Tag Archives: depression

One Last Hurdle!

blog_meteor

From late 2007, when my world changed 180 degrees, until a little under a year ago, I was like a hurdling meteor with an eye on a permanent place to land. However, instead of a hard-hitting, one-time crash, I’ve been flying through differing degrees of layers before making a comfortable orbit. It’s a much nicer way to find my new normal.

Feels like I’ve jammed about twenty years of living into the last five, and I’m exhausted. However, I’ve come away more “myself” than I’ve ever been before. There’s something to be said about being authentic; there’s less stress and more joy.

Through an extreme high and several extreme lows, I’ve come to a place of comfort. The only medicine I’m now on is a mild blood pressure med. No more antidepressants, mood stabilizers, cigarettes (gross!), alcohol (almost had a problem there), extreme shopping, or any other indulgence people try. I’m free from it all and proud of it.

I have one last hurdle, though. It’s the hardest addiction to break for me. I am unhealthily fat. I need to lose a significant amount of weight to feel good again. This is proving to give me the toughest battle. I’m surprised. I never had any weight issues until I had children, and then any weight-gains were minor. Not so now. It’s hard giving up this last and most adamant obsession.

blog_steam

I’m still very happy with what I’ve done with life so far. I’ve overcome some immense obstacles. So, I feel a bit spoiled in whining about this last one, but my head of steam is evaporating!

Joined Weight Watchers online. Weigh in each Sunday. Hoping for a last push of energy from this body and brain – to reach that goal of health. C’mon . . . cheer me on!

blog_success

XO to all of you!

What Do You Choose?

choice

 

Choices – that’s what life is – choices

 

What do I want . . . for lunch, to do on my day off, to watch on TV, to stand for, to leave for my children, to weigh, to do with my hair, to do about politics, etc

Who do I  . . . love, trust, respect, care whether they like me, help, learn from, teach, laugh with, cook for, clean up after, believe, get to fix my car, etc

Where do I  . . . call home, go when I die, want to eat, shop, go to school, try to find a job, dance, sing, cry, etc

When do I . . . call it quits, speak up for my beliefs, tell the truth, tell a lie, begin living the life I’m supposed to live,  stop denying/abusing and start facing, get a turn to be happy AND secure financially at the same time, etc

Why do I . . . second guess myself, think others have more rights than I, assume things, not feel pride at who I am, want to go back to being ignorantly in the dark and not a responsible woman, love cats so much, seem captivated by mermaids, love the ocean, love fried oysters, love to write, love to love, etc

 

Just look how many choices there are in life. These questions only covered a fraction of what our minds process daily. Just taking care of our basic needs is a balancing act!

choices2

 

I am exhausted at the end of some days just by how many things my mind had to organize and compartmentalize. Being a college student and a woman in the throes of perimenopaue is hard enough. On top of it all, I must deal with good friends who are either divorcing, have financial troubles, or are physically ill. Life ain’t easy! How easy it would be to accidentally jump the tracks! But I want to BE here for the friends and family I love. I want to make a difference in their lives – even if I’m “busy.”

choices3

 

Now for some strategies on HOW TO DEAL!

Do you think we are put here to serve a higher calling? Perhaps some of us are naturals at nurturing, teaching, fixing all things mechanical, listening. Others may be able to give monetary help, offer prayer, or spend an afternoon a week with someone who needs a friend.

The point is that no matter how “busy” we are, if we choose to make time to help someone else . . . we are 100% better for having done it, and the other person is, as well! THAT is what life is about – not plodding along day after day to make our wages and to live for the week-ends.

There is SO much more to us than we ever give away! Instead of feeling fatigued by having to give of myself, I am energized! Try it, please. You’ll make new friends, learn some things about yourself and others, and much more. Remember Forrest Gump? He took every opportunity to say YES to whatever came his way. Remember the movie Yes Man? Same idea. Remember Pay it Forward? Let’s get off our ever-fattening American butts and improve a few lives around us.

It’s all about our choices. I choose to be helpful, loving, trusting (even if I get hurt sometimes), and present in my life.

What do you choose?

 

 

Back Into the Light

light8

Do you believe one small candle flame can grow until one would need sunglasses to view the illumination?

