Tag Archive | manic

Nature’s Lesson of the Day

I had a rough day. On my way to school I had the beginnings of a breakdown. Not one for breaking down in public, I decided it would be best if I center myself before heading to class.

Quite a while back, I posted this blog about one of the many spots I like to go to around school when I’m feeling this way. That spot is nice, but it’s too close to school. I needed something more secluded today.

Right next door to my school, there’s a county park and golf course. While I’m not much for golf, I do love the natural scenery it has to offer.


This is an instagram photo I took today. My first one ever, actually. I think it turned out quite nice. It’s taken from my favorite spot to sit. On the bank of the stream, there’s a rock that sits next to a tree. I sit on that rock often, listening to the water babble as it flows over the rocks and branches.


I wasn’t in the mood to sit today, so I decided to head to the bridge. While there, I stopped, closed my eyes, and let my senses take in the surroundings. The sun felt warm on my skin. Birds were singing and everything smelled new. I opened my eyes, allowing my refocused self a chance to see the picture around me. The water on one side of the bridge was babbling, but just on the other side, the water appeared smooth as glass.


Then, a thought came to me. In many ways, I am like that stream. The side that’s like glass, appearing calm and unmoving while churning below the surface is me most of the time. When my obstacles are small and hidden below the surface, I appear to be smooth and steady. What others fail to see is the churning below the surface. They don’t see the nasty tricks my mind plays on me. I appear calm and put together through years of practice.

On the other side of the bridge, the water has many obstacles in its path. Because of this, the waters movements are more visible. Right now, I am the water on this site of the bridge. There’s so many obstacles in my path, now the storm that brews beneath the surface has come to light. I can’t contain things in the manner I’m used to because so much had been put on my plate. Now all I hear is the incessant babbling of my mind. It’s maddening.

I hiked quite a way down the stream, contemplating all of this and what it could mean for me aside from some insight and a decent blog topic. There’s a point on the trail where it circles around a tree and heads back the way you came. There, I noticed a small tributary. This got me thinking.


This tiny creek I isn’t churning up the water. It’s feeding the stream, giving it more life force. Without it and others like it, the streams water level would lower, exposing more rocks and obstacles, making the stream have to work that much harder. The stream could even dry up without these little creeks.

I have isolated myself recently. It’s partially because I’ve been so busy I don’t have time to be social. There’s a large portion of it that’s intentional though. When I’m like this, I’m not easy to deal with. Everything ticks me off, and if it doesn’t tick me off it will probably make me cry. I have zero tolerance for anything I deem as stupidity. I don’t want to be around people and, with the way I am, I figure it’s better for others not to be around me.

The problem is I’m running low. My stream is drying up. I need others in my life, whether to lend a helping hand or to have a shoulder to cry on. I’m realizing that part of taking care of me also means caring for those connections. Now to try to find the time….


The Chaos Continues

Almost midnight. My insides are all mixed up, turned upside down on themselves. These past weeks have been as crazy as the ones before. It seems out never slows down these days. The chaos never ends.

Doctors are pretty useless these days. In my case and my daughter’s. I keep trying to get a hold of my psychiatrist, leaving messages and never getting a return call. Maybe I should stop calling at midnight and deal with it during office hours, but I can never remember. Then, a whole slew of doctors still don’t know what’s wrong with my kid and she’s getting worse. I’m lost beyond lost.

The rest of my children seem to think that it’s a good time to act up and get in trouble. One is so sassy that I’ve been getting reports from school saying they’re having major issues there too.

School it’s barely hanging on by a thread. I’m still in two classes, but even that’s proving to be a struggle. I’ve decided to take a break from the English degree for a year while I get my massage therapy licence. It will be nice to make some money while going to school.

All in all, I can safely say I’m not sure how I haven’t lost it yet. I’m close to it, especially these past few days. I can feel the anger building up inside me. When I’m not angry, I’m depressed. Seems I’m always on the verge of tears these days. My thoughts are racing and all I can seem to think is negatively. This is the most wicked mixed episode I’ve had in a long while. I just hope I can keep it together through this…

Crazier than Nutter Butters

I really need to start taking notes when I get an idea for a blog. I had a great idea the other day when my craziness was at an all time high and now that some semblance of sanity has set in again, it’s gone. Poof. Like a fart in the wind. Oh well. Maybe inspiration will strike again soon.

