No Shame Here

 

Bipolar disorder. There was a time I was ashamed of those words, a time when I hid the fact, and a time I listened to those who said it is something I needed to get over.

Oddly enough, I have even heard that phrase from some who claim to be in the medical profession. How moronic is that? This is something that I was born with, it was not developed or created for a way to get attention.

Seriously, does the world think I would make it up just for a way to get attention or make people feel sorry for me? Absolutely not, I would love to be what the world calls normal. But this is my 'normal' and I am not ashamed.

In fact, I kind of like the me that I am. It took me a lot of years to feel that way. I spent a lot of time trying to do just what everyone wanted and 'get over it', but here I am so many years later and it is still a part of me.

Sure I have really bad days and really great days. But who doesn't? I have deep dark days that feel like I will shrivel up inside a dark hole, but who can tell me they don't have bad days?


Life is not easy for anyone if they say it is all the time they are lying to themselves. Because life is tough, period. That is the sad cold truth. But it doesn't mean life is bad or unbearable. Truth is those days that are tough SHOULD make us all more grateful for the great times we have. Stop feeling sorry for ourselves and laugh.

Bipolar disorder is nothing to wish you have, nor is it something to be ashamed that you have either.
You see I am bipolar and still a viable human being. I love to laugh and laugh as much as possible. But I also cry a lot. When I am in a depressed manic mood I fall deep but I have learned of ways to help cope with those dark moments in time. And I have a wonderful family who understands that it is just the way things are, I don't want to be sad or cry but it just happens.

To those in the world that still think bipolar is just make-believe, I shake my head at your ignorant, naive minds. Honestly, I feel sorry for you.

Don't feel sorry for me cause of this, it is just a sliver of the slices that make up who I am.

Appointment Blahs

Well, my appointment for the mental health evaluation is over. It took me a few days to recuperate from the added stress it caused. I spent added nights of no sleep, added moments of anxious crying, added moments of pulling my hair (which by the way is a real phobia called Trichotillomania) and so many moments of just sitting waiting.

Trichotillomania is a symptom of anxiety that is characteristic of the OCD act of pulling your hair out, twisting your hair, and tugging at your hair. Can you believe it all this time I have dealt with versions of pulling my hair and even the times before my family took to hiding the scissors, cutting it.
One particular moment of real anxiety and stress, Lynn came home to me when I had cut all my hair off and it was shorter than his. WOW, was not his reaction.

I work really hard to just let this 'problem' come out in the form of twisting and tugging on my own hair, but hey to find out that it really is something that other people deal with to. That knowledge makes me feel a little better.

My visit with the Doctor was as it always is, they ask so many questions and I end up crying hysterically at one point of another and then I get to go home. But not until I take the test, the test that is made of the world's most trick questions ever put in one place.

If you look at those little tests they ask you the same question many, many times but just twist the words around. One will say do you, the next will be you don't and on and on. It really is a tricky thing and just another part of these little evaluations.

The most ironic part of the evaluation was the Doctor's admission that I was truly Bipolar and not one of the many he sees that are making it up or one of those misdiagnosed. Unfortunately and rather weirdly in today's world it has become popular to be Bipolar.

We have all heard of the famous actors who are coming out with diagnosis of Bipolar disorder and we have all heard the phrase 'oh, it is because they are bipolar'. I have heard so many people in the last few years jump up and say "I'm Bipolar, that is why...." and then a long list of things that this Bipolar has caused.

WELL, to those people I ask why? I have lived for over 50 years with this thing that has not made things easy. It has caused me so much pain, so many tears, and even the loss of ones I loved dearly. Because not everyone truly believes that this is something I can't help, in some of the world's opinions this is just something I need to "get over and get on with things."

I have been accused of just not wanting to do something or not wanting to go someplace, when the real truth is that I can't.

There are days and moments that I am not able to go among the rest of the world. I can not function when I am and no matter what I do this is just a reality.

I spend my time trying to be 'normal' when the real truth is that this is normal for me.

But what really is normal? Huh, that is the question of the day.

Who Am I? Happy That's Who

The end of another year. Or the beginning of a new one. Really doesn’t matter how you say it because it is simply a door opening into the unknown. What will the new year hold? 

So as I sit at the start of the 37^th New Year with the love of my life I reflect on the past that placed us at this precise moment of history.

We have lost loved ones, gained friends, lost friends, had children, grandchildren, and lived a life that seems more like a movie than real life. When we walked down the aisle we thought we were so adult only to find out through the course of time that we were such “babies” and would be years growing up. 

