cheery around here, even without a Christmas tree and gifts.

Then my husband and I tried to have a romantic encounter but he, um, achieved Nirvana very quickly, and then lost interest.  Boy, was I pissed off.  I threw a tantrum and shoved everything off the couch onto the floor.  (The couch is NOT a table anyway, but usually I just pick the stuff up and put it away.)  It's still on the floor.  I'm not touching it.

So Sunday I spent the day escaping - I read a whole book yesterday.  I was SO depressed. And although we have more than two cords of wood sitting in a pile in our driveway, I refused to help hubby stack it in the shed.  I just couldn't find the energy, plus I was still pissed at him.

Then today, amazingly, I woke up in a cheerful mood and with lots of energy.  Where did that come from, I wonder?  It doesn't feel like mania, or even hypomania - it feels like normality.  I have actually done a lot today - dishes, laundry, and kept the woodstove going despite the fact that the wood we bought isn't seasoned (much to our dismay).  Green wood doesn't burn easily.  I've been cussing the guys we bought it from for several days now.

Bipolar is a wild ride.  From high to low to "normal" to low to "normal" to...well, you all know how it is.  I'm just hanging on for dear life and trying not to scream at the senselessness of it.  I have never dealt with frustration well, and it's horribly frustrating to have a good day, then a bad day.  I have too much to do!

Hugs to all, I'll write more tomorrow (unless I wake up depressed again)... 

  

Thank the Goddess for mania, and possibly for gabapentin.  My month-long job with the US Census ended October 28, but I then had to bust my ass making soaps and Christmas crafty things for three craft fairs in November.   If I hadn't been at least hypomanic, I wouldn't have made it through all that.

My Pdoc prescribed gabapentin in the middle of October, two weeks or so before the Census job ended.  It made me groggy in the a.m., but it eliminated my hand tremors - for about 3 days.  Then they came back.  Grrrrr.

I had two one-day fairs back to back, one Nov. 7 and one in a different location Nov. 8.  Setup and tear down were a bitch!  Then this last weekend I had my first big fair - a 3-day event.  I spent several days last week without sleep or food, trying to get together enough product for the big fair.


 Wanna hear something funny?  I made pickled eggs for the fair, which all my friends (and my husband) said was a waste of time.  Who would buy pickled eggs?  Yuck!  Well, the first thing that sold was a quart of eggs, and the only thing I sold out of was - you guessed it - pickled eggs!  Go figure. 


I needn't have put myself through the three days of torture ahead of time, though.  We were disappointed with what we made at the big fair although we did make enough to cover our booth fee and then some.  Next year might see a better turnout because HOPEFULLY the economy will have improved somewhat.

So yes, I'm still around, but have been so f-cking busy I haven't had time to even think about writing.  Now that the fairs are over for this year, though, I'll be writing a lot more.

Right now, though, I've got to go.  The house is a disaster, with craft supplies strewn everywhere and dirty soap molds scattered throughout the kitchen.  Not to mention the pot I made my Oktoberfest Beer Mustard in, which has burnt-on mustard on the bottom.  Unbelievable that the scorching didn't affect the flavor of the rest of it.

Catch u all sometime in the next couple of days.  I need to talk about the mania more.  And thanks to those of you who wrote with your concerns about where I have been.  You're a great bunch, y'know that?

Waiting...

Experts say that we go through seven stages of grief in a logical progression. First comes shock & denial; then pain & guilt; anger & bargaining; "depression", rejection & loneliness; the upward turn; reconstruction & working through; and acceptance & hope. These stages are not only applicable to grief, but to people with a mental illness.

I think I'm stuck in denial although I frequently experience pain & guilt, anger, and rejection & loneliness even though I've been disabled for 8 years now. I realized that I'm spending my life waiting - waiting for things to change, waiting for things to get better. Denying that I'm going to be BP for the rest of my life and I'd better get off my ass and work on the last three stages so I can be more proactive.

I've been in therapy and supposedly I have the tools to actually be proactive: self-talk, mindfulness, positive thinking. I'm on medication so I guess I'm hoping one or a combination will be the magic cure and I won't have to work at getting better. Is that laziness? Maybe. Or maybe it's fear that no matter what I do I won't stabilize. I'm tired of trying. I've given up on seeing a therapist.

