Numb Holidays.

I feel weird this holiday season.  Usually, the holidays are very hard for me.  Not to say they aren't this year, but honestly I'm feeling more numb than anything else.  I think I'm in a hypomanic state, which rarely happens.  I'm usually either totally manic or totally depressed, or when I'm stable, right smack dab in the middle.  Maybe my meds are working overtime and giving me the numb feeling, but there is a slight giddiness to it.

I've been watching a lot of Christmas movies on Hulu, which I don't normally do.  I haven't for several years.  But for some reason this year I've decided to do it.  Maybe that has helped get me a little into the spirit.  I have to admit that I miss my own tree and decorations that are so snugly put in storage this year while I'm staying with my grandmother, but we have a little tiny tree and a nativity set, so I should be happy with just that.  Gifts aren't really as important, although it's always nice to see a few packages under the tree.  Not necessarily for me, but I enjoy getting other people stuff and seeing their faces light up when they open their presents.

My kids are stable and leading their own lives at this point, as they are all finally grown, so I don't have that usual mommy guilt and usual strong desire to do something overwhelming for them like I normally do each and every holiday season.  I became a grandma on October 2nd, so seeing my oldest son with his own little family has helped quite a bit.  The only thing that makes me sad about that is I have yet to hold my grandson because I live so far away right now.  The good thing is he will be moving back to Florida a little ahead of the time that I will be moving back to Florida, so I know I have a set time to look forward to so I can hold my precious little grandbaby.  My oldest daughter is living her life in Colorado and she seems to be happy, although I miss her dearly.  I was getting used to having her come over practically every weekend to spend time with me, even if she is an adult.  It feels good when your adult children want to spend time with you!  My youngest daughter is back from college in Hungary and living in Florida again, so I'm looking forward to spending a little time with her, as well.  My youngest son is still in Florida and is engaged to be married.  I don't know when, be he said "sometime in 2020" so that narrows it down.  lol. 

I have family here in Texas, so I feel like I should be happier and more content than I actually am.  It's still hard, though.  I guess that feeling will never totally go away.

I hope everyone is having a good holiday season, and if you struggling like me, don't worry.  You aren't alone and I promise things do get better eventually.  <3

My new grandson with my son and daughter-in-law:

Self Harm.

As you all know, I run a page called Ramblings of a Bipolar Sober Chick, hence the name of my blog.  It deals with a lot.  Not just strictly the label of bipolar disorder or addiction, but the many underlying facets of those two things.  There is so much that can go into a list under the heading of bipolar disorder alone, so we'll just say "mental illness" for the sake of argument.  I struggle with depression, mania, PTSD, OCD, anxiety and self harm.  Not everyone will have all of those things, but many do.  Depression and mania obviously lie directly under bipolar disorder.

Hi, I'm Barbara, if we haven't "met" yet.

If the subject of self harm is hypersensitive for you, you may want to stop reading here.

I think the first time I ever harmed myself, I was around 16 years old, but it wasn't a regular thing.  As a matter of fact, it didn't become a "thing" until well into my adulthood, right around the time I was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  That wasn't until I was about 30 years old.  It became serious when I was around 39.  I'm 45 years old now.  So you can take out of your head that it's just a "teenage thing" or a "cry for attention."  It's neither.

My self harm escalated and peaked as my bipolar disorder was severely uncontrolled and was at it's "peak" I guess you could say.  My primary form of self harm has always been cutting, although I've scratched myself raw before, as well.  I probably have well over 100 scars on my body, but many of them are faded.  Some you can't even see at all anymore.  I believe that when people think of cutting, they always look for it on your wrists.  That's not always the case.  Actually, those of us that self harm are not proud of what we have done, so we tend to hide it with long sleeves or long pants, long shirts even.  I've cut all up and down my arms, my thighs and my stomach.  In November of 2012, when I survived my suicide attempt by taking a bottle of Lithium, I also had about 20 cuts up the length of my arm.  One of the nurses in the emergency room was quite rude and made a big deal about it, saying she'd never seen anything like that and why would I do it?  As if I didn't already feel bad enough.

Why?  Why do we do it?  Believe it or not, we are not trying to kill ourselves when we self harm.  For me, and from what I've heard from many, it is a release of pain.  A reason for pain.  When we feel things so freaking intensely and it doesn't make any sense to hurt so badly, we make that cut to give us a visual for our pain... a "reason" for it.  It becomes an addiction, almost.  No, not almost.  It does.  It also isn't for attention.  It makes me so angry when people make that statement, because as I said before, we hide our wounds and our scars.  Why would we hide them if we are seeking attention from them?  We wouldn't.  

