SHARDS OF LIGHT COME FROM ALL THINGS

Sometimes I find relief from my Depression (it’s sometimes more than depression I just can’t explain it) in the strangest places or ways.

I love music so that’s always been a favorite but the one thing that makes me truly happy is sharing a song with another person and having love and understand it just as much as I do!

My mom was always the music person. My dad knew the music only because she played it all the time. I spend a lot of time with my dad. He takes care of me and I take care of him. Years ago I started to play certain songs for him that I thought he might like. One of the first was Johnny Cash’s version “Hurt”. My father would sit mesmerized by every word and image on the screen. He would make me play it for him over and over. The first few times I watched him trying to control his emotions. My mom had passed away not long before and I know he was thinking about the past and their lives together. It was good for him because he has such a hard time showing emotion. It wasn’t good for me. Watching him broke my heart, I would hide in the bathroom until it was over.

Some music he loved, some he didn’t. I recently played “Lost Prayer”, “Sleeping Dogs”, and “In This River” by Zakk Wylde for him. I told him before I started the videos that Zakk Wylde had been Ozzy Osbourne’s guitar player for many year’s, had a side band Black Label Society, and solo material. I also told him a very edited version of when I met Zakk Wylde and his wife Barbaranne at a show. My mother was still in the Hospital after having one of her lungs removed. They had just taken her out of the medically induced coma she had been in for almost 30 days.

At first I didn’t know who the woman was I was babbling too. It was years ago and I was drinking heavily. I knew she was pretty, caring, and really listened. I was introduced to her daughter. Anyway, I spent some time with Mr. Wylde’s wife and daughter and eventually my pickled brain figured out who they were. I met Zakk Wylde and was on their bus, they were all nicer than they had to be considering I was wasted and probably annoying as hell. But I’ll never forget the kindness that I needed so much at that time. I couldn’t lean on my friends at the time because most of them were from work, also none of them had gone through what I was going through at the time. It had taken a toll having to change my mom’s diapers and bedding because the staff was too busy or didn’t care, then working 45-50 hours a week. I was toast.

My 73 year old father listened to each song with as much attention as he’s capable of. lol When he had heard all 3 he looked at me and said “Why the hell was this guy playing guitar for Ozzy for so long with a voice like that? It has so much emotion and depth to it”. At this point I made fun of him for when he watched too much American Idol. But I completely agreed.

Something else that brings me happiness is finding beautiful art I didn’t know about. Hand blown glass is extremely complex. Dale Chihuly is a master at his craft. If you’ve been to the Bellagio in Vegas then you’ve seen his glasswork.

I also love when someone unexpectedly messages me that they wore one of my pieces of jewelry and received a ton of compliments! It was to an expensive Charity Event with many people so I was excited and inspired. This is the necklace that was worn. I didn’t remember making it! lol

 

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SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO LET GO

I keep thinking I can handle Social Media. The truth is I can’t. So I have to get off the train before it derails.

The last straw was when a person spoke up about Cyberbullying in a blunt and truthful manor. I thanked him because no one else has said it that clearly. He actually said “We don’t want you as listeners. We don’t need people like you.” He didn’t respond which was fine. What wasn’t fine was the retweet of my Tweet from @ShouldBeSteril. A person who advocates for the sterilization of the Mentally Ill, people with low IQs or physical defects, basically anyone who isn’t perfect.

I can’t say I was too surprised because I’ve had it said or written to me before. I put myself out there as an advocate for Mental Health. I made my life an open book.

What these “people” don’t realize is I’m a human being. Yes I chose to not have children when I was diagnosed. But don’t think for a minute that I didn’t want them. Before I was diagnosed as Bipolar I knew I drank too much and didn’t live a lifestyle suitable to raise a child. At least I knew this when so many do not.

The part that hurt was when the word “choice” was taken away. When I no longer had one. When my body decided without me to go into early Menopause leaving me unable to have children beginning at the age of 39.

Just to punish myself I watched Bridget Jones’s Baby last night. She’s 43 (same age as I am now) and finds herself pregnant not knowing who the father is. I really must hate myself. I cried through the entire thing. So thanks for the suggestion of sterilization but you’re too late. Plus I’ve been Celibate for over 8 years by choice, although your celibacy probably isn’t.

