Leave it.

I thought about deleting the last post, because I thought people would take it wrong, but then I decided no, I felt it last night so leave it.

I realize there was not much triggering about it, I decided to hold back on what I was thinking about some things. Annnnd I still am. Because I never speak in real life because people always take it wrong and I don't want to over explain myself in print too.

American Idol sux. + possible triggering stuff

Oh I am really 'full of it' tonight.

First of all, I am pissed about American Idol. Adam Lambert can sing better than Kris Kringle. Period. Why didn't he win? I am wondering if it is because he is gay. What the?

I can't wait for him to make a CD. I haven't bought music in a loong time, but I will buy that. I am also considering boycotting Idol in the future. What a joke it is.

Additionally, on an entirely different topic, I am pissed and feeling very low in general. Certain things from the baking thing bother me. Long story not getting into right now.

As in I thought about (pOSSIBLE TRIGGER) offing myself. But instead I ate some chocolate, took a clonapin (not in that order) and am now typing.

I will regret all of it (the typing) except that I will breathe for another day tomarraw. For those of you not aware, I do know how to spell - I was speaking of the day after tonight known as to-mor-row.

I went to my baking thing and was all alone with the founder who I greatly admire in heneral (that's Spanish for in general). If this is creativity, shoot me.

We talked of many things. But I ended up feeling sad today as I thought of it. I felt very left out of her schizophrenic world, one in which she finds there are so many others having the same symptoms as she.

I don't feel like I know a kinship of bipolars, or get to talk with anyone hardly except my emotionally verklempt husband for 10 minutes while we snarf down dinner and then he goes comatose on the couch, never to be heard from again. Not to mention he's the only human being I see all day. It's very weird. I might as well live in a burkha.

I married someone who doesn't laugh, doesn't speak much, but is real sweet. He's not mean to me, he is kind and says that he loves me (I'm about being truthful, not skewering the guy) but except for the emergencies he's not getting involved, know what I'm sayin'? Even then I would have to be holding a weapon in my hand or worse, shake him from deep sleep telling him I believe it's Armageddon again (That's worse than having a weapon only because that would be waking him up). You get the picture.

Anyhoo, said founder of bakery thing, who is also quite sweet (and naive, really, but that is another thing) and is a go-getter, I've said so in the past, works really hard, has a husband and child, goes to school, and apparently to her chagrin, takes medicine.

Probably not realizing how much this medicine makes it possible for all of the above to occur. Just an observation.

Then founder says she would like to be off medicine someday.

What is with people being afraid to take medicine? I am getting too tired tonight to write the scathing pissed off feelings that I feel about it.

I've paid a price a large exhorbitant price to learn that I've got to be on the stuff in order to be in this reality. Period. Six months in a state hospital NOT being a criminal but merely a mortal with an illness gives me the right to state this. I've been in remission for 15 years and I am still brought to tears if I talk about what happened then. And when I say remission, I mean psychotic episodes not the rest of the illness which is blunted greatly by tons of medication but STILL raises its ugly head enough to not let me live a normal life.

The anger courses through me. I have no one to talk to about it. So I send it out on the internet winds.

Why am I angry? Because so many times I have pulled myself up by my bootstraps, come back stronger from a 'fall' or at least survived the unfathomable and have no one to talk to about it. So now I pathetically write it on my blog.

I had another dream about smoking last night. It was a choice between a long lovely menthol or a long regular cigarette. In the dream, I chose the regular because I was concerned about ripping my lungs with the menthol (I smoked mostly menthols for 10 years in real life). Amazing. Worried about my health in a dream like that.

Plenty of real nightmares lately too. Won't go into it. Doesn't make you much want to sleep does it? Well, the 'dream cigarettes' make it nicer.

I wake up at 4 a.m. after a particularly messed up dream and can't sleep. It doesn't help that the next door neighbor's dog bays, howls, barks at 5:30 a.m on. Then my Emma dog starts in and then you are no longer compatible with the nice person that everyone thinks (I) am. You just want to yell.

But husband is sleeping. And its not Armageddon yet.

The Therapist and maybe insurance

First of all, the new therapist was mind-boggling!! Well, I should say her waiting room was, which was actually a product of her co-therapist, or other person she works with.

There was New Age music, REAL chairs WITH PILLOWS, beautiful walls with positive messages everywhere, a waterfall - I was so relaxed filling out the new patient forms that I could have fallen asleep - now that's a new one!

I was offered a bottled water while waiting. The other therapist brings her DOG to work with her, an adorable Chow Chow pup (a large fuzzball) - you can imagine how I loved that!

The T. herself seemed perfectly competent, we seemed sympatico, and I liked her just fine.

But I had to LAUGH when she started apologizing to me that I would not always be able to reach her on weekends (as she has a mountain home) as she indicated that I could email her as well - I LAUGHED because I have been with the County for 15 years nearly and I have NEVER been able to get a therapist to return a call on a weekend or in 24 hours for that matter (which apparently this T. does!) and NEVER were any of us allowed to EMAIL a therapist (!) and I have learned to be very independent and not need them for much except the monthly b*tchfest that constitutes a session with my "beloved" County T.

What a difference private insurance makes. (And the perserverance to not settle for the Mickey Mouse operation at the local mental hospital.)

