I feel it slowly creeping back in, the small tingle of fear and dread in the pit of my stomach. It won’t take long until I’m completely exhausted, unable to do even the smallest tasks. It’s 2:50 p.m. and I already feel my eyelids grow heavy, my sinuses swell, head pounding, thoughts scrambled.

No one really knows how much effort it takes for me to write or speak. I have to write what I want to say on paper first and repeat it over and over in my head and out loud. If it’s a certain time of day and I know I have to talk to someone I have to take extra medication and do all of the previous things. Why do you think calling into Dark Matter Radio to ask Dr. Drew a few questions was so important? Why I was so upset when I wasn’t allowed to speak. Because it took 2 days to prepare for the 1 phone call and extra medication to sound “normal” and not stutter. I also had to try to stay awake because the show is on the West Coast. So I was a little pissed off. But I blow things out of proportion or so I’m told.

The positivity I had yesterday and even this morning is almost gone. I want to put my headphones on and listen to songs I shouldn’t listen to because they bring me to a bad place. I want to turn the volume up and drown out the world, close my eyes and drown in all my tears, regret, anger, pain, hopelessness, rocking back and forth like the abandoned, frightened little girl I will always be.

My sister never knew our father took off when he found out our mom was pregnant. He didn’t come back until after we were born. She also didn’t know that they didn’t get married until we were 5, I knew all of this from a young age. My sister does know now I told her after our mom passed away. My sister has always thought it was funny that our grandfather left me at the car wash and no one realized it for hours. I stood there hugging the telephone pole and crying while the traffic flashed by. I was very little then with straight very blond long hair. I was actually pretty then, it wasn’t until puberty that it all went to shit. For me that was 10 years old. Anyway it wasn’t exactly a safe place to leave a little girl.

I never thought it was funny but the rest of the family did except my dad. My dad was furious and probably would’ve hit him if he thought he could get away with it. My dad had no use for my mom’s parents at all and I don’t blame him. My dad knows more than I do and I know a lot. From what I know it’s no surprise how my mom and her siblings turned out. My mom was the best but she was ill. I never realized it until it was too late and she was gone. I can’t imagine anyone growing up around those two people without being damaged.

(In two seconds I’m giving my dog to the first person who wants him the SOB!)

(Just kidding but he’s a pain in the ass)

Okay my head is pounding like crazy and I have to do more research.

I found this site Quizlet I think the name is, where you can learn about any subject for free at a college level but in an easy way. I love it. I’m doing Norse Myths and Legends and Psychology (Nature vs Nurture, Survival of the Fittest, Natural Selection, etc)

Thanks everyone.


Most people know that music has been a part of my life since before I was born. It started with Elvis then went to Black Sabbath, AC/DC, Meatloaf, Super Tramp, everything my brother listened to, then what I learned to like on my own. I love lyrics. This is probably why I never really liked Led Zeppelin and some other groups that did long drum or guitar solos.

People in my life don’t understand why I get so worked up over the death of someone I didn’t know or comments made about the death of someone I didn’t know.

It’s because a large majority of people in the music industry (up to 70%) have a mental health/addiction problem. People who are bipolar have a tendency to be drawn to music, language, and alcohol. The research also shows that people who are bipolar are generally more intelligent. (I’m not just saying this because I’m bipolar)

When I listen to music I hear the lyrics first. Some lyrics are why I love the bands I do. I have songs I listen to when I want to feel good about myself and songs for when I’m down. But you’ll never know the feeling of hearing a song that describes you to a T when you don’t even know what’s wrong with you. All you can do is sit and cry because you realize you aren’t the only one. You’re in your early 30’s and you finally find someone who is singing your life and you’re not alone. That band was Blue October. I want to thank them for the song “Hate Me” which is so much like my mother and I. All I could do is sit there and sob. It started a slow change in me. I’m a work in progress that I probably won’t get to finish.

I’m leaning towards taking that road trip because I need to do something an adult would do. I need to see new things, meet new people (within reason). My best friend W said I should go for it and she has a degree in Psychology but works for the Post Office because it pays better. lol

So I’m thinking, making lists, thinking, making lists, and maybe I’ll actually get in the car and go.


When I was in High School there was a group of guys that all had long hair, leather jackets, barely came to school, and were in bands. Back then they petrified me. I never looked any of them in the eye. A few of them were cruel and a few I couldn’t figure out.

One of them (his name was Pop) was kind of quiet except for the few times I interacted with him. I have that effect on people. Our High School was built like an open college campus you would find in a warm climate. Only we are in New England. In the winter you had to bring a container of salt with you to school or risk falling in front of everyone and being laughed at. Believe me they would laugh and not think to help you up.

One day after a snow storm I came around a building to find Pop using a hammer on a pile of snow. I have no idea why he was hammering snow and I didn’t stop to ask him. He had the appearance of being high all the time. He was in the Future Farmer’s of America Program and I thought maybe he was growing what my brother had been kicked out of school for growing in the same program.

