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.
Holidays Schmolidays. I can't be the only one who feels that way right now. As a matter of fact, I know I'm not. Which is why I'm writing this. I'm not really sure it's actually going to help anyone else, accept to definitely assure them they aren't alone in this, at all.
I just cried. I think it was the twelfth time this week. Oh wait, today's Sunday, so actually it was the first time this week. I have no idea why I'm sitting here torturing myself by having Christmas music playing in the background right now. It makes me want to throw something. I love Bing Crosby's voice, just not right this very second.
I was hoping this holiday season would be easier than last year. Up until last year, I had always done relatively well for the most part. I mean, there were definitely a couple of years that were pretty hard, but nothing like last year. Last year sucked. It sucked giant Santa balls. This one is undoubtedly feeling in the same direction. Right up good ole' Kris Kringle's chocolate whiz way. It's not something I do on purpose, and it's most certainly not something I can 100% control. If I could, I would probably be dancing around my living room right now singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with jingle bells hanging off my nipples. Just kidding about the jingle bells. They'd be hanging around my wrists. Unfortunately, I just literally cannot MAKE myself be Christmas happy all the time. I have my moments.
I've been told to focus on the positive countless times this past week. While I appreciated the unsolicited advice (LOL), it simply isn't that simple. If only people knew how much I wish it were. I am very thankful for the positives. I'm thankful that I'm no longer homeless. I'm thankful that I'm dealing with my bipolar disorder and depression and all the holiday triggers without self-medicating or self-injuring. I'm thankful that all 4 of my children are alive, healthy and seem to be doing well. I'm thankful I have a job. I'm thankful for the encouraging and uplifting people I talk to. I'm thankful for the ocean breeze that is 2 miles away. I'm thankful that I haven't had a nervous breakdown so far this month, although if one more romantic Christmas movie comes on this weekend I actually might, because bah humbug my ex-fiance is a douche bag.
Can anyone relate yet? Let me add a little more.
I think my ex-fiance has a lot to do with the fact that this holiday season is just as rough as last year. Granted, at least I have a place to live this year. I'm not in a drug and prostitute infested crack hotel like I was last year worrying about whether I am going to have a bed to sleep in each and every night or week. No one is getting stabbed in the neck right down the hall. I can walk out of my building without someone trying to get me to take a ride with them to get me to do God knows what. I'm just still.. angry. I don't feel like I've healed much. Maybe I am just now getting to a place in life where I can actually allow myself to heal. Life is actually slowing down just a tad. I finally, just as of this last month, no longer have to have any contact with him. I can start to move on. The stuff he still refuses to give me, he can keep. I was able to finally get the few most important things. He can keep what he destroyed. He almost destroyed me, but failed. The anger, the hurt, the pain, the sadness.. it's all right here, right on the surface. The triggers during this time of year are paramount when it comes to everything "him." I don't know how to make my mind shut up, but I'm trying.
Moving on.
Most of you know this; however, I've gotten a lot of new followers recently. (Still not sure how that happened, but I'm thankful for that, too. One, because that means awareness is being raised. Two, because I am here to listen to and help others if I can. Three, because that means someone is listening, or at least pretending to.) Two of my children talk to me. Two don't. The fact that two don't compounds the sadness and triggers of the holidays so freaking much that I wouldn't even know where to start or end with trying to explain the magnitude of it. My heart goes out to anyone who experiences this. If one more person tells me "he'll come around" or "she'll feel bad one day" I'm going to punch them in the face. It really doesn't help me. Really. Because seriously, you just don't know that. Don't tell me you do, because you don't. There are no absolutely positively no guarantees in life, so don't tell me that one day everything is going to magically be all mended and wrapped in a pretty pink bow because you just don't know that. A multitude of things could happen in the interim where it's just not even a possibility, so please. Just stop. It doesn't help. What helps is listening and just helping parents of estranged children reach a point of acceptance and a place where it's going to be okay even if they don't talk to us again.. which is super hard to do, but it's 12,948 times better than false hope and setting us up for potential disappointment. I hope you can understand that.
My oldest is 22 and recently got married. He has his own life now. If it were just the simple fact that he is an adult and has moved on with life and so on and so forth, it would be much easier to accept. It's the fact that this has been going on for years that makes it difficult. I'm not only cut out of his life, I'm also cut out of his wife's life. He even instructed her not to become my friend on Facebook. I'm blocked from his. I wish I could say I understand it all; why, how, etc. I just don't. I think I understand why he felt he had to do it at first, but so much time has passed that I can't grasp the why of now. I fear that I'm never going to be able to get to know his wife the way everyone else has had a chance to get to know her. She's beautiful, sweet, endearing. God gave him an amazing girl. I'm super happy for them. I'm just really sad. I don't get to see the pictures of the life updates that everyone else gets to see. I don't get to have occasional dinner with them. I'm scared to death that once my first grandchild comes along, I'll never get to spend time with him/her. I'm missing so much. My eyes are burning right now with the tears that are begging to spill down my face. I'm missing it all and there is nothing I can do about it. I've tried.