I thought I was in therapist heaven. I thought all was beyond 'well.'

BUT********

I get a call this past Tuesday...

The wonderful new therapist with the New Age music and beautiful walls tells me that her billing person has just realized that they DON'T take my insurance.

But that she has applied to my particular insurance and expects and answer Soon, as in a few months.

Not a problem, I think. I haven't completely cut off ties with the County T., I can stay with her until the new FABulous therapist gets her act together.

So end of that wanh wanh story. I am in wait. For I have tasted the fruits of what real private insurance can do for you! And it's unbelievable.

Who's Crazy Now?!!! (a Rant.)

So the whole looking-for-a-new-psychiatrist thing has taken a turn for the worse.

Having to speak to the most inane, insensitive, STUPID secretaries that seem to enjoy dangling your life in their hands is enough to make anyone either quit the search or have to don armor just to pick up the phone and try to make a simple appointment.

It SHOULD be simple. Make an appointment. Go to appointment. Have yer heart ripped out.

I had gotten the list from my insurance, I had consulted my primary care physician and I have abided by all the rules, crossed my t's and obeyed the q's.

Only to have conversations that include statements like "We don't deal with psychotic people (I mentioned I was Bipolar I and tried to briefly explain what that meant and tried to explain that my last psychosis was 15 years ago (which seems like a KEY POINT). I suspect They deal with psychotic people all the time and I even asked her what they do with them when they run across them, because her responses MADE ME FEEL PUNCHY).

It's a counseling center located inSIDE the local mental hospital, which frankly already makes me nervous. Some part of me is not trusting, not convinced that they are not laying in wait to get me in there on a more permanent basis. I know, I know, that sounds silly and unreasonable but few have ever accused me of being otherwise.

So I asked to make an appointment with one of the doctors and Secretary says no he is not taking patients. Not to be daunted, I had a second name, for the same counseling center (I only had two 'approved' names from my doctor out of a list of 20 or so, and I wasn't about to be hornswaggled into accepting just any old psychiatrist. No, I want the best as I think highly of my primary care physician who went to the trouble of recommending them and if I'm going to leave the County after 15 years I d*mn well want good care!!!!)

Anyway, secretary says she can make an appointment with this second person but it will be a couple of months out (which I don't mind whatsoever, what's a few more months of being bled dry by the County as it will take them a while to copy my ENOURmous chart and get it there anyway, I know the b*st*rds.) and wouldn't I prefer a pdoc that I can get a sooner appointment with. Like it's some kind of switch a roo, like wouldn't you want someone you've never heard of, have your life in their hands type of thing all because I, Secretary, don't want to schedule you out 2 months even though you've expressed it's not a problem.

No I don't want the first available. I want someone good. As Suze Orman says, do what is Right, not what is Easy. I am upset that I am being 'handed' (more like fighting for) a psych like Sears sells power tools (and everthing else, I know I worked in the Men's Department!) with bait-and-switch tactics and no care for the effect on the consumer. I am so angry.

Oh, she tried hard. She said ALL their psychs could deal with Bipolar, and this particular psych was their only woman, and they liked to reserve her for the under-30 set. Which I would have understood (I'm really not unreasonable, and for the record I AM IN REALITY, d*mn it!), but Secretary did not put her foot down and say I could not have an appointment with her, only that again normally they 'reserved her' (whose They, and that's weird) for adolescents and she, Secretary, wanted to make me a SOONER appointment.

Which is so odd, because after the conversation she took ALL my information, asked HORRIBLY INVASIVE questions for a person that I don't know and would never want to - COMBATTED me and cut me off on those questions before I could even explain, not caring anyway what I was saying (which really was the most galling part of it) and was incredibly ignorant of mental health issues yet portended such importance and knowledge (making her triply ignorant, even Husband said so) and then said "We will look up your hospitalizations and GET BACK TO YOU. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

That's fine if that's how they treat everybody else. But I am thinking that she is afraid that I am psychotic and will kill her only precious female psych and must evaluate me and my history. That's the impression that I get. I will be pleasantly (??) surprised if she does call back. Really.

I am thinking that she will not call back, until I call next week and ask to speak to the manager, or get Husband to call (which I think I should do all along, as I have become incapable of dealing with these people anymore), or ask my primary care physician's wonderful, NOT-STUPID, gifted, lovely assistant to call and ask them what the deal-e-o if they actually don't call back.

I'm not enlarging the situation, mountains really are mountains (no molehills) and I'm thinking of going to a nearby county or an unauthorized person (on the list but not loved by my doctor) across the street from said mental hospital because this place is a Mickey-Mouse Operation.

On another note it's only Saturday, so it may not be a big deal but it's 4:36a.m. and I haven't gone to bed yet. Yeah. The puppy will be up at 5:30 for pee-peeing. What's the use of going to bed. I'm so wired.

Other than that, I know I'm lucky. I've got insurance and so many don't and I know that I am blessed incredibly to have it.

The County has made it clear that I have to 'move out' of the program, and they made so many promises that they can no longer keep I have to (read: forced) to go through this process and you think, ok, I will make phone calls today, I will make contact with these people and they are awful to you.