The reason I am even writing this is because recently someone reported a meme dealing with self harm on the Facebook page that I run and Facebook promptly removed it.  It was not overtly graphic nor did it encourage anyone to behave that way.  I gave a trigger warning, just as I did for this blog post.  I will repeat what I said in my post last night on the page, that if you are sensitive to certain things dealing with mental illness, my page may not be the place for you.  It is a safe place where I share things that I know others will relate to, no matter what the subject matter is.  Yes, that subject matter will always fall under the categories of mental illness and/or addiction/sobriety, but it isn't always happy.  It's simply relatable.  Sometimes it's downright sad.  Sometimes it's encouraging and meant to make you smile.

Thankfully, it's been quite a while since I have self harmed.  I'm pretty stable on my medications; all 4 of them.  It doesn't mean I don't have episodes where I think about it, though; and on the occasion in the future where I may slip up, I will move on and forgive myself for harming the encasement of my soul.

If you self harm, I encourage you to seek help.  I'm not telling you that you need to run out and see a psychiatrist or go to therapy, though if that is your choice, they are good ones.  I'm simply saying reach out to someone who you trust, who you know will listen to you without judging you, who will sit by your side and not say a word if you don't want to talk anymore, who will hold you if all you want to do is cry inside.  I do not condone self harm, but I'm not ashamed to tell my story anymore.  I hope more people begin to tell their stories so they can be a beacon of hope to the people that think they are all alone in theirs.

Peace out.

Fatigue Neverending.

I just don't know how I do it sometimes.  Fall asleep, for one thing.  Every single one of my bipolar medications is supposed to make me sleepy.  What a joke.  I never fall asleep quickly at night.  Let me lay down in the middle of a work shift and I'll fall asleep within minutes!  It's weird.  I don't get it.  My body is tired, my soul is tired, my eyes are tired, my emotions are tired.  I don't think I'm necessarily going through a "phase" right now, I'm just fatigued all the time!  I honestly don't think it's due to my medications, but what do I know?  I'm not a doctor.  I know my body, though, and something is just off.

Yesterday I worked from 6 a.m. to what was supposed to be 2 p.m., but I had a headache and laid down "for a minute" at about noon.  That turned into me sleeping until 5 p.m.  I didn't even mean to fall asleep.  My joints ache all the time.  The sleep that I do get is nonrestorative.  I don't wake up feeling refreshed.  I wake up feeling like I need to drink a gallon of coffee.  My doctor restricted me to one cup a day, though, so that has been a joy.  Not.

Maybe I am falling into a slightly depressed mood now that I think about it.  I haven't showered in 4 days.  Gross, I know.  It's just too overwhelming.  That's another thing.  I've been getting way overstimulated lately and it causes me to snap at people.  I try my hardest to have a cheerful disposition, but when there is too much going on at once in my head it's like my brain explodes a little bit and comes out of my mouth in words.

I honestly feel like I'm just talking out of my ass right now, but I urgently felt the need to put some words down where they belong.  You may go on about your day now. <3

Bipolar, Panic and WTF.

I feel like bipolar disorder and panic disorder together make it impossible for me to be "normal."  I know the term "normal" is relative, but this is all that's been in my head for days, possibly longer.  I'm getting to a point where I feel like I'm looking for that hole to crawl into where everything is dark and the only sound is music. I can't speak, I can't respond, I feel like I'm going to throw up every time I try to utter a sound.  I don't expect anyone to understand, unless they have actually been there, of course.  I'm willing to bet that a lot more will relate than I expect or realize, but I'm not sure anyone close to me really does.  It hurts, feeling alone when you know that you actually aren't.  But there is a difference between being alone and feeling alone.

Something worth repeating that I have said in quite a while.  Bipolar disease is not a choice.  We didn't ask for it; at least, I sure as hell didn't; or panic disorder, for that matter.  Who the hell would WANT to spend what feels like every hour of the waking day and night (especially those where you are lucky enough to sleep) that you are going to drown, be suffocated, feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, constantly check your own pulse or breathing, feel like you are going to die or even worse yet would rather die, than go through one single second more of whatever it is you are going through.  Another thing worth repeating is sometimes WE DON'T NEED TRIGGERS.  It just happens and it's factually part of the disease(s).

I'm not sure how many of you have high-functioning Asperger type symptoms like I do, but I get overwhelmed and irritated very easily at times.  Yes, very similar to bipolar disorder; but I get to a point of sensory overload within literally a matter of seconds that I wish I couldn't see or hear.  I want to scream at the top of my lungs, OVERSTIMULATION, ASSHOLES!  Sadly, they aren't all assholes, nor do they mean to do it, but how to do explain it to them when they have no idea what it's like to be overstimulated to the point where you would like to rip all your hair out or punch a wall or cry nonstop without running out of actual tears?  I'm not even sure what my coping mechanisms are anymore at that moment and don't even know how to deal with being in my own freaking skin, because it quite literally feels like it's crawling.  Coping skills?  Breathe?  Nope, can't do that.  Ground myself?  Can't do that either.  Scream?  I sure as hell can do that.  Take my mind to my quiet happy place?  LMAO.