I do – because I am living it – I’m taking one thankful step at a time.

light9

I have posts on this blog that showed me in some very dark periods of my life. There are writings of sadness, hopelessness, suicide, and any other feeling of desperation one may experience in a time of a valley in life. Yet, I have been coming out of it – becoming healthy once again, and it feels so good. In the beginning, I had to crawl and claw my way forward through muck. However, the longer/further I persisted, the easier it became. Now I’m on my feet, at a slow but steady pace and smiling about it.

light4

Each week (sometimes each day) that passes, I feel a renewed sense of “myself.” I’m no longer in a dark tunnel searching but finding nothing besides curved walls and an echo. I’m completely off antidepressants (my doctors thought I’d developed Bipolar Disorder in late 2007) and half off mood stabilizer. Yes, it’s fully under a doctor’s supervision. Guess what? I feel sooooo much better off those meds! I was completely disorganized and having great troubles in college (I’m a 48-yr old student), and my mind was extremely foggy when it came to decision-making. I made some awful decisions over the last five years. The meds didn’t end up helping but harming.

However, that little flame inside kept reminding me that I need to stay alive and stay fighting kept flickering, moving, and showing me its presence. So, I moved from complete blackness 10 months ago to a much brighter and energetic and happy place today.

light6

I am dreaming of going fishing with a sandwich and thermos of coffee. I want to spend the next mild and sunny day outdoors, taking in the beauty of the simple yet highly complex natural surroundings of trees and water. The photo above is how I’m feeling at present. I’m not in the full sunshine of summer but I’m sure not in the dark room with only a candle anymore. I just wouldn’t give up.

Where do I see myself in a month? Two months?

light15      light14

Here ~ in fully open skies, naked to everything around me ~ breezes, new experiences, a future.

The Aokigahara Suicide Forest

 

aokigahara_suicide_forest

(from It’s Just Morbid Curiosity blog)

 

The Aokigahara forest has the unfortunate distinction as the world’s second most popular place to take one’s life. The first is the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Since the 1950s, depressed Japanese citizens have wandered in, and at least 1000 of them haven’t wandered out. In 2002, 78 bodies were found within the forest, exceeding the previous record of 74 in 1998. In 2003, the rate climbed to 100, and in recent years, the local government has stopped publicizing the numbers in an attempt to downplay Aokigahara’s association with suicide. In 2004, 108 people killed themselves in the forest. In 2010, 247 people attempted suicide in the forest, 54 of whom completed the act.

Japanese spiritualists believe that the suicides committed in the forest have permeated Aokigahara’s trees, generating paranormal activity and preventing many who enter from escaping the forest’s depths. Complicating matters further is the common experience of compasses being rendered useless by the rich deposits of magnetic iron in the area’s volcanic soil.

Due to the vastness of the forest, desperate visitors are unlikely to encounter anyone once inside the so-called “Sea of Trees,” so the police have mounted signs reading “Your life is a precious gift from your parents,” and “Please consult the police before you decide to die!” on trees throughout the forest.

The place has long been associated with death. Ubasute, literally translates to ”abandoning an old woman.” Ubasute may have been practiced there into the 19th century, and the forest is reputedly haunted by the Yurei (angry spirits) of those left to die.

(via scruffylittleboots)

 

 

Bipolar Disorder – Need to Know Info!

sad_woman6

 

STABILITY  of moods. That is what the majority of people with Bipolar Disorder seek.

 

(thanks to healthtap.com for the following for questions and answers below)

Dr. William Drescher answers:

What causes bipolar disorder?

Multifactorial So far no one has established a genetic link with bi-polar disorder, and many have tried. It is certainly true that it runs in families, but that can be a result of the family environment. There is a reasonable theory that the manic episodes are a way of combating the depressive feelings and that both are the result of chronic internal stress leading to depletion of neurotransmitters.

What exactly is Bipolar Disorder? One or more episodes of abnormally elevated energy/mood/cognition, with or without 1 or more Depressive episodes. The symptoms are severe enough to interfere with daily functioning or cause significant distress.

 

What are some treatments for bipolar disorder?

Bipolar main treatment is mood stabilizers. Other medications are added depending on presentation, such as anxiety meds, antidepressants, antipsychotics. Also Psychotherapy.

 

Dr. Byron Law-Yone answers:

Can anti-depressants help with bipolar disorder?

Yes but …. They must be used carefully. they can sometimes cause a switch from depression to mania. Mood stabilizer meds are the most important and antidepressants can be added if depression cannot be controlled by mood stabilizers alone.. Some believe that there is no role for antidepressant use in bipolar depression. Talk to your psychiatrist about this very important topic.

 

Dr. William Holmes answers:

My mom has bipolar disorder, so am I likely to get it later?

