I hate you, you hate me, we’re a hateful family…


Dear motherofgod.

I don’t like a lot of people.

I hate when Im in a mood that I look at someone/read something they write, and instantly want to start yelling at them about how stupid they are/how bad the suck at life. It gets so bad that I get short of breath and my hands start to shake.

I hate it! That’s not what nice people do. I want to be a nice person!

I know its a bipolar thing. Please tell me that you all rage like this!

I have a secret.


I did it!

I got my ass out of the house and ran around the neighborhood – without crying!

Pillars suggested that I go a different route than when I went when I was manic, because it always seemed to make me cry. I thought about it, and decided that I was going to go the routes I liked and risk the tears. I haven’t ran them for a couple months, and I have changed a lot in that short time.

I found myself starting to think obsessively about my illness, and arguing stupid points in my mind over and over…like I can actually argue my way out of what has happened to me, what I’ve done, and what I am. I caught the negative thinking and told myself I was going to stop, and I did!

I got back home and had a sudden urge to continue. That was really surprising, given my inclination to sit down at every step and bench I came across. So I ran a little more. 🙂

It was made that much better to see my 2 year old staring out the window looking for me when I made it back home.

I’m feeling more comfortable with myself. I realized that I’m a fighter, and that I’ve been fighting for many years. The difference now is that I know my opponent, and common sense says that if you know what you’re fighting, you have a better chance at beating it. You can prepare yourself.

So yeah, I feel stronger…but I expect to be knocked back down again. Shit I might knock my own self down. I might stay down for a while. But I’ll never stay down forever. And I expect to cry again. Probably tomorrow. But that doesn’t make me weaker. Every time it knocks me down and I get back up, I’m stronger. I win that one.

I’m starting to realize that this didn’t beat me. That I control whether or not it does.

And I’ve got news for you…I’m a stubborn bitch!

I have a secret robot crush on Optimus Prime. Although I guess it’s not a secret anymore…

Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned.


Or maybe I haven’t.

Or maybe I have, and I’m just gonna go to hell.

Or maybe I have, and it’s forgivable. 

I mean, I broke a commandment. Thou shalt not commit adultery. There has to be some repercussion for that, right? Some penance? I need penance. It’s not a “Oh, she was manic, she has an illness, she loves her husband and didn’t mean to hurt him – it was wrong, but it’s ok, you need to forgive yourself.” That just doesn’t sound right to me. But I kinda feel like that’s what I’m getting from my therapist.

She said I need to “do whatever you need to do to feel better”. Yeah, we’re at that point. 6 months later, and I’m not forgiving myself still. It’s like she’s pulling her hair out and looking confused wondering why I just can’t get over it. I thought it would just happen over time.

I know, for someone who did what I did, that this will sound really wrong, and maybe like a flat out lie. But I have strong morals. Which is probably why it’s so hard for me to let this go. Pillars says he has forgiven me. I have made great strides in attaining a normal mood, adjusting my life so it’s more kind to me. But I’m holding on to this nasty, hurtful feeling, and I’m not sure how to let it go.

My therapist asked Tuesday, “Why did you do it?”

“Because I couldn’t not do it. It was a physical urge. It wasn’t even an option. It was an energy. It didn’t make sense.”

“And that is Bipolar. It doesn’t make sense.”

Pillars asked why I am looking for sense in something that doesn’t make sense. Why can’t I just let it be: something that happened that doesn’t make sense.

I guess because I haven’t tortured myself enough yet.

If I wanna torture myself, fine. But the reason I am trying to figure this out is because I think that it’s coming between me and Pillars, physically. I had been explaining my low sex drive (I’m only wanting it once every 10 days or so) to meds, life, everything else. But things keep becoming clear to me – I’m able to see ways I am sabotaging myself . Ways I am lying to myself, maybe little white lies to others in effort to be what they expect me to be – or what I think they expect me to be. Doing things I don’t want to do, worrying about people judging me for any little thing. I wasn’t being true to myself; I might not even know who myself really is. I didn’t notice I was doing all of this, and now I’m slowly seeing it all.