My youngest daughter just turned 18. She hasn't spent any time with me for about 5 years now. So many things made that reality especially hard. She was my shadow. Like, almost literally my shadow. I would walk from one room to another and turn around and run right into her because she had followed me without me even realizing it. She would fight my other 3 kids for the spot right next to me and would insist on being my sidekick at all times. I wasn't the only one who noticed, either. Everyone at church would say "here comes mini-you" when she would walk into a room. She wanted to do everything mommy did, be everywhere mommy was. She has a lot of my same traits, including bipolar disorder. I wish she didn't have that one. I wish I could take that one away from her. I wish I could take away the pain she has gone through because of this hated illness. I wish I could fade her scars that she had caused on her own body. I wish I could take away all the nights she felt like she was worthless and didn't want to live anymore. I'm glad she's still alive after so many attempts. I wish she would talk to me. I wish she didn't blame me because I have bipolar disorder and she feels like it's my fault she has it.
I wish I could stop crying now... again.
I'm in a lot of contact with my other two children. My oldest daughter, who is 19, spends quite a bit of time with me. She is legally blind, and she and her dog will come spend a weekend with me or several days. We are always laughing when we are together and we always find something to do and a way to smile. She is a lot like me, too. She takes things to heart like I do. She see's the best in people. She always wants to do things for others, even if it costs her something (to a fault sometimes, like me). She got accepted to the local university for the spring semester. I'm so proud of her. My youngest son is 15. We don't get to spend as much time together as we would like because of his crazy busy schedule right now and the fact that I live an hour away, but we do our best. We send each other silly texts and joke around. He's my comic relief and makes me smile. He really cracks me up. He plays soccer a lot and I'm glad he found something he loves to do so much. I'm really looking forward to spending more time with him once his schedule loosens up a bit when school lets out and his activities slow down. I call these two kids my two "A's" because their names start with an A.
My two A's when they were younger:
I have the opportunity to take my two A's to the Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party on the evening of December 13, and you really don't understand how completely ecstatic I am about it. Totally stoked. They are about a million gazillion times more excited than I am, so I know that's a lot. My daughter A has only been to Disney one time and my son A has never been, which is sad since we've been in Central Florida their whole lives, so needless to say they absolutely cannot wait. Even though the tickets are cheaper than regular daytime Disney tickets, they are still above my budget, but you know what? They've waited long enough. I've waited long enough. If I don't do something special and positive for once this year, I am positive I just might lose my mind. So, I have to do this. We will have practically nothing at all to spend while we are at the park, but at least they will have fun. I hope. Yes, they will. Judging by their excitement, they will. They know I'm struggling, and one thing I can say about my children is that they have always been really good about being understanding when it comes to finances. I'll never forget my daughter telling me when she was younger, "all I want for Christmas is you." I'm tearing up again.
How do we get through the holidays, exactly, when our lives are in shambles or if we have trigger overload? I can't always get away from my triggers, and I think it's safe to say you can't, either; however, I think that if there are certain triggers we can avoid, we should certainly do that. Here is what I have discovered this year so far:
1. Don't watch all the sappy Hallmark Christmas movies that are flooding the television stations right now. Our lives very seldom come close to even remotely resembling the crap that's in the script and instead of making you go "awww" and giving you a warm and fuzzy feeling, you end up wanting to break your shit instead.
2. Avoid alcohol in excess (and avoid drugs entirely). If you want a glass of wine, have a glass of wine. Just don't drink the whole bottle. You might think it's going to help you, but it's not. You'll end up calling or texting everyone in your phone's contact list and telling them you love them so much or you hate them so much and neither is probably a good idea, not to mention all the other things you might end up saying. Plus, alcohol is a depressant, and most drugs are just bad. Yikes.
3. Write. A lot. That journal or notebook that has been sitting in a drawer for months or even years can come into some good use right now. Just start writing. Write everything. If it's in your head, write it. You'd be surprised how much stuff you are actually thinking about. You'll also be surprised at how much better you just might feel once you've gotten it out of your head. Sometimes I read what I've written later and all I can say is "what the hell?"
4. Only listen to music that is going to lift you up. If it's making you feel sad or angry, turn it off immediately. Kind of like I did the damn Christmas music I had playing when I started writing this blog. It was on for a whole 7 minutes.