I can't imagine what they see, and I am fortunate because I understand that They don't know me, They are just performing a job. But this is my job too, taking care of myself. This is what I do. And apparently I'm a little ineffective at it at the moment.

Facebook & telling the truth as a bipolar

So it turns out on Facebook that people can ping you anytime they want to, because you are online. Just like so many things on that site, I don't know how to work it, maybe you can tell it you are off-line while you are on there. Anyone know?

Anyway, I've been stymied as to what to say to all the high school people who knew me who ask 'Whatcha up to?' or the the worst came yesterday, 'What do you do?'

So being in a mood, and I'm still not sorry for it, I was truthful. Asked what do I do, I said I don't work outside the home (so unneccessary and kind of untrue) I'm on disability for bipolar and help a non-profit with proposals and grants using my English degree. The person stopped typing for a full 15 minutes (it was a guy too).

So in the future I'll cut out all the personal stuff and just say I help a non-profit. Live and learn.

It's not my fault that all that is true. And I'm not sorry for being me. And at least I have a degree, I used to do things, I used to have dreams that included the real world, I thought I was going to have a career and wear sensible high heeled shoes til I was 40 (and then have kids and have the energy for that too - what pipedreams).

Nope, not meant to be. I mean, I'm 'only' 37, but clearly I'm not following the life plan that seems to play out for so many. (The 'simple' stuff like working and having kids).God has/d other plans for me. And that's as poetic as I allow myself to be. (Cause it rhymes, you see.)

But I am still rotten angry about how life has turned out. I do other things, I write, I plan my much smaller life (literally I have forgotten how to travel outside a tiny comfort zone) and have such a long way to go to enter into reality without, for instance, even shaking around other messed up people.

It's not easy if you're high-functioning either, it doesn't seem to matter. I love my friends who are more accepting of themselves and I respect the anger and fight in the people who are coming to terms with themselves.

It's always so fun being truthful isn't it, NOT!:)

Have a great day, everybody. Seriously.

I'm having lunch with Husband today and if I still don't feel like doing anything, I will watch a movie (see below - I'm thinking 'The Hours'), which is like putting myself in a holding pattern, being on life-support or oxygen, waiting for a big awakening into times when I can DO again.

Self-soothing through movies.

In the past few days I’ve been feeling cranky and good for nothing, so why not watch a movie.

On Wednesday afternoon I watched ‘The Bee Movie’ which is a PG animation movie with Jerry Seinfeld and Renee Zellweger’s voices. I don’t know if I get tired or it just can’t keep my attention span – read: it may be boring for adults – but I have fallen asleep several times during that movie, both times I’ve seen it.

Thursday was a day for drama, as I watched ‘Benny and Joon’ – Mary Stuart Masterson as a schizophrenic (best line ‘Having a Boo Radley moment?’ I love it. I will use that some time), Aiden Quinn aaaaaaand – Johnny Depp. He is sooo hot. I’m sorry, I’m allowed my opinion, he is hot in just about every movie I’ve seen him in.

He renews my faith that there are sexy men in this world, we just never see them because the world’s too busy showing us all the skanky supposedly sexy women for men consumption. Know what I’m sayin’? Anyway ladies, let us revel in this ‘national treasure’ (who now lives in France with his fiancé and children but God bless him, works in the good ol’ U.S.A.)

To further the film fest on Thursday, I watched Waitress (all of these movies I had seen once before anyway). Keri Russell’s character has an abusive/overly needy jerk of a husband and gets pregnant from him. She is a gifted pie-maker for a local diner and just wants to get away from her husband but now its too late, she thinks. It has a good ending, I won’t say more.

For people who keep up, it’s the last film by Adrienne Shelley who is a character in the film, its screenwriter and director and was murdered in real life. Her husband started a foundation for women in film after her death.

This watching movies thing during the day when I’m all by myself is a great thing. I get to see what I want and ultimately, movies are so soothing and thought provoking for me.

I go into another world, I am transported, which is what I am sure movie connoisseurs or even people ‘with no life’ also adore about movies. It’s a way to self-soothe and ‘safely’ open up the world at the same time (watching dramas that I’ve seen before).

I mean I know I’ve seen it before and have a general idea what it’s about and if I’m in the mood for it, but being burnt (because of bipolar) and having CRS (Can’t Remember Stuff (!) I have forgotten many of the particulars, so its new to me! Thank God for movies!

I'm thinking about watching 'The Hours' today. Talk about an intense movie. But I keep remembering awesome bits and pieces of it and Nicole Kidman did an awesome job as Virginia Woolf (I guess it's a mental illness fest this week) that I'm thinking that I want to see it again. At least I want to do something, even if it's just veg and breathe.:)

Every two years is the big get together with my husband's family. I really like these people. We were so shocked when most of them showed up to our wedding, at a place where all of us had to travel to, and that day was made most special because so much family was there. I will be forever grateful for the love and acceptance of the good people that they are.

So even though there is much preparation to take care of, doing stuff and a little for me emotionally, I am excited and really looking forward to going.:)

Doing stuff-wise, I wish the immediate family would send out their frickin' Christmas lists so that I had some clue what to get them. We have a small budget and I want to know what to get them. I really don't like guessing.