Possibly If your mother has bipolar disorder you are at a higher risk of having the same problem compared to the general population. At the same time, there is no guarantee that you will have bipolar disorder.

sad_girl6

 

Dr. Bernadette Onuoha answers:

What are some examples that might help me recognize Bipolar Disorder?

Mood swings. Bipolar disorder as the name implies involves highs and lows in mood. Period(s) of depression with at least one episode of mania ie euphoria, insomnia, racing thoughts sexual/financial indiscretions etc.

 

Dr. Neil Liebowitz answers:

How can you tell if you have Bipolar Disorder or just a weird personality?

Level of function. Bipolar disorder is a serious disorder that affects your level of function and has dramatic cycles of energy shifts that last days to months.

 

Dr. Jerold Kreisman answers:

What are some discussions that can help demonstrate to someone that he has Bipolar Disorder?

Ask about how mood changes affect usual routine functions–staying up for days at a time without sleep, not feeling the need to eat, being hypersexual, spending too much, taking on too much responsibility, noting increasing anger and impulsivity.

 

I realize this is, by far, not a complete list of questions/answers about this subject. If you question whether you have a mood disorder, please visit a doctor. Remember . . . only an M. D. can prescribe meds, so an actual psychiatrist is helpful to find. Some only handle medications for patients. Others offer counseling, as well. Meds may be miracle drugs for some. For others, not so much. Counseling has been shown to be helpful, as well. Be proactive, and if you can’t muster the energy to help yourself, ask a loved one to help, but you must be completely honest with him/her about the severity of your symptoms. Don’t waste your life by staying in an abyss of depression or an uncontrollable mania.

Life can be better ~

 

 

 

 

 

What to do With Myself?

sadShapona_WomaninMirror

I’m trying to figure out what to do with myself. I have trouble looking into my eyes in a mirror. I tried self-talk . . . maybe regain self-worth. That didn’t work out well. Why can’t I look myself in the eyes?

I’m coming out of an initial “bout” of bipolar 2. I woke up and was full of energy, ideas, and plans. The mania began. I had no idea.
A year and a half later, I fell into deep depression and stayed there for another three years. Yes, really.

Being treated for depression only doesn’t work if you have a bipolar disorder. Ya need a mood stabilizer as well. Didn’t know I had this disorder, so I was spinning in place. Who’d have thought that initial period of weight-loss, extreme exercise, pricey vacations, thoughtless spending, job-hopping, college-flunking, divorcing-a-25-year-husband, taking up with a stranger, drinking, smoking, and other energy-filled activities was actually mania?!

I’m trying to figure out what to do with myself. The old mind is finally coming out of the clouds . . . the fog that encircled my reality. Now I want to know what my reality is. All of the self-evaluation is exhausting, but I see progress in ridding myself of self-hatred.

My mind feels as though it has been shaken and now has small fissures from the traumatic event. The cracks don’t completely heal, however. I’ll be “full o’ fissures” from now on. The injustice makes me mad. In fact, lots of things make me fricking mad. I’ve been over the facts a million times. They don’t change.

I’m trying to figure out what to do with myself.

Depression – why opening the curtains can cause more suffering – and other advice

Thanks to fellow blogger, Halfway Between the Gutter and the Stars, for this spot-on depression post.

Picture this. You’re trapped beneath a safety-blanket of duvets and pillows. The room is dark and silent. All you hear is your breathing; and sometimes you’re not quite sure if you’re really alive. It feels like you’re wrapped in a big, dark spider web; you know something bad is coming, but you don’t even want to struggle or escape. Days and nights pass in a blur of half-sleep and daydreams. Time ceases to mean anything. You can’t remember when you last brushed your teeth; and it doesn’t matter. There’s no reason to.

Suddenly, somebody comes stomping in, full of cheeriness and attempts to gee you up. They flounce over to the curtains and fling them open, pulling the nice, safe duvet from you and exposing you to the harsh, painful light. Your eyes sting. You haven’t seen real daylight in a while. You feel cold and naked; the act of stripping away a blanket is, to you, a cruel and unusual punishment. The whole world can see you now, and you’re scared.  Tired, anxious, weary and scared. You just want to be left alone.

This is why pointing out lovely weather is annoying and pointless.

Depression is a cruel illness. It strips you of your ability to care or relate to anything around you. It fills your mind with emptiness – a saying I never understood until I experienced chronic depression myself – and it’s all you can do to blink without giving up.

