When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Gets Stronger

sunrise

So I had to do it. I lost over 300 followers in the process, but it had to be done. I was sick of being censored and having stalkers on my blog. I don’t know what the future will hold, but I urge my fellow WordPressians DO NOT give out your blog information to anyone! It will result in so much heartache and of course, headaches. But, I will not let it deter me from writing.

My journey of love, life and crazy online adventures can still be seen through here, on this blog. Sometimes in life you have to start over. Try again. I will miss my old blog. For those of you reading, this was me: Love With a Dark Heart in Chains – Shattered Wish Some of you may know me, some may not, but I was tired of all the nonsense. The current men in my life were just reading my blog, leaving comments and just giving me grief. I don’t know what made me share it with them, or why I felt that I thought that such a private medium should be shared at all. I was tired of cryptic comments and condescending words being left for me to read after each post. Enough was enough already. But to you readers, you wonderful readers, that followed me through all my adventures, the highs and lows of bipolar, and just the overall mess of my life, I thank you.

So here’s to a new beginning. I have to attempt to move on with my life and move past this all. I am wondering if I should pick up a drink again. That may not be wise as I am trying to stick to my sobriety. I just wish things were easier, ya know? But sometimes when you’re pushed, you have to just let it tip you over and start again. I will miss my followers, but I have started from scratch before, and I will do it again.

Man, bipolar life doesn’t get any easier does it? Well any life for that matter.

I hope I find some of you again.

Stay tuned.

 

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Looking Back, Then Looking Forward

90

Yesterday I spoke about blogging and how it has evolved. Today, I decided to do a bit of rewinding. Have you ever taken a moment to look back on the tapestry of your life? Just looking through old photos and journals?

Most people say it’s better to just look ahead to the future and let the past lie because you know, what’s done is done. But I think its fun to pull out all those pictures and yearbooks from high school, all those journals we kept as a moody teenager, and (if you are as old as I am) all those notes and love letters from the boys you once knew.

I am moving in a few months, so I decided to start going through all my things. What I found was amazing! I found a matchbook from The Tunnel, (a hip NYC club from the 90s). my old bartending license, My Woody Harrelson autograph, (which he signed on a cover advertising the new-found Viagra which had a bunch of naked people, it was funny as hell and he was so cool about it), and countless other knickknacks. I even found a pack of Newport’s in a purse that I got in Vegas in 2003, talk about stale! I mean I am not a hoarder, but I love keeping little things that have a memory attached to them.

Another thing that I found, were all my old diaries. What a lovesick teenager I was! In almost every entry, I was pining away for “the One” or “The Love of my Life.” It’s amazing how nothing changed over the next 20 years. My 17-year-old self was still crying the same sob story that my 37-year-old self was crying years later on my blog. It seems I was always on the hunt for “the perfect man.”

As I was going through everything and thinking about my life, I started to wonder, why is it that we find ourselves always searching for “the perfect mate?” I mean we go through so many relationships, countless dates, we even get married, and that void is still there. I mean we could fill it up with hobbies, friends, work and whatever else, but what is it that we yearn so much? What is this longing we feel? Could it be a spiritual thing? I don’t know, but I am determined to find out someday. A lot of that quest led to me becoming completely nuts and being diagnosed bipolar, which to this day I don’t know whether or not that is a blessing or a curse.

I never knew what bipolar was growing up. Mental Health Awareness wasn’t really a thing 20 years ago. And let me tell you, having bipolar and never being treated through your teen years is no joke. The funny thing about me is, I never really was depressed, just always really manic and high. I was never “bored” as this generation seems to be stuck on like a broken record, and I had such a vivid imagination. I “acted” until I was in my 20’s. What that means is, I played out scenarios in my head and lived in a fantasy world. I had made up characters, storylines, and I acted them all out. This kept me busy for hours on end. Yes, I know there is such thing as reality, but you know what? I was never bored, never depressed, and always happy.

Being medicated stopped all of that though. My imagination and my “acting” days were over once I was introduced to psychiatric drugs. Yes, I still flew around with the mania sometimes, but it was nothing like the imagination I used to have pre-bipolar diagnosis.