Yes, I went crazy. I’m actually still kind of there, but just to a lesser degree. I managed to keep myself out of the hospital, but it took a fair amount of Xanax and a lot of patience on the parts of those around me. I’m not sure what caused this most recent decent into the darkness, but I know a few things that probably didn’t help. I find self reflection is one of the best ways to keep myself sane (or at least maintain the illusion of sanity). By acknowledging where I slipped up, I can do my best to avoid it in the future. So, here’s where I went wrong this time.

I stopped seeing my counselor. I see my shrinky dink (as I have so affectionately coined her) on campus. She’s great. She’s also ON CAMPUS. I’m a mom of five, a college student, and busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. That convenience factor is HUGE for me. It’s been winter break for the last six weeks and in that time, I’ve managed to only see her once. During the semester, we had weekly visits. It made sense. I was there practically every day anyways. Might as well. At the end of the semester, we decided it might be easier to meet every other week. That’s where I went wrong.

Any break from routine screws me up in the worst kind of way. This isn’t to say that I have every second of my like scheduled out. Oh HELL no! I would die if I had to live by a strict schedule. I do better with patterns though. A certain level of predictability. I usually try to schedule any appointments on the same days of the week and around the same times because then I can think, “Oh, it’s Thursday, appointment day. Do I have any today?”  That’s the kind of routine I strive for.

So, being used to a weekly schedule and switching to every other week may not have been disastrous had my whole entire routine not changed as well. I’m yammering on here though. I think you get the point. Lots of changes in routine all at once, bad. Little changes so things don’t fall through the cracks in my cerebral cortex causing me to loose my nutter butters, good. Mmmm. Nutter Butter. Aauuuhhhhh.. (Drools like Homer Simpson)


Peanut buttery deliciousness, oh how I covet thee

I was also denying myself my car therapy time. For those of you newbies -Yes you in the back, it’s nice to see a new face! Welcome to my blog. Like it says, buckle up and savor the crazy- my car time is what I like to refer to as “self therapy”. I sing, I dance, I cry, scream, talk to myself in different foreign accents, whatever I need to do to let the crazy out in one of my most sacred spaces; my car. Yes, sometimes those who drive along side me get one hell of a show, but I don’t really care. Sometimes I’ll even interact with them, doing things that I know will make them look at me like I’m batty. I suppose it’s a bit like throwing a temper tantrum when I do that. I’m getting attention for all the wrong reasons at that point, but it’s attention so… you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes.

As you can see, my car time is whatever I need it to be. It’s very cathartic to have that release to let the nonsense out. Trust me, there’s a lot of it to be let out too. Since I haven’t been doing so, it’s been bubbling under the surface waiting to explode. That’s what it did too. All over my family. In some ways, I’m glad it was them because they love me and will forgive me. In other way, I feel beyond shitty for doing that, yet again.

As far as the bipolar scale goes, things could probably be worse. On the manic side of bipolar disorder, there often comes an impulse control issue. Many bipolar people have issues with drugs, alcohol, gambling, infidelity, spending unwisely, binge eating, disappearing and other behaviors that involve poor judgement. Then, there’s the depression side of things to add on to that. I’ve been lucky enough to only experience a few of those and keep the majority of issues I’ve had to a level of minimal disruption compared to some of what I’ve seen others go through. It hasn’t been easy, I assure you, but I’ve done it.

There’s more to my story of this past week, but I don’t really know that it’s relevant right now. I want to give you the link to a website where people with bipolar and other mental illness can reach out to find help and connect with others who are in the same boat. I hear they have some great support groups. I’m going to look into one in my area.

I hope that helps anyone who needs it. I hope it helps me.

Bitch with a Capital “B”

Something has been off inside me. I’m not quite sure what. As someone who normally prides herself in knowing what’s going on in her noggin, this is pretty goddamn unnerving. It’s not one of my usual cycles, so I’m thrown for a loop. Let me give you a few examples of what I’ve been experiencing.

The other night the BF and I are curled up on the couch watching the Dark Night Rises. Awesome flick right? No amount of chick-flick-ness at all. Yet mid movie, I break out in tears. I wasn’t thinking about anything depressing, it wasn’t anything in the movie that triggered it. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I WAS CRYING. This is so not normal. I only cry when I have a reason and even then I sometimes don’t cry.

Yesterday, I have the creepy crawly feeling. That has happened before, but it’s usually in conjunction with an unpleasant though (or thoughts) as well. I wasn’t thinking anything creepy, I was just trying to write my book.

