Tag Archives: Bipolar


I feel somewhat angry today. It could be the fact that I have to see my Psychiatrist tomorrow. The man that does nothing for me but try to push whatever the latest Pharmaceutical Rep has pushed on him, on me. He practically reads from the pamphlet. As soon as I see it’s almost exactly like Brintellix, Pristiq, Abilify, Seroquel, or something else I’ve already been on I start to get anxious and annoyed. Then the game of “Have you ever been on?” starts. You’re the Doctor, I’m the patient. I have cognitive issues and write everything down, you have a computer and a secretary. You also make a shitload of money and your telling me that you can’t pull up my file on your screen to see what you’ve prescribed me before? You want me to do your job for you? Which by the way I have been. I’ve been adjusting my mood stabilizer so I don’t rip anyone’s head off or cry until I’m so dehydrated I look like chicken jerky. You’re welcome.

I’m also tired of the Political goop on television. The sensationalism of it all. When did a race for President turn into fodder for Entertainment Tonight or TMZ’s hottest story besides Brangelina’s divorce? (Her fault. Turn your hands into 2 scales. Pretend you are weighing dysfunction with Angelina on one side and Brad on the other. Now tell me between French kissing your brother while looking like the mother from The Munsters and Billy Bob who’s side is weighed down more? Thank you.) ANYONE RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT SHOULD NOT HAVE ANY TAPE RECORDINGS OF SAID PERSON OJECTIFYING OR DISRESPECTING WOMEN. I don’t care how many E-mails your opponent has you f*cking idiot. You should be ashamed of yourself. The only reason any woman sleeps with you is because you are GREEN $$$! Now you insult them? Good luck after this. Although even O.J. still managed to find a girl or two so what does that say about us?

No one wants to talk about one of the biggest issues. The Suicide rate and the Mental Health system. You really are not hearing it discussed much. I really do wonder what other countries think of us when they see our suicide rate is higher than our murder rate. That we would rather kill ourselves than live here? That the U.S. isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?

I’m in my runaway mode again. I want to go somewhere warm. I want there to be a pool, no flies, no one to yell at me but people that will talk about movies and TV with me. They won’t mind if I babble. I won’t have to take extra Klonopin to make myself quiet so they won’t send me home. My mom would’ve listened. She didn’t care if I talked too much. My brother in law before I was diagnosed, thought I had always had too much caffeine and found it hysterical. He doesn’t now. Now everyone finds it to be a “problem” or I must be “off my meds” or not taking them correctly. Odd how they all thought it was funny before. No one finds me very funny now. My dad has started to roll his eyes.

One thing that hurts me deeply is seeing someone eye roll me. I have no spine, no way to stand up for myself. I really want to slap them upside their head until their eyes roll back into position. But I can’t. I’m not capable of it sober. 8 years of thank yous, yes please, no thanks, can I help you with that? Have taken it’s toll. My parents brought us up to be polite. It only stuck to one of us. Unfortunately the other two’s politeness stuck too. I can’t shake it.

I think I’m winding down and I am now having a hot flash. The joys!



For once I tried to do something charitable that didn’t benefit me. I failed. It’s a feeling I’m used to. I try not to get my hopes up ever for anything. Our family motto is “If something bad is going to happen it’s going to be to us”. Recently finding out my mom’s maiden name actually meant “dark stranger” or “sinister” in some translations didn’t surprise me at all. My mom couldn’t just get Lung Cancer. She had Cervical Cancer while pregnant with twins and had to have an emergency hysterectomy after we were born. Years later she then was diagnosed with Lung Cancer. Of course that isn’t what killed her, Congestive Heart Failure did several agonizing years later.

My father has 9 lives. I’m afraid they’re almost used up. From saving the kids stuck on the railroad tracks and almost getting himself killed, the Portuguese Man Of War, 2 bouts of Peritonitis, a Quadruple Bypass, Lyme Disease 2 times, ran over his foot with the lawn mower, a rare virus that destroyed his kidneys putting him on dialysis, Temporal Arteritis that they caught minutes before he stroked out, bursting his eardrum 4 times, Aortic Aneurysm, I’m pretty sure I’m missing stuff but you get the point. And you might have guessed he hates to go to the Doctor and waits until the last minute.