Our years have seen fund-raising $1000 luncheons with the Governor of Colorado, backyard barbeques with famous (and not so famous) rappers, holidays with bikers, movie nights with friends from all walks of life, Sunday dinners with a house full of “family”, spent time with Tommy Chong among others, and so much more. 

Sure we haven’t had the typical life that most dream about. We have endured hardship, illness, accidents, and pain so intense no words can describe, but the fact we did it together made it bearable.

This wild ride we have ridden is the greatest life I could ever have dreamed.

We’ve seen Y2K, 9-11, wars, threats, fears of all kinds and now I wonder what will be in the future. Will there be more war, will the hungry be fed, will more children be mistreated, and will the homeless have shelter?

Sadly, the mysterious answer to all those questions is not the one we pray for but there will be more war, more will be hungry, more will suffer mistreatment, and more homeless. No matter what the cycle continues.

What will the rest of this new year hold for us? I have no idea but that is part of the fun, the unknown. Whatever will be, will be.

Daily Life of BiPolar Anticipating Appointments With Horror

The week has been a long drawn out affair with many things happening. Life all by itself is hard, I mean what other people can see as just an easy walk through the park, for me can become a journey into the darkness without a flashlight.

I stress about the typical ordeals of life, and that makes me manic most of the time. Falling into the pit of mania is something I have the feeling of doing every moment of my life. For regular people, they skip through things and never give it a thought.

For me, I am an individual who has to remind themselves every second of every day that I have a very tenuous grip on the side of a cliff. That grip might just fail me at any moment. That is my view of sanity. If I allow my grip to fail, I will fall into the abyss, and don't know if I could get out of it.

You see that is the thing I concentrate on every day. I fear the void, but I know it is there, and that makes me more powerful. Ironic, right? But knowing I am just a hairs width away from insanity is a peaceful feeling. I know, I am just quite nuts. Don't fret I know this. That makes me just a little less crazy for knowing it.

Sure it might not make sense to the natural world out there. But you see when I know my limits with sanity then I can control it just a fraction more than when I didn't know.

I make my way back to today's stress. I have a regular 'mental health' evaluation in the morning. It is not like I have not done this same thing a million times, still I have been ill for a week worrying about it. Why worry? EVERYONE asks me. Well, I don't know actually why it makes me sick and why I consume myself with worry, it just happens.

I begin to get sick whenever I know someone is going to focus their entire attention on me. I mean here I will be the only one in the room with a new doctor, and they will look at me. That by itself sends me into fits of anxiety; then they begin the questions that I just don't want to share with them or anyone.

I am not ashamed of being Bipolar, nor do I think it makes me a bad person because I have a mental problem. But all the years of hiding it come flooding back whenever I get put in one of these positions. One where I haven't controlled the inception. One where I a forced to talk to a stranger.

So as the hives begin to spread over my entire body, I scratch without even realizing it, and I watch the clock on the countdown to my appointment. Knowing full well that sleep will not be calling me tonight.

Who am I really? Does anyone know?

Who am I?

As a writer, I am often asked for a bio. This is one of the hardest tasks for me to produce. Creating fiction comes easy as I produce fictional characters and their entire backstory. Their lives become an entire world inside my head, from the day they were born and all through their lives. I see their faces and can feel their emotions.

But coming up with the words to describe myself, now that often leaves me blank. It is not that I don't have a story to tell, it is just finding the right words to put it on paper.

Well, I am a woman who has survived many things. My book The Unbearable Truth of Reality/ Life with Head Injury was just re-released on Amazon.

People are always saying 'this is just too wild to be true' that the things were written could not possibly have occurred.

I chuckle to myself whenever I hear those words because I wish with all my heart that it was not true. But the reality is that every word is true and there are so many instances that are just as unbelievable that were left on the cutting room floor.

Life is unreal and when you deal with an injury like this, well most of the things are hard to fathom. To the naysayers who can't wrap their little minds around the whole story I pray nothing like this ever happens to you for you to learn the hard way that life is wild and hard to believe.

Daily Journey Toward Light

In this life, I have lived my illusion continued for what has felt like an eternity. You see I have or well had a big family growing up, but it was one I don’t think I ever felt like I was truly a part of. That feeling of not belonging was terrible and I buried it deep within trying my best to be a part of something. 

Yet, somewhere inside I always knew if I disappeared that no one would even notice.

Was it really that I didn’t belong or was that just part of my subconscious messing with me? I don’t really know. Funny thing that Daddy told me after Mama’s funeral was that they were Mama’s family and not ours so I shouldn’t worry that I wasn’t a part of anything anymore.

