GO ON AND SAVE YOURSELF

I won’t follow along with an ideal or concept unless I’ve asked questions and received answers that satisfy my curiosity. If this doesn’t happen or I find reason to disagree with the masses I find myself being scolded, judged, or told to “go along to get along”.

Guess what? I’ll be 45 in January ( I know I don’t look it at all! ) and I’ll be damned if at this stage of my life I’ll be bullied or told to be quiet anymore. I’m done being quiet, silent, playing nice, sugar coating events and feelings and being a doormat.

So this is my opinion take it or leave it.

Some group somewhere decided what was “right” and what was “wrong” when it comes to words used describing “Mental Health”.

• Saying a person is mentally ill is no longer correct.
• You should say they have a mental health condition.
• Crazy, insane, bonkers, etc. is unacceptable. (Not sure when it ever was?)
• Instead people should say they’re diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder/Schizophrenia/Depression
• They suffer from Bipolar Disorder/Anxiety/Schizophrenia is also wrong to say.
• The correct phrasing is “they live with a mental health condition/illness. (what about the first one where mentally ill is no longer correct?)
• They committed suicide is also wrong.
• They died by suicide is the right way to phrase it. (what about those that try? Do we say they failed to die by suicide or they survived a suicide attempt making them survivors & that has never sat well with me considering I have failed five times myself because I was too drunk.

All of this is ridiculous. The money spent on this research could’ve been put towards better treatment options.

RECOVERY, RECOVERY, RECOVERY, YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD THAT DOESN’T EXIST IN MY WORLD I HAVE A BETTER CHANCE OF DAVE NAVARRO FLYING ME OUT TO L.A. FOR DINNER THAN I DO AT RECOVERY. (so for invoking your name Dave)

1. Recovery implies that mental illness is a choice. Serious mental illness like Bipolar or Schizophrenia are considered lifelong chronic health conditions. Both take a toll on the body and brain, there is no cure.
2. Recovery suggests a need to return to “normal” state. Which makes me feel more alone and worse about myself. I know I’m not the only one. It also contributes to Stigma.
3. The concept of recovery by society is detrimental to the person living with the illness/situation. Questions are asked; If people recover, why aren’t you? It must be something you’re doing wrong. Maybe your medications are “preventing” your “recovery” or your choice not to take medications is.
4. Recovery is an unrealistic standard for any chronic illness whether it’s an autoimmune disease like Celiac (which I have), cancer, Chronic Kidney Disease (got that too), or Bipolar Disorder, Schizophrenia and some Somatoform Disorders. The best you can do is try to manage them. If you experience psychosis or are not capable of rational decisions/choices why are people expecting you to choose recovery?
5. Behavioral Health isn’t the same as Mental Illness. Behavioral Health focuses on diet, exercise, mindfulness, and sleep habits. This is fine for a person who might feel a little sluggish or down at times but not for anyone diagnosed with a serious mental illness. There is a huge difference. Changing what I eat will not stop me from seeing myself hanging from a forest of trees at the library. Exercising when there are many days my bones feel like they’re broken won’t stop me from sitting on my kitchen floor with butcher knife pressed into my stomach with no knowledge of how I got there. I also couldn’t hear my Dad calling my name or feel him shaking me. I was in another place and it was scary for both of us.

I suffer, I don’t feel like there is recovery for some of us due to many complicated circumstances but there is remission sometimes. I look forward to those small windows of some kind of happiness or as close to it as I can get. I’ll call myself whatever the hell I want to. I’m the one who has had to live this way for 32 years with so many suspecting or misdiagnosing, poking and prodding, degrading and judging, I’ve earned that right. And maybe I am a survivor or I just like to fight sometimes either way this is it I AM A BIPOLAR ALCOHOLIC IN REMISSION 9 1/2 YEARS ATHEIST WITH CONVERSION DISORDER, SOCIAL PHOBIA AND SEVERE ANXIETY. I HAVE TRIED TO COMMIT SUICIDE 5 TIMES BUT DID SO WHILE EXTREMELY INTOXICATED SO I’VE HAD MY WRISTS STITCHED, DRANK CHARCOAL, STOMACH PUMPED, ANKLE WRAPPED FROM MY ATTEMPT AT FLIGHT, SOME OF THESE MORE THAN ONCE. AS I GOT OLDER AND SOBER I STOPPED TRYING. I STILL THINK ABOUT IT BUT NOW IT’S ONLY A THOUGHT BECAUSE I’M TOO AFRAID OF NOT KNOWING WHERE I’LL GO WHEN I DIE AND THAT’S THE TRUTH.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTS ME AND DOESN’T JUDGE ME HERE.