On Valentine’s Day you could by Carnations for your Valentine. YAY! I hated it because I knew I wasn’t going to get one. Then I saw Pop skipping around with Carnations and smiling. He came up to me and handed me one. I tried to tell him no one sent me one but he skipped away. (Yes he really did skip)

Years later I ran into Pop again, I was drunk and at a Pantera concert. W and I had gotten ourselves trapped in the pit and it wasn’t going so well. I couldn’t protect her and myself at the same time. She wasn’t about to throw any elbows or fists to get out so that meant it was up to me. I was capable of defending myself while drunk.

At some point I felt strong hands grabbing me and pulling me out, it was Pop. His friend helped W. I tried to talk to him and thank him but he walked away.

More years go by and I found out that my brother in law was good friends with Pop. It turns out he never drank or did drugs, he was diabetic from an early age and was against alcohol and drugs. Probably why he didn’t want to talk to me. I did get to talk to him a few times sober at a few of my brother in law’s shows. He was articulate, kind, funny, generous, I had him all wrong.

He had also been to L.A. for a few years and did okay with his band The Bastards. When I look at the pictures I can’t believe it’s him. His biggest influence was Motorhead.

A few years ago he was leaving work late one night, it was winter, he stopped to pick up a pizza because he hadn’t eaten all day. He didn’t know what his blood sugar level was at and went into a Diabetic Coma while sitting in his car. Because it was so cold and late at night, no one knew until the next day, by then it was too late. I was devastated.

I found out he was an advocate for worker’s rights and numerous charitable organizations. He worked towards getting children that are harder to adopt, adopted. He was a beautiful soul that I thought was high or crazy for the first several years I knew him.

We never really know anyone. Not even ourselves.

Physically and mentally I’m deteriorating a little faster than I thought I would. My Psychiatrist asked if he could measure me while I was there because he thought I looked shorter. I told him I was shorter, that I was 5’5″ but he wanted to measure me anyway. I’m now under 5’5″ since my visit to the Gastroenterologist on June 27th. That’s kind of scary. My neck has been in a lot of pain and the Doctor said “You know with Degenerative Disc Disease it doesn’t stay in one place so if it’s in your spine most likely it’s in your neck and you need to have scans done. What did your last bone density scan say?” Huh? What bone density scan? No one has ever suggested one even though I’ve gone into early menopause, have Celiac Disease, arthritis, osteoporosis, spinal stenosis, and on and on it goes. I’m also having blinding headaches and nosebleeds at night.

But I don’t want to go to anymore doctors. My brain is telling me to get in my new car and drive cross country to California. I have never done anything like that, I’ve always been too afraid. I’m afraid now, but if I don’t start doing things I might run out of time. I’ve been alone for over 9 years, my sister goes on “family vacations” every couple of weeks but if I ask her to spend a day or two with me she can’t. She’s too tired or the kids have too much to do. The summer is almost gone and I haven’t been in any water. I’ve hardly been outside. I ask permission before speaking to people (my dad mostly) or I ask if I’m bothering them by talking.

My Dad was told he has less than 4 years if he’s lucky. I already know I will not do well without him. He has set a high bar for humanity. I know I complain about him but he’s changed because he’s ill and because of his age and grief. It happens. Before all of these things he was honorable, loyal, generous, kind, didn’t judge, strong physically and mentally, he always made us feel safe.

He has saved my life more times than I can count and he helped create me whether he actually knew it or not. lol I have a feeling of being lost and wanting to run at the same time. I feel like I’m missing out on something also. I know I expect too much and I’ll probably be disappointed but wouldn’t it be better to at least try?

The best thing about Pop is that he lived and loved while he was here.


Too Much Everything

It isn’t easy when you are too much of everything or feel too much. It is the most difficult part of Bipolar for me. What makes it worse is when you can’t say or do anything about how you feel or what you observe.

I’M TOO QUIET: At times I’m ridiculed for being quiet and shy. I listen to what’s being said around me. I suppose some people would call it eavesdropping but it was never done in a malicious way. I would simply zone out and pick up on conversations.

I’M TOO LOUD: At times I was told to take it down a notch because I would talk too loud and fast. There were people who thought it was funny when I talked loud and fast because they assumed it was due to my caffeine level. Other people became annoyed.

I’M TOO SENSITIVE: I am sensitive in every way. I admit this. I’m sensitive to how other people are feeling, the energy in a room when I enter, a person’s emotions when I’m in the same room with them, and the eyes really are the window to a person’s soul. I’m a sponge that soaks up every positive/negative energy around them while trying to deal with my own feelings.

I’M TOO EMPATHETIC: When I see a person talk about an issue important to me that’s also important to them and that person breaks down I break down. If I see someone in a home video on Instagram and I know they’re not themselves I get a sick feeling in my stomach. The hardest part is being unable to say or do anything about it. If I comment I look like a “crazy” fan or like

I want something. The fact is I worry too much.

I WORRY TOO MUCH: I worry all the time. It’s a horrible feeling. You always feel disaster is just around the corner. In my own personal life a lot of the time it has been.

I can and do see when a person is heading towards a depressive episode or they’re in a bad place. I may not always be aware of it in myself but in others I’m pretty spot on.

My twin sister doesn’t give me credit for much but for this she has been amazed at how I pick up on things. At one time she accused me of somehow reading her text messages or her husband’s. They always have their phones on them and I NEVER SEE THEM IN PERSON ENOUGH! I asked her when she thought I could’ve possibly had access to either of their phones? Her husband’s is always physically on him and I never get that close to him! lol

After it happened a few times she admitted that I was intuitive about certain issues. Which is true it does only apply to specific areas. My guess is because I deal with these things myself. I don’t always know when I’m Manic or in a dangerously deep depression. There have been times when I’ve been triggered, setting off the Conversion Disorder, that I only remember pieces of. This scares me more than anything. Being completely out of control of not only your mind but your body too is frightening. When it’s a small trigger I know I’ll stutter a bit and it will pass. When it’s a big trigger I might not be aware of, all bets are off. It’s embarrassing, shame inducing, confusing, exhausting, scary, and sometimes I don’t know the trigger.

I have “too much” areas that aren’t necessarily a negative. I’m too kind, I’m too loyal, I’m too curious, there are many more I just can’t think of them right now.

I’m not saying I’m a Prophet, Psychic, or anything similar, we all have the ability to be more aware of facial expressions, mannerisms, tone of voice, change in behavior, a person’s eyes, we just don’t tap into that part of out brains. When we don’t we miss a lot that could potentially save lives.

Suicide Shaming

I was scrolling through Instagram recently when a picture popped up of a musician who had done a charity event for a friend who had died in a car accident. He didn’t do much performing from what I understand he mostly talked. There were other musicians that performed but his name was more recognizable. I read the comments which I usually don’t like to do but I’m a glutton for punishment.

The musician I’m referring to had made comments about how his friend deserved a tribute unlike the “cowards who took the easy way out” these may not be his exact words because it’s been removed from Instagram in the last few hours.

He’s known for putting his large foot in his mouth and not really caring until it starts to interfere with his ticket sales or Social Media numbers. Then he back peddles.

I’ve always admired his vocal range and song writing. I read several interviews where he said he was sober. They were from reputable sources and he also said it on a TV interview. When another musician overdosed he had said that he didn’t understand because they had just had dinner together and were both sober.

This is a case of people in glass houses. Unless you’re perfect keep your comments to yourself.

I’ve met you, watched you drink from a bottle of Red under your chair, recognized the bluish-purple stain of your teeth, talked to you while you were drunk in the last 2 years. I don’t think you’ve ever truly been sober for any length of time. You belong to that secret club that believes you can drink as long as it’s “controlled”. There are other people in this club I know and it doesn’t work.

You have no right to say who deserves something and who doesn’t. You’re drinking to mask a pain you don’t want to face. These people were trying to face their pain but combined with mental illness it was maybe too much. I don’t know and you don’t know what was going on. I do know the pain, shame, and hopelessness you feel while at your lowest point. You don’t even think of reaching out. Some of us don’t have anyone to reach out to. We fear hospitalization because honestly it’s horrendous.

There’s no simple answer to this subject. It’s complex because every human is different with different brain chemistry, genetics, environment, life experience, you can’t predict or pretend to know what a person is feeling or how they will react.

I see more and more self-help propaganda that frustrates me to no end. We are talking about the brain. It’s so complex that the top scientists in the World admit they just don’t know when it comes to serious mental illness and brain disorders. THEY DON’T KNOW.

But go ahead and take advice from a person with no degree in Medicine, Psychiatry, Neurology or Neuropharmacology because they would know right?1037361horace-poet-it-is-the-false-shame-of-fools-to-try-to-conceal-wounds


Yesterday I made a last minute appointment with my psychiatrist. I wanted to get it over with in case I decide to take a road trip. Nothing has changed much. I still have bad days and some kind of ok days. I have been able to see some things a little differently and try to change how I react to them. I’ve done this on my own.

I asked him how long I’ve been on Klonopin. I asked because of recent comments or opinions about people with addiction issues and mental illness taking meds like Klonopin.

I’ve been on it for years at the same dose. 

From an early age severe anxiety kept me from doing many things. I couldn’t tell you the amount of times I was dry heaving in a toilet before school or if I knew I had to deal with a social situation.

I can tell you I had an ulcer by 18 and scarring of my esophagus. The constant feeling of something bad is going to happen, embarrass myself or be ridiculed was excruciating to live with.

One of the many reasons I used alcohol not realizing I was making the anxiety worse.

I didn’t have to go through that for as long as I did. I’ve never ran out of my meds early or Doctor shopped. I never wanted to risk losing the option or access to that medication.

My psychiatrist wanted to know why I was asking. I mentioned Dr. Drew specifically and the response I received made me laugh.

The response? “You do know he’s only an Internist, he isn’t a licensed psychiatrist or psychologist”.

I was so relieved to hear him say this. He also said that he wasn’t happy about Dr. Drew diagnosing people he’s never met.

He said he thought I was doing as well as I could be considering all the obstacles I have. 

He also encouraged me to keep blogging if no one reads because it’s an outlet and I can go back and reflect on what I was feeling at the time.

So I’ll keep him for now.


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.