So I’m going to cool it on the Social Media. My blogs will post there but I will not actually go on Twitter any longer. It’s where I always find trouble and end up feeling much worse about everything. I can’t handle it. I take everything too personally. I am the Bipolar person you hear about that walks around with every nerve ending constantly exposed. No matter what I do, medications I try, Shock Therapy, it only worsens. I probably cry 20 times a day. Not always due to sadness. I cry because I’m frustrated, alone, scared, haven’t heard a human voice in days, I smell something that brings back a memory, I see something that recalls a memory, and again frustration. I have such a difficult time expressing myself with words to people in person that I’ve given up. I start to sweat, I can feel the blood rushing to my head, and the stuttering starts. The more I’m embarrassed about my stuttering the worse it is. Then I cry because I can’t talk.

I give up. It isn’t worth it anymore. I wanted to try to make a difference. I wanted to help. Now I want nothing. I want to not shower for a month, go out to the wilderness and find a pack to take me in. That isn’t crazy talking I’ve always felt more comfortable with animals. I understand how they work. Humans are too cruel and complex.f92789ba355310bf8b8bc3f53a05bbc9

Have You Ever?

Have you ever felt so alone you sometimes wondered if you were invisible? Have you ever had such and ache in your chest but didn’t know why? An ache like you lost someone, or you are lost and you just WANT TO GO HOME! The problem is you are home. Have you ever wanted to get on the next plane to anywhere? Get in your car and just leave? But you’re afraid no one would even notice. Have you ever begged someone to just hug you?? I begged my sister to tell me everything would be ok and to hug me. She wouldn’t. She said she wouldn’t “Enable my behavior”. I would’ve called it a human kindness. She has been to my house twice in the last 2 months. No help like she had promised she would do. Everything is on me again. Right now my father has rented a machine to turn up the soil in the front yard. He’s been working outside in the heat since he got back from dialysis at 10:30 a.m. it’s now 1:10 p.m. he has a fracture in his back, low platelets, a UTI, edema, a few heart problems including a quadruple bypass and his aortic aneurism is leaking. I’m done being yelled at and treated like crap by a 73 year old who obviously wants to die. He has said he wants to be with my mom. I am stressed to the limit. Medications are not working, I have no support, no one to talk to. I’m becoming meaner and meaner. It’s time for a break. I can’t startle every time I hear my dad yell at me. Now this has carried over to every time I hear a loud male voice near me. This is no way to live. He’s having another surgery soon which I’ll have to take care of him after. Too much.

WHAT MUSIC IS AND FANS AREN’T

As far back as I can remember I have used music to escape the real world. I used music for depressed times, drunk times, sober times, and happy times. It’s in my blood. My mother was a great dancer and she loved music. I was listening to Elvis 24/7 in the womb. My mom could also sing. I loved to hear her sing Brenda Lee to my dad. A few years before her death she did “The Twist” at a wedding. The look on her face was one of such joy I can almost erase the memory of pain that followed.

As a Bipolar person I feel everything too much. It is like walking around without your skin on. I would spend over 20 years drinking and listening to music to try and cope with feeling every emotion to the extreme. I didn’t know I was Bipolar until several years ago. Learning that I am Bipolar helped me to be sober or “in remission” from alcohol for over 7 years. Music also helps.

When I hear lyrics that change me in some way there is nothing better in the world. You think that person understands you. They probably don’t or won’t but that’s ok as long as the music does the talking.

I don’t understand why fans go on an artist’s fan page to talk so disrespectfully about a band or person they supposedly have admiration for. Also the women who want to talk about the hair of the artist or what they would like to do to them. It annoys me and I don’t know why. I think it’s all about respect. How I was raised. The music industry is a bitch. Artists do not need people calling them out, steeling set lists, and talking trash about them. They are there to share a gift with us. If we make it uncomfortable for them they’ll stop. And if the artist is married have some respect for them and yourself. No one wants to hear your sick ass plans that you are way too old to be doing anyway.

I thank the musicians that have always been an influence on me or helped me through tough times.

No Jokes, Sarcasm, or Hidden Meanings

I have always had a hard time differentiating between sarcasm, a joke, or reading between the lines. I am extremely sensitive at times and will misread a situation quickly. It’s always been a problem for me. I also obsess over what someone has said to me and what they actually meant.

This almost always happens with men. I don’t know how to read them. I spent most of my interactions with men drunk. Then when I first tried sober I was so hurt by the person I didn’t know what to do. I dislike it when a person won’t come out and tell the truth. They joke and dance around the subject. I’d rather be back with the low lifes I used to hang out with, at least they are honest and you know where you stand.