Somehow, I am a little put-off by this, because they asked for lists and we complied, even though that was really hard for Husband (it took him hours between snoozes and thinking very hard to come up with one:).

One thing that is very interesting about Husband's family is that they are exchangers. They openly admit that they may take your gift back to the store of origin and get something they really want, so GET A GIFT RECEIPT and include it in the gift.

This is a very weird concept for me, because in my family you got a gift which you cherished or maybe not so much, but it would kinda hurt someone's feelings if you asked for the receipt and hit the sales day after Christmas.

I guess because his family is so big it's different? I didn't grow up with that many people, and families are different everywhere. Perhaps I am not getting lists because they figure they can take back whatever I get them. Hunh.

Perhaps that is what I am finding a little rude, because I like to *think* about what I am getting people, make thoughtful, literally, decisions. To know that my decision could be so easily discarded and that I better pick a store that they can return the item to, is, somehow upsetting.

It's as though the person plots hmmm...what can I spend for the money you spent at such and such store.

Did you not notice that I took the time to pick you something out? You want the thrill of opening Something, but are going to treat it like a gift card.

I'm just sayin.'

Gifts are not everything. That is not what Christmas is about. But, I say, but I mentioned that I like some of these people a LOT, and I like to give to them. It's fun, it's loving.

Crazy me, I want them to like getting something that they wanted, too. That's why I'd like a list to help me know that I'm hitting somewhere close to the mark. In this economy, in my world, that is only fair.:)

As far as emotionally prepping for holidays, I am starting to realize that there are certain triggers for me, for my illness having a better hold on me and bringing me down.

For instance, the whole what do you do for a living thing and comparisons to others. I must fight, Fight, FIGHT against thoughts of comparisons negatively to others, as the overwhelm of so many people is already difficult for me.

Others are not doing this to me. Low-self esteem or lack of acceptance of myself for myself over the years past - and I am in my head and no one else - has been the most contributing factor to down feelings and thoughts I think when I am around large groups of people.

I am never treated like a leper or anything unkind, quite the opposite, I am very accepted for my quiet ways into husband's family and I must take that to heart.

I must also take care not be the 'energizer bunny,' to be overly manic, cause I get so thrilled and overwrought being around sooo many people. I have been through it a couple times and I am preparing myself to come through with brainwaves (emotions) that are not all over the place.

I am home cleaning today. I almost wrote I am in 'hope' cleaning today. Freudian slip. Hee hee.

bipolar has it's week.

I have been trying to think of a way to express myself on blog about what I have been feeling lately, since last night. I started posts, but kept erasing them.

I googled 'pit of despair' this morning, there's stuff on there about the stock market 08, so I feel I can talk about my piddly problems.:) That is some kind of joke, I think, for anyone who cares.

I am at Such A Low, there are almost no words. I know that I don't have a huge support system, not on the web or in life and I am barely hanging by a thread. That is the truth. There are tears flowing down my face. I don't think I make sense anymore. This one is a doozy. I'm going down for the count. I am thinking of ways to off myself and they are scary. There are not a lot of options today.

This is making me simultaneously angry. I have stuff to work on. I have some goals I thought. Oh! And I didn't mention that I singlehandedly started a fundraiser for the Drop In Center (I wrote a few posts down what the heck that is).

Seriously. I got a flyer in the mail for a local dollar store that does fundraisers for non-profits made the calls after talking to the people at DIC and set the thing up. So I should be thrilled that I Accomplished something. Not so, so much. I'm dreading standing outside the building on the chosen day and handing out flyers. It's never enough.

Back to being angry and monstrously sad (nearly simultaneously), is this the crazy almost no-name illness that no one gives a d*n about?

I have tried so hard to accomplish things only to have the illness try so hard to take it away. That makes me bawl just writing it.

Huuuuuuuggggs & blessssings to everyone.

PS- My therapist who I saw on Monday, says last week was hard on a lot of people. She doesn't know if it's the full moon, the change in the weather, or her lack of skills (that was my input here, and no where else) but people are Feeling Bad. Just a note.

That seems manic!

I don't know where I got this, but it's true isn't it?

I don't, in fact, have a lot to say, so I will leave you with this billboard.:)

I take that back.

I have had unusual energy yesterday and this morning. I would say that continued into the baking thing, BUT my back hurt so I wanted to pull my spine out and twist it the proper way, or pay for a tummy tuck NOW! Anyways,

I don't know if it's the impending solar eclipse on Aug. 1 (Yeah, Yahoo says so) or what and I don't know if I would call this 'manic' or productive.

I have scrubbed the floor in my bathroom without anybody asking me to, then when my blush (say pink stuff everywhere) broke onto said floor I nary blinked an eye to continue to get down on my knees and scrub it further - with a Toothbrush!! Yes! Then scrubbed the sink, the toilet even the toilet bowl. I had never used toilet bowl cleaner before and didn't even realize we owned any. Pret-ty blue in the bowl!!

Then, while making a dinner with two vegetables and enough food to feed us last night AND today, I vacuumed the upper stairs, all of which was uncalled for.