I’ve never won at Bingo, scratch cards, or any contests. The one contest I won was rigged so that everyone won. So I was excited for exactly one minute.

I wanted the Janie’s Got A Fund Fundraiser to work because I know it’s legit, it’s something I’ve experienced, it’s needed, and important.

It bothers me that so many in my family didn’t take me seriously or care. My sister was busy at the beach and then going to a concert and after party because her husband of course knew the band. He used to be in a side project with one of the women in the band. They were going to be hanging out in Newport for the entire day and night. I’m not sure if anyone knows much about Newport, R.I. but where they were going is pretty high end. It isn’t jealousy, it’s pain. A lot of pain. I bought some new colored pencils yesterday. That was my big day. And I actually washed my hair.

The first pic is my Dad with Nixon, the next is him probably getting his first bout of peritonitis in the Navy, and then my sweet beautiful mom. I’ve probably shown these before but I miss her unconditional love and his smile that disappeared with her. He used to make me laugh even when I didn’t want to. Now it’s mostly yelling and tears.

It’s Been Awhile.

A fee weeks ago my father was taken to the Hospital from dialysis. He was bleeding somewhere internally. After about 3 days he discharged himself against Doctor’s orders. That Sunday he ordered me to get him suppositories at CVS. I told my sister and she yelled at me to “just do it”. Neither one of them would listen to me. I told both of them that sticking a suppository up his ass after having internal bleeding was not a good idea.

I went to CVS and got him what he wanted. I noticed something strange when I had come down the stairs that morning. 2 of the bathroom rugs were gone. I put my contacts in and saw a large amount of blood on the tiles and under the third rug. I ran out of the bathroom. I asked my dad what happened. He said “nothing”. I screamed at him. I called him a “selfish son of a bitch”. The 3 days he had been in the hospital the week before I had to water and feed his hobby of over 300 pigeons. I have a compromised immune system and 1 kidney. My sister’s husband forbade her to help me because it was hazardous. She wasn’t even “allowed” to help me with the inside of our house. He thinks we are animals.

A half hour goes by and a I hear a loud bang coming from the bathroom. I run and bang on the door. There is no answer. I force the door open and my dad is lying on the floor. I try to get him up. He opens his eyes and says “Darie please help me to the toilet”. It was at this time that I looked down and saw all the blood that had leaked through his sweat pant bottoms and onto the last carpet. I got him close to the toilet as he started to take down his pants I hear a loud splash on the floor and him landing on the toilet slumped forward. The splash was blood and tissue. He was hemorrhaging rectally. It was the brightest red I’ve ever seen and looked like it had large pieces of liver in it. I screamed and screamed. I called 911 and went and held my father’s head in my hands. They took him back to the hospital. He was there another week with no real answers as to why he was bleeding internally. I fed the birds again. It was torture. Some died. I buried them. He was mad. I yelled at him. He has to get rid them or the town will come and declare it a hazard. I know he loves them but at this point it’s too much for any one person to do let alone one that’s sick.

All of this has been too traumatic on me. I actually was more relaxed with him in the hospital. I wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop constantly. I know my dad loves me. Since my mother’s death and his kidney’s failing he has slowly been going down hill mentally and physically. The dad I knew would never ever say some of the things he has said to me, or threatened me. I know this is because he’s ill. But I’m always the one left to deal with all of it. When I opened that bathroom door I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest. My mind went somewhere else. I did what I had to but I wasn’t really there. I have nightmares about all the blood and him laying on floor. Just what my Conversion Disorder needed. I stuttered so much 911 didn’t understand me and went by the address that came up on their screen. I felt useless. A state trooper was looking at me while he talked to another guy. His smile was cocky, his thumbs hooked into his gun belt. I had seen him before. He twirled his finger around his temple in the “crazy” gesture. At that moment, if it wasn’t for my dad, I was going to show this asshole just how “crazy” I could be. Years ago I only dated ex-cons. They taught me quite a bit. I’m not proud of it but it would come in handy in certain situations. Like if someone enters your home during an emergency situation and thinks there is anything funny about it. But eventually I have learned Karma does indeed come back around. And eventually she’ll be waiting for me too.