 

My mother has a habit of trying to force me outside, into the garden. When she thinks I’ve spent long enough hiding in my bedroom, she’ll waltz in (usually while I’m asleep), throw the curtains wide with as much clattering and muttering as possible, and proclaim that, “you’d feel much better if you got some sunshine!”.

I don’t doubt that weather has a huge impact on depression. I certainly feel much less able to cope in the winter; making excuses about the weather being too bad to leave the house or see friends. However, depression is a very complex illness, and you wouldn’t expect a bit of sun to magically fix a broken arm. It won’t cure depression either.

There is one aspect of depression I have never been able to manipulate or control via medication; the urge to shut myself away from the world. Friendships have fallen by the wayside because there’s only so  many times you can refuse an invitation before they stop asking. Being shut away is a natural response to being depressed; withdrawing from everything and everyone can sometimes feel like the only way to save yourself. Retreat to a place you feel comfortable and secure.

As well-meaning as it may be to try to force a depressive out of their comfort zone in an attempt to cure them, what you’re really doing is tearing the safety blanket away from a very vulnerable person. You may call it tough love, but to the person you’re trying to help, you’re being cruel and unreasonable. They already feel low enough without feeling their loved ones are turning against them as well.

 

Depression lies. When a friend offers you advice on ways to cope, sometimes the depressed brain will twist the words to sound like an accusation; particularly in cases of borderline personality disorder. I’ve been told that bipolar can feel the same. This imagined accusation sticks with the depressed person and, over time, morphs into a huge monster they can’t possibly hope to tackle.

Going outside has long been a big problem of mine. In the past four years (give or take a year) I’ve gone from somebody who goes on regular long walks and trips to town, to an almost-recluse, travelling by taxi so I don’t have to deal with the public and wearing nondescript clothes so as not to draw attention to myself. Part of  that is due to living with chronic pain, but I know depression is at the root of my reluctance to be seen in public.

You see, I worry that everybody knows my secret. That they can somehow tell from my face I’m “one of those crazy people”. I’ve sat in taxis, listening to the driver crack jokes about our local psychiatric unit, and prayed he wouldn’t look me in the eye and realise I’m totally incapable of existing without daily medication.

 

I accept that trying to help somebody with depression is like fighting a losing battle. The nature of depression is that it convinces the sufferer that getting well isn’t an option. The concept of recovery doesn’t even exist; depression hides it from you.

This is why sometimes the sufferer lashes out either verbally or physically when you try to help them. It’s why they may turn their back on you and not contact you for six months when you give out a few well-meaning hints. It’s not that they don’t appreciate the advice or care about you; it’s that they’re unable to feel those emotions properly. Depression has dampened everything down, placing the depressive in a near-soundproof room. They may be able to hear you, but their lack of reaction isn’t because they’re being spiteful and ignoring you; it’s due to depression smothering them with apathy.

It’s natural to want to help those who are suffering, and mental illnesses are no different. However, unless you’re a doctor you wouldn’t try to remove a tumour; in the same sense, unless you really know what you’re talking about, offering advice to somebody entrenched in misery probably won’t work.

I’m not saying to abandon those who have depression. Far from it; there are other ways to help than mentioning medications and therapies you’ve heard about.

 

So, how do you help someone with depression? I don’t have the answers to that. Everyone is different, and depression is a wide-ranging illness often encompassing other diagnoses such as psychosis, paranoia, anxiety disorder, BPD, PTSD and bipolar. What works for one person might not work for another. However, along with not  wantonly opening curtains, there are some things which might help.

  • The urge to drag a depressive out of bed is probably huge. However, it’s rarely the answer. When somebody retreats it’s through a need to be alone;  whether rational or not. In the depths of a depressive episode, you shrink into yourself and ignore phone calls. Emails go unanswered. Often, the sheer stress of having to communicate wears the sufferer down so much that they retreat entirely. Obviously if you’re concerned for their safety this advice doesn’t apply; but as long as they’re not hurting themselves… sometimes they just need to get through it on their own. Keep an eye on them; don’t let them be entirely alone, but don’t pressure them either. It can be a long process to climb out of the hole.
  • It’s hard to help someone when they throw accusations in your face. Paranoia often tags along with depression, and it’s very easy to become convinced that those trying to help you are actually out to damage you somehow. My personal experience of it is that it’s almost a form of psychosis; suddenly everything and everyone are against you, and even the people who claim to love you seem to be trying to ruin everything. It’s not something you can just get control over. It’s easy to imagine enemies everywhere when you feel entirely stripped bare.
  • I shouldn’t have to say this, but having depression doesn’t make you stupid or lazy. Sadly, these views still exist. Telling somebody to “just get out of bed and join the real world” isn’t the answer; it just serves to  make the sufferer feel even less of a person than they already do. Ask someone experiencing a depressive episode if they feel like a valuable member of society; they don’t. They’re at the lowest point it’s possible to reach, and suggesting in a roundabout  way that they’re taking up space and being lazy isn’t what we need to hear.
  • On a similar note, saying “my auntie was depressed for a week and she did more exercise and it went away” doesn’t help. It’s condescending and patronising. We know our illness; we live with it every day.
  • Telling somebody on anti-depressants that you don’t believe they’re safe or work properly will get you nowhere. Those with depression need support every step of the way, not putting down for their choices. Often, deciding to take medication is the last straw of a very painful life. It can be incredibly difficult to get up enough courage to go to the doctor and explain your failings so you can be given happy pills. If they work for somebody, what’s the problem?
  • You don’t know how they feel. Even if you have depression yourself, you can’t see or feel their exact emotions; or lack of. When  you’re trapped in the depression bubble, nobody has ever felt as wretched as you do. That feeling isn’t from an excess of ego; you really do feel like nobody could ever withstand the pain and emptiness. Tell them if you empathise or relate – communicating with other sufferers can help enormously – but don’t try to convince them you know how terrible everything is.
  • Invite your depressed friends and family to parties, but don’t be surprised or disappointed if they decline. It’s not because they don’t want to see you; it’s because they don’t want to see anybody. Telling them they’d “feel better if they had a few drinks” may be well-meant, but it won’t help. They won’t feel better. They’re sick, and sickness can’t be cured by a bit of fun. Let them know you’d like them to be there but that there’s no pressure. Pressure to socialise is a very painful part of depression.
  • Don’t tell them they look tired. Seriously. Nobody needs to hear that.

(Thank you, fellow blogger. Great post)

 

Chest Pain

 

This afternoon, I have chest pain. Not the heart attack kind, but the depression kind.

Meds are still doing their dance of adjustment. Take more of this, weaning off of that.

When I stay busy unpacking in my new surroundings, I’m not as bad, but as soon as I stop, I remember that I’m in debt with a credit card, now have bipolar2 disorder, am spending too much per month on this rent house, and am eating up my savings just to live (and have been for four years). I was supposed to have graduated from college two years ago with a nursing degree and be in the thick of things.

Instead, the God I had known allowed an alteration in my brain chemistry. It happened when I experienced severe empty nest. What I didn’t know at the time . . . the reason I ran away from home and can now never go back, was hypomania had set in. My life had changed forever.

For two years, hypomania ran my life. I spent too much, flunked out of college twice (I tried. I really did), and I did many other “classic” things that the internet and books give as bipolar2 symptoms. I had them all. In the midst of it, though, I had no idea what had happened to me.

My family and friends kept asking me what I was doing – what I was thinking. I just said, “I’m going to fly. I have a new life. I want to see the world. I want. . . I want . . .” I had no idea where I was going. I just knew EVERYthing had changed. I was euphoirc, and didn’t quite know why. My off-kilter mind led me.

After two years of acting like a teenager and losing forty pounds in just two months, depression hit me – slowly at first, then I hit a wall and texted my family good-bye notes. I got in my Jeep, sobbed over my steering wheel at the realization that I had to kill myself. . . . . . Again, I wasn’t aware that an out-of-whack brain chemistry led me to all of it.

I drove, seeking an interstate I could speed on and then drive off of. A high one. But, some little flicker of life inside me said, “There MUST be an alternative. Is there? I want to talk to my friend, but she’s at work, and she can’t really get me out of this.” Then, I knew. As I drove near my doctor’s office, I exited the highway and told her I was suicidal. I’d been on depression meds and was adjusting them at the time (I also desperately needed a mood stabilizer). It was an all-encompassing stress-filled and helpless time for all.

I dropped and dropped, new antidepresdsant didn’t work. None of them did. At first, they were fine. What happened?

So, I moved to Dallas, Texas, in hopes of finishing a shorter degree in funeral science. I’ve always loved that field of study. Depression, real depression, dropped on me. It was a heavy blanket made of cinderblocks. I couldn’t get out of bed, gained back the forty pounds plus another forty. Ate complete crap – and didn’t get any movement – just lay in bed, too low to watch TV or read. No talking on the phone. Texting for help was all I could do. Thankful for my dedicated mother and daughter.

I began investigating depression blogs. I came across one that shocked me. It was a woman with bipolar disorder. She spoke of highs and lows – in extremes. I didn’t have such highs, though. But my low had dropped me at the door of suicide. Every single day, for months, I wanted to die. I planned ways of going. Where would I do it, so that a loved one wouldn’t find me? How could I be sure I’d complete the suicide? I didn’t want to be rescued.

I kept reading related blogs, and I kept seeing myself more and more often. I thought I might be experiencing the bipolar, type 2 I read about – deep depressions that are almost impossible to get out of and light mania (well,mine was enough to ruin my life at that particular point).

My Psychiatrist listened to my questions and asked me why in the world I hadn’t told her about the first two years after I had left home. I answered that I didn’t think that was pertinent to my depression. “I would have had you on a different course of treatment,” she said. I was so fatigued, sad, and hopeless, I’d had trouble even keeping that appointment, and I’d driven SIX hours to see her.

So, she added a mood stabilizer to a new antidepressant.  —— I’ve been seeing improvement – finally. Who knew the two long episodes were related?!

I’m getting off of the highly addictive Xanax (2 mg per evening) that my GP had me on (for sleep) and increasing the mood med, slowly.

Different parts of my day mean different moods. I was energetic in the early afternoon. Now, I blog because of a heavy chest, tears as I write, and a feeling of sadness. However, no more suicide compulsions. Just hopeless at present.

One of my blog posts in the recent past said – “When the money runs out, I run out.” I have limited funds and worry constantly about whether I’ll have enough to pay for school, living, food – before I can graduate and get a job. Stress, stress, stress.

I see very clearly, in hindsight, what this disorder is. That I had it all along. I even suspect when I got it. When my daughter left home to pursue a new career and fiancee three hours away, I entered her pink room, closed her door, surveyed the empty bedroom, and sat down hard on the pink carpet – among pieces of discarded paper and childhood tokens -a plastic ring she had kept, a necklace from her grandma, a Bible School bracelet she had made with colorful beads.

And I cried harder than I ever had before. I cried loud, wailing sobs into a washcloth. My breath almost leaving me as my diaphragm screamed from overuse. I hadn’t cried so desperately and hard even at my father’s funeral (a suicide at age 44). My  mind swam in a dirty puddle of muddy, nowhere water. I don’t know how long I sat there, but no one came in to soothe me (husband or grown son). Alone, I grieved my loss as a “Mama.”  I’m sorry if you don’t understand, but my two children were my life. Nothing had touched me like my children.

I don’t remember anything about the following three weeks. Only that I woke up one morning in a very, very good mood – knowing I was going to hurridly leave my husband and son at the family home and find my own way, my freedom.

Within three months, I was in my own townhouse – a completely changed woman. Everything was new, different, and it was an exciting but scary time.

There it began. This “new life.”

I still sometimes feel lost, aimless, helpless, and often hopeless. Sometimes I still think, “When the money runs out, I run out.”

The reason I stay is my mama and my daughter. I can’t do that to those wonderful women.

What is left today? Chest pain and tears. That’s nothing new.

 

BOOM! Mood Change!

 

I’m going along just fine, enjoying my new days of being depression-free – not feeling great, but still better, when BOOM! I have to adjust the mood meds again. Doubling the dosage to get me where the Psychiatrist wants me to be. Every time I change the dosage, I get radical side effects. Today, I cried so hard that my diaphragm was sore for hours after.

I had confrontational “words” with my grown son and told him to not visit me in the future.

I got Mother’s Day flowers from my sweet daughter. I filled the vase with water and then it dropped to the floor. Water everywhere. Thank god the vase was a cheapie plastic one.

It’s 8:15, and I’m in bed. I can’t face anymore yuck today. Inside, I FEEL the dying I do daily. We all die a little each day, right? Imagine “feeling” it. Strange sensation.

If I had my choice, I’d wait about 2 hours – make sure it’s very dark out – and then stand next to the interstate – where a semi-truck wouldn’t see me until it was too late to slow. I’m sure I’d feel the intitial impact, but not afterward.

No, I’m not suicidal. I don’t need a hotline or a trip to the psych ward. I need to be normal again, whatever that is. I can’t really remember what “normal” feels like. I have had 2 years of solid hypomania, then 2 years of drepression (some minor. some extremely bad). Only recently did I get a diagnosis of Bipolar, type 2, so I can get proper help!

I write to get the desperation from my chest. To purge some pain.

If you are  praying person, remember me tonight?

I love you guys!