So it became clear to me last week when we were having sex that I get little flashbacks, images, etc of my affairs. And of course that floods me with negative emotions: disgust, anger, hopelessness, pity, and more. I get really uncomfortable, and Pillars can tell. Therefore, sex = negative emotions for me. Hence why I hardly ever “feel like it”. We figured all that out in marriage therapy.

Now, I want to forgive myself for my husband. So we can have that intimacy back. So I can be his and be present while we are in bed. 0

I think a confession would be a good step forward. It seems to be what my mind always comes back to when I think of forgiving myself.

On the topic of the ten commandments – people commit murder to save themselves, people work on Sundays, people say the Lord’s name in vain, people covet what their neighbor has…

So it’s common place. It happens. A lot. I probably shouldn’t be so uptight about it.

But a little bit of me worries that if I let this go, I’ll do it again. But I’d have to be manic, and I keep too close a guard on my symptoms and my moods, Pillars pays close attention, and I see my therapist(s) too often for this to happen. So I should just let it go and trust myself and all of them.

That’s where I am. Focusing on that. Or trying not to focus on that. Whichever.

Just Like Me


I found myself wondering yesterday evening, as I stepped into the shower about an hour before my first Bipolar Support Group started, “Why am I going?? I don’t like people. I have all the support I need between my blog and my family and friends who know. WHY AM I GOING?”. Surprisingly, the answer flowed from my elusive brain:

I want to see what they look like. I want to see just how sick I am compared to them.

Honest thoughts like that from me are hard to come by. Most of them are centered around pleasing someone, and as emotional as I am, I am not very in touch with MY feelings. Recognizing this has knocked me back a little. It feels like a huge realization that is going to change the way I think. It has, in this short time. I can feel myself care less about if someone is judging me. Its odd…Im still trying to figure it out…another day, another blog.

I was incredibly nervous going to this meeting. I found a parking spot quickly, and made my way to the nearest elevator. There was an older woman in a pink shirt that rode to the 2nd floor with me. She carried on to wherever while I asked the nearest nurse where room C is.

I stopped down the hall from the room. I had to decide now if I wanted to see what was in there. I kicked my ass and walked in.

And there’s the lady from the elevator. She joked and asked if I was following her. I didn’t have to spend much time scanning the room, there was only a total of 4 people there. All older (40+).

Sigh. No one in a straight jacket. No one trying to chew their ear, or screaming, or my personal manic favorite – soliciting for sex.

There ended up being 10 including me. I was the youngest. I wasn’t the craziest. Or the least crazy. Trust, I quietly surveyed everyone. My first check was for wedding bands. Aside from the two partnered gay women sitting across from me, I was the only one wearing one

In 15 years, when I’m their age, will I no longer be wearing one? Do I, do we, have the equivalent of the plauge of marriage? I gathered after hearing everyone’s introduction that they had all been diagnosed later in life. I comforted myself with thinking about how I caught it early and am dedicated to therapy and my medication.

I was fully prepared to say that I don’t want to talk. But I found myself eager to share after hearing a few intros: painful, and embarrassing. I listened and watched everything there was to listen to and watch. Clothing, eye movement, voice, sentence structure, and confusion or delay in their story, and most importantly, what their eyes were saying.

Some eyes were sad. Defeated. Hollow. Wild. Angry. Frustrated. I saw myself in every single one of them. They saw themselves in each other as well. There was an understanding. And it was the least judgmental place I have ever been. They knew when someone was feeling low, when someone hadn’t taken their Meds. They asked how the other’s surgery went, and sent a Happy Birthday to another group member’s dog.

There was a sense of protection there. It was special. It just was.

They were people Ive probably seen around town, and they are struggling just like me. They get crazy just like me. They have a temper just like me. I always thought I was a rare breed…

But I found others. Just like me.