What are your coping skills?  Like, the ones that actually work.  Because even though it happens rarely, I feel like I'm at the end of my metaphorical rope.

Social Anxiety. What I Just Cannot Do Right Now.

January, 2015
"Somebody please help me right now. Like, really... right now. I'm in a room full of people; okay, four people including myself. That's full to me because we are in my room. My hotel room - that I live in. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I try to be so nice to people, but they use me.  And people really wonder why I have social issues and anxiety around people. I'm not even in the conversation right now. The three of them are talking and I have no idea what is going on. Actually, I take even that back. The girl across from me is a lot like me. Quiet. Social anxiety. My roomie that I took in to help her out is having a conversation with this chick I just met and was nice and said, yes you can come up for a while. Why am I such a pushover? Why do I STILL feel like it's not okay to say NO. It's like phases I go through. I stand my ground. I let something slide. I've actually learned a lot about myself in the last hour listening to this stuff that has nothing to do with me. It's actually really hard to type this while they are still conversing. I feel like chewing all the skin off my fingers, or pulling my hair out one by one, or screaming at the top of my lungs. I can't listen anymore. Everything they are saying makes me feel all my feelings for Ron and makes me think about how much I miss him. Oh my gosh, my feelings. My heart. Just shut up. I want everyone to leave. I terribly miss 3 weeks ago when I was completely by myself. I'm sliding. I hate this. I don't want to be here."

That is a random sampling of the stuff that goes through my mind at any given moment of anxiety. So chaotic. And yes, I really am sitting among 3 other people right now. I'm going to close my laptop, simply because I can think no further and I'm mustering up nonexistent courage to tell everyone to get out, because I don't feel like I can calm down at all or think right now. My very skin feels like it is vibrating. I want to cry. To be continued...........

SEVEN WEEKS LATER:
It's better. I have moved out of the hotel and into a townhouse, and things are starting to look up. I really love my roommate and her daughter, and other people in the family that I have met so far. I have yet to feel really super anxious since I got here. It's safer. I'm pretty sure I was actually going crazy at the hotel. I was surrounded by drug dealers, users, prostitutes, and even a murderer. It is awful how much that place has changed and gone downhill since I was there in 2007. I had no idea, of course, before I got there. But, it was the only place I could go to get back on my feet after what I deem as my traumatic experience with Ron last year.

It's pretty hard to believe we have been separated for almost a full year now. Two more months. I kind of choked up just now, which was actually a little unexpected. I have felt my heart beginning to heal, finally. I don't get all emotional anymore when I think about him. Rather, it's my horse that I miss that gets me more emotional; I don't miss Ron. At all anymore. The best thing he ever could have done was leaving me at the hospital and never looking back, even though he says it was "the hardest thing he has ever done." I call BS on that one, but it really is okay, because I couldn't take his verbal abuse, screaming, throwing things, alcohol and drug use, and a multitude of other things that started happening anymore. Naturally, he blames everything on me, from the finances to "his reason for drinking." I'm taking a stand and letting everyone know that I did the best I could. I loved him to my fullest, but it wasn't enough. I took care of the house, the animals, everything was always clean, I cooked for him, always made sure he knew I loved him, and sacrificed a whole lot of friends and a good church for him. I will never ever ever do that for someone again. I was completely stupid and ignorant about him. He says he wishes he'd known before that I had bipolar disorder. WHO THE HELL CARES WHEN YOU FOUND OUT? What he should have done was attempted to support me, instead of always making fun of me when I cried.... funny, that's the second person I've been with that has done that. SMH. He always had to point out what was wrong with me; God forbid if he tried to understand and be supportive while I was trying really hard to "fix" myself, until I realized I actually wasn't broken in the first place.

It has definitely affected my social anxiety. While I don't have it at home much anymore, it still increases when I have to go to church or Celebrate Recovery, because he's right there in my face.

From this day forward, I have to pretend that he doesn't even exist. There is no "we'll still be friends." Sorry. You can't just go back to that when you lose what you thought was your soulmate. I honestly believe that will help my social anxiety a lot, because I won't be concentrating on any one person anymore. I'm free to concentrate on myself. And that's okay, not selfish at all.

Do you believe that self-love and self-care are important?

When you have social anxiety, where do you go to calm down?

I can't find the video of the other person I was talking about. :/ But I will try!