This morning I awoke at 6:30 a.m. took care of the dogs, laid down for two seconds, then made sausage and Boiled eggs, almost forgetting how to boil a --- egg! But they turned out perfectly! As always spent way too much time on the computer, hung up Husband's shirts, made a stew for the crock pot for tonight, picked up branches in the front yard, talked on the phone, took a shower, and managed to get to my baking opportunity on time despite it being 40 minutes away (can't say the same for the other 'newer' person who lives waay closer but always manages to be 10-20 minutes late (and then figures staying 20 or more minutes later will make it up), and yes, it boils my hide).

Oh, and I also wrote for my book for an entire hour (9-10 a.m.) this morning, really still trying to get a feel for what it will be about.

Now I find out that 'BP Guy' has published his third book about his blogging adventures with comments from the rest of us. I wonder if I'm in it, I didn't know by commenting that I gave up rights to even know that. Now that I may be potentially published, should I 'bother' writing my own book? Answer: of course, silly!

I wonder how long my 'prolific days' will last. After all, I'm bipolar (and can't expect the 'Happy Days' of housewifehood to last long). First and foremost, a bathroom floor scrubber and Then a bipolar.:)

Congratulations on the Jolie-Pitt twins!

I have mixed feelings about the the Jolie-Pitt union. I'll save my thoughts completely on that because it's bound to offend somebody and I'm not into that, although I guess I could be more kind and penitent about it. (that means nice & sorry about my opinions.)

As one of my friends says about himself, 'my totem is the turtle, the king of non-confrontation.' I seem to live my life that way too, for better or worse, and I don't think it's a bad thing. It lead to a good friendship! I also learned impartiality at the newspaper and I try, try to keep it that way. (That's probably a big, 'Hah!')

But the twins and every thing Angelina seem to be fascinating to me. When a beautiful woman and celebrity such as Jolie gets impregnated (and pregnancy fascinates me) and then gives birth to not one but two beautiful babies, well that is a source of 'fascinato' to me, on top of all of it.

I can only hope that they are selling their what is expected to be $20 million dollar picture of the new darlings to 'People' magazine, as this is the only magazine I receive, every week and I read it cover to cover. I love that stuff as blog readers here, know.

If you wonder like I did, No! they are not keeping the money, they are donating it to charity. Don'tcha wish your first baby pic were worth $10 million (per individual)? That could build a couple of houses in New Orleans.:) Give it to (sell to to the) 'People,' Jolie-Pitts!

I almost posted this on my http://www.jungletartsgoodstuff.blogspot.com/ site but it almost sounds too catty to be 'Good Stuff' doesn't it? I don't mean for it to, I meant to just say, Congrats! and perhaps start a discussion about the names that were picked for the tykes. After all, my blogs should come with a 'I try to be 100% honest (or say nothing at all) tag! Only a bipolar could consider this 'good stuff' and 'Tart' at the same time!:)

See here for an interesting article from MSN dissecting the names/monikers picked for the twins. I think it's interesting, as an English major, that there are people specifically in the business of choosing and critiquing names, and that I intrinsically agreed with much that was said.

I would essentially give the boy name 'Knox' a C, and Vivienne Marcheline (to me, a normal sounding girl's name) an A. That's just me. What do you think of 'baby namer's' and their thinking?

Listening to the inner voice.:) (Revised 7-4-08)

Apples (& cores), Webshots

I received one of the very nicest, most heart felt and loving emails today. It came from a wonderful blogger friend.:) It brought me such joy and tears that I printed it to keep it near me.:)

She reminded me of what I said from the beginning of this blog - that I hope that I can help even one person with this blog, reaching to who knows where.

I hope I can help people feel not so alone, as many of us travail in the dark half the time. I try to do this just by being me, I still tell you all my 'slob' stories, in other words express my humanity. Just be me. That's how I try to help. Sometimes, I probably give self-righteous sounding 'advice' that doesn't quite hit the mark. But I try to stay positive, which I believe in very much.:)

This friend made me remember that I do have something to say. You see, I suffer from a real chronic illness, and some people have very little sympathy for it. But I know I have it, and a lot of us have it or wonder if they have it, and would feel comforted to read the daily travails of a bipolar. As least, I think so.

I don't need sympathy exactly, but I too, like to know that I'm not alone. And I am supported by friends and family and when the sad times come, and they do (of course, and I hate sad times that I can't figure out a 'reason' for, and then I simply have to say, "Oh, that's the illness, Duh on me!"), I work through them. Sometimes, just continuing to breathe makes me a winner.

I keep to myself most of the time in the real-world, mostly because I'm just plain comfortable that way, and because sometimes when I doooo go out, like last night, it feels like I (hopefully only temporarily) lose faith in people. My computer is so much kinder. So is the telephone.

I want to give a shout out to all the Mom's out there who are dealing with this illness with their children. The mother bears who fight for their cubs, against a cruel world.

You see, I have a Mom like that, and I had a Dad like that too. Long story, and neither of my parents were perfect, but they turned out to be perfect for me, and were there (and still are) when I needed them most, like a beacon in a storm.

I don't have children and the best example I have known of a Mom handling bipolar in a child is what I've seen of my Mom. My Mom didn't want me to get involved with the 'system' she wanted to keep me safe at home, but eventually I was too sick for it to work out that way. She fought for me. When I was sick in my 20's my Dad was a huge comfort to me, like angel, and I won't forget it.