5. Go for a walk. I have taken so many walks recently that I'm actually kind of angry that I haven't lost like 20 pounds at this point. It releases both physical and emotional tension. I don't always FEEL like going for a walk, but I have come to realize that if I take that first step out the door and make myself do it, I'm always really glad I did and feel better afterward. Except for the morning I went jogging on the beach in my bare feet and didn't see the hundreds of jellyfish on the shore until I was tripping over them and I basically almost died.
Lastly, never ever ever be afraid to reach out. None of us have to do this alone.
My inbox is always open on my FB page. Ramblings of a Bipolar Sober Chick.
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!
The last two times I have sat down in front of my computer to write something, I've gone blank. I'm still blank, but the words will come. It's the chaos and I'm overwhelmed. All the "little things" and simple happenings all rolled up into one giant "something." I feel like I don't know what to do with myself, but I know what I don't want to do. I don't want to end my numbness by turning to the one thing that's always made me feel.
I like being by myself now. I like having my own space. I still feel hesitant to say my own place, because technically it's temporary; but, maybe I should. Maybe I should just go for it and say, hey.. this is my place. This is my little one-room apartment that I pay for by the week. If you don't like it, take a hike.
It's what I meet when I open the front doors of the place that I don't miss. The rushing of images past and memories buried. The ignorance, naivety, stupidity, hint of danger, and temptation. When I lived here in 2006, I was still an active drug addict. Cocaine was my bitch; or I was hers. Either way, we had a relationship. I have no desire whatsoever to go out with her again. That's not what this is about. It's the emotions that come along with remembering all of that crap. I was in Room 111. Take the stairs down two flights, take a left, go right at the hallway, and the door is on the left. At first, I thought, "wouldn't it be kind of neat if I lived in the same room again?" No. No, it wouldn't. Not with the way I am feeling right now. I can only imagine the multiplication of images in my head if I were actually in the same exact room. There was a slight hint of nostalgia to the idea; then it was gone. I did coke in that room. I lived in that room for 6 months. That room holds other unpleasant memories. It holds some great memories with my kids visiting, but the good crashes into the bad too roughly. There was a guy who lived on the second floor, almost just above Room 111. I didn't recognize him at first, but he turned out to be someone my family knew from Altamonte. From the hood. He sold crack. Not to me, I never smoked crack. Plenty of people here did, though. Mostly on the third floor, where I am now. Thankfully, I haven't seen any crackheads (that I'm aware of). He used to feed me downers (Xanax) all the time when I was on coke, so I could function for work. He eventually got thrown out of the hotel because his son was advertising to people they sold crack and what room they were in. Idiots. There was a lady from the third floor who used to talk to me out front while I smoked cigarettes all the time. She was a lot of fun to talk to and wanted to come to my room. It was all laughs and games until she whipped out a crack pipe and asked if I minded. Noooooooo, I don't mind. I mean, I do coke in my room, what's the dif, right? I'll never forget the smell. It was horrible. Like burning nasty candy. I have no idea how else to describe it. She never came to my room again and I distanced myself as much as I could after that. Every time I'd walk to the corner store there was this other lady sitting in the grass. She'd have a different story every night about why she needed money, as if she'd never remember she'd talked to me a few days before. Either her mom was in the hospital and she needed money for the bus; or she had just gotten out of the hospital and needed to get back to the other side of Orlando. I'd tell her every time I barely had money to take care of myself. The internet was always an issue that year. I worked online then, too. I've been a medical transcriptionist/medical documentation specialist for 10 years now. I had more issues with internet connection during that 6 months than I've had in my entire life. I was ALWAYS late for work, unable to work, or struggling to work. Always having to convince them to let me pay late because of their internet service interrupting my work. Of course, it wasn't only that interrupting my work, but it had a lot to do with it. They ended up giving me my very last 2 days here free because of their internet.
I don't do drugs anymore. That's one huge difference from when I lived here 8 years ago. I don't really see too much evidence that things have changed here, though. A little, maybe. I don't see crackheads; not obvious ones. I haven't seen any noticeable drug dealers, except the one that tried to get me to get in his car. I do smell occasional marijuana as I'm walking down the hall. I just roll my eyes, because I know that's one thing that is never going to stop here. I'd rather it be nothing, but I'd rather it be marijuana than any other drug. I am on the smoking floor because I have a cat. The smoking floor is also the pet floor. I understand, kind of, their logic; but on the other hand, I kind of think it's unfair, as well. But whatever. I'm not giving up my precious kitty. I feel like she's all I have left sometimes.