Bipolar Support Groups


What’s your experience? I’ll be having my own experience this Friday…

It’s being held at a hospital, and is 2 hours long. When I had previously been told about the meeting, I was still working nights and was sure there was no way I’d ever be able to actually GET to one. But now that that’s changed, looks like I’ll have the pleasure. Or not?

I mentioned the meeting to my therapist at our meeting a couple days ago. A concerned look immediately crossed her face, and the warnings started spewing out:

  • “Watch out for any men attending. Lots of people go to pick up someone.”

I said “Whaaattt?? People do that??

Her response: *shrugs* “They’re bipolar.”

Palm-To-Forehead. Yep. Of course. I was that way only months earlier, why didn’t that occur to me? I have been that. ((insert a butt load of shame here))

  • “They might ask for your number, get that kind of information. Be careful…”

I assured her that I don’t like people anyways, so that’s not a problem.

  • “Being as it’s in a hospital, it’s probably safer and more legit than other support groups I’ve heard of.”

Great. Then I only have to worry about manic, predatory bipolar men asking me for my number and then following me home.

  • “You’re probably going to see people………a lot sicker than you.”

Maybe this should scare me, but my only thought is that it’s going to make me paranoid that I’ll eventually get that sick.

So all in all, she’s just made me paranoid. To top it off, I mention all this to Pillars, and he’s like, “Yeah, that’s what I read…”. Everyone knows more than me about this! Gah!

Someone? Anyone? Give me a glimmer of hope that this will be a good thing? That I’ll see more than straight jackets, alcohol, and someone trying to bite me or some crazy shit like that?

Living Life In A Straight Jacket


I actually came out of therapy today excited. I know, I’m a weirdo 😉

Here’s how our convo went:

Iris: “So you had your first marriage counseling session yesterday…how was it?”

Me: “Good. Awkward. Uncomfortable. We were with a new neutral person, and here he is – the victim. And here I am – the offender…”

Iris: “Victim?? Offender?? He’s NOT a victim. You are NOT an offender. Why are you using those words? You didn’t commit a CRIME!”

Me: *eyebrows raised* “I BROKE A COMMANDMENT”

Iris: *laughing* “Yes, what you did was wrong. It’s good that you know that.” 

At this point, I’m wondering why I feel so strongly about the commandments, and why she’s taking it so lightly. It looks like that huge ass tapestry of Jesus on my Granny’s wall and the constant play of Ben-Hur had more effect on me than I know.

Iris: “Who made you feel like you don’t matter?”

Me: “My parents, I guess. My Dad was always busy working, and when he wasn’t, he tried really hard not to be around. Emotionally, or physically. And my Mom was always busy cooking and cleaning and making sure everything was ‘just so’.”

Iris: “So they never really engaged you?”

Me: “No, I guess they just maintained me.”

Iris: “Did you have meals together.”

Me: “Oh yeah. Every night. Those were the worst. So tense and uncomfortable.”

Iris: “What?! That’s horrible. What were they like?”

Me: “I always had a nervous twitch going on…my leg shaking, tapping, stuff like that. And I always got fussed at by Dad for it. Anything that wasn’t -just right- got you fussed at.”

Iris: “Your whole life was like that. When someone came into your room, it was ‘Oh no, what did I do?'”

Me: “Pretty much.”

Iris: “You never got to figure out who YOU are because you were forced to maintain what they expected you to be. Normally, after leaving home, kids rebel and decide they’re not doing anything they were required to do at home. You never did that, you just carried all those expectations and requirements with you into marriage, and into motherhood. You had your little rebellion recently, I hope you enjoyed it because it’s not happening again. Now, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. If you feel like eating chicken every night, eat chicken. If you want to go to bed at 9, go to bed at nine.”

So basically, my goal is to not feel like I have to do anything because of someone else. Every day I am to take 15 minutes and write down what I LIKE. Anything. The goal is to learn who I am and what I like – without anyone’s influence.

She hit the nail on the head, for sure. I have always felt that way. Like I wasn’t able to be myself.

Now, I know my core values. I know I married the right man :):):) I know I love my children. That much, I know without a doubt. I guess it’s every other detail I have to ponder.

She said that once I figure this out, I’ll be less nervous. She said she sees a lot of women that don’t know who they are. They have just been something for someone for so long that they never figured it out.

Well, at least I’ll figure this out before I’m 30. Barely. lol

Chocolate Rivers & Gumdrop Smiles = how I DON’T feel in the morning.


Very good meeting with the new marriage therapist today. She is a good style for us. Not too quiet, not too talkative, asking the right probing questions at the right times.

I was anxious though, and made a couple wrong turns getting there. I could feel my mind slipping, wanting to escape the situation on the say there. I told myself very sternly that I WAS NOT LEAVING THE SITUATION. That I was staying present, and was going to be an active contributor.

I should probably add that I was looking horrible for this meeting. I had planned to shower before leaving, but my toddler decided to break the child proof handle off his door and skip nap time. So I couldn’t shower…and I couldn’t get my sleepy ass off the couch to finish cleaning before the sitter arrived. By the time she arrived, I was still in my PJs, needing to leave, and “couldn’t find anything to wear”. Yeah, Im a woman.

So all of that just started me on a bad foot. Pillars could see I was tense in the waiting room and he gave me a nice neck massage. That always calms me.

Our session started with the “why are we here”. Our answer: sex and intimacy problems. Then we moved on to talking about what has been going on in our life…since we were married 7 years ago.

She picked out a lot of sore areas. Im fine addressing them…they need to be addressed. Many times I got teary eyed and had to move my gaze to my lap. I considered not restraining it, but decided I had already made a poor enough impression with my outfit, greasy hair, uptight anxious attitude, and general look of confusion.

We will be visiting her every other week. I look forward to it. Kinda. I do…I know that our marriage will be stronger because of it. I know that all the work we are putting in now will pay off.

Now if only I could feel that way about my brain.
Honestly, Im still tracking my moods and symptoms right now, but I am not taking serious stock into it because I know my sleep habits have caused a great deal of stress, and that’s all changing starting tonight. I have 9 minutes until my scheduled pill taking time (which includes ambien), followed by immediate sleep 🙂

Im thinking that 8 hrs of sleep a night should be sufficient. Better than 5, at least. We will see, and make adjustments if needed.

No more late nights for me!


Tonight was my last night working a night shift. Yippee!!

I contacted the scheduling manager and she was fine with changing my schedule to only Sat and Sun, only lunch shifts. Although, she asked before approving it if its a short term change, to which I asked her to clarify what short term is. She said 2 months or less. I pondered, realized that I didn’t plan to still be working there in 2 months, and replied that yes, it IS a short term change. That’s not a lie.

I apologized to my husband for not realizing that my being home at night now would be putting a wrinkle in how he does things. But we agreed that it’ll be much better…more time together, more family time, more family meals, etc. I think its gonna be awesome. And even on Sat and Sun, Ill be off probably before the kids even go to bed.

Another plus: Ill get to attend a Bipolar Support group on Friday nights. A friend has also recently been diagnosed and told me about the group. I don’t know if I should be excited or scared. Or both. Anyone ever been to one? What can I expect?

Pillars and I also have marriage counseling tomorrow. We haven’t been in a couple months, and we are going somewhere totally new (in his therapist’s practice). Again, not sure if I should be excited or scared. I imagine we will have to explain our life stories again tomorrow…that’s always a blast. Reliving some of your worst memories, admitting to some of your worst moments (again), feeling all of those negative feelings. Oh well. We have an issue that needs resolving: our sex life. My zest for sex has plummeted (be it life, children, medication, whatever.) He still wants it regularly. I want to please him, but I don’t want to force myself. I cry when I do that lol. No one wants anyone to cry during sex. Its not sexy. And then when I DO have desire, it goes away quickly, and I get uncomfortable. Not with my body, but with the act. I don’t know why, but I want to be the best for my husband, and he deserves more than Im giving him.

So we are going to lighten the blow of marriage therapy with a date immediately following. 🙂

Ill definitely update as to how the counseling goes!