It’s once you enter more of the real world that it’s harder.

I TRIED TO OWN WHAT I DID IT DIDN’T GO WELL

I tried to own my actions with my brother in law when I talked to my sister last night. It backfired. My sister started yelling a lot and some of it I blocked out. She did say “Every time we talk it’s about death or health when I just want to have a normal conversation! If you wanted to die that bad you should’ve done a better job all those times you tried! I’m sick of hearing all this bullshit!” I hung up. I was trying to take responsibility and show that I’m aware that what happened was partly my fault when I had been blaming my brother in law for the entire thing.

My brother in law was the smallest in his class and went to a school where he was one of the few white kids. He was made fun of or beaten daily. He was also sexually abused at a young age. As he got older he had problems with how he saw his body and an eating disorder followed. The only time he felt comfortable was when he played guitar and drank with his friends.

Music became his life and so did alcohol. He became best friends with a group before they became famous and they treated him like family. They all drank together. They all had their problems. He started to spiral when it looked like his music career wasn’t going to be what he thought it would be. To him music was everything, it was validation that he wasn’t nothing. I understand that now. I understand so much of it now and all I want to do is cry.

Instead I’m scolded again and another person in 48 hours says something similar to how maybe I should’ve done a better job years ago so I wouldn’t still be here. What do you say to that? How am I supposed to feel? I can’t stop stuttering or shaking. I have to hide my tears so I’m not yelled at. I want to go home. I am home.

Trying To Take A Break

The last two days have left me at a breaking point. I was told the real reason my Mom gave up was me. She died because of me. I was such a disappointment to her and broke her heart so many times she couldn’t watch it anymore. It made sense to me given what her last words to me were. “I’m sorry I f*cked up your life” I thought it was all the medications they had her on so I said “You didn’t! I love you more than anything.”

If I did cause her to give up then I don’t know what to do with this information. My Dad also said he wants to stop dialysis and die because ” I can’t continue to watch and listen to you like this, this isn’t my daughter anymore”.

The eight hour gallbladder attack didn’t help either. I took my medications but they were not in me for long before I started to be sick. My gallbladder attacks involve vomiting, low fever, chills, extreme headache and pain under my right rib. Not pleasant.

It messes with what little help I get from the medications I take. I don’t have to tell you that I wasn’t at my best. I wanted to run away where no one could find me. Stop taking pills everyday and worrying about who I’ve offended, who doesn’t like me, who I’ve let down, disappointed, hurt, ruined, and do what I want to do for what’s left of my life.

If the people who supposedly love me think it’s okay to talk to me like they have or just ignore me why am I following their rules? I’m tired of it. I want to actually live for awhile. I don’t want to sit on the couch that isn’t even mine for the few years I have left.

I need a break from mental health. A break from my family and being me. I just have to figure out how. If I don’t do this now I never will.

Many Sides of Me

Today is a day for forgetting

Forgetting all the people I’ve hurt with my words but most of all my Dad. One person can only take so much and I’m afraid he’s reached his limit and I’ve reached mine.

Telling me that Mom gave up because of me, died because of me, is a weight I already carried. I just needed to hear it said. 

The fight in me is growing tired more and more each day.

I need one real person to help pick me up. Life doesn’t work that way just watch the news.

ALL GOOD THINGS

There are things in life I enjoy, I’m not always negative. Okay maybe I am. But I love anything to do with animals, finding a new artist I like, old sculptures, some antique jewelry and clocks.

