Vikings with Mustaches

My family just left – I sobbed as they walked to our family car, got inside and drove away from me. I cried because I missed them so much already. Even though we all know that I am in the right place for what I am going through right now, I have to admit that I felt like chasing them for one last hug, one last kiss. I wanted to jump in the car. Alas, I had to stand back and wave and ugly cry, and keep my resolve.  And just wait until tomorrow when they visit again.

Things in here are tumultuous for me. I am still rapid cycling and feeling like it is stepping up further. The strange hallucinations have started again. It is very rare for me to think that they are true, but today I thought that there must have been some kind of air vent underneath the carpet because it was moving in a wave-like fashion. So I put my foot down on it, just to check. Then the patterns in the carpet started to look like Vikings. With awesome mustaches. And I laughed because well, Movember is on its way I guess.

This is not a good state of mind to be in, especially when one starts questioning the reality of what they have witnessed. Now because of this, I feel fear about going to sleep because usually when I see things in the daytime it means that I see worse things during my sleep.

A very terrible thing happened in the last couple of weeks, and it has distressed me to no end. Only last night the issue came to a close, and I had to walk away from someone that meant so much to me. I don’t know how I would have coped with this parting of ways if I wasn’t in hospital. I just do not know. All I do know is that I have to have faith that things happen for a reason, and all people who cross your paths do so for a reason. Some stick around. Some don’t. Some are inspirational acquaintances. Some are just strangers that make you reflect upon your self. In any case, every single soul that you connect with does so for a reason. Always.

I know that the only reason I am here on this Earth is because of my partner and my children. That is all. The only reason I endure what I do is so that I can watch my beautiful children grow, with my amazing and supportive partner. I try to experience life through their eyes. Especially when I am struggling and feel like there is no way out. I try to close my eyes and see the world the way they see it – with wonder. With admiration of what the world has to offer. I try to see that I was that little child once, and I saw the world the way they do now, once.

I tell you what, if you don’t laugh sometimes, you will cry. In the state I am in I just take every day at face value and live through every second, every hour. Let the day guide me as much as possible.

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admittance

The last couple of weeks have been hellish for me.  I have been incredibly let down by what I thought was part of my support network.  Simply put, that depression was the worst I have felt in my whole life.  It involved me obsessing, questioning myself, losing myself.  I was lost.

I very rarely endure the depression part of bipolar.  I tend to spend most of my time in hypomania, and a little in mania.  So I don’t really have great coping tools in place for those times.  

So here I am, I’ve been admitted into hospital.  I have been here for a couple of days and I can’t say that things are better.  Yet.  I am rapid cycling, moving from deep despair to utter elation and euphoria within a day.  Meds changed, they are all increased and I have now welcomed a couple of new ones to the family.  I feel safe though, because I am in a place where all of these changes are watched carefully, with like-minded (literally) people.  Ultimately yes, I feel safe.

And for the neuro typicals out there – the mental facility I frequent is NOT like One Flew Out of the Cuckoos Nest.  Or Girl Interrupted.  Not one single bit.  There are no chicken carcasses under anyone’s bed here.

The one thing that is different this time is finally I am not pretending.  I am not lying.  I have promised my self that this time, although it wont be the last time, will be the time I look at myself hard in the mirror and actually ACCEPT.  I want to welcome help.  I need to welcome help.  I am feeling pretty excited about learning more and more than anything, I am appreciating that my psychiatrist DOES know what he is on about.  I look forward to seeing him and telling him about my day.  There is a particular issue right now that has utterly broken my heart, and he has given me strategies and assurances that I actually listen.  My favourite quote from today was ‘You are a very generous person’.  I feel that my recovery will be successful because of my utter honesty.  I am not hiding or being self conscious about my mannerisms and speech (well, the words yes, but the loudness and speed, not so much) because that helps him understand where my mind is at.  How can I possibly expect to get better when all I do is pretend?  How??

I said today to someone that we are probably the best actors in the world.  Not many people would even guess that the face smiling at them is probably utterly broken inside.  Not many at all.

So now I am getting my power back.  I am grabbing the bull by the horns and facing this.  I am not going to fight it though.  Yet am going to succeed.  I am going to accept.  I am going to live with it.

guest contributor – this is her story

  • My entire life, as far back as I have memory of, I remember having very intense emotions.  I remember being a small kid 7 or 8 years old, and my heart being broken because my emotional outbursts were already being classified by various child physiologists as depression, stemming from my parents divorce…at 3.  I knew I wasn’t depressed…  I mean, sure, maybe I was sometimes, maybe a little bit of bad news would turn me into a downward spiral of crap, but I wasn’t always sad.  I could change my moods like the flip of a switch, with so much as a thought.

    I stopped going to therapy shortly after, and didn’t start again until after high school…  dealing with my manic periods as PMS, or typical teenage hormones.  When I starting having serious relationships I noticed how worked up I would get over small things…  things that didn’t matter, things that would break my heart or send me over the moon, and it started causing more issue in my day-to-day life…  so I went back to the doctor.

    Blood tests, chemical tests, evaluations… everything…  I finally had a diagnosis.  I was bi-polar.  And it made sense.  But lets be honest, it gives you those thoughts when you hear the words out loud…  am I crazy?  Will I always be this exhausted emotionally?  Will this scare people away?  Should I even tell anyone?  It’s a scary moment.