I read lots of blogs about personal growth, a lot of which apply to those of us who are mentally ill. Most of the advice falls into the "think positive" category. Some have given me other specific tools for living with BP. It's actually using those tools that's proven difficult. There are so many! Journaling, keeping mood/food/exercise charts, monitoring myself for negative thoughts, improving my self-esteem, yadda yadda yadda. If I used all the tools I wouldn't have time to run my household or work on my business or write my blogs! Again, am I rationalizing not using the tools I've been given?

I guess I'm waiting for that "upward turn" to just magically happen. The more I think about it, the more I understand that it isn't going to happen unless I make it happen. By using the tools I've been given.  

(sigh) Guess I'd better get started.

Last Week, Ultra-Rapid Cycling, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Shit!

OK, I had to get some perspective on last Thursday's, um, event, and the days that followed before I could write.

Last Thursday my friend (who sells Cookie Lee jewelry) and I went to a local "restaurant" to sell our stuff on "Ladies' Night Out". "Restaurant" and "Ladies' Night Out" are in quotes because that is what I was led to believe they were, only they weren't. The "restaurant" turned out to be a hole-in-the-wall bar with a tiny restaurant, and "Ladies' Night Out" consisted of the local drunks cruising through to see what we had for sale. No effort had been made to advertise the event by the owner of the restaurant.

Anyway, I make handmade soap & other things to sell since I'm disabled. (I have to have a job to keep my Healthcare for Workers with Disabilities, or HWD, and since I can't work on a regular schedule being self-employed is it.) My friend and I were jammed in the bar part of the "restaurant" with three other ladies selling stuff - purses, candlewarmers, some kind of energy drinks. All these ladies were dressed up (I wore jeans and a T-shirt advertising my business and I don't wear makeup), and all of their products were commercially made. I felt like the country cousin, the red-headed stepchild, grossly underdressed and out of place. And the venue was a dump but what was worse, it was a bar.

For years I self-medicated with alcohol. About 18 years ago I woke up one morning in my own bed, alone for once, with no clue where I'd been or how I'd got home. I went to the window to make sure my truck was there and in one piece. It was. That was the day I quit drinking. To remove temptation, I don't go to bars. When I do go to bars, I drink. A lot. Which is what happened last Thursday - thank goodness my friend was driving. Needless to say I didn't make any money because I spent it all (and then some) on booze. (Of course I only sold 3 bars of soap, totaling $5.50.)

I've been in a depressed episode for months. It felt so good to get buzzed again! I was upbeat, chatty, witty even. I was having fun. Alcohol is like jet fuel to me. It's insta-mania. Woohoo!

Then I woke up Friday morning. The hangover, the remorse, the shame, wondering if I had embarassed my friend. I hadn't blacked out, but I got pretty drunk. And I was still depressed. I slept most of the day. Saturday, Sunday and Monday were complete write-offs. My depression was bad and my anxiety level was so high that I had a couple of panic attacks and a couple of episodes of hyperventilating. I just couldn't function.

Then, out of the blue, I woke up Tuesday feeling good. Not great, but not depressed. More or less normal, mood-wise. Very little anxiety.  I actually got stuff done. Although I had this weird feeling all day that I was about 6 steps behind where I ought to be. (??) I went with my friend to an appointment. I cooked dinner. I was OK.  

Yesterday I didn't get the errands done but I did get all of our bank information switched with the companies we pay money to every month (we changed from Chase DO NOT USE CHASE BANK!! to Charles Schwab Bank) . A tedious process but it had to be done. I got it done.

Today, the agoraphobia's back. I NEED to run errands and get groceries, but leaving the house just ain't happenin'. I don't feel like I'm depressed, nor am I manic. It's anxiety. The effing anxiety again. All I can do is anything that keeps my mind 100% occupied, and take an extra klonipin. Otherwise the anxiety will overwhelm me and something terrible will happen. (I don't know what, I never know, but it will be awful.) That's Generalized Anxiety Disorder coupled with ultra-rapid cycling Bipolar. I'm headed for hypo/mania and don't have a clue what to do about it.

Although I'm not sure I want to do anything to stop it. Like most BP people I LOVE my hypo/mania. It's about the only time in my life when I actually feel good, positive, upbeat, happy. Of course my husband has to watch me because I'll spend money or do other stupid things (or maybe even have a psychotic break, I don't know). Oh, hell, bring it on! I want to feel GOOD!