Tag Archives: FEAR

SHOW ME HOW TO LIVE

I admit I’m afraid. I also admit it’s my own fault. I kept putting it off. I even might of done it on purpose.

The Doctor that changes my ureteral stents wanted to see if I could go a year this time but if I had any problems I should come in sooner. I started having problems around the 6th month. I didn’t call or make an appointment. I ignored the pain, the dizziness, loss of appetite, some swelling in my hands and feet, headaches, change in vision, etc. My Bipolar medications were not working correctly either. I’ve been more than depressed for some time now.

I went online to see exactly when I last had my stents changed. I could also see lab results and notes from surgery while I was there. I wasn’t happy.

When I first went to this Doctor he had to exchange the stents put in by a Doctor that didn’t like me very much. Normally I would think I was being dramatic but I brought my sister with me to 2 of my appointments.

My twin is odd in her own way. She can ignore me and say horrible things but if anyone else does it they better run. She’s gotten physical with a few people on my behalf. Nothing major, she grabbed someone by their lab coat and pushed another person out of the way who wouldn’t let us leave the Hospital.

So when she witnessed how this previous Doctor treated me in his office she wasn’t happy. I wasn’t either. He insulted me in front of the entire team about to operate on me and then told them I was “a difficult patient” and they should be happy I didn’t “bring my guard dog” referring to my sister.

When the Doctor I have now went to change the stents he found the guidewires had advanced up both ureters to both kidneys. On the left side the had crossed over one another. This caused scarring in the ureters.

I also didn’t know my GFR has been declining or that it’s as low as it is. I was told it was 67.

The last three results have been 48, 45, and 40. When it get’s to 30 you’re supposed to start discussing dialysis or transplant.

As far as a kidney transplant goes I highly doubt I would get one. My Dad is on dialysis already and my twin sister has already said no.

If you have a mental illness, have to take specific medications, have a history of alcoholism or drug addiction, have an autoimmune disease, you most likely won’t be considered. I can check all of these boxes.

I have things on a Bucket List left to do. I want to have serious conversation with Dave Navarro. We have a lot in common. There are places I want to see. I would like to see Steven Tyler in concert one more time. I want to spend a day with a pack of wolves. There are so many places I wish I could travel to. Places filled with art, music, food, lights, people, where I can walk around and just take it all in.

 

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THE BEAST INSIDE

Sometimes I want to rage at everyone, all the liars, the manipulators, the insensitive ones, the ones who can’t look me in the eye or make time for me.

It was easy when I drank to release the beast inside. I screamed, threw things, swung my fists at the nearest offender.

The problem is there will always be a bigger, badder, beast than you. When that day comes it changes you.

You swallow any anger, rage, resentment, fear, sadness, for as long as you can. You are too afraid to release any of it because of that one moment you were crushed, broken into a million pieces.

There was nothing left of you after that. Your smile never quite reached your eyes again, your laughter sounded forced, fake, at least to your own ears. No one else noticed you just going through the motions. No one noticed how jumpy you became when a door slammed or voices were raised. How you had to have your back to a wall so you could see every person coming and going. NO ONE NOTICED.

They now notice a sliver of the beast creeping out here and there. Eventually you get full, you can only swallow so much.

What happens when the beast is set completely free? Self-destruction is the only hand I have left to play.

Everyone has gone. I stayed silent too long or not long enough depending on who you ask.

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WATCHING PEOPLE GET BETTER

I feel like I’m stuck at “Hate Me” while others have been able to move on to “Fear” and make progress.

I’m still on that same floor I was on at 19, 21, 24, 27, 30, 33, 34, 36 years old begging for someone to make it all stop.

I stayed a little girl. There’s no emotional growth when you’re drinking at 16 to hide from something that scares you but you have NO IDEA what it is or how to explain it. It’s hard enough being a teenager who isn’t considered popular, pretty, or smart. What you become is target practice.

You were born into a family of “large boned” people or in some cases “morbidly obese”. There were a few stunning women and men but they were not without problems. If you do not believe Mental Illness or Addiction is hereditary I personally invite you to study my family.

I don’t remember what it feels like not to be anxious 24 hours a day. I didn’t stop bouncing my legs or shaking a foot while sitting until recently. I still do it just not as much.

When you start your life afraid of everything it’s paralyzing. My poor parents didn’t know what to do.

As I watched them argue with one another, knowing it was my fault, I tried my best to make them hate me and give up on me. My Mom understood more than my Dad because she had been hospitalized for Depression and 3 of siblings are mentally ill. Two of them are Paranoid Schizophrenics, so she was scared and didn’t want to lose me.

There came a point where I pushed her too far and it was my Dad who stopped her from kicking me out of the house and giving up. At that point I had no feelings, no self respect or dignity left. I felt like I would never be good enough and I didn’t deserve anything good in my life. I sabotaged myself.

As my drinking became worse so did my behavior. I didn’t care who I slept with and would start fights over the smallest things. Years of saying and doing nothing while being spit on and having elephant noises made at me had taken a toll. It started to boil and come spewing out at everyone.

The older alcoholic men I drank with took bets on how much longer I’d be alive. I came close more times than I like to remember.

When I watch someone like Justin Furstenfeld who I could relate to on many levels, change his entire life, behaviors, and outlook, it makes me feel frustrated and confused.

Am I afraid to be happy? Am I not trying hard enough? Do I have to believe in God? Are medications the wrong answer?

I want to leave the house, I want to do things, I want to be happy and at peace.

I don’t know how people do it. My brain keeps screaming NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!

And then of course I get bitchy because Mr. Furstenfeld has mentioned “God” and “Heaven” many times when it comes to his happiness. I have such a hard time with religion. I also suspect he might not be taking medications anymore. He doesn’t talk as much about his mental health as he does his addiction.

There is a documentary coming out where he mentions having “Extreme highs and lows” and being in a mental health facility. He was put on medication at the age of 14. I believe he’s Bipolar but I’m not sure it was confirmed and that’s his personal business. EXCEPT when you do Public Service Announcements about Depression and Suicide and you’re not being honest. If you have fans that are mentally ill and they think they can just pray away their illness we have a problem. I’m probably exaggerating.

I’m down lately and yesterday my Dad tried to hit me. Not what you want to do to someone who is now afraid of aggressive men even if it is my Dad. It didn’t go well at all.

Instead of crying and shaking something else took over.

RAGE

All I could think was “I’ll be damned if I ever let anyone physically hurt me again.” I calmly said “If you come near me I will leave for good. You will never see me again and I won’t tell you where I am.” It must have been the way I said it because he stopped and left the room.

When I mentioned it to him later in the day he denied ever doing such a thing. He then called me a liar and said I was making it up. I think I’m going to get Nanny cams to prove to him how angry and violent he’s been the last year.


DARKENED ROOM

I find myself going to my room earlier each day. I sit in my dimly lit bathroom, smoking cigarettes and watching TV and movies. There’s an exhaust fan in the ceiling that sucks the smoke out. I don’t smoke during the day or if I go away. When I went to Salem and the other Hotel for 4 days I didn’t smoke at all. Whenever I visit my Aunt in Florida I don’t feel the need to smoke. Only when I’m home.

I already know it’s unhealthy, my mom passed away from complications from Lung Cancer. I’ve seen what it does and horrible it is. I’ve given up drinking, sex, socializing, most food, and my health isn’t looking promising anyway.

I feel relaxed and almost happy when I make it to my room. I don’t have to hear my Dad growling “GODDAMN, GODDAMN!” while I start to sweat and feel sick. Yesterday he knocked over the kitchen utensil holder. Instead of picking everything up he decided to start smashing dishes everywhere. I was frozen in my chair in the living room with tears rolling down my face.

It’s a horrible feeling not being able to move when all you want to do is run. When he came in to where I was he became angrier that I was crying. When I was able to move I went to my room.

I’m having trouble finishing anything I start. Jewelry, coloring, my horror list, posts, research, finding a doctor etc.

Hopefully things will change soon. It usually does eventually. I just never know when. It could be weeks, months, or days.

I don’t think having a fever is helping or that my tongue is kind of green and white. I know how to fix that but it might be too late. The virus may have gone to my stomach or other organs. I hate doctors. I hate finding new doctors just to get antibiotics I’m really not supposed to take because I take too many at the highest dose as it is because of my Kidney Stents. At some point they will stop working.

Okay, I’m going to try to be nice to my dad and go to my room.


HOW DO YOU TRUST YOUR OWN MIND?

I have many regrets and I have hurt many people over the years. I won’t use alcohol or not knowing I was dealing with a mental illness from an early age as excuses. These are only insights to my behavior. Bipolar started at an early age for me so I didn’t know life without it. People that hear or read this always have doubts. I had doubts because I am skeptical by nature and question everything. If you know me than you know I also research everything.

There was too much evidence proving that it started early, scientific, physical evidence that I couldn’t ignore. The research team at Harvard University couldn’t ignore it either nor could the team at Brown. At the time I was so overwhelmed with this new information I panicked and shut down. Someone else had to speak for me and tell them I couldn’t do what they were asking. I couldn’t be their freak in a lab, locked in a room with no access to my family. They should’ve known how damaging this would be. Even the suggestion of it was terrifying.

There’s a problem with letting your family see you at your weakest. They never forget it. They also never forget all the times you broke their trust while drinking. How could they? Letting my twin sister see me when I thought I was 5 years old and our Mom was coming to pick me up was a huge mistake. Allowing her husband to trigger a Conversion Disorder/PTSD episode like I’ve never had before was another mistake. Her seeing me so out of control and confused about where I was and blacking out gave her ammunition. More to put in her memory bank to bring up later.

She hasn’t been answering my texts about driving from New England to California but has answered other texts.

Today I finally talked to her, as in I actually spoke to her on the phone, it didn’t make me feel better.

She said she honestly didn’t think it was a good idea for me to try to make that kind of trip. She said she didn’t think I could handle it. It’s too far away if something happens and I panic or lose control.

I have been doing pretty well with control lately. I either write out my issues on paper or here. I also use other tools to calm myself down until I can think about a situation rationally.

I know I probably wouldn’t make it all the way but I wanted to try. Now I have butterflies in my stomach and I feel like I can’t swallow. I also feel trapped, like time is passing me by and it’s all too fast. I lost so much time already. I don’t have that much time left. This is something both my dad and sister refuse to listen to me about and they won’t listen to my Doctors. They won’t look at the statistics or my medical records. They refuse to talk about my alcoholism and the amount I drank. How much damage it did permanently both physically and mentally.

I’m not sure if I am thinking clearly or not because I’ve never thought like other people do. I’ve always loved the dark beautiful side of things, understanding human nature, nature vs nurture, survival of the fittest, basic instinct. I would read books and want to be a vampire queen, a Goddess of Rock, The Morrigan, a warrior in a magical land, anything but myself. But I woke up the same every morning. I lived in a fantasy world for a very long time. It was safe there in my books, in my bedroom, hiding from the outside.

My best friend W called yesterday to catch up on things. She asked a question. “Would you get better if the person who hurt you the most apologized? Or if you talked to him and got closure?” I knew where she was going with this. I knew that she had seen and been around him in the last year or so. I told her the truth.

It isn’t about him anymore, it’s about me. I’m not the same person who thought they deserved to be treated like garbage. I have self worth now. I actually pity him because he’s incapable of changing. I will be honest and say that if I saw him do that grin he does I can’t promise that I’ll remain calm. It’s hard to know so I think I’m better off leaving it alone. Do I want him to see me now? Yes, I do. I want to stand in front of him and rub it in his face that I am now a beautiful woman who has more than he ever will. But people like him will never get it. He’s manipulative to the point of being a sociopath.

Her response was “Jesus, you just said everything I was thinking about him and you’re right he hasn’t changed. I was around him 2 times for E’s sake and I couldn’t take it I had to leave early both times. I hate him, I hate his face. I’m kind of glad you said what you did. He had a rule where no one could say “Jesus Christ or for Christ’s sake” in front of him and when I heard that I wanted to puke. That was what did it for me, all I could think about was you and I left.” W understands me better than anyone.

W’s advice about the road trip? DO IT! If you get homesick turn around and head home. you know yourself and how you are going to feel, you’re pretty good at judging when your mood is changing or when you’re going into crisis mode I’ve seen it. Don’t listen to anyone but yourself, don’t tell anyone until your ready and in your car on the highway.

So I’m still confused because I listen to too many people and not to myself. I’ve learned not to trust myself because other people don’t trust my decisions.

Still confused.


EXCRUCIATING! Watching Q & A’s On Social Media and Feeling Invisible.

From time to time I will watch a Live Question and Answer session on a Social Media platform. I don’t do it often because I find myself become irritated, sad, and then feeling more isolated than I already do.

When the person answering the questions has answered the SAME EXACT QUESTIONS AT LEAST 5 TIMES PREVIOUSLY and literally asks that no one else ask the same questions again, it’s more than annoying.

BUT not as frustrating as when I finally work up courage to write something and it’s always ignored or sent back to me. I don’t know if that’s just how it works because I try not to do it often. Why? Because I then start to do the infamous snowballing.

Questions start swirling in my overactive brain. Has everyone blocked me and I just don’t know about it? Do they think I am a security threat because it links to blog about Bipolar Disorder? Oh, wait! Everyone they follow has dark hair and I’m a red head, maybe they don’t like red heads? Everyone they follow that’s female is pretty. Maybe I’m not considered pretty enough to follow like a velvet rope system but for Social Media. Did I offend the person and not realize it? Should I apologize? Maybe I should consider breast implants or some Botox.

Then I think “I really miss drinking when I didn’t give a shit what anyone thought no matter who they were.” When I even told a famous singer to go F*ck himself because he grabbed me on his tour bus and wouldn’t let me go. I could see the track marks on his arm and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in months. Back then the alcohol made me not overthink everything. Granted it also helped my erratic behavior, impulsiveness, and sometimes I wasn’t rational enough to know when a situation had gone too far.

This spineless, doubting, invisibility, is killing me. I just want to know I exist sometimes. My entire life I blamed so much on my weight. Now that the weight is gone I actually hide more than I ever did. Now that I can actually dress up and feel like I fit in I do nothing.

The only thing stopping me is me. Fear that it will be the same. Rejection. I can’t go through everything I’ve already been through again. So what now?am-i-invisible-1024x683


Other Mental Health Blogs And Distractions

I really enjoy having my Conversion Disorder set off by 10:25 in the morning. It’s now getting to the point where I find myself cringing at my father’s voice. A man I once respected and loved with all my heart. He’s growling into the phone about his tires being put on wrong. Now he’s headed down there. I tried to stutter out that he needed to calm down but was told to “stay out of it”. If the police are called I will not go to the police station that they will have to take him to. I’ve had to stay overnight there when I was younger. It wasn’t pleasant. Not that being in jail should be pleasant, but they knew who I hung around with and made it worse. It’s a very small state.

The African Grey Parrot is now saying “Goddamn! Goddamn!” repeatedly in my father’s voice. What joy!! I just got off the phone with my sister who had nothing in the way of comfort for me. She just wanted to talk about her stomach, the kids, and her stomach. I must have sounded like I may have thought about crying because she said “Don’t get emotional or I’m hanging up”. So no emotions were used during that conversation.

I want to run. I want to run far away. We all know this. My guilt and sense of responsibility keeps me here.

OTHER MENTAL HEALTH BLOGGERS

There are one or two bloggers of mental health that more than annoy me. When I read about Bipolar Disorder I want to read the truth. I want to read how people have struggled with it.

I don’t want to read how someone has meditated or done a rebirthing class and was cleansed of their illness. I don’t want to read about how a plant based diet cured them.

One “blogger” at the very beginning says she is an award winning writer, speaker, and social media consultant. She works to bring quality, insightful and trusted information on bipolar disorder and related illnesses to the public while engaging with the mental health community.

  1. Her sentences sound off. The punctuation and grammar are wrong. I do it when I’m blogging but not in a professional capacity.
  2. How nice of her to “engage” with the mental health community considering she’s Bipolar.
  3. She doesn’t mention she’s Bipolar until way, way, down the page.
  4. She is for HIRE to speak professionally about Bipolar Disorder and Mental Illness even though she is not a Doctor or a Therapist but did write a book.
  5. She once responded to me that my feelings and symptoms “didn’t quite sound like hers or anyone else that she knows with Bipolar Disorder” and that was the extent of her “help” when I was at my lowest.

I’m not saying that anyone should give medical advice. I am saying that I have personally talked privately with people from here who were struggling and hurting and I have listened to them, prevented one of them from hurting themselves, all by LISTENING AND RESPONDING. Sometimes all it takes is showing up and being there.

That’s all I want. I want to know when things get so bad I would rather end my life than see another ocean view, that someone will be there to remind me, who I was, who I am.


GODDAMN IT AND FLIES

“Goddamn it! Goddamn! GODDAMN IT!”. He’s only been home twenty minutes. I immediately knew what he was mad about. I knew it was probably a bad idea when I did it. I just couldn’t TAKE IT ANYMORE!

We have 2 birds in our dining area. The dining area is connected to the kitchen. There is a Sulphur Crested Cockatoo in one cage and an African Grey Parrot in the other. They are both birds with long lifespans. They throw their food around and splash in their water. My father also has over 300 Fancy Pigeons (Russian Tumblers, Saxon Monks) outside to take care of. He refuses to admit that he can longer take care of all them. He has been trying to cut back on his Fancy Pigeons, he recently gave away 17! And in that time 5 more hatched. He won’t cull. If he sees the egg has been fertilized he won’t destroy it. I can’t fault him for that. I know some bird men that break the necks of the babies. My father would never hurt an animal.

The inside birds bring mice. The mice are attracted to the food they throw around. We have woods in our backyard that are filled with field mice. Every single time I go to get my oil and filter changed the guy will say “You know you had a mouse nest in your filter?”. The first few times I thought they just wanted more money because I wasn’t going to change my filter. I had my Dad look before I brought it one time. A mouse ran up his arm and on to his head. He fell backwards trying to get it off. Yup, there was a nest.

We can’t really poison them because of the dogs. Both dogs are not picky about what they eat. A dead mouse would be a treat for them. My dad was using traps. Then he found something that would be toxic to the mice but not dogs. I didn’t ask. The next thing I know it’s like Amityville Horror in here. The amount of flies was disturbing. I hate flies because I know their life cycle and it involves maggots. We thought we had solved our fly problem before I went to Florida.

Last week I see 2 flies. That’s how it starts. Today we are back up to a 100. I can’t take it. I hung a fly strip in the kitchen over the garbage. It wasn’t exactly visible. But it wasn’t in a place where we use things all the time. Of course my father chose today to grab a pan we never use where the fly paper was hanging. It stuck to his arm and had flies on it.

As soon as I heard him I knew. As soon as I heard the tone in his voice I felt flushed. I tried to explain. This is how I tried “Ssssooorrryy dddaaaddd Iiiii dddiiiiddnnn’tttt mmeeaann” he told me to stop because he couldn’t understand me anyway so what was the point? My head was shaking and I was still trying to explain but my throat was closing. Nothing was coming out.

How I hate this. Weakness. Vulnerability. Powerless. In my mind I can say everything clearly. In an actual situation I turn to mush. I am trapped in my own head. I’m screaming at myself “You idiot! What are you doing? Spit it out!”. This only makes things worse.

When someone walks away from me it hurts. It says to me that I’m not worth your time. Unfortunately my family does this the most.

I never know when it will hit me. I hate being startled. I always have. The look of hurt in my Dad’s eyes when he sees the fear in mine is enough to destroy me.

Rosie is the Cockatoo. When her mate passed she started pulling out her breast feathers. They have started to come back. The African Grey is Wiseguy. He talks and imitates noises. His best is the microwave and my dad answering the phone.


BULLYING AND SUICIDE PREVENTION

On the homepage of my computer was a story today about a 9 year old boy. He was from West Virginia. Normally my eyes would’ve passed right by if it wasn’t for the fact that he resembled my nephew. Because of this I went on to read the story. Part of me wishes I hadn’t.

On September 10, 2016 it was National Suicide Prevention Day. It was also the day this adorable 9 year old boy was found hanging in his room. He was dead when his sister found him.

The boy’s biological grandmother had guardianship of him. She says that he was often bullied at school but handled it with humor or if he really had to he would fight. Recently though he had become more withdrawn than usual. His grandmother tried to get him to open up to her but he wouldn’t.

The school says the family never reported the bullying. They’re still “looking into it”.

His hair is dark blond, he has a too large forced grin on his face and there is something in his eyes that I recognize. There is a look of suppressed anger, despair and resignation.

Society sees bullying with boys in a different way. When my brother was younger and bullied by older kids in the neighborhood he was expected to fight back. If he didn’t he was told that it would just get worse. One day 5 of them came to our house. I remember it was snowing. My brother was about 13 at the time but was already taller and bigger than the children around him. The problem was my mother had taught him to be polite and respectful. Unfortunately other parents had not done the same. It had gotten so bad that to this day I can’t watch Full Metal Jacket without thinking of my brother and what he went through. I feel sick. But on this one day everything changed. Those 5 boys left on their hands and knees wondering what the hell had just happened. They had unleashed a monster that could never be put back. I hate to say it but my father helped. These “boys” were older and bigger and brought sticks, belts, and socks filled with rocks. 5 against 1 mind you. It was because he was so much bigger and older looking but never used his size that they singled him out. It sounds absurd but it was true. It was all downhill for him from there.

Once he realized his new found power he used it constantly to intimidate everyone around him. His teachers were frightened of him and my father felt defensive. My mother always had the attitude ” I brought you into this world I can take you out”. Not helpful. He was difficult to live with. He’s still a bully. 

I was also bullied. In a small way after taking it for so many years I became like my brother. This was only when I drank. I never could’ve done it sober. That’s the sad part. Even now I can’t stand up for myself and I’ve been sober for years. I’ve joked to my bestfriend after someone has hurt me that I was going to the bar to do a couple of shots, then going back to tell them off. She knows I won’t and understands how difficult it is for me. But we can at least laugh about it.

My nephew was bullied last year. He’s the smallest in his class. Another child hit him as hard as he could between his shoulder blades. My nephew threw up and had a bruise in the shape of a hand. He started having stomach problems, nightmares, and didn’t want to go to school at all. The child that hit him has behavioral problems and has an adult that supposedly supervises him in the classroom at all times. This is in addition to the teacher. I would like to know where both of them were. His problems are due to the fact that his parents are in the middle of a divorce, his mother is an alcoholic with mental health issues, and neither spends any actual time with him.

I can’t blame the children. These behaviors are learned. To drive another child into feeling so hopeless that their only choice is to remove themselves from this world is deplorable.

I know there has to be a solution. I just don’t see a solution to a problem that has been happening since the dawn of the time, happening soon. That doesn’t mean we do nothing in the mean time.10153640_10151988208565685_8901309243108819210_n


Frozen In Fear

There is so much I want to do. Fear stops me from doing anything. I have been in a depressed state for a few over a week now. I hate it. I want to run away, hide, yell, hit people, and curse my brain for making me suffer. I’ve thought of drinking lately and that isn’t like me. I wouldn’t. It isn’t worth the physical effects let alone how I would feel about myself after. I have enough self-loathing.

My dad has been horrible lately. I really wanted to take a short vacation to a nice sunny, warm place. A place without my father yelling, the dog climbing all over me constantly, the flies that my father brought in to the house from his birds hovering around my head, and a place that is quiet where I can sleep. My father called this “useless”. He doesn’t believe in vacations. In the last week he has also called me “useless”, “a bitch”, and “a waste”. I know it’s the medication talking but I am also sick and don’t need this. I just want a break.

I wanted to try to sell my jewelry too. I’m so afraid of failure and negative comments that I’ve talked myself out of it. I hate feeling this way. I’m agitated but really do not feel like doing anything. This sucks. To be stuck in limbo waiting for the next good day.


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