To start let me tell you my father was brought to the ER after dialysis. They had run tests and his Hemoglobin was extremely low. He also had blood in his stool. All of this scared me. My sister went to the ER to see how bad it was. I was home waiting to see if I should come. My car has something wrong with it to the point it sounds like a wheel is going to fly off. I had posted on Facebook that my dad was in the Hospital and receiving blood transfusions. I did it this way because most people do not pick up their phones for me or I really don’t want to deal with them either.

My (ex) sister in law called to find out what was going on. In the middle of my explaining she bursts out with ” I am so f*cking disappointed with you and your sister”. “How come I wasn’t called?” “I am so f*cking pissed right now!”.

At this point I let my emotions take over. My brother is far from a saint but he isn’t the monster she has convinced MY FAMILY he is. She started calling my parents “Mom” and “Poppy” right off the bat. I kind of wasn’t comfortable with it. Through out their marriage my ex sister in law was disrespectful, rude, and complained to my mother so much I believe it made her illness worse. She also slapped my mother across the face and kicked her out of their house in the middle of the night.

Even though she is no longer married to my brother she continues to worm her way to all family events and my brother isn’t invited anywhere. Their oldest daughter is diagnosed with BPD and PTSD. She has always been manipulative. My niece is a Heroin addict but I believe has not used in maybe a year. She stole my mother’s pain pills when she was dying. She has done a lot of horrible things. She just forgets them. Or thinks it doesn’t apply to her.

So when my ex sister in law stopped yelling at me I said “He isn’t your f*cking father!” “I don’t have to call you!” Was it nice? No. But her yelling and swearing while I was already stressed out didn’t make me happy.

She of course told her daughter. Her daughter then wrote to me on Facebook. I am forbidden by my sister to reply.

It’s (BLANK). I’m messaging you from here because apparently you have me blocked on my actual Facebook page. It is completely beyond me how petty and abrasive people can be. Please explain to me why you felt the need to not so kindly remind my mother of how poppy is “not her f*cking father”? This isn’t the first time you’ve done this. I will never, in all my life forget the things you said to my mother about Nanny (my mom) and how she never considered my mother a daughter. It is so unbelievably pathetic how low you have the tendency to stoop, and how childish and nasty you can be. Are you that threatened by my mom? Are you insecure about how close MY mother was to Nanny? Does it hurt you in some way to think that Nanny and Poppy could have possibly cared just as much about my mom as she did her own children? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I’m sorry you feel that way, but remember ALWAYS that my mother was, is, and will always be a member of this family. You truly believe that you can use “bipolar” as crutch for acting like an absolute asshole to the rest of the world. I am Bipolar and have PTSD just like you do. But unlike you, I don’t use my diagnoses as an excuse to whine, bitch, and complain. What a strong person with our diagnoses would do is rise above our mental deficiencies and use it as motivation to fight it and make something of ourselves. You’re completely and utterly incapable of being able to do that. What 40- something year old woman updates her Facebook status every time she gets off the couch and takes a shit? Why do you feel the need to throw every little detail about your family or your life publicly for the world to see? It’s not like you even post this shit just for your friends. Your posts are set to public. The entire world can read your twisted bullshit. How can you post about your father needing a blood transfusion, without calling family, and expect them NOT to be upset? How do you justify that being appropriate in any way? AND THEN to top it all off, you post ANOTHER status about my mom “berating” you? What’s wrong with you? Grow the f*ck up. And stop attacking what little family you even have on your side. Most people have turned away from you and taken space from you because you have been slowly and steadily, losing your f*cking mind. But my mother has consistently been there for you. She has answered your phone calls and listened to you whine, bitch and moan when nobody else would listen to you. She has been there whenever you’ve needed her. And for you to turn around and disrespect her like that? In moments like this, it sickens me to know that I’m related to you. You’re much more like my father than I ever could have thought. I hope you know that Nanny (my mom) is rolling over in her f*cking grave because of the way you are disrespecting a member of your family. She’d be disgusted. And so am I. Get your f*cking shit together. And if you can’t, then at the very least, leave people that love you out of your path of destruction, What’s wrong with you?!

