Who am I, anyways?


I always had this clear vision of who I was, who I wanted to be. I was a dreamer growing up. Not the distracted dreamer, but I had big

plans for myself and I was confident about them. I knew that if I wanted it bad enough, I would get it. Something drove me inside; I felt strong inside. I attributed some of that strength to religion. Times got rough, as they do, but something always happened to pull me out of it. I was confident in my SELF.

The indecision and confusion that has been plaguing me for a few days reached it’s worst point yesterday. Thankfully I was off of work. I seem to be in a better place today. I don’t work again until tomorrow, so it should be gone by then. Thankfully, it never seems to last more than a couple days. It’s a slow slide into it, and then I have a virtually nonfunctional mind for a day or so, and then I wake up on the upside. Maybe still a little foggy, but I can think clearer, and make a decision easier.

Lucky for me, not only did I have yesterday off, but Pillars took the day off. Not because of my incapacity. It was nice. It’s always nice to have him around of course. 🙂

My self esteem hits rock bottom when I’m trying to do something simple like make a box of mac n cheese for the kids and I have to read the instructions 5 times before I even understand the first step. I don’t like looking like I’m stupid in front of my husband. I know he knows I’m not…and he thinks my mind is beautiful. But when he talks to me about what we’re going to do, and my head is EMPTY, and his words flow in, swirl around, and flow right back out – none of them finding a place to stick – I have to say “I’m sorry, what are we doing after that?”.  Or worse yet, “Just tell me what to do.”, because my memory isn’t on. I’m a body. I’m breathing. I can smile. I can laugh. But I can’t hold any information, and can only perform small, easy tasks. And even then, it takes me forever.

It’s those days that rubs my nose into the fact that I’m not “normal”.

On to happier news, I think I’ve gained more weight. I say “think” because I’m avoiding the scale. I know it’ll only upset me more. I’m trying to avoid things that upset me. I’m in a sensitive enough place as it is, and have had despairing thoughts and more suicide ideation than I care to admit. So, no, I’m not stepping on the scale. It’s not a surprise that I have…I used to run A LOT (while manic, of course), and now I just want to sit in a ball on the couch.

I don’t need a scale to tell me that I’ve packed a little on. So I decided to go running yesterday evening. As before, it started off fine, and then I ended up angry and crying about half way through. I realized I didn’t want to be running. But that 5 months ago, it was all I could think about. I’m drained of energy. But 5 months ago, I felt like I was busting at the seams with it, and had to restrain myself from doing jumping jacks all day. I cried because I want that energy back. At least some of it. At least enough to be able to feel alive, because right now, I don’t.

I said to myself, “I want myself back!”. But then I realized that that wasn’t myself. Then, who am I? When were my “normal” periods between episodes? When? I don’t think I have any way of knowing. So does that mean I have to figure that out now? Then my inner voice started screaming that I didn’t ask for this. I don’t WANT THIS. This isn’t how I was SUPPOSED TO BE.

Bipolar isn’t want I dreamed of being 15 years ago. 

We live across from a church, that has a nice little water fountain, and benches. I took my angry bipolar self over there, thinking it would calm me down. I sat on the bench, still crying a little bit, and asked if this is what life is for me. All the flowers there are bloomed,  and beautiful, and I wondered when I would be able to find my internal passion, hope, optimism, and beauty again.

Will I only know my “normal” when there is a absence of symptoms? I’ll realize I’m “normal” when I’m not checking anything off of my nightly symptom chart?

 

Me, the future Olympian.


I’m blogging this while walking on the treadmill at the gym. Clearly, I am not a future Olympian. Besides the obvious dedication issue, I’m much too old for that shit.

I was testing out my energy. I am proud to say that I have no manic energy. That’s not to say it won’t surface tomorrow, or in a couple days. I’m such a pessimist.

Of note, my Husband had offered to let me go back to bed after he woke up this morning. That’s nothing out of the ordinary, he’s awesome like that. But when he woke up, I was still awake. I didn’t jump back into bed. That is unusual. And even now, after 2.75 miles here, I am not looking for a corner to curl up in. Weird.

It’s the energy. It’s trying to resurface. I guess I’ll just give up my fight and let my body do what it’s going to do. I can be mindful. I can communicate. But hating what’s happening won’t stop it.

Degrees of Hypersexuality


I’m drained of energy lately. But, I’ve had slight feelings of hypersexuality. To put things in context, I consider feeling hypersexual as wanting sex a lot. I don’t. I don’t even like my body right now What I’m feeling equates to a little fire on the back of my neck and it travels down to my hips. And it’s a fuzzy feeling around my temples.

Full hypersexuality, as I have experienced it, is finding yourself attractive, and practically every man you see horribly attractive, and taking steps to act on that. I am not that right now.

It’s almost like a full onset is wanting to bubble up but maybe the lithium is keeping it down.    ?     Sounds plausible. I hate being so tired all the time. I want a little more energy. But I don’t want any of the bad symptoms to have room to wiggle out.

I was discussing this last night in bed with Pillars, and he asked if it makes me feel better, being as this supports that idea that the lithium is making a difference in holding my symptoms at bay – I am clearly bipolar – if there ever was a question about it. I considered that. Does this weird feeling of symptoms wanting to rise but being unable to make me feel better? I said no. It might have a few months ago, but I’ve subscribed to the idea that I AM BIPOLAR. I’m not really looking for any more confirmation of that. What would make me feel better is if these symptoms didn’t exist at all!

On Being Overweight, Miserable, and Bipolar.


First off, I would like to start this blog post with a warm thanks to a fellow [woman!] blogger who stated [in a blog] that no woman should ever be over 140 lbs unless they are pregnant or 6′ tall.

On to more substantial content.

My husband was cleaning out a closet tonight and found a pile of pictures that contained some of my Dad. He asked if I’d like to take a look at the whole pile, because there may be more pictures. Of course I did! I think I’ll make a separate post of those pictures another time 🙂

As with any other old stack of photos, I found some of me with an ex.

More importantly, me, just over 200 lbs.

Here, enjoy one for yourself.

Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you!

Please note the candy canes in my center pocket. For proper snacking later on. After grimacing at the pictures for a couple minutes, I wondered, “Hey. Why am I wearing jean overalls in allllllll of these pictures??” And I instantly remembered. They best hid my figure. It was all I had that I could fit into, and a little piece of me was refusing to buy new – bigger – clothing.

Fast forward to a hot little me coming off of a hypomanic episode (3 months ago):

I mean, in this picture, even I wanna touch my boobs. And you can’t see it…but I’m wearing this tight mini-skirt that I love.

I’ve gained 10 lbs since this picture was taken. Yeah, 10 lbs isn’t anything, really. But on a 5’4″ girl, it can actually look like a lot. I blame this on just a few key reasons:

  1. I’m not nearly out of my mind.
  2. I’m on medication that has been known to make people want to eat.
  3. I don’t have the manic energy that was driving me to run 10-12 miles/week all those months. I’m lucky to get 1 mile a week now.
  4. I’m sorting through a lot of CRAP about my illness and what that means/the pain I’ve caused/how to move forward/etc, etc. That’s left me self medicating with sweet stuff. And nachos and cheese from 7-11.

Either way, that previous picture was all I needed to get my thick ass pounding the pavement this evening. 

I’m running, and as usual I end up crying. No biggie. I cry nearly every run now.

As I mentioned, I ran a lot when I was in my episode. I stayed in the neighborHOOD, but I’m certain I ran every street possible. I’ve continued to run in the same places, but every time, it brings up memories of running during my episode. Maybe it’s similar to a recovering alcoholic hanging out at the bars they used to get trashed in.

I usually come out of the tears less than a block down the street, nobody notices, and I actually feel better after having cried. But this time, when I got home I didn’t feel any better. I was uncomfortable. The memory and recollection of the feelings from months ago weren’t gone.

I know you’re expecting this to go somewhere, but it’s not. I came inside, took my shoes off, went back outside and paced in front of my house for a few minutes. I don’t know why I took my shoes off and then went back outside. That’s just how my mind operates sometimes. Fun, no?

But my lovely husband gave me a nice shoulder and face massage when I came back in to help calm me. And it did. He always gets me into such deep meditative states when he massages me (which is daily, might I add!). I even start to drool.

Once again, it’s great being me!

Running & Bipolar Disorder


Or maybe more appropriately, Energy & Bipolar Disorder. Hm? Anyone nodding their heads yet?

At the beginning of this year, within a month, I went from not being able to run .25 miles before giving up (and hating running) to running 10-12 miles a week. I craved it. I remember one night going to the gym after work (it was around midnight) and running a few miles.

I read somewhere that hypersexuality and having a lot of sex is also linked to the energy. That we use sex as an outlet for our overabundance of energy. It’s merely an act to get rid of the energy. I can agree to that.

I remember the energy getting uncomfortable. Particularly being in situations or places when the feeling overran me, was spilling out of my finger tips, and I had no way of releasing it.

One time in particular, I was at work and felt the need to run. Obviously, I couldn’t say “Hey Boss…can I take a 10 min break to go do laps around the restaurant?”. Well, I could have , but then he would’ve thought I was weird. I talked about my energy while I was there. It was hard not to tall about it. Shit, it was hard not to talk. I found myself having a hard time not moving, being incredibly witty, full of punch lines and puns, and of course…undeniably sexy. Hey, even if I wasn’t, I thoughtI was, and that’s all that matters when you’re Bipolar.

It was almost a physical pain. Not being able to run when I felt the rush of energy hit me was torture. It was like a drug, one that got me high. Just like the sex. I literally felt a rush radiate from my body over and over again while I was running. It came from my chest and spread through my fingertips and my feet. It felt like electricity.

I. WAS. ON.

Oh that energy felt good.

I continued running through my diagnosis and starting Lithium. I went from being an awesome newbie runner to not enjoying a single step and giving up .5 miles into it, frustrated, sad, and a little angry that my drug had been taken away from me.

I didn’t run for about a month and a half. I started again last week and was so happy when it felt comfortable. Not exhilarating, not orgasmic, not like torture. But normal. I didn’t want to stop early into it. I think I did about 1.5 mi my first run “back”. I’ve done 2 more since, both equaling about 1.25 mi each (Im not sure of the distance when I run the neighborhood …I just got wherever looks good). Im so glad this new healthy habit wasn’t taken away from me permanently.

Anyone else in the BP club like to run? Or do anything similar?