If you are searching for what to do for your child, you can talk to doctors, you can take or allow the system to take your child to facilities (and don't be afraid to do it, if its needed) you can read books at some point when its not all crisis and you have time, you can be lucky to talk to someone who's been through this, but I really believe most of all - That you must follow your heart, your insides, and do what you think is right. You must LISTEN to that voice within and try to throw away fears to not follow it, ask questions sure, but you make the decisions that you can live with. And I for one, encourage you to follow that voice within.

Inside, you KNOW what the right things might be, you need help to make the right decisions, but in the end it's the voice within that rules! Some people call it God. I do.

Trust your instincts. You should be given massive props for doing so, because it's an unimaginably difficult job. :)

I received 'props' from my Mom today for going to that 'party,' and I received it from you guys here on the blog too (thank you so much for that!:) It means so much to be supported by people, to feel love, when I somehow feel like a weird outcast around some people at that 'party', people who PRETEND to be loving, understanding people.

Or more truthfully, some people THINK they are loving or nice, but are so stunted in their growth as human beings, instead, that I can barely stand being judged by THAT!

It takes a lot of patience and boredom on my part to put up with it. And certain persons have called me names, like 'Oh, you are weird!" as though that were acceptable to say. Would "Oh, you ARE a prissy princess!" be acceptable? Why not?

In the end its just too much anger to hold onto. I've got to let it go. If the other person can't let it go, then it's their problem. But I am trying.

So, as usual, I digress, because you let me.:) I hope dear reader, that I Can be of some help to you, it's what I hope to do.:)

Alright, blogger land, let's have a good week! I wish it for all of you!

Love,

Tart

I survived a social outing! (that I was dreading.)

It's such a long story as to why it's so painful for me but suffice to say, I went to a birthday party (sans present, because I was told two days ago, and didn't KNOW this was a birthday party!) where a person that I pretty much have bad feelings about also attended. I have good reason to not like this person but I will not go into it now. And I noticed that this person avoided me like the plague as well, even though I walked in cheerful and talkative and trying to be engaged in the conversation.

You know when you go to one of those stuffy joints, with stuffy people and just feel uncomfortable the whole time? That's how I felt. I could barely eat, even though the food was good, but, whatever. I hated the fact that I shook while eating, but whatever. (I shake because of meds, but I notice it and feel embarrassed. So that's uncomfortable. My husband ignores it, but I don't know how much it freaks other people out.)

BUT, I went out. I went over there. I DID engage in some conversations, and listened and did not butt in on many of them! In other words, dear friends, I tried to act normal. If normal is being quiet (and acting shy) when you're not necessarily. It's like you don't want to speak because I'll be embarrassing myself, even though people talked about plenty of inappropriate-you'd-think-it-would- be- party-killers-things. It about killed me, but I was as normal as I could be. And it was brave for me. I knew I was afraid to go, I had been avoiding it all weekend and I went anyway.

Hello, I'm angry.

I AM angry that I still shake. And I am sick of anxiety.

Once again, we return to thoughts of how chemicals (pills) affect the chemicals in your brain. They, meaning the pdoc and those who see fit, find that the chemicals that they embrace for me do better for me than all these pesky side effects. After all, THEY are not experiencing them.

And that brings to mind, how utterly annoying it is to be in the throes, verily, the shackles of what those drugs do. You give me a pill, it does one thing to me. You give me a pill to counteract it, it does something else.

Only people that have to go through this only the daily f*n basis of this, as I do, do I see can understand this.

There are people told to take drugs and they won't do it. There are people, like me, that take the drugs exactly as told, at the exact times prescribed, the whole shebang, and continue to suffer.

And so we are supposed to suffer as my friend Tracy wrote in a post, but you know what? It sucks. No matter if the world would think your suffering nothing, by the way, and you consider it considerable, you DO have something in common with everyone else, but I find mine so polarizing, so unusual, so having of so few people who give a damn, have it, or have it and share it, that once again, I'm just going to put on my Wonder Woman face and say I've done a good job, pat myself on the back and probably not have anything to say on the blog for a while.

That didn't get past Me.

I know that there has been a lot of brouhaha of late about Oprah and her spirituality and whatnot.

I’m not going to address that, except to say that I haven’t been feeling like watching Oprah of late and I’m not in the slightest interested in her ‘New Age’ fascination with eckard toll or whatever.

I did however catch today’s interview with Barbara Walter’s as sitting duck, I mean interviewee. And I noticed the joy that Oprah had at making Baba nearly cry talking about her retarded sister and her death.

AND I caught, at the end of the interview, Baba’s very telling remark that she was “too old to interview anymore, because she had become too kind.” And she didn’t blink or apologize for it.

Ouch. Take that, you Strong Woman. Make Baba cry, but she’ll put your fat ass in your place.

Out.

WHAT!!? Not everyone considers furbabies as fur-children!!??!

I guess I can see the neighbor's problem. My small, adorable black pug only barks like a crazed doggie when she see's their kid, a small girl. My pug, has issues with the small variety of human. They are strange, a source of concern, or perhaps she's playing with them, I don't know. But she is consistent.