So much has happened to me in my life. All the people I have met, how they changed me, all the places I have gone and all the things I have done. Looking back on my life I have no regrets. Up until a few months ago, I was still living in Hell. I mean this past month hasn’t been easy on me, but that’s because I have family issues and outside influences messing me up. All my life, I never had anyone to worry about. It was always me. Just me and my drama. Isn’t it amazing how much bullshit we put ourselves through?

I have to say looking back tonight, at my old blogs, journals, diaries, letters, memories and everything else I have from my past, I am amazed at how one-dimensional I was thinking. I made my entire existence about finding the right man. It was never about my friendships, my family, my career, or even myself. I never got to find out about myself, connect with people, (non-romantically), and enjoy what it means to be alive. I have just been pouring my heart out to God for such a big portion of my life, craving something that never could be satisfied.

Looking to the future, I think I have finally found what I was looking for. With the Captain and my best friend, I have made it to the point where I think I can be at peace. I feel sorry for a lot of the younger people these days. I mean growing up, I played outside, had a landline, (so no breaking plans via text with people), and wrote long love letters via mail. I also experienced a world without insane amount of hours at a computer or playing video games. I mean I love how technology evolved and we have all these cool things, but I think we lost part of what it is to be human. I was looking at my photographs, (not digital jpegs from a file), but holding in my hands moments in time that were captured in an age where people felt more organic.

As the end of 2017 approaches, I will be moving into my 38th year on this planet. I think I have really evolved this past month. I have taken the time to really look at myself, understand who I have become, where I came from, and who I want to be. Yesterday I wrote about this being my third blog and about the other two blogs I had. I gotta tell you, in looking back at those other two blogs, I was astonished at how much of a whiny drama queen I was. And then going back and looking at my journals, it was all the same shit. Fact of the matter is, I don’t like the person I have been for the past 20 years.

It’s time to start fresh.

It’s time to start anew.

In looking back tonight, I learned lessons on how I don’t want the next 20 years to be.

Finally, I feel like I am headed in a new direction.

Hopefully you are here, joining me on my journey.

Stay tuned.

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Dear Bloggers, Please Keep Writing

blog

Why did you start your blog? What brought you here to WordPress? Do you sometimes lurk on tags and just read other blogger’s posts? Is blogging the best thing to happen to the writing industry in the past 20 years? I have started asking myself these questions while I was reflecting this morning, right before I was about to write this post.

Over the past month, I have been posting a lot. I have been dealing with my mom’s failing health, my bipolar struggles, and my new relationship and the issues with my anger. Today as I sat down, I realized that I didn’t really have that much to say tonight, but I wanted to write anyway.

Over the years, blogging has exploded on the writing scene. Almost anyone who is interested in writing, or loved having a journal, has started one. I have had three blogs, (this being the third and final one), which I hope to keep for many years. My first one was WILDLY popular. I was so full of angst and bipolar madness, that everyone wanted a peek into my trainwreck of a life. People either love it or hate it, but mostly they read it because they can relate to it. I read a lot of bipolar blogs for that reason. Anyway, my first blog topped out at 400 followers, but WordPress is a sneaky bastard because if you drop the “f-bomb” on too many of your posts, they secretly pull your blog from showing up in the tags that you assign it, and label it as “mature.” I was outraged by this, and pleaded with them that I would stop with my foul language, but once they slap that mature label, that’s it. I was horrified that I had to start all over with a different blog and leave all my followers behind, but as they say, back to the drawing board.

I thought I had it all figured out by my second blog, curbed my foul language, and gained another 350 followers. But I made another severe mistake. I shared my blog with people I was dating or involved with, and anything I wrote about was under a microscope. I was getting comments and being stalked on my social media for expressing myself. It was another form of censorship forced upon me, like WordPress had done with my previous blog. Again, live and learn.