I have been a Bitch lately. Notice the capital “B”? It’s been that bad. I have no patience with anything and I flux between wanting to be totally alone and being beyond needy. This is also abnormal for me. It sometimes happens in my mixed episodes, but if this is a mixed episode, it’s unlike any I’ve ever experienced before.

Not that anyone cares to hear this, but that wonderful week of the month is coming up, so maybe thats it? It’s not usually like this for that reason either. I’m beyond lost. I was talking about all this with the BF and he decided to try to make a funny. He said, “What if you’re pregnant?” after which he got smacked on the shoulder. Five kids between us is more than enough. Besides, my factory was shut down long ago.

Good news is I cranked out over 2,000 words in the book, bringing the total word count up to almost 6,000. I think what I wrote yesterday is stronger that what I’ve written before. Maybe the emotional turmoil I’m going through is good for the book. Sounds like a good excuse for being a Bitch anyways.

Crawling in my Skin

I sit here, trying to write.  There’s so much to this book and it keeps knocking around in my head, making me more than slightly bonkers. When I write, I usually listen to music. I can’t do quiet. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I have so many kids, but the quiet creeps me out. Plus, I love music.


Headbanging, Beavis and Butthead style

Anyway, I’m writing (or trying to) and all these hard rock/metal songs keep coming on my Pandora. Apparently, I am too wound up to listen to this music because it is really making my skin crawl. I don’t mean that in a metaphorical sense. I mean my skin is actually crawling. It feels like I have bugs under my skin and it has me pretty freaked.

So I change my Pandora playlist. I guess listening to the music from Tim Burton’s flicks has a calming effect on me, because the crawling in my skin feeling is gone. Now I just want to kidnap Sandy Claws, Throw him in a box, bury him for ninety years, then see if he talks.


It’s amazing how the strangest things can calm a person. Now that I’m centered (mostly) again, it’s off to created worlds and lives, only to destroy some of them. Today, someone in my book dies. *cue ominous music* Dun dun da dah!

Bitches be Crazy

Whoa. I was beginning to forget what my laptop looked like. I haven’t written in days, partly because of the holiday and partly because I’ve been busy reading a new book. Reading just makes me want to write my book even more. Then again, it also makes me feel like my writing is shit and I should throw in the towel. It’s too much conflict for my tiny brain to handle, so I’m ignoring both of my inner demons and just enjoying the book.

I had a major bipolar meltdown yesterday, getting pissed at the boyfriend for next to nothing. I feel like a total ass and I’m so lucky he forgives me and understands. After I got angry, I had a seizure. He took care of me even though I was an ass to him. I was upset with him because I wasn’t communicating my needs to him and he couldn’t read my mind. How dare he not be able to know my innermost thoughts without me vocalizing them. Well, I guess I really am a chick. I usually don’t fall into those types of patterns, but I suppose it was my day to be a total girl in the most annoying of ways. I guess..


I’m going to be seeing my doctor soon. He doesn’t know the auditory hallucinations are back. I’m not sure if I want him to put me on something more or not. I usually don’t like being on medication and aim to be on the least amount possible, but with the way things have been, I’m wondering if it might not be time to shake things up a bit.

I’ve been debating on getting a job. As it’s been months since I received child support from my ex, it might be at a point where I need to. I’m just concerned with how I’ll be able to handle working on top of my other responsibilities. Dropping out of school is NOT an option and selling the kids on the black market isn’t either, so…

I guess I’d better get to bed now. Lack of sleep is one of the leading causes of bitchiness, you know.

A Manic’s Struggle with Massacre

There’s something I’ve wanted to touch on for a while now, but couldn’t. Sandy Hook Elementary.


I said I couldn’t. I meant it. And not because I felt I needed to do research on gun control laws to prepare. Not because I wanted to be armed with a bushel full of mental health statistics to show how mental health care in our country needs upgrading. I couldn’t because, just for a while, I was pretending it didn’t happen.

I know what you’re thinking. What a heartless bitch. I don’t know, maybe I am. Please let me explain before you cast your vote.

I’ve been in a rough manic patch since my mixed episode subsided. This is not normal for me as I usually fall into a depression after a M.O. Paranoid thoughts, sleepless nights, a flash temper, auditory hallucinations and more have plagued me as of late. Those closest to me have little insight into what I’m experiencing aside from what directly affects them, such as my temper, because I chose to keep the majority of my issues to myself. When I get in these altered states, I tend to withdraw from those around me because I don’t want them to see my odd behaviors. I also have to distance myself from certain extreme emotions or face the risk of winding up in the hospital.