Of course my dad chose to collect mostly the antique clocks I don’t like and has a passion for birds instead of some of my favorite animals but it’s still good. I’ve learned more from him than I ever could have in school.

Tomorrow is my 2 hour test to check my gallbladder and liver function. I’m not looking forward to it. Today I haven’t felt well since I woke up. Part of me thinks the test is a waste of time. You start to get tired of tests. You also get tire of being tired. 

Being alone all the time doesn’t help. Maybe when I finally pick a car I’ll leave the house more.

I’m Sorry I Didn’t See Your Pain T

It took too long for me to see what you were fighting. Caught up in my own toxic shit I couldn’t. Just like you couldn’t understand mine.

I forgot the scared little boy tormented daily, hiding his own secrets. 

The boy became a man who only knew how to deal with his demons by drinking and trying to make everyone love him. And music. You loved the stage, the sound of the crowd screaming, proving you were worthy.

When it was taken away you were broken down again and I’m sorry I didn’t see it, recognize it for what it was, how much it meant.

The day we argued you were newly sober and I was defensive and felt shame. Shame is a powerful emotion and trigger. We should’ve come together as a family for the one person we both love. Instead it left a large hole in my relationship with you and my sister.

I’ll say it now. I take responsibility for the things I said and I’m sorry.

DRESS CODES AT CONCERTS (Insert Snort Laugh Here)

The music industry is what it is. Not everyone in it is there because they have natural talent and instinct. Some are mostly smoke and mirrors, kind of like me most days. When the illusion is gone, stripped down, they can’t write music, lyrics, sing without having their voices tweaked, play acoustically or engage a crowd without theatrics.

A GREAT MUSICIAN DOESN’T NEED TRICKS THEY ONLY NEED INSPIRATION.

I would’ve given anything to be able to sing, wail out my pain or emptiness nightly instead of keeping it inside. Now that I no longer partake in alcohol I only sing in my car. The problem is I don’t leave the house often. I feel better when I drive around in the sun singing as loud as I can songs that make me feel alive. Other drivers probably don’t feel better but who cares? Also my car broke down over 2 weeks ago and I haven’t picked another one yet because I hate change, I really wanted to go on a vacation and spend all my money on a car, I’m worried I won’t have a place to live soon so I don’t want to take on another bill, I have a million excuses.

If I had received a letter with my Motley Crue or Aerosmith tickets that said the following:

PLEASE DO NOT WEAR: Shorts, large logos, flip flops, tank tops, crop tops, baseball hats, solid white or red clothing. We reserve the right to deny entry to anyone dressed inappropriately.

Our dress code is HIP & TRENDY as if you are going to a concert (uh, I think that’s the point), or night out with friends! The event is standing-room-only so please plan accordingly.

I should tell you that your cellphones/cameras/recording devices will be taken and locked up but you can have access to them in a specific area only.

First off I remember when W and I went to a Motley show and she had a gigantic can of hair spray in her purse. They wouldn’t let her in with it and because it was expensive (to her) she wouldn’t throw it away. I was getting pissed off we were missing the show over hair spray so I reached over, grabbed the can and chucked it in the garbage myself. She wasn’t very happy. I told her I would buy her 2 new cans but she said that wasn’t the point. I wanted to say no, the point is you should know better than to bring a large can of flammable liquid to a concert and it isn’t expensive you’re just cheap! But I said nothing.

I could never wear what other girls/women would wear to the concerts I went to. Most of it I wouldn’t have worn even if I could’ve. Some of the outfits were ridiculous. If you are a size 20 you should know a studded bra and spandex is not flattering. I say this because I was a size 20. Even at a size 14 I didn’t do it. And seeing men (?) wearing “No Fat Chicks” T-shirts was so funny! I couldn’t believe how many of those shirts I still see. I thought of making a few of my own “NO SMALL DICKS”, “NO BALD MEN”, “BE A MAN NOT PETER PAN”, when I get together with W we kind of get on a roll. Even though I’m a little underweight now that kind of constant low self esteem and body image issues stays with you.