So now it’s round three. I have dropped the f-bomb a few times on this blog, but I haven’t gotten into trouble yet. I haven’t shared this blog with anyone I know, (except my bipolar friend who I don’t hear from anymore, so I don’t even know if he is reading). So, all in all, I have learned my lessons when it comes to blogging. The only thing is, I lost the 750 followers I had accumulated over the 5 previous years of blogging. I mean I love blogging, but secretly, how many of us get a little boost of recognition when we get a “like?” Anyway, I have started from scratch again this year, and I hope that I can continue to share my story with others.

Things with the Captain have improved greatly, and I think I can finally say I am in a healthy relationship where I am not running to the alcohol bottle, or searching for men to fill the void left over all over the internet or dating sites. I have always been insatiable, needing more than one man to sustain me intellecutally and sexually, but the Captain fulfills all my needs. That is very rare for me, but we will see how long that lasts. Over the years I had become fully aware that monogamy wasn’t for me, and that it would always take more than one man to sustain me. I have been pleasantly surprised to have my beliefs tested this way, because more than one man can be exhausting. Time will have to tell with the Captain.

My mom is worrying me though, because she is in really bad shape now. She was in tears yesterday, telling me how horrible she feels because she had used my mental illness against me. (She said I was crazy and bipolar and didn’t want me helping her anymore). She now knows she has to take all the tests to get to the bottom of what is making her feel so sick, even if she is scared to take some of them. I prayed for her tonight, as I smoked a cigarette out on my deck, (another habit that I am reconsidering because my chest is starting to hurt). God, the last thing I need is lung cancer.

As for the bipolar, I have to say I am on the right track. The Seroquel and Klonopin are doing their job, although I still need an extra hit of Melatonin to finally knock my manic mind out so I can rest. I am finally sleeping 8-10 hours and not staying up for two days straight anymore. The only bad thing is it’s the wrong 8-10 hours. I am on a total reverse schedule because I have completely embraced being a nightowl. I know this is going to bite me in the ass because I will have to go back to work soon, but for now, I am grateful that I am stable and I am able to function without everything being so dramatic.

Anyway, I have to say that blogging has been the ULTIMATE therapy for me. I never realized how good I feel after I write down all of my emotions and all of the nonsense that goes on in my head. I had always kept a journal when growing up, and now that I can share it with the world, I feel blessed that people take an interest in what I have to say. There are so many points in life where we sometimes feel we don’t have a voice, no one cares how we feel and what we are going through, or no one is listening. Blogging has taught me that not only are people listening, they care and can relate to your voice.

So to all you bloggers out there, keep on writing!

Reading your stories has enriched my life and has encouraged me to continue to share mine.

Thank you for being with me through the good and bad times.

Stay tuned.

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Let’s Talk Sex and Romance

romance

So the past few weeks have been harrowing, and through all of it, my relationship has taken a beating. What does romance mean to you? I mean we all know what sex means right? Not only does it sell products and merchandise, but people love orgasms. But doesn’t everybody though?

With me backing off helping my mom, (after she took a jab at my bipolar illness), I have had time to focus in on my current relationship. I am not gonna lie to you. Things have gotten fucked up and completely outta hand. My anger is getting out of control, and the Captain is starting to get really upset. Things that were so carefree and easy are now difficult, and even getting an orgasm has become a problem.

There is way too much going on, in my life and in his. I think somewhere along the line we lost the romance and the tremendous love that brought us together. Being bipolar with ridiculous mood swings hasn’t helped the matter, and trying to navigate a partnership with someone who seems innocent in the face of dysfunction is difficult.

So what is my solution to fix things when they seem rocky? Throw sex at the problem. I know, I know, that’s just a Band-Aid solution, but who says no to a good orgasm right? WRONG! I can’t throw sex at it, especially when I am not into it. Damn, I used to be so good at faking it. As a woman, (most of us), we tend to fake it to make the guy happy. Seriously, lying there like a dead fish isn’t helping anybody, so we might as well make our best Academy Awards performance.

Over the years, I have been pretty good at knowing what I want and getting it, sexually. The romance of it though has been pretty much dead-end. I have had such trouble finding a gentle soul who is deeply romantic and wanted to share it with me. Now I have a man who is in deep, monumental love with me romantically and finds me so alluring, that almost anything suggestive I say, do, or even wear inspires a rock hard erection. So what’s the problem? I am a goddamn mess, that’s the problem. All my life I have been searching for the real thing, and now that it is directly in my face, I am totally screwing it up.