We have other pugs here, my other fawn, and my Mom's fawn, for a total of 2 other pugs that came to check out the fuss. So I had told my Mom to call me if my little one barked or carried on.

The thing is, she won't do it unless the loud (I can hear her) child comes to the fence and babbles and goads the dog into a frenzy. I mean that, the dog is fine without neighbors child or mowing next to the fence, the two things I've seen get her going.

The short of it, is the Dad of child drags her away from the fence muttering something about 'Not right to have 3 dogs..'

Ouch. Not only did he not accept my apology for my puggie, which I don't think she started anyway, it's clear that they don't understand the love we have for our dogs. It was not a frenzy with the 3 of them, the other two were just THERE.

So, I would be surprised if I ever have a human child, being pumped full of drugs and already owning a ripe hormonal system. However, I'm doing well with the fur-children and I will just have to accept that human parents don't see it the same way.

I'm lucky I'm allowed to speak to people with children, after all I'm such a FREAK, as a 36-year old woman who has not reproduced. Can we take into account that during the years of prime reproduction I had three scorching cases of psychoses? I mean, we should be impressed with that and the fact that lately I've been hiding my tarkinesia as I can. Could a Mom be more superhuman?

Ah well, its a good thing that people like me are so tolerant of the rest. But I'm not impressed with the squealing and outright ruckuses in restaurants, and if I was saddled with it - the constant responsibility, the incredible possibility to screw up and the kid turns out 'bad,'and I'm not interested in my local PTA, because I've taught children and they were a delight, their parents were the nightmare - so why rock the boat on having what is already populating Earth too much anyway.

My illness is not my fault, but my ability to use reproductive shields successfully is apparently something to further be amazed with. I'm grateful for my consolation prizes and I'll try not impinge on parental territory any more than they should cut on what I consider my joy. I think I deserve some.

Next post: PMS, the scorge I can't rid myself of, besides Bipolar. What frkn frustration.

Tired of (C)razed (V)ile (S)uckers. Someone had to say it.

Aflak's ca-razy beneficent duck! (a steal off some site)

Oh, what to do when you're pre-menstrual and upset about your pharmacy getting snippy with you?

Do a post, Dahling.

I feel like crying. Heck, I did some of that a little while ago, along with a full fit directed at Husband, as he was being oh-so-logical.

Except for the part when he suggested it was my fault, that I always want the last word, AND he had the nerve to make fun of my hysteria.

He should be glad I signed the marriage agreement which is like unto a pact of confidentiality. So's that's all you'll get out of ME!!

But really, I am pissed am my pharmacy, those (C)razy (V)ile (S)uckers, the overloaded, understaffed, mean pieces de poo that they are.

Why take on so much work, if not for the bottom line. More customer's, selling more filth - OUGHT TO be able to afford the help, A-cord-dingly.

Who wants to be an underloved, overworked, underpaid pharm tech anyway? If this represents you, I bet you don't have the time to blog surf.

I'm thinking you are going home, tossing a handful of feed to whatever animal you have and falling face first, no teeth brushies, into the bed. You too tired to move, let alone fire up the 'puter.

But should you find this - don't expect a person who takes A LOT of drugs, (apparently against the norm. I've simply learned that I have to. End of paren.) who is keeping your industry in business, who is a significant reason for your paycheck, who keeps up with doctor's appt's, blood letting's, and in short does everything to keep it together and pop it in her mouth at the proper times,

to have overwhelming pity

for a person that, given a couple of years and who hangs in there, will be a full-fledged pharm making a lot money (off ME) and whom everyone has to listen to (even if they are a jackass).

I know. It's frightening how much I understand.

Don't hate me because it sounds so familiar. I'm nearly a master in the understanding of the human condition, and I'm simultaneously sickened by it. Just mail my Nobel, my Pulitzer, Thanx.

I am hormonal, I am about to be without Thyroid meds because of the inability of the Crazed Vile Suckers to get a hold of my doctor, despite an extra three days allowed.

If it was my job to do their job shouldn't I have been informed, there should be a form and background check on me performed, maybe a kickback on the side for my incurred administrative fees???

I just feel like saying f all of ya and going without.

Will this help me lose weight?

I assume this stuff is important for all the fuss that it is.

Someone please call Oprah, cause I know she understands my thyroid issues. We can talk for hours about the rest of it.

UPDATE: Feb 1, Fri. Got ahold of the reg Doc today and got them to call in my med. Yay. Oh, name change. (C)urt (V)ile (S)uckers. Thank you.

Abilify has changed my life...

American Pit Bull Terrier (Webshots)

...in the simple fact that I can now get up in the morning.

Yes, that is a miracle.

I'm paying the price for years of non-use of say, my stomach muscles, while sleeping for the past three years thru until Oprah time each day.

I am the proverbial 'Sleeping Beauty.' Let me tell you, there's nothing beautiful about a flabby belly and non-existent back muscles. I'm just sayin.'

Now I must work like crazy to get them back. Guh-roan.

I do take naps now, and I think I have to figure the best times for them, but for the most part I'm up and Adam, feeding my animals, eating some OATMEAL myself (which for years I refused to eat. It's so healthy.) and going from there.

