Tag Archives: bipolar

Puke Rainbows

I double my dose of this mood stabilizer in three days. Finally, something is working.  I’m much improved from 2 weeks ago.

But, I’d better puke rainbows 2 weeks from now.

(more info on this subject can be found from the link below:

XO, friends!

You Are Not Alone

I’ve been reading others’ posts about feeling alone, friendless, and just plain miserable. The majority of these individuals are still (barely) functioning in the “real world.” They have jobs, obligations with young children, and other responsibilities that demand their attention.

I have great admiration and empathy for these people, most are women that I’ve heard from and read blogs of. I, too, have spent many, many weeks in my apartment, mostly in my king-size bed. I didn’t want to be there, but depression caused it – all-consuming, crippling, evil depression.

While I have a very kind boyfriend who makes sure I am “ok” every day and that I’m told I am loved and beautiful every day, I still fell and stayed in a pit of misery.

After seeing my old psychiatrist and getting a new diagnosis (and different meds), it is 9 days since taking the first new pills. I double the dose of mood med next Tues, so we’ll see what happens then. <I like that . . . Mood Med . . .much less serious sounding>

My point is that there are many of us out here who hurt and are dealing with neurochemical upsets which need meds and counseling to manage. One woman in particular, my heart wrenches for. She lives nowhere near me, has no friends, has a child to care for, and is in such great depression that she tried suicide this week. She didn’t complete it, for which I am very thankful. I try to reach out to her, but she doesn’t reach back.

When depressed, we isolate ourselves, which is unfortunate because that is the point in which we let the disorder have control. But, while we’d like to, we can’t face the world, the people, the sunshine. When it takes all of our energy to merely rise from the mattress to use the bathroom, we’re pretty much not “going” anywhere else.

I am feeling thankful today. I’m thankful for my mama and daughter and daughter-in-love who keep up with me daily and make sure I’m okay. They hurt with me, laugh with me, and weep with me. There are many more things/people I could list here, but I won’t.

What do I want you to take away from my post today?

No matter who you are or where you are, you are NOT alone. You may feel – with every fiber of your being – you are, but you aren’t. There are people like me out here who want to chat, discuss your pain, and reach for a future along with you. Human beings weren’t meant to  be alone all of the time. We are social creatures who need one another’s encouragement and empathy.

Need to chat? Do it here or on a reputable board.

Need medical help? Seek it – until you find a competent and caring professional.

Need crisis care? Anyone, anytime, any crisis, visit this website: http://www.crisishotline.org   or  call 1 (713) HOTLINE.

Smooches to you!



Misery Hates Company . . . Go Away

I’ve traveled back to Northwest Arkansas to see my psychiatrist (she is a genius). My meds are not working, and I’m a raving mess.

Physically, I have pains from the depression. The depth of my misery shocks me. That’s a perfect word for my situation at present, misery.

I’ve been popping Xanax so I can relax and not sob my head off or mke rash decisions. I’m ready to pick up TODAY and relocate back to Arkansas from Dallas. No more thought to it than that. I wonder if this is what mania and depression at the same time feels like. It’s a confusing and awful place to be.

I tried twice to push Jerry away from me in the last two days. I was mean to him and acted selfish, foolish, and bitchy. Still, he returned and told me he was NOT going to be run off. I don’t know if he is a saint or an idiot.

I think I’ll take a nap. I’m in my favorite town (Fayetteville) but have no transpsortation. No TJ MAXX for me. No Arsagas coffee. No flea markets.

Bed ~

I still love you, my readers and friends. Keep writing to me. We’ll get through life’s ups and downs together, loves.


Support for Depression and/or Bipolar Disorder

I’m pretty stoked. I left the apartment for the first time in three days (gawd, I sound pathetic). ANYway, I mailed a letter and got a hamburger. Tonight, Jerry and I buy him some slacks. We head for Fayetteville in the morning. The weekend will be fun in the pretty Arkansas Ozarks. My pet sitter will love being here with the cats. He’s a hulking man, but likes felines. 😉

I see my psychiatrist Monday morning. I’m super excited to finally get to see her. My meds are screwed up (obviously).

I added two helpful links to my blogroll today. They offer support groups (meetings) for people in the U.S. and in Canada. I’m going to try one when I return, I think.

1) Depression/Bipolar Support Alliance


 2) The Organization for Bipolar Affective Disorder (and depression)

The second is for Canadian residents. Hope this helps some of you who have asked where to go for support group interaction!

Enjoy your weekend. Count your blessings.


Major Depression: What Does it Feel Like?

“What does it feel like?”

That is what my daughter asked me a couple of days ago – referring to the crippling depression I was feeling. My daughter is 27, happily married, finished with two college degrees, and raising her first child. Her life is full of hope and dreams for the future. I hated to explain to her what my own colorless days were like. Downer!

Outside of my counselors, I don’t think anyone has asked me the question, “What does it feel like?” When Sarah asked me that question (via text), it touched my heart. To know how much she must love me, I mean.

So, I texted her back honestly, but briefly.

She said she wished she could do something to help me.