Aside from getting my anger under control, I want to try to inspire the romance again. The Captain is a deep romantic, and loves grand gestures, so I am going to try to take the “sexpot vixen” persona out of the equation and try treating him with some love and gentleness. I know what men want sexually, and I know how to please a man, but being TOO sexual all the time, can be a bit daunting. You can easily fall into a pattern where you end up looking at your partner as a “walking orgasm” and you kind of lose all sense of what they are as a person.

Approaching 40 has taught me a lot of things. Besides being a hot cougar, (I can’t say MILF because I don’t have kids but I have been called it anyway), I have learned some of the real things men desire. All you have to do is wear the sluttiest things he wants you to wear, and say the sluttiest things he wants you to say. I have even called some guys “Daddy” in my time, which made me cringe, but hell I did it anyway. It got him off, which in turn leads to getting me off too.

Being sexy comes natural to me. I LOVE to flirt, and I LOVE pushing the envelope. Sex appeal can be classy. I draw my strength from women like Marilyn Monroe and Scarlett O’ Hara, who both knew how to get what they wanted from men. It has backfired on me many times though, where I find that I have fallen victim to men who were jerks, but that happens to a lot of us ladies.

So the thing to do now is try and resurrect the romantic side of me, and show the Captain deep love and affection. I have been concentrating on his cock to get his mind off my anger, behavior, and stress that I have been going through, but I think all that sex needs to come off the table. I really don’t want him to see me as sex object, even though sometimes I don’t mind. I know that sounds terrible, but I get great satisfaction at the fact that I don’t even have to try hard to turn my man on. And with my flirtatious nature, when men flock to me, he doesn’t even get mad, he gets even more turned on! Boys want what other boys want, after all.

So ladies, when you are enjoying your man and the sex is fantastic, I think it is good to step back and realize that you are both human beings not sex toys. Romance makes sex even more rewarding, and if I would get my head out of my “perverted clouds” my relationship will be able to blossom and grow even more.

Time to put the vibrator away too.

Wish me luck!

Stay tuned.

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The Guilt of Your Moods and Actions

anger

Have you ever exploded at someone in anger? Lost your cool? Said something you regretted? Had the worst version of yourself come out time and time again? Do you struggle with your temper? I have had more than my share in that department in recent days.

Through my struggles with my family, (helping my mom get better), I have put tremendous stress on myself. Things that used to bring me joy, now become tiresome, and I am losing my patience more and more everyday. I wrote a bit about my anger here on my blog on Thanksgiving, but I think I need more help in figuring out how to reign it in better.

I am becoming the worst version of myself. For the first time in my life, I am in relationship in where love, sex and romance are in complete balance. The trifecta of the perfect love have aligned in the stars, and I not only am I fucking it all up every day, I am sabotaging one of the best things that has happened to me in a long time. Did you ever feel like you have had the shittiest luck in relationships? That the person you love always sees the worst parts of you nearly all the time? I suppose people who are in a marriage experience this, because you have your partner in your presence all the time, so it makes sense that a person I spend so much time with would see my ultimate flaws.

The greatest thing about this is, no matter how much of a bipolar mess I am, the Captain still holds on. I have never witnessed a man love me so much. I have done everything under the sun to push him away, my moods are ridiculous, and the WORST thing I have done is use sex against him, which is almost unforgivable to most men.

Also, one of the best gifts of my bipolar madness, is my heightened sex drive. I think some women are embarrassed by their sexuality, try to cover it up and even sometimes lose interest in their partner. I have had this happen to me, but over the years, as I have evolved sexually, I have become quite in control of my sexual magnetism, and I enjoy myself as much as possible. Being very sexy and alluring is what drew The Captain in, and I realize that’s what men love about women in the beginning; that flirty, sexy attitude that is all carefree, simple and easy. Then as time goes on, the drama starts. The possessiveness, the tears, and the neediness, and I swear I have turned into the nightmare I never wanted to become.