I've been on Abilify since mid-December 2007, they upped me from 15 mg to 20 mg's a week or so ago. I don't crave food normally, but the number on the scale is stubbornly the same. (I'm working on exercise). If you like details.

My anger is significantly lower. I'm not normal, but I don't rage like I did. Hence I type here less, since when you rage, you have so much to talk about. What a miracle less anger is!

But I don't quite say that with religious fervor because that says to me that I'm a bit of a prisoner to the ol' chemical-aroos. Ya know? Take a pill, and chill, that bothers me. I take so much stuff to get a little effect, barely noticeable and then Abilify comes along and goes and makes massive changes?

Makes you wonder how many things are merely controlled by brain chemicals in your head. If a pill can alter - who the hell's in charge here???

And when is this stuff going to stop being so 'fun?' Is the effectiveness going to peter out and I'll be at ground zero, waiting for the next wonder drug?

Am I an Eli Lilly 'drug trial in waiting?' Are they using me to judge the effectiveness so the next generation of sniveling 'give it to me's' and 'I want everything now's' get the benefit of my suffering?

Still searching for that mentor. Where's MY MENTOR???

You see, I'm still ungrateful yet insightful and haven't changed much!:) Hey, it's my life. Bipolar is not a cake walk, but sometime you get to eat a cupcake.

Good Story Found - Man fall 47 Stories and Miraculously Survives!

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/04/nyregion/04fall.html?_r=1&th&emc=th&oref=slogin

Why can't we have stories where people plant pansies and they flourish into a beautiful garden? This is what bothers me about 'good stories.'

It takes something terrible to turn into something good.

How bipolar.

Good News Folks

Turns out there is good stuff out there, just like I state on my other blog.

But I say that so sarcastically, as it seems so difficult for the majority of whatever to accept that there are even minor amounts of joy out there, thaaat I'll post some At-least-I-had-a-happy-Christmas and others do-have-happy-lives, here (after all, fake drama is not necessary in many people's lives. Most have real drama and real happiness). Hunh.:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/26/us/25cnd-death.html?_r=1&8au&emc=au&oref=slogin

Executions Decline Elsewhere, but Texas Holds Steady

That's a special for Mark LofTI’s, whom I'm sure wouldn't mind seeing a nasty lawyer given the juice. It must happen sometime, what with Texas electrocuting 60% more than the rest of the country. Proudly, of course, and why not?!

Isn't that great? Oh, check the other blog for the Real Happy Stuff. As if I'd waste it here.:)

Nope.

There will be no Christmas. Not for me, anyway.

First I want to express my appreciation, because there have actually been people that tried to help, that went above and beyond. (Thank you, Mysti:)

Well anyway, I have just had it. It seems very strange to me that I feel very numb about a number of messed up family issues, and my personal body just breaking down.

I've said before that Christmas seems to be nothing but pressure, something I don't enjoy at all. And frankly, whether they meant to or not, (and I'm pretty sure not) my family has let me dooowwwwn.

There are some things that I've been working on a while and I want to send them out. But my Christmas spirit is shot, I am sick in so many ways, and I'm just not going to be responsible for 'it' (Christmas) anymore.

I usually make one item per year, as I am so slow and for some reason it takes me sooo long to crochet. I am a fringe away from being done on a special scarf, and I figure the person who's getting it will be happy whenever it gets there.

And so forth for the pictures I finally had made a loving Aunt.

I paid a butt-load to have 35 Hallmark imprinted, and more to make those magnets to go inside.

But I admit I am pissed, and beside myself, that at no point has Husband lifted a finger to figure out how to make labels or to do anything about his big ass family and sending these cards to them.

I get sick of being his unpaid, but extremely professional, secretary that is expected to take care of such things. Despite the fact that I mentioned it to him a while back. To write their addresses. Or make labels.

You gotta understand. I ended up going to the doctor yesterday, because the night before I must have been suffering from what can only be called a fever. The day before I got worked on by the dentist and that evening I started the Abilify.

I'm on the edge of my period. It's so 'funny' I've told countless 'professionals' that I have self-diagnosed myself with PMDD, and they just look at me. Again, isn't there a test for this?

Nope.

There would be if 13-15 year-old boys got the malady, since they are apparently so prone to violence.

Maybe parents would stop buying 'killem' games, and make those kids play Monopoly or football for once.

Or they would have to sit there with a pad on, hoping it didn't slip anywhere funny. Yeah, can you tell I've been there?

A healthy game of 'Risk' that goes on for days beats D&D, and teaching kids chess makes them good, non-violent thinkers. I never heard of anyone that liked chess shooting anyone. They're too busy being brilliant in other areas of life.

Enough about everyone else, I'm telling the world that there will be no Christmas at Tart's house. We still don't have a tree (so I say fk it), we still haven't send, mailed, anything, and I say unless it's my people (who of course, Husband wouldn't even know to deal with) it's not my problem.

The joy is gone. Making me wonder if you have to be a little kid, or have kids, to enjoy it all?

I don't know how to convert the Excel file into labels. I am not typing all those names in. Just because. I guess I want a raise.

Because I am a damn time-bomb waiting to explode. Don't worry, I'll implode on my tiny family and you'll never hear about it.

Because I'm that good.