I still talk to a man I used to work with for years and had a “friendship” with. It probably isn’t healthy but he is the only one who notices when something is off with me and worries. We were best friends and flirted a lot when working together. Customers thought we were married. When I would ask him if he had a girlfriend he would say “Don’t believe what you hear”. When I would try to get an answer about how he felt about me he avoided the question. He would then go out of his way to see me and call constantly. I was young and confused and I think his family issues played a big part in things. He’s married now with children. I’m in a better place mentally and he understands how he acted years ago was hurtful.

Of course he said something recently that I took the wrong way and still have not cleared things up with him. He went back to his old ways of pretending he didn’t know what I was talking about. I think I’ll just leave it alone. It isn’t worth the hassle. Yes we get along like brother and sister but there will always be an underlying issue that we don’t talk about.

If I Had A Heart I Would Love You

Love. It’s a nice word isn’t it? I wouldn’t know what it feels like. I’ve thought that I loved a few people but some were infatuations of a girl who didn’t know better. Love shouldn’t hurt. Love shouldn’t leave you broken and bloody at the bottom of a flight of stairs.

If someone tells you no one will ever love you the way you are, run as fast as you can from that person. I’m here to tell you that someday someone will.

I didn’t run. I listened to the men that told me I wasn’t enough. After a while you start to believe it. After years you believe nothing else.

When I did finally run I didn’t have the skills most people learn in their younger years to form “normal” relationships. I still picked the worse guy for me in the room. He might have dressed better, had a job, talked intelligently, but there was always something off.

I thought because of my weight the only men that would want me would have to be as damaged as I am. I don’t think that’s true now. I am skinny now and still alone. I don’t put myself out there. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore. The thought of trying to make small talk sober frightens me. So I just don’t do it. My choice.

I still think about one of them. He was charming, flirted like crazy, and never told the truth if you asked him if he had a girlfriend. I worked for years with him. I still talk to him sometimes. Even though he hurt me emotionally he knew me best. He’s still the person I want to run to when something good or bad happens. I don’t. He’s married now with children. He will still send me the occasional message on Facebook but I try not to engage with him too much. It still hurts. He doesn’t even realize how much. He doesn’t realize he was the first man to call me “pretty” and the first man I would speak to sober. He would also be the last. After we stopped speaking I set out to try to prove myself. I did this by picking up the cutest guy in the bar. It never lasted for more than a day. I didn’t care.

Now that I’m 43 and alone with no children I sometimes want to try again but can’t. There’s always an excuse. I don’t think I have it in me anymore. No one will ever understand what I’ve been through. I don’t expect them to.

There is one difference now. I NEVER let anyone disrespect me anymore. I matter. I’m visible. I deserve the same respect everyone else gets. Even if that means staying alone.

When There’s No One At The Other End

Maybe happiness is an illusion. Maybe it is something only meant for some people. I remember my family only having rare happy moments. When we did there was always this feeling that something else was around the corner. We were taught to never expect too much. It was almost as if we were cursed. It became a running joke. One I no longer find funny.

I have no one to talk to. My best friend unplugs her phone for weeks. My sister doesn’t understand the concept “Bipolar”. She tells me to “get my act together” and to “have better control over myself”. You would think as my twin she would know better by now. Our relationship is one of blame and shame. There is little comfort there.

I won’t lie. I am lost. I am overwhelmed. I feel an avalanche of shit has fallen on me. I can’t dig myself out.

Grief is a heavy weight. Stress is too. My father is at the end of his life. I might be too. No one wants to except that or hear it. I want to sleep for a month. My heart is shattered in a million different pieces. I wanted a normal life once. When I lost my mom I realized for the first time that wasn’t going to happen. Then the losses kept coming. Friendships, animals I loved, jobs, respect, humanity. There is nothing left. I put on a fake smile and tell them all I’m fine so they don’t feel guilty about living their own lives. My gift to them. I’ve come to hate some of them. The way they treat me like I’m an idiot. I’m actually the smartest person in the room. For sure I am kindest. The loneliest too. My head hurts with it all. Just one hug is all I ask. Maybe they think I’m contagious. I keep seeing JoJo with his head surrounded by blood. It’s too much and I want to scream. I’ve seen worse. So tired. What I wouldn’t give for my mother’s fried chicken and gravy right now. Screw the Celiac.