I apologize to Arcade Fire but I have no idea who you are. I know trendy as far as hair, jewelry and clothing go and from pictures I’ve seen I’m not sure if your stylist does. You can blame Apple all you want but you did the same in 2013 so what was the excuse then? If you’re shooting a music video I can understand. All white stands out and so does all red. Having other recording devices there would be a problem also. But shorts, tank tops, crop tops (no one should be wearing crop tops unless you’ve time warped to 1989), flip flops (someone wants to risk sticky broken toes that’s their problem), large logos (again if you’re doing a video you might have to block it out or pay the company a fee) but still it’s kind of ridiculous.

These are fans who answered a question and applied for tickets and you treated them like morons who don’t know how to dress themselves.

P.S. Only one person in my opinion can pull off a haircut close to this and that’s the beautifully spirited Dave Navarro who is in no way affiliated with this blog.

TO TELL THE TRUTH WILL BE THE HARDEST THING YOU DO

My parents always lived paycheck to paycheck but did their best to make sure their children were loved and taken care of. When my twin sister and I were babies we were in cribs that had wheels. The wheels supposedly locked in place but my mom came in to check on us one night and my crib somehow was across the room and not where it was supposed to be. My mom was frightened and couldn’t understand how it had happened. She put it to the back of her mind. Except it kept happening. My parents finally realized I could pull myself up and I was rocking back and forth. I would continue this soothing behavior for the rest of my life. Whether it was side to side or back and forth I’ve done it since I could talk. What does that say?

I also bounced one leg like a jackhammer without even realizing I was doing it. Teachers would call me out publicly for doing so. Rocking side to side while standing in the lunch line in Elementary School didn’t help either. It’s surprising how many teachers feed into the bullying of someone who is different.

Anxiety started at such an early age I didn’t know what it was. I thought maybe I was dying, adopted, an alien, robot, a mistake, I never thought I belonged, I always knew I was different. People around me at some point or another made sure I knew it too. Little jabs and comments from relatives they thought I didn’t hear or understand. The kids at school, teachers, and now even Doctors.

I always had trouble being away from my Mom for any length of time. In my early teens I did cut myself occasionally to distract my brain. I’d have to deal with the actual physical pain instead of the mental pain for at least awhile. But I knew I couldn’t do it often because my Mom was the nosiest woman on the Planet and noticed everything. I think she really did have eyes in the back of her head.

Besides the rocking that started so early I also had nosebleeds that started at the same time. I’ve told the story before where a babysitter wasn’t told about my nosebleeds or how I could move my crib. When she looked in our room all she saw was blood all over the walls and my crib way across the other side of the room. Not a good night for her.

The nosebleeds continued until I turned 12 when a Doctor decided to take out my tonsils and adenoids. By that time I had my nose cauterized 3 times. If you’ve never had it done let me paint you a picture. In the movies when someone is stranded without medical attention and a wound won’t stop bleeding and they’re afraid of infection someone will heat a piece of metal/iron until it glows red. At that time they press it to seal the wound. In modern times they use a chemical version that’s shoved up your nose. It still hurts like hell. Again, no one bothered to find out why I was having nosebleeds almost everyday. No one bothered to find out why I was rocking either.

I talk about these things now because the brain is more complex than anyone will ever know in our lifetime. We can’t know why a person makes the choices they do because we don’t live in their head. We haven’t been through what they have. Not everyone can pray away their pain, talk away their hopelessness, when they don’t even know why they feel it in the first place.

Most of the time I asked myself “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you be happy like everyone else? If your own twin can do it so can you. Are you stupid? A mistake? What’s wrong with me?” Having a twin who is living a “normal” life is excruciating to watch and feel. It isn’t resentment. It’s regret.

While I was drunk one night I found out a person I cared about had said and done some upsetting things. He had called me names which I should’ve expected, he told everyone he was only with me to get close to my best friend W, he wouldn’t normally sleep with a “fat bitch” like me, and to top it off I walked in on him kissing W. I grabbed a knife from the sink and started slicing. I was pissed, hurt, and somehow thought it would show them something. What I don’t know. It took awhile for W to find me and take me to the Hospital. My parents weren’t called that time because W was there to back up my lie.

I slit my wrists one more time, overdosed twice, and jumped off the roof of a building (I was too drunk to realize how close to the ground I was). Anyone who fails that many times really needs to give up and accept there’s a reason why you are not succeeding.

I’ve been reading new research. It shows a link between women who had a virus while pregnant that passed to their baby’s brain. A neurologist told me my mother must of had a virus while pregnant because it showed where I had an infection in my brain at one time that caused continuous swelling. This is also linked to mental illness.

The Danish finished research recently where they found that between the years 1945-1995 92,000 Danes were diagnosed with a mood disorder, 36,000 of them had a severe infection or developed an autoimmune disease at some point before being diagnosed with a mood disorder.

The research is strong between inflammation and mental illness. I can’t overlook it considering I have Celiac Disease, Degenerative Disc Disease, Osteoporosis, Spinal Stenosis, Arthritis, and various other problems. There’s also a genetic factor and ethnic factor. It mostly happens with people from Celtic descent. This would be my Mom’s entire family. My Nanny’s side and Poppy’s side both. My mother’s maiden name translates to “dark stranger” from when the Norse invaded Ireland and settled there. Eventually the Norse name became my mom’s maiden name which matches the information we have about where my Grandfather came from in Ireland.

I think I’m off track. It’s almost 4:00 p.m. and my thought process goes downhill starting at 3:00 p.m. so I only have a little bit of time left.

What I wanted to really say is it’s nice to try to reach out to people who need help. If you do it the right way. Blaming someone who is already gone is pointless. When a person is spiraling downward in their own head you can’t get through, believe me I know this first hand. If Psychosis is involved and the person is hearing a voice telling them how useless they are, they’re a piece of shit, their kids would be better off without them so would their entire family, they hurt everyone around them they should just disappear, it’s almost impossible to make that person listen or to expect that person to call you and talk.

There’s nothing rational about suicide so expecting the person to act rational and call someone for help isn’t rational. That’s why it hurts everyone involved as much as it does. Even when the person survives an attempt their life is no longer their own. Trust is gone, relationships damaged beyond repair, no one knows what to say or do so they pretend you are no longer there as if you actually did die. That’s my experience from my life because I’ve lived it. I didn’t read about it in a book or watch 13 Reasons Why I live it and I’m still living it. But the key word in all that I’ve said is “live”.

CURRENT EVENTS COMMENTARY (Mental and Physical Health)

I’ll start with the obvious, Chester Bennington. I wish I could say his suicide came as a surprise but it didn’t. If I was still having a problem with Chris Cornell’s death and I didn’t know him personally than I can only imagine how the people who loved him felt. I’m not talking about his wife. I’m talking about the people he went out of his way to help who had drug and alcohol problems and also suffered from mental health problems. Chris Cornell did this with Chester Bennington. It’s hard to see the person who pulls you out of darkness succumb to it themselves. You think if they couldn’t make it what makes me think I can? At least that’s how I feel at times.

So many people think the answer is to “reach out”, “talk to your friends and family”, “let someone know how you’re feeling”. Why? So I can be hospitalized against my will? Where all they do is hold you for a few days and give you Benadryl? How does that solve anything? And what friends am I supposed to talk to? They ran a long time ago. There’s alcohol every place you go and people got tired of me worrying what time it was because I didn’t want to upset my dad by staying out past dark at the age of 40. So people stopped inviting me places.

My Dad told me today he’s putting himself on the Kidney Transplant List. He’s 74 years old. His inept Doctor told him he has about 4 years left either way. When he said this today I felt tingling in my arms and feet, buzzing in my ears, and like I would faint. I had to stop listening because I was going to say something I would regret out of fear or never stop crying. Two of my Doctors have shown concern that the Conversion Disorder will cause a complete shutdown with all of the added stress, I will appear comatose but it will be my brain protecting itself. Stress keeps being added on from my own physical health, my Dad’s, my brother is now missing and I’m worried, the fear of being alone in 4 years is already crippling.

Now I’ve found out that many autoimmune diseases are linked to mental illness and movement disorders. I’m trying not to read more about it because it makes things worse. What I did read was scary enough. I already have a lot of the symptoms. The base of my spine is starting to curve under, I have recurrent sinusitis, nose bleeds, problems swallowing (throat closes on it’s own), recurrent bronchitis, abnormal liver function, Interstitialcystitis, progressive degeneration of white matter in my brain, neck pain, balance problems, muscle loss & weakness, buzzing in ears, swelling in the brain, and an issue that involves a specific blood protein found in your bone marrow and usually happens to people of Celtic descent like Celiac Disease does.

So it’s been a little crappy today. To top it all off I was actually invited to my nephew’s baseball game kind of last minute. But it isn’t until late and by that time what medications that do help are gone and I feel horrible. My sister won’t understand and will hold it against me. Pretty sure that’s one thing I can count on.

 

Are You An Empath, Psychic, or Just Crazy?

As a child I preferred to sit with the adults, watching their body language and listening to what they said. My mom comes from a large, loud, Irish family that more often than not didn’t tell the truth. When they did it was usually to my mom. I picked up early on when a person was lying or being evasive. I could spot people who were a little “different” right away. Some would ask why did I keep the company I kept if I could do this. The answer to that is I thought I deserved what I got from them. I knew who and what they were as soon as I met them but had no self esteem or confidence. I thought very little of myself and didn’t care what happened to me.

EMPATHS

The qualities of empaths are similar to those of a bipolar person or at least to me. Some say empaths are more of a mystical thing not a scientific one. I’m not sure about that.

People often confide in me even people I’ve just met. I’m deeply affected by the emotions of those around me. I put other’s needs and happiness first. I always support the outcasts and underdogs. I have a deep love of animals and feel more comfortable with them than people. I become overwhelmed in crowds of people and then feel anxious, irritable, and impatient (unless I drank). I’m somewhat creative and feel tragedy/loss deeply and for a longer time than most. I can easily read people whether it’s by their writing, eyes, mannerisms, there’s always a tell. I’m often yelled at because I “know” things but can’t explain how and people think I found out in a malicious way. I’ve also proven this to be false many times.

These traits describe many people. I do feel everything 100 times more than most people. That is the most difficult part because I wish I didn’t. Alcohol helped with that. I don’t grieve like everyone else does. I still have days where I cry uncontrollably over my dog GiGi who was hit by car at the end of our driveway. I think I can still see her white fur gently moving in the breeze as she lay there so still. The same when her brother died years later from a heart condition. His death was not a pretty one. Even though she was hit by a car there was no visible injury to her. Her brother was different and I’m the one who found him when I woke up in a puddle of blood. My dad was at dialysis so I lost control of my emotions. I still see my Mom as I ran into her hospital room. Nurses laughing, drinking coffee, one man doing chest compressions, bloody foam running down her chin, a howling sound that I’m not sure if it’s me or my Dad who’s on his knees. I’m the lucky one in the family who gets to witness the death of everyone or everything I love. I get to remember and feel all of it continuously.

It’s something my twin sister won’t have to go through. I’ll be the one to deal with my Dad too when the time comes. The worst part is my sister distancing herself from me when I’m the one taking the blows to protect her and my nephews. She would never see it that way. All of the grief and pain has shaped me into who I am today. I have kept things from her because I know it would hurt her and when she holds a grudge it isn’t pretty. She already hasn’t talked to our Dad since Christmas and I’m not sure why. I refuse to give her anymore reasons to stay away from us and only consider her husbands family as her real family. I have to say this hurts more than I thought it ever would.

Sometimes I think watching all those movies was a bad thing. I always had an idea of how life was supposed to be, how sisters were supposed to be, none of it worked out that way.