So far, I've had the crazy barking dog, who has quieted down considerably. Actually, I very rarely hear it anymore. The guy next door turned out to be bipolar, as well, and was taken away for a day. Since he's been back, I'm not sure if he just hasn't left his room, or if he takes the dog out a lot. It's kind of weird now that I think about it.
A couple of nights ago I went to walk to the store for a bottle of water. The inevitable was bound to happen. I'm heading through the parking lot toward the corner store and a car stops in front of the entrance, still a good 150 feet from where I am, with the passenger door open and he's yelling "excuse me!" Nope. I dart to the right and cross between two cars to the next section of the parking lot and make a left toward the store again. He just pulls forward and blocks me there, too. "Excuse me." Screw it. I approach the car and the conversation goes something like this:
Him: "What are you doing?"
Me: "I'm working, but I'm walking to the store real quick." "You need a ride somewhere?"
"No." "You work from your room??"
"Yeah." (inaudible and unintelligible)
"What?" (again... seriously, I'm not leaning into your car any more than I already am, so speak LOUDER.)
"I can't hear you." "What you do?"
"Medical transcription." "What room?"
"Really?" "Okay. You got a friend?"
"Yeah, I got a friend." "You need another friend?"
"I have enough friends." "Alright then."
I walk away, he drives away. Seriously? I am not stupid. I know what you want. I know what you want to offer or sell to me. I know what you want for payment for your offer. That is not my life anymore and I'm glad that my tone of voice, facial expressions, and the way I answered your questions finally relayed that message to you. Get out of my face. I will not get in your car, I do not want what you have, and I do not need you in my life, nor will you be coming to my room. Again, I AM NOT STUPID. Do you know what is super sad about this scenario? If it had happened in 2006, it probably would have went completely differently, because that would have been an easy step to not only getting high, but getting my room paid for. Do you know what that tells me? I AM NOT WHO I ONCE WAS.
MY PAST: I DON'T LIVE THERE ANYMORE.
Last night, I had trouble with the internet. First time since I've been here. It's hard to believe I'm going on week 3 of being here already. My days are flying by. I don't feel like I'm living. I'm just surviving. Thankfully, it was a one night thing, and I think had more to do with a password switch (first of the month) than anything else. So far, so good.
More than anything, I look around me and just want to see more of my things. I'm in a battle of the dumbass right now and can't seem to get anything that's mine. I've only asked for a few things that are still at my ex-fiance's farm. My journals, my comforter, the Wii, my coffee mugs that have my children's pictures on them, something my grandma sent me for the kitchen... and preferably my keyboard, because music and writing are the only two things I can use passionately to express myself and I really need to play badly. I don't think that's too much to ask for right now. I can't afford to get a storage unit yet for everything else. I wish I could. Believe me, it would make my life so much easier if it was ALL out NOW. The responses I get: Blame for his financial issues, blame for his depression, blame for his loneliness, blame for his alcohol and drug usage, blame for his anger issues, saying he loves me and wishes things were different but..... There are no "but's". You did what you did. You wanted me to be responsible. Does anyone see me having a problem with that? Nope. He says he needs to be responsible now and learn how to be by himself. You've had 5 months so far and I see no progress. I don't know what to tell you, except for stop ignoring me when I ask for what belongs to me, stop waiting to answer until it's only convenient for you, and give. me. my. things. Move along, move along. For the love of God, move along. He tells me that because I've moved the date back on getting all my stuff I've prolonged his recovery time. Are you kidding me right now? Let me read that again. Yep. Yes, that's what it says. No sir. I've had to move the date back for two reasons. 1) You never answer me when I ask when I can pack my stuff and start getting it together. You never answer me when I ask when a good time would be to do anything at all, so what do you expect? 2) I'm being responsible for myself and have rent to pay, so I've had to postpone getting a storage unit for stuff I thought I would never have to move again, because you made a false promise to me 3 years ago. If anything, YOU have postponed MY recovery time. I'm not the one playing the blame game and treating someone else like a piece of invisible trash.
I wish you had NEVER texted me again and just left me alone after the first time we split up.
So, yes.. the numbness is coming. The chaos, the memories, the current situation; it's all balling up like a giant wad of gum I've stepped on and it's now stuck to the bottom of a shoe that I can't take off. The laces are knotted and my fingers are cramping from trying to untie them. My mind is like a tornado, yet blank. My ability to function feels like it's slowly dwindling.
Yet I can still write this blog.
How these words came out, I have no idea. I'm staring at paragraphs that I don't recall forming.
My numbness is pitchy, and a little off-beat; but, I will leave you with this very raw and un-edited piece of me:
