Thursday, June 16, 2016
Zoinks! Like, Get Me Outta Here!!! (Part Two)?
I'm just wondering if people with bipolar disorder are ever fully sure of themselves. Or if we ever will have a time in our lives where we don't feel so overwhelmed by thoughts, ideas, fears, and emotions.
Is it possible? Or do we all just push through each day, hoping that it's our last time we wake up feeling like this?
Does it get worse? Because I've heard that with time, bipolar disorder just becomes more intense. Is that true?
Could I make it without medication? Could I trust myself enough to leave it in the hands of my loved ones to watch over all the time to find my cues of mania to bring me back down, or my cues of depression to pull me back up? Isn't that being selfish? I think it is!
But what if taking all these pills makes it worse? Because I've also heard that the pills can actually make your bipolar disorder worse! What if the pills turn me into a robot? What if the pills make me numb to life? I should be scared, right?
It's a fucking lose-lose situation, that's how I currently see it.
I'm thinking back into my past, which I tend to do quite often, not intentionally, it just pops up all the time.
Okay so I told you all that I would make a Part Two as to make this whole thing not so fucking long and drawn out. But we'll see how this goes because I got shit to say! I'm sorry if my long posts aren't what you guys like, I really do try to keep it as short as I can, but I can't stop thinking thought after thought. My brain is like opening up Google, opening up another tab for Youtube, another tab for Gmail, several more Google tabs, Blogger, another random tab I clicked on from one of my Google tabs, and I end up getting lost in these millions of different tabs!
Anyway, I'm gunna tell you all some crazy shit, okay? Prepare yourselves.
Since I can remember, life has always looked this way and life has always felt this way. I guess I just see everything and feel everything differently. Is that a gift? Currently, I'm leaning more towards an evil surprise.
I was born in Colorado as most of you know. And you guys all know the short stories of my childhood. Abusive step-mother, suicidal father, closed off, neglectful mother.
But what you don't know is how I spent my free-time as a lonely kid in Colorado Springs and Denver.
In kindergarten, I had an Imaginary Friend. He was a tall man. And I thought he was nice! He was around all the time, and I never told my mom.
I remember when I was five and I was in our little pantry area with my Imaginary Friend, he told me to bend over and touch myself.
That was the first time I realized you could feel pleasure down there.
When we moved into the apartments across from my kindergarten, I was playing with my Imaginary Man in my room. I had my pencil box nearby and he told me that I should grab my scissors and cut my long hair. I told him that I didn't want to. I begged him! "Please don't make me do this!"
And he would yell at me to do it or something bad would happen.
I would yell at him back that, "I didn't want to make my mom angry!"
And he would yell louder, "You don't want to make ME angry!"
And so I cut my beautiful long hair. I watched the strands fall to the floor. And I was scared.
My mom was so pissed off. And she had to take me to get my very first haircut to even out the length I destroyed.
I wish I could say that when we moved to Denver he stayed there in that dark place. But he didn't.
I saw him throughout my childhood. And one night, when I was in an angry trance rocking back and forth on my bunk bed, rubbing two quarters between my thumb and forefinger, a few drops of blood fell onto the quarters out of thin air. I freaked out and told my mom and that was the first time I saw a therapist. In second grade.
For years I didn't see him. But I felt him. All the time I felt his overwhelming dark energy.
And at sixteen during a sleepover I had with Z over at my house in Lakewood, we were fucking around on my homemade ouija board and I finally saw him for the first time since second grade.
It scared the shit out of us and we ran and hid in my temporary room.
When I moved to South Lake, I brought along the darkness with me and to this day, I wonder to myself if this Imaginary Man of mine took over my weak soul. If he feeds on me, if he's the one inside my head, taking over my thoughts, feelings, and emotions.
All throughout elementary, middle, and high school I was just an odd kid. I heard things no one else heard, and saw things no one else could see. Girls in elementary and middle school would walk in on me in the public bathroom talking to "people."
Let's just say middle school was a total nightmare for me. Literally.
Listen, I've never told anyone any of that stuff before minus M. For obvious reasons. It sounds crazy!
But you know what? I'm not crazy! And I'm just being straight up about life! Every life experience is unique.
I think that when I was very little, that five year old me, knew there was something different about me that set me apart from others. And I didn't know why or what it was. But I just knew.
And in middle school is when I started to notice my "patterns." But, being a little sixth grader, I didn't dig too deep into that stuff. I just knew I felt things more intensely than others. I didn't even know that there were different types of mental disorders. I knew people had depression, I heard of PTSD. And I obviously knew what Anorexia Nervosa was because I had been there! But besides that, I never knew about anything else until high school.
I am looking back at high school and I can remember vividly the patterns I went through.
Honestly, if it hadn't been for Wes being there for me, whether he was with my mom or not, saved me from getting into very bad habits.
I didn't have many manic moments during high school as much as I did the depression.
And I think as I got older, the more the mania happened.
And at this point in life, it feels like a pretty even balance of both. And unfortunately if feels like it's happening daily.
I think when David was born, everything intensified again.
Like it leveled up or something.
And I fell into a deep and long depression.
When M and I took David and A to New York for my mom's wedding in October, I was manic.
When I went back to spend time with my mom a month later, I fell into a deep depression again that lasted for almost two months when in the middle of December I lapsed back into mania which brought me to the ER because I didn't know it was mania at the time, I just figured I was depressed and overly anxious and I needed to get back on my anti-depressants.
After I started taking my anti-depressants for a few weeks, I made this blog and I felt on top of the world again. But then everything started to feel like static electricity in the air again. And I felt like I was floating off into deep space and at any moment everything was just going to collapse.
I started getting crazy ideas about crazy things and some of that which I have wrote about on here (yikes).
One of which was to get off my anti-depressants and have another baby and start a Youtube channel.
I opened up more ideas with M about me becoming a surrogate so that we could get up to $60,000. I filled out a few surrogate applications and was stoked. I have two uteri so I knew it wouldn't be a problem if I got pregnant with more than one baby.
Then, like I told you before, the feeling of static electricity shocked me back into my depression. Everything came crashing down again and I was getting several emails from surrogate companies trying to get me to do online interviews with them and fill out more paperwork.
I shut them all down and realized I didn't want to grow babies for anyone right now because I didn't want to fuck up myself anymore than I already have. Not worth it.
And knowing me, I'd probably just get attached to the baby that wasn't even mine.
What was I thinking?
I left M alone about the Youtube channel and getting "the perfect" camera.
I unsubscribed to all the companies I was receiving emails from because I signed up for hundreds of different "send me surveys to get paid" sites.
I stopped talking to my ex boyfriend, again. Just everything was becoming an ugly mess.
I was depressed for a little while after that ordeal and I just thought it was because I was off the Wellbutrin. Figured I was just adjusting back to my "normal" self.
Then not long afterwards I was back at it again, except these manic moments lasted for only short periods of time. Only a couple days it felt. And then back into the hole.
I hope my therapist helps me. Because I know I need the help.
I'm just contemplating medication. I know the right thing to do would be to talk to my doc and start my trial run of medications, but it's just something I'm so scared to do. So right now, I'm doing the wrong thing and pushing it aside and pretending it's not something I need to take care of right now.
Gosh, I know I wanted to make this a Part Two thing so I could write shorter posts, but damn. I just can't stop writing. I have so much to say. All the time. I really do apologize.
I wanted to talk to you guys about how I've been feeling about the kids and stuff. But that's probably going to be long and drawn out like this. So long story short, I guess I've just exhausted the idea that I'm never going to feel like part of their family. Like I have a place in their hearts. I'm just done spending so much time and energy, focusing on just trying to put myself properly in their lives.
It's pointless and tiresome. If they don't want me, then they won't have me. The best I can do for them is to just show them that I am a good person and I care about them. Try and point them in the right direction because I am tired of leading them.
Guys, that's as short as I can make it with that topic.
Besides all that, I have been having problems with my right knee for a year. And I finally got to see a doc about it and he thinks that it is my meniscus. That I either tore it or it is too flexible. Either way is bad he said. And he'd like me to get and MRI to double check but he's pretty sure I'm going to need a minor knee surgery to repair my meniscus. He said that physical therapy would help but only temporarily. I don't know if he's just saying that to get me to do the surgery or not. Doctors are weird.
Also, my fears of my own death keep popping up too so that doesn't feel very good.
I told you all, this was going to be some crazy shit! Ramble Ramble Ramble.
I feel weird sharing this with you guys. Especially when it really just feels like I'm talking to myself. But really, I'm just trying to be an open person. No bullshit. This is who I am. Every single one of these posts is me. Stuff I think about, things I go through, and just random shit.
I am a mom. I am twenty-one and I have two step-kids that are thirteen and twelve and am becoming friends with their mother. I have a baby boy who's name is David. I have a man in my life who I call Wes who I want to call Dad. I am in love and want to marry and have zillions of babies with a man that is fourteen and a half years older than me. I have been recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder and I love to write.
I am freaking out all the time, and that is just how it is. This is my life.
So I hope you all don't judge me too harshly or find all of these posts completely a waste of your time. People shouldn't grow up not knowing every aspect of human nature. There isn't just one type of person. Everyone isn't all fucked up all the time, and yes there are some scary motherfuckers out there! There is no such thing as normal. And I grew up up thinking everyone else was just normal and I was just some fucked up kid.
It is time for me to shut up now.
That is all for now.