My mom took a jab at my mental illness yesterday and basically used my bipolar against me in an attempt to justify that I am “crazy” and that she doesn’t need my help anymore. I took it to heart and it hurt, and I will admit, I spent most of the day crying and feeling defeated. My emotions were totally out of control, and as I gripped on to my sanity, I tried to hold back my anger as the bipolar madness inside me raged on. I lashed out at the Captain AGAIN, and its the second time in a week. Fuck, this is becoming just a horrible habit. The guilt of it is all-consuming. We never want to hurt the ones we love. What happened to the sexy, fun woman the Captain fell in love with? I know he didn’t say it, but I know he was thinking it. I know most men think it when they see their woman acting irrationally. The fact of the matter is, men don’t like all that drama, and I know that.

I know the Captain won’t leave me. He admitted to me many times that is he is in it for the long haul, and I feel so guilty for putting him through such a rollercoaster of my bipolar moods. It is SO tough to get a grip and try to buckle down emotions for a person like me. This doesn’t even feel like mania though, and it definitely isn’t depression. I think honestly, this is just ME. I might as well stop trying to blame being bipolar, and just accept the fact that I have a serious anger problem. I guess the next step is what I can do to find out about Anger Management. I never addressed this problem before, because I never really took a hard look at myself. I mean I could also say that all of this is happening because of all the stress of my mother’s illness, but I don’t think making excuses and not owning up to my issues would be helpful to me.

Is it because I am a woman this is happening? I read all the time about men complaining that women are “psycho” and all, but add bipolar on top of that, God help the Captain if he is going to try to make this relationship work with me. He definitely has the patience and understanding, but if I keep losing it the way that I am, I fear he will leave me. I also have to forgive myself and understand that even though I am bipolar, I am responsible for my actions. Too many times people use their mental illness as a copout or an excuse for treating other people badly. I mean yes, we have our episodes, but as individuals battling this illness we must take responsibility for our actions, and try our best to resolve some of the things we can control. Emotions are tough, but I refuse to believe that I have to give in to my rage and let it dominate my life. There must be a more peaceful way. I mean monks do it right? There has got to be a balance somewhere, and I determined to find it.

In the meantime, I need to let go of some of the guilt I feel and pray that tomorrow is a better day.

Stay tuned.

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What Happens When You Are Powerless?

stigma

Have you ever watched someone you care about go down a road of pain because they wouldn’t listen to you? Wouldn’t listen to anyone, not even a doctor? It is the toughest thing in the world to go through, especially when it’s your mother.

I got really upset this morning. I had stayed up all night because it was the only way I could take my mom for her blood tests this morning. She complained that she didn’t feel well and needed to eat, even though her bloodwork paper said she didn’t need to fast. But as usual she won’t listen. I have been taking her everywhere for the past month, trying to get to the bottom of whatever is happening to her. It is very difficult when you can’t pinpoint the problem. I have been impatient yes, because being bipolar, I have more than my own difficulties keeping it together. But the trooper that I am, I have found all the doctors, made all the appointments and did everything a daughter could do to help her mother.

We have been to the Emergency Room a total of four times this month and they kept saying the same thing. Go see the Gastroenterologist. I searched all over for a Gastroenterologist, took her to his office, and she tells him that she was dizzy all the time, so being confused, he sent her for a bunch of neurological exams. Come to find out she has high blood pressure and was not taking her blood pressure medication, so of course that’s why she was dizzy. The problem is that every time she ate something she would get very sick and shaky, meaning something was going on in her stomach. While making and going to all the appointments for all these neurological tests, she is very sick and wanted to go back to Emergency Room a FIFTH time. Watching this madness unfold, I pushed the Gastroenterologist to do an endoscopy, (which she ended up blaming me for because I pushed for it), and they found nothing. The doctor wanted to do a colonoscopy next to pinpoint why she is having such a reaction every time she eats.

She doesn’t want to do the colonoscopy. You have can’t eat for almost 12 hours and you have to clean out your system for the test. She says the test will kill her and refuses to take it, and now miraculously she says she is fine and that nothing is wrong with her.