My mother texted me the same thing (wanting to help me feel better) yesterday. I told her to just keep loving me and letting me vent to her now and then. 😉

I love my family. They are what keep me putting one foot in front of the other.

What does it feel like, you ask?

Chest aches and feels heavy. Tears fill eyes and fall when the pressure hits red. Emotions are hopeless, futureless, aimless, apathetic, sadness, goal-less, joyless, fatigued body and mind. Not enough energy to even bathe (but I do, so my boyfriend doesn’t leave). Think grieving, but the loss is your own identity and autonomy.

So, there it was, and here it is. Today is about a 4 on a scale of 1-10 (one is the saddest). Yesterday was a 3. I guess I’ll go to the store. I need cat litter and cat food and to mail a letter.

Au revoir, mes amis!

Greener Grass on the Other Side – A Poem

Think, blink, on the brink.

Inhale, exhale, both a chore.

Why try? I’m bone dry under black sky.

Can’t die because of small fry.

The grass is always greener somewhere else.

Brain, slow – slower still.

Every movement is uphill.

Pop a pill, screaming’s shrill, dreams unfulfilled. Salty tears spill.

There is no controlling the coming walls of waves

In the midst of hurricane in my brain.

Dry, wet, there’s no difference.

There exist no greener grasses.

Squeaking By With Depression


I have gotten used to never being happy. I’ve grown accustomed to only being “moderately” depressed each day. Some days (more lately), I force myself out of bed to go to schoool. I’m not studying like I should, and my grades will show it. I made the honor roll/fraternity last quarter in school. That made me proud. 91 was the cut off grade. My grade was 91. Skin of my teeth ~

I took certification for operating a cremator (in a crematory). I will be faxing the 4-page test this week. CANA certified to operate in a crematorium. That is a longtime goal of mine. I reached two goals this week. The honor roll and the certification. It was like pulling teeth to even attend three days of classes this week. Damned depression.

I’m wondering if there is a pattern to my mood episodes. I was “manic” after my divorce. That mood lasted 17 months. Then, I dropped into depression. I was on antidepressants, and they worked fairly well for about a year each time I had to change. More recently, these meds aren’t working but for a few months or, in the case of Prozac, my current med, not at all. I was on 20 mg for two weeks and have been on 40 mg for over two weeks. No change at all. I’m as freakin’ depressed and down as always.

I can’t afford the pricey meds, so I was hoping Prozac would do the trick for me.I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. Okaaay . . .

Bipolar 2 has been on my mind again. My dad had a mental illness that was late in life diagnosed as bipolar. He subsequently completed suicide a few months later at age 44. I’m almost 48 and trying NOT to follow in his footsteps. It’s hard to keep getting up each day.

Instead of studying for an exam (2 actually) on Monday, I surfed the internet for real estate in sunny Florida, on a beach. As much as I love the ocean and sand, surely that location to live and work would make me happy. Sunshine, water, fish, water sports, seagulls, sandpipers, breezes. The sound alone of the ocean rolling in makes me supremely contented. However, after surfing areas, homes for sale, and attractions (oh, and possible job opps), I realizled something pretty sad. I am still going to be living with myself no matter where I am physically living. Beach, mountains, lush valleys, lakes – it’s just scenery change. I’ll still battle my depression demons wherever I am. THAT made me sick. I can’t out run it , hide from it, deny it, or kill it. Damn!

I suffer, not always in silence. I cry every day. I don’t smile much anymore. I don’t want to do volunteer work (out of character for me), and I find no joy in anything. Plus,I’ve gained 50 lbs in the last 6 months. THAT is depressing by itself.

I think my mood would improve if I lost weight. Yet, I’m so apathetic that I really don’t give a crap. I’m pathetic. I truly am.

I just want to stay home, alone, write on my book and maybe on a few short stories for publication or contests. I want to sit by the apartment pool and soak up sun and have no worries, financial or for my future. Lazy? My daddy used to call me lazy, brainless, and dumb. Maybe he was right.

I miss enjoying things like painting on canvses, writing daily, coffee with friends, studying my favorite school subjects, and reading for pleasure. I used to volunteer at the literacy council as a tutor and class teacher. I delivered meals on wheels for years.I was on the Washington County Water Authority Board of Directors. I owned and operated a large antiques mall for several years (and had a talent for it). I managed a jewelrly and purse store, worked retail at CATO, worked hospice and psych. Many fulfilling jobs in addition to raising two children and being a stay at home momma.

Now? I’m lucky if I make it to school between  7:30 and noon. I’ve stopped getting my embalming cases for outside of school. I have 7 of 10 done thank goodness.

I’m going to make an appt with an MD specializing in psychiatry this week. It’s time for some major reevaluation on my meds situation. Its this Major Depressive Disorder or Bipolar 2?

I need to know, so I can find the proper med to make me feel better. I hate mental illness. Makes me feel weak, less than others, pitiful, unuseful, stigmatized, untrustworthy, and just plain freakish.

Do you, my lovely and intelligent readers, have ideas or opinions to share with me on this situation?

Love you all~