Sebastian Bach and Manic Thinking

I know that I have been feeling a little manic lately. It doesn’t change the fact that things in my house suck. I mention taking a vacation alone and my father starts yelling. I’m 43!! When does the guilt stop? How long do I have to pay for my mistakes? I’m 7 years sober and still I’m questioned about where I’ve been. Do you want to smell my breath too? I wanted to take a 4 and half hour plane ride to see Sebastian Bach at the House of Blues and spend some time in the sun and relax! Let my siblings take care of my dad for once

Music has always been an outlet for me. I can’t listen to it in my house because I get yelled at about the noise or sarcastic comments are made. Sebastian Bach is one of my favorite artists to listen to and try to sing along with. I’ve never seen a rock singer with such a professional sounding voice and mannerisms. I love to watch him perform. Just like I have felt about other musicians. Although I’m smarter now. I have also never had the experience of going to a concert skinny and sober. You know what it felt like all those years to watch my bestfriend and everyone else in their rock n roll outfits while I had to wear a T-shirt and jeans. My bestfriend once had thigh high leather boots, a leather mini skirt, and a red bustier. She also had a diamond studded dog collar on. Not real diamonds of course. Her blonde hair with light strawberry red natural streaks was down to her rear end but teased as big as we could get it. She also has Hazel/Green eyes and a bunny nose. She drew attention wherever she went. Even with normal clothes on.

Now she looks a lot older and would never put those clothes on except if it was Halloween. Her boyfriend likes her to look natural of course so she no longer puts blonde in her hair or wears much make-up. Funny how when they meet her she’s all dolled up. After they are established in their relationship with her they want her to change how she looks. The fact that she does kind of bothers me.

I’m not overweight anymore and can wear what I want. I was always told “You have such a pretty face but……” Not now. I have not had a chance since I lost weight to kind of show myself off to people who made my life miserable or were just hurtful. It’s petty I know but I still want that chance. I know I have spring fever and it’s always a bad time for me. I still want to spread my wings. My father is worse by the day and I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. I have Conversion Disorder/PTSD. Living with someone that you have become afraid of, a person you once loved and respected, is difficult to say the least. When asked to describe my father I always said the same. “He is the most honorable man I know”. Now he sometimes isn’t honorable at all. That fact splits my heart and head in two.

Scattered Pieces

I’ve been all over the place lately. Up, down, up and down again. I’m kind of up right now. My anxiety is through the roof. My father is scaring me with his behavior on the Prednisone and he pulled his back out. He’s not the type of person to let himself heal. I’m tired of fighting with him.

I want to take a small vacation to Florida. It’s a 4 hour flight. Not that far away. My dad starts freaking out saying how vacations are “useless” and for weak people. I think it’s because he’s afraid I’ll drink or do something stupid. I can’t keep living like this. I want to see the ocean, sun, museums, gardens, and people! Just a few days away from the chaos that is this house. I can’t make my jewelry because the dog is all over me and when I try to color the dog knocks over my holder for the pencils so I wind up play 52 pick up but with 170 colored pencils! I wanted to try to sell my jewelry and no one I’ve asked seams to interested in helping me. But it’s ok that I gave my sister a makeover yesterday that would have cost her at least $250 for free. She looked 10 years younger. Did I get anything for it? Just the satisfaction of knowing I did a good job. It’s like pulling teeth to get anything else.


I feel everything racing today. My mind, heart, legs, even my hands are shaking and cold. The rest of me is sweating bullets. I can’t tell if it’s the infection I have or maybe menopause? The antibiotics are horrible. 1,000 milligrams of Ciprofloxacin is making me feel sick. I still have a week to go. The cold sweats are the worst. I’m also fighting with everyone and just want to hop a plane to somewhere warm and relaxing.

I casually mentioned putting my name on a Housing list to my dad. He didn’t take it well. I told him that the wait list is over 5 years! He has nothing in writing about what he wants done with the house. I don’t want to be left homeless. Friends and family used to say they would never let that happen. They don’t say that anymore. It’s funny how more people supported and talked to me when I was just a “drunk”. When they found out I have a Mental Illness the support disappeared. Humans, you gotta love em.

I Loved You JoJo


When I woke up this morning and made my way down the stairs I saw a shape on the hardwood floor. I didn’t have my contacts in so it didn’t hit me right away. Then I could slowly make out the color red. I fell on my knees and didn’t care about the blood that had pooled around his beautiful head. I cradled him in my arms. He had been gone for maybe 45 minutes to an hour. He was 14 years old with a heart murmur. I loved him more than most humans. His name was JoJo. My mom named him that because she had the Beatles song in her head when we got him and his sister Gigi.

Jo was always skittish and only really liked my Dad. He sat in my dad’s lap for years and only slept with him. Gigi was friendly with everyone. She passed away at 6 when my mom who was heavily medicated at the time due to Lung Cancer accidentally let her out one night and she was hit by a drunk driver. How do I know he was drunk? He came back to our house to apologize after switching places with his wife. The police had shown up because I was screaming so loud. She was still considered on our property when he hit her. If he hadn’t been speeding and swerving so bad he never would have. My poor mom didn’t know what was going on. She would be put into a medically induced coma a few days later. (My mom not Gigi).

Yesterday I had to take my Dad to the Emergency Room because he was having tremendous head pain, vomiting and diarrhea. He has Temporal Arteritis. An immune disease that could have killed him. Watching him lying there weak and helpless was scary. It made me realize how alone I am. My sister came and of course tried to take over and criticized every question or comment I made. This morning she told me I make everything worse. I guess I do. I feel deeper, I cry harder, I hurt more than anyone will ever know. Sometimes things hurt me so much I want to rip my own heart out. I want to have so much shock therapy that I no longer know my own name. I want to forget everything that has ever made me sad. Because I’m tired. I just want to sit and smile without a care in the world. Without a thought in my head. I want to be as selfish as everyone else is.

Where’s House When You Need Him?

I went to the Urology Specialist at Mass General yesterday. It was a complete waste of time. I have never been so disgusted in my life. Even my twin sister was crying and ready to slap a bitch.

The Dr. had no idea why I was there even though all of my info had been sent to her ahead of time. She didn’t know how to work their new computer system. As she has a scan of my kidneys and bladder on the screen where I can see and she can see, she is making noises to herself and comments. Comments like the following “What a mess!, Oh my God!, What is this?”. I was getting nervous at this point.

She said “You have a LOT going on here. The doctors on your case are very good and did everything I would’ve done. You should have a biopsy where they go through your back though.” I asked her if that was something she would do. She said she wouldn’t take over my case without starting from the beginning and re-doing all the tests and biopsies they had already done. I told her Medicare probably wouldn’t cover that because they had already been done and she said I would have to get pre-approval. No mention of the many financial aid programs Mass General offers. Plus if she thought my doctors did everything right why did she have to re-do everything? I never got an answer for that.

She told me I should see a Nephrologist. I asked if I should see one around Mass General? She said it didn’t matter. She didn’t even try to recommend one. At this point I’m crying. I told her I’m tired and in pain and I really would like to know what’s going on. She said “Of course you are I would be too. You’ve been in Kidney Failure twice, your kidneys are not working the way they should, the right one is barely working. You have to get this figured out before more permanent damage is done.” DUH! That’s why I was there!!!

So it was a wasted trip where I’m worse off than I was before. I have no idea where to go for help when no one wants to help me. It’s even worse because it’s interfering with my Bipolar meds and I’m a mess. I don’t know what to do. I feel like giving up but I can’t.


The days where the aching pain, grief and loneliness get me are so bad I can’t describe them. I’m filled with guilt and tears, shame and regret. I want something to comfort me. I tried to hold the Papillon but he didn’t go for it. I put my head next to my laptop while Johnny Cash sang Hurt and cried. Nothing to comfort me. Before Pookie would be there to curl up with me. Now it’s a nasty look from my father as he leaves me and I sit alone again wishing for something or someone to help me or release me.

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