I am at the end of my rope. My mother has put my family through hell for the past month with all the Emergency Room visits (with them telling us the same fucking thing about going to the Gastroenterologist over and over and she can’t get it in her head), and NOW I am the bad guy in my house because I am pushing for the colonoscopy. I just want to see my Mom feel better, and I can’t do that when she is self-diagnosing herself.

As much as I hate to do this to my mother, I have to let her be till she has another one of these “attacks.” Then my Dad will take her to the Emergency Room for the FIFTH time and they will probably tell her that she needs the colonoscopy. I have to sit back and do nothing and watch her hang herself. I am not getting involved anymore. I overheard her bad talking about me to my Dad, telling him that I was “crazy” and she doesn’t want me taking her anywhere anymore. This is what I get for taking her to the Emergency Room all those times, finding all these doctors, making all these appointments, taking her to all these places, and trying to help. I have bipolar, yes, and I had a major breakdown the other day because I almost couldn’t get to my therapist. I hadn’t seen him in a month, and I needed to get a lot of this off my chest. Since I am bipolar, I am now “crazy” and have somehow become useless and “evil” to my mom even after all that I did. I am in tears. When you have bipolar it is hard enough, but when your family uses it against you because you are fighting to do the right thing, it hurts so fucking badly.

My Dad is alive and kicking. I was taking care of my Mom so he wouldn’t have the burden on his shoulders because he is working on our new house on his own. But I have to step back. I have to step back and let her suffer and let her get really sick again. Now my Dad is going to have to step in and be there for his wife. I am too “crazy” according to my Mom. I did all that planning and research, made all the appointments and sacrifice, drove her everywhere, and now I am “crazy” because I want her to take a test that will probably get to the bottom of what’s wrong with her.

The stigma of bipolar is so hurtful, especially when your family uses it against you, when all you are trying to do is do the right thing. I feel so small and defeated. But all I can do is step back. Step back and watch everything blow up. This is worse than watching a train plow right into a mountain. You’re watching but you’re absolutely powerless to stop it. I did all I can for my family, but apparently I am “crazy” so all I did for her this month means nothing to them. I’m so hurt, and I am just going to cry myself to sleep.

The worst feeling in the world is when your own family uses your bipolar against you, to justify why I am not capable of making the right decisions, when all I am trying to do is the right thing. I might as well be a leper.

My mother will find out the hard way, get really sick again, and I will have to just sit back and let it happen because according to her, I am too “crazy” to be useful to anyone.

God help me.

Stay tuned.

 

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Trying to Be Thankful When You Hate The Person You Have Become

buddha

Thanksgiving starts in a few hours. There are many things in the kitchen already set up to begin cooking. And here I am at 5:25am, thinking that I have become the worst version of myself. Do you have regrets? I mean everyone has them right? But what if you have a part of your personality that you can’t reign in and get under control? A part of you that is just an absolute monster? It could be a genetic thing, or how you were raised, or it could be mental illness. For me it is all of the above. And the main monster is anger.

I struggle with bipolar. Everyone who reads my blog knows I have it. I struggle with massive highs and crippling lows and I pour my heart out here to whoever will listen. I have been writing a lot because my therapist has been MIA and it has been almost a month since I have seen him. I am working with Seroquel again for the first time in ages, and since I also haven’t seen my psychiatrist in a month, I have been basically fighting this battle alone.

My mother is in really bad shape. I have been writing about it for weeks now, because it is causing me so much stress. With my sister working 70 hours a week and my Dad working our new house totally by himself, the person left to take care of my mom is me. Since my recent med change from Haldol to Seroquel, I have been having a horrible time getting used to it and taking care of myself.  The Seroquel is doing what it’s supposed to; it has kept away from flying high in the mania. But my sleep pattern and my spirit is suffering.

I am getting extremely irritable. It could be the side effects, but I think it’s my personality. I sat down this evening and thought about every relationship I have ever had, including friendships. I have pushed away anyone that ever loved me due to my anger. I could say it is the bipolar and I am just unstable, but it is more than that.