    Four years later and I am just starting to notice my cycling.  I am able to feel my pulse rise, my head go fuzzy and I know to medicate. I don’t like doctors.  I don’t like pills.  That was out from the get-go.  I medicate with cannabis and it is truly, amazing.  If I feel myself going there, I vaporize or smoke, and my pulse drops.  I can breathe.  I feel NORMAL.  Functional.  If your state has medicinal marijuana laws, I recommend it to everyone. I live my day to day as a fully functional human with the occasional outburst.  It’s better than being a zombie.  It’s better than being stoned all the time.  Its a middle-ground.  A happy place.  Those close to me know, but a lot don’t.  I look forward to my future because, for me, the more experience I have with my mental illness the better I get at working with it.

    This is not a fight, or a battle to be won over the short-term, this is learning to live, with you.

    This post was written by a fellow human that lives with bipolar, it about her life and her journey up until now.

breathing underwater

I’m the blade
You’re the knife
I’m the weight
You’re the kite
They were right when they said
We were breathing underwater
Out of place all the time
In a world that wasn’t mine to take

I’ll wait
Is this my life
Am I breathing underwater
Is this my life
Am I breathing underwater

I’m the blade
You’re the knife
I’m the weight
You’re the kite
They were right when they said we should never meet our heroes
When they bowed at their feet, in the end it wasn’t me

Is this my life?

Am I breathing underwater?
Is this my life?

Am I breathing underwater?

Nights are days
We’ll beat a path through the mirrored maze
I can see the end
But it hasn’t happened yet
I can see the end
But it hasn’t happened yet

Is this my life?
Am I breathing underwater?
Is this my life?
Am I breathing underwater?

Am I breathing underwater

(Metric, Breathing Underwater)

shit just got real

Shit just got real.  I can never ever keep my truth to myself.  I have a transparency rule.  It involves not lying.

So tonight, I shared my blog on my personal page and I can’t express how scared I feel.  I feel ashamed.  I feel strangely and so so so utterly bizarrely brave.  Yet if I had to find a word that would encompass my entire emotional being right now, it would be raw.  I guess.

I feel like I have cut my body open and where I have normally protected myself .. well… that bit is dissected.  I have let my guard down.  I feel like I have given outward much much much more than I have ever been given in this life.  I feel raw because I haven’t ever put my real self out there.  And I guess, if anyone wants to shoot me down, I am a pretty good sniper – you will go down first.

Sounds bizarre that I should have to be ridiculously defensive about myself there, I know.  But at this point in my life, I am just about done.  I am done with petty shit.  I am done with backstabbing ‘mommy wars’.  I am done with judgement.  I am just done.  I am done.  I have a bigger skeleton in my own closet.

So here I am.  I am going to regret this in the morning, I know.  Yet I know in my heart that if it means that I can bring some kind of understanding, this is worth something,

a pattern forming

I spent the day cleaning and scrubbing my home.  Have had about 624 coffees.  Have obsessively checked, checked, re-checked and checked Facebook, I have made playdough, I have played with said playdough, I have done colouring in – I even took my youngest shopping to buy a mammoth amount of crafty gear.  I mopped, cleaned out my car, did stuff.  I have even crafted with all my offspring.  And it isn’t 4:30pm yet….  I can see a pattern forming.

My body feels light and almost dizzy.  My legs want to run a marathon, yet the skin on them is itchy.  I can almost feel the blood pumping through my veins.  My heart feels like it is doing double time.  My head feels slightly heavy and like it wants to sleep.  The ride upward is always fast for me, it is like I can feel my body ramping up.  It is a countdown to launch.  I can feel my energy levels rise.  It takes some time for my head to catch up, but it will.  And then I will have my mojo back.  In many ways.

I recognized the first inklings of an upswing the other night.  I had nightmares.  All night.  It was like I didn’t even close my eyes, and then there I was, in the middle of something that even Stephen King couldn’t imagine.  It was more than hardcore.  It was utterly terrifying.  Yet there I was, experiencing it.  Living it.  I woke up the next morning feeling like I had never slept.  Like I had never slept, ever…  My body ached, my soul ached, my heart ached.  I had seen things I never ever wanted to see.  And so comes the insomnia.   I am wondering now if the insomnia comes from being so shit scared of actually going to sleep.  So scared of the nightmares.  So utterly terrified of what is waiting for me behind my eyelids.

After I had sat down and collected my thoughts I thought I should look into this.  I have suffered from crippling nightmares all of my life.  I remember them starting when I was about eight years old.  Anyway, I check out Mr Google and he tells me that there have been studies into this.  That often bipolar patients talk about having nightmares before a period of mania.  Makes sense, yeah?

So I shared this little tidbit with my little awesome community of bipolar peeps and it was interesting.  Many, many of them spoke about their experiences with nightmares and night terrors.  Suddenly I felt like I had an answer to something that had been plaguing me basically all my life.  The nightmares MEAN something.  It is my body, and mind, trying to make sense of what is happening right NOW.  Is it fight or flight?  How can my brain process this information?  Is it because I tend to rapid cycle?

Right now, I just feel a pressing need to find out more.  More information.  More connections.  I need to find a way to enable OUR understanding.  I don’t want to ask ‘whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy’ anymore.  Everything is relative.  Our bodies and minds work together.  I want to put that jigsaw puzzle together.

eat me alive

I tremble

they’re gonna eat me alive

if I stumble

they’re gonna eat me alive

can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?

Help I’m alive my heart keeps beating like a hammer

hard to soft, tough to be tender

come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train

Help I’m alive my heart keeps beating like a hammer

if Im still alive

my regrets are few

If my life is mine

what shouldn’t I do

I get wherever I’m going

I get whatever I need

while my bloods still flowing

and my heart still beats

(Metric, Help I’m Alive)