Enter the Sandy Hook shooting. The moment I heard about what was going on, I was in tears and my mind was racing a million miles. At that point, there wasn’t a whole lot of credible information in the news media, with conflicting reports coming from almost every outlet. The only thing that was certain was there was a shooting and people had died–at an ELEMENTARY school. Instantly, my mind ran with that. I have three little ones who are in elementary school, so of course, my immediate thoughts were about them. Are they safe? Is everything okay with them? The usual mom thoughts, I suppose.

Then paranoia set in. I need to get them. This will happen there too. There’s someone going into their schools right now, I just know it. This is the beginning of the end of the world. I need to get there before they get killed! Why am I sitting here? Will I seem them again? If i don’t get them, they’ll die and it will be all my fault. Life won’t be worth it anymore, if there’s a life left. How could I live with the guilt of knowing I basically had killed my children by not doing anything…

Yeah. You get the idea. Crazy stuff. And that’s just a very small summary of everything I was thinking. At this point, the logical portion of my brain that was trying to talk some sense into the hysterical, paranoid part. The paranoid part was having nothing to do with it. It was too busy doing this.


That’s when good old reliable Logic decided enough was enough. Seeing no other way to get Paranoia to stop her nonsense, Logic decided this was the best course of action.


It took a while, but Paranoia calmed down. They both had a nice long talk and decided that the best way to deal with these things was to not think about them. Less information learned about the events meant Paranoia would have less to run with. (Don’t tell her I said this, but Paranoia is one crazy bitch.)

Okay, back to reality now. In case you missed the point there, my mind was running with the facts I had, as well as those I didn’t, and using it as ammo against my sanity. So I had to back off. I had to distance myself from the media reports and pretend like it hadn’t happened. I did this for myself and my family. If I hadn’t, I don’t know that I would be able to type this right now.

Of course, little facts and media reports have slipped through the cracks. My paranoid mind ran with those, but the were sprints rather than marathons. Taking this a little at a time seems to have made it easier. I still worry about my own kids, but no more than any other parent does in a time like this. Taking time to wall myself in from this has been a good thing. I’m starting to feel a lot better about my ability to handle the details. I’ve even read some reports on it now.

I’m not going to go too much into things, as I’m still keeping the event at arms length, but I do want to clarify a few things. I have mourned for the loss of these children and their educators. This blog may be construed as me saying I felt no grief in that loss. That is not the case. I didn’t distance myself from those feeling, just from the thoughts that my mind made up every time it had a new morsel of detail to work with.

There’s a lot of people saying we need tighter gun laws and better mental health coverage. I agree some changes need to be made, but one thing I feel we should be looking at as well is the media coverage of evens like this. I understand some might argue about freedom of speech, but the reason why many of these mass killers kill in this fashion is because they see it as a way to become famous. A way to be heard in a world where they may not have felt heard. A way to leave a mark on a world they felt they may have left otherwise unmarked. The media has a responsibility to people to stop making spectacles of these monsters. The more they make a fuss about the killer, the more this will happen.

I don’t remember the shooter’s name. I don’t care to either. I remember Victoria Soto, the teacher who put her first grade class into cupboards and told the killer they were in the gym. Dawn Hochsprung, the principal who may have broadcast her final moments over the schools loudspeaker as a warning to others in the building. Anne Marie Murphy, whose body was found over the children in her class. It’s believed she was attempting to shield them from the bullets. Mary Sherlach, who was nearing her 20th anniversary at the school. Lauren Rousseau who has just been hired by the school. Rachel D’Avino, who’s fiance was planning to propose at Christmas.

I remember the smiling faces of those beautiful little ones who are now with the angels. Catherine and her carrot red hair. Chase’s blue eyes. Ana, who had just moved here from Canada. Grace’s pretty smile. Jack’s big grin. Caroline’s generosity. Emilie’s love of art. James’ super cool mow-hawk. Jessie’s cheeks. Dylan’s shaggy hair. Josephine’s silly picture. Olivia’s good grades. Daniel’s missing teeth. Charlotte’s green eyes. Noah’s confident smile. Jessica’s love of horses. Avielle’s sly smile. Benjamin’s brown eyes. Allison’s shyness. Madeleine’s kindness.


These are the people I choose to remember.