You see, my mother is suffering now because my father is an extremely difficult man. She neglected her body and health because she was always working with him running the family business. Then she became ill. My father is domineering, controlling, difficult, stubborn and a complete totalitarian. But most of all, he is incredibly angry. He loses his patience so fast, especially with my mother, and because of that, she was knocking on death’s door.

I picked up the anger from my father. I know this. I also picked up his drive and ambition which had given me great success in life, but it cost me my physical and mental health. I picked up my vulnerability from my mother, which caused me to cower, submit and get walked all over by horrible men I chased after. They were the Alphas in the relationship. But what happens when the tables turn and I become the Alpha and I meet a man who treats me like a princess and wants to take care of me? I become my father and turn into the worst angry version of myself. If I were into BDSM I would be labled a “Switch” I think. Defintiely Dominant, but definitely Submissive.

I gave the Captain hell tonight. He is so kind and loving, and such a gentle, spiritual soul. I lashed out at him in total anger over something so stupid and petty and I saw myself become a total monster. I am under tremendous stress with having to take my mom all over NYC to what seems like endless doctors and tests. I know I have the time on my hands, but I am having enough trouble not falling into a pit of bipolar hell to be there for her. If you suffer with bipolar, it is so difficult to function when you try to take the least amount of medication. I am doing it the hard way with a small dose of Seroquel and Klonopin, where my usual regime used to be at least 10 pills consisting of powerful drugs. I don’t want to take all those because I don’t want to be a zombie. For years, I was so heavily medicated, I didn’t feel human, so I lied my way to a lower dosage and I have been battling the bipolar just enough to keep me out of the hospital. But being human means you have to take on human responsibility. If this was a physical illness not a mental one, I would be trying to go at life walking with one leg instead of two. That’s what it’s been like trying to battle the bipolar on just the bare minimum of pills. I have good days and I have bad. I am trying to keep my spirits high by taking a shower everyday, taking care of my body and trying my best to sleep. So much is weighing on my mind though. As my mom’s health wanes, the future is looking bleak so I know I have to try my hand at working again. The question is, how the fuck do I do this?

With all this pressure weighing on my mind, and running all over the place with my mom, my anger is getting out of control. I am snapping at my mom for being ill, I am short with my best friend, and I am straining my relationship with the Captain. I am my father’s daughter in so many ways, and I am in pain. I want to try to be the hero to everyone, I want to be sexy for my Captain, and I want to be an ear to my best friend who has his own worries with having to change jobs again and his own father’s deteriorating health. I am failing though, and losing myself.

The Captain told me to look to Jesus for answers. I would LOVE to do that. However, with the Seroquel doing its job, my spiritual link is cut and I feel lost. I feel my soul in limbo, and when the tears of pain come and I ask God for help, the cold hard reality of medication come rolling in my mind. I don’t want to be an angry, bitter woman. I have a man who is in deep romantic and sexual love with me, and another man who loves me deep in friendship. I have a wonderful family, that even with their faults, pull it together and take care of me.

In the worst version of myself, I am thinking of blessings and how many I have. As hard as this is, I will pull through. In a few hours my sister is going to start putting together a Thanksgiving meal. Since I have been feeling so shitty, stressed and disconnected I was going to be a Scrooge and not put up the Christmas tree. I think I will put it up though and try my best to keep the Holiday spirit alive in my house even though everyone has troubles and stress on their minds.

I need to let go of the guilt I feel in my heart.  I remember when I left home years ago because my father had hit me out of anger and how hurt he was knowing I had gone. After the anger subsides, you have to live with the destruction you leave behind. I can’t help who I am, but I can try to be more mindful and not so extreme. Quitting alcohol hasn’t helped, I used to run to it to help ease my suffering. I feel like I am burning my bipolar candle on both ends with no sign of release. I will make it though, and keep it together by remembering my blessings.

Happy Thanksgiving to you, I hope you remember to give thanks for all that you have, and I promise myself I will to.

Stay tuned.

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Losing the Battle, But Winning the War

lsot

Ever stop and think, what am I doing right now? At this point in time, are you where you should be in life? Or who made up the rules that says where you should be? The twists and turns have led you to this place, and even though you may not be happy with the outcome, something has brought you here, reading my words right now.