Sure I tried but it was like putting a square peg in a round hole. It just didn’t fit. If you go back and take a look a Mama’s Funeral, you could see that it was that way. There I was preparing to put my Mama in the grave and the rest were all loving and telling their mothers Happy Mother’s Day. I always wondered if they ever realized that the timing was not great for their display, but I don’t think so. 

They surely never knew how devastated it was making me. My insides were in such pain and no one seemed to notice. Sadly, I hated all of them. Actually, I think I hated every one. I hated those who still had their mothers, I hated those who had the big family I wanted, I hated those who finally ended up with the things I dreamed about. That hate was awful, it festered inside and tore me apart.

That was how it felt my whole life. The hidden turmoil of pain and feelings of alienation, still no one knew. My parents didn’t even know the true pain I was in. they just kept telling me it was all in my head and that I needed to control my ‘episodes’.

Control them? How could I control them, I didn’t even understand them. All I knew was that I was terrified to be away from home. 

We walked to school at that time but I rarely made it there. I would go running back home in horrified tears. It got so bad that Daddy would drive me there and meet a teacher on the corner. As that teacher held me screaming Daddy would drive away. 

That was how my bipolar manic episodes would be handled. That and adding another little pill to the ones that Mama had to crush because I feared choking on them. 

Lithium. That was the regimen of help I received in the 60’s for my problem. Strong, strong doses of lithium. 

Did it help me? No.

And the journey continues. Thanks for taking this walk down my very dark dismal memory lane. It was a scary place. No longer does that hate eat away at my mind. 

Now I have light.

Who Am I? The Grand Illusion of Life

Learning who you are is not an easy task for any child or adult for that matter, but adding bipolar to that only exaggerates by a billion. For me, I learned the art of illusion. My mania was turned inward in the hopes of making it go away. But it did not move it only festered like a cancer within my soul.

That festering led me to have many moments of despair so intense I longed for an end. Imagine being just a small child and wanting out of this thing called life.

Like so many, I felt that this was something I was doing wrong. The thoughts by certain people that being Bipolar is a choice filtered into my mind. So it only made me despise myself even more. And that inner hate led to the thoughts that I was nothing but a bother to the world around me.
My soul was a dark abyss that longed to drag me deep within the reaches of the pit that lived inside my mind. Every day became a struggle to keep from falling off that cliff into the black hole. Even as a small child I knew there was no return from that. But part of the struggle was not to let anyone know what was going on inside my head.

A grand illusion began to surround me. I tried desperately to look like other kids and tried to act like other children, while I hid the many hours spent hidden in the back of the closet questioning God on why I was here. I would beat my head against the wall and even beg for removal from the equation of life. Life went on.

That was my beginning life as a confused and lonely bipolar child living in a world that didn’t acknowledge the existence of this unknown problem.

When truly the grandest illusion of life is simply life itself. Everything we have been taught or seen probably is just the perception that someone else is striving to get us to see. So what is the truth?
Maybe nothing. Maybe everything is just that illusion.

Families we think are the “Leave it to Beaver” bunch are in truth just a group who can put on a beautiful face when the world looks at them. Look at the single face of Jared Fogle (Subway frontman) that seemingly innocent face turned out to be nothing more than a predator. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

The “beautiful” people around us have turned out to be predators in their rights are in the same category as Jared Fogle. So who do we tell our children to trust? When is the news filled with people from all walks of life showing their true natures as terrible people? Who do you trust?

Life is the illusion that humanity loves one another, but look around we can all see that isn’t the truth. Does humankind care about anything anymore? Money, social standings, image are just a few things that people consume themselves with above the world around them.

It is excellent and noble when people travel to foreign countries to help those in need, but the truth is that they “step” over all the people around them in trouble to do that. So why not start next door when you are on a mission to help?

Don’t get me wrong I do know there are real people out there, and it is just a shame we have to dig so deep within the bowels of crap the world is full of to find those rare gems of goodness.

Growing up in a small town in Southern Missouri I began my journey to learn who I am and what the world contains. It was going to be a long and hard trip. A single trip and a very confusing one. But it was a journey I needed to take and one I have come out on the other end much wiser than I began.

No matter where this journey takes me I still feel slightly alone. When I was a little girl (and if I am sincere there are moments still in life like this for me) anyway as a kid I would wonder if I died would anyone miss me?

Stay tuned for more on this challenging trip. It is going to be a bumpy ride so buckle up and hang on.