I failed big time today. I slept through the Civil Service test I was supposed to take. Through my bipolar mania, I had stayed up for nearly 48 hours the day before, thinking that I could make up all the missed rest in one night. Nope, no dice. I woke up at a decent time to get ready and go take the test, but when I got up to stand, my legs were wobbly and I couldn’t keep my balance. I looked in the mirror in the bathroom and said fuck it and went back to bed. I missed the test. I missed meeting my parents at our new house too. Everyone was waiting for me as I slept the world away.

The Seroquel helps. I can’t deny it. My psychiatrist had offered to put me back on the Haldol I was on for ten years prior, but you know what? I ended up in the hospital anyway, even being on that drug. Honestly, my heights of mania aren’t what they were. The Seroquel has brought me down to reality, and although it has robbed me of certain feelings and emotions, I think I am better off. I need to get myself together though, and even though the pills are doing their job, I can’t sleep my life away.

I lost a small battle today, and as much of a failure as I feel, I think I am winning the war. I am no longer searching. My nights aren’t filled searching for the one to complete me anymore. I am finally content in life, and even though I have my moments where I feel hopeless, those feelings pass and I am back in reality.

Being bipolar is so fucking hard. Pills do what they can, but when your brain is so set to do one thing, be a certain way, act a certain way, your body just gives in and surrenders to it. I could easily get more medicine, drown out my feelings, but that means I won’t be able to LIVE, and after that happens then I just might as well die. I want to try to fix things, but I know medicine isn’t the answer. Then what is? I am thinking of asking my doctor to calm down the Seroquel and take Melatonin to help me sleep. Will that work? Or will I be more of a zombie? I hate this trial and error shit, but I feel like I am left with no choice. Sleep hygiene is so important to a troubled mind, and I know I have to get it right.

Tonight I called the Captain a pig. It was screwed up for me to say that, but he needed to jerk off so badly and I think that’s fallen on my shoulders. He can’t seem to orgasm without me anymore, he said he has tried on his own, but just can’t make it happen and it is starting to scare him. As a man, I think it would be scary. Hell, as a woman it is. I had my orgasm tonight, and he hasn’t had his for days, (no I didn’t help him cum tonight). It bothers me though that he would come to depend on me for that. I can’t help but feel a twinge of flattery in the back of my mind knowing that I am SO good, that he can’t cum without me. I can understand where he is coming from though, because usually when I reach heights of ecstasy that can’t be matched, the usual porn and erotica doesn’t do it anymore. I wish I knew what to suggest to him to use for satisfaction, but honestly, I really don’t feel like having that conversation. I give him credit though, most men in his situation would have forced their dick on me, and he didn’t, so I am glad and relieved for that.

I don’t know. Things are in place but out-of-place. I am a glutton for punishment because I signed up and paid for ANOTHER Civil Service test in January, but this one I am going to make an effort for because it is in my county, where as the other one was more in the city and the traffic alone would have been torment. My family is also moving, and I have to unclutter and pack up my life and move again, and I really don’t want to. Luckily this time they bought a much larger house than the one they bought before, (that we were supposed to move in), so at least everyone is happier. That last house they ended up just flipping which gave them a huge profit, so they found a much bigger, nicer house. Things are also going very well with the Captain, despite my pig comment, (which I plan on apologizing some more for), and I have cut out everything else in my life. All my chats and sites, even Skype is gone. Every contact I ever had I no longer have a need for, and I can understand how people feel when they are in the “honeymoon” phase of a relationship. I hate it when people get so consumed in their other half that they cut everyone else out, and I am a total hypocrite because, essentially, I have done the same thing.

Oh well, one day at a time. I may have screwed up with missing this test, but I won’t beat myself up over spilled milk. Usually I would do a number on myself, but whipping myself won’t do anyone any good. I need to work on my sleep and my insomnia, and learn ways to quiet my mind. Sleep is so hard for an active mind, and I pray to God I can get it under control to rejoin society.

There has to be more to life than this.

We will see.

Stay tuned.

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