I tell myself this every day

I tell myself this every day

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Mother Mary Wont Help Me Now

This is one of the many paintings I'm working on. It's the Virgin Mary from some Italian cemetery. I'm not religious- I just like catholic imagery. I have at least 4 others going as well. I also have 2 commissions I'm working on. I love painting. I didn't know I did until 5 months ago.

I took a fantasy art program at the Douglas Education Center- home of the Tom Savini Special Makeup Effects Program. My boyfriend recommended I try it- he saw something in me that I very much did not. I went ahead and took his advice. Not only did I sign up but it turns out the class was taught by one of my first ever artistic inspirations and some what of an idol of mine growing up Dorian Cleavenger.

Holy shit tits and popsicle sticks.

I could take a class taught by this guy? He's mortal? Mt. Olympus gave this guy a hall pass in order to teach an art program?

I'll make a separate post about him and all the adventures I've had. He's the shit.

I can't say I learned how to paint as much as he taught me how to be an artist. I learned how to see things from a different perspective and not only that but in a factual sense. His specialty is fantasy art and it has always been an interest of mine but I could never ever in my life understand how to create this stuff just out of me head. Wasn't going to happen. I learned that he followed the laws of nature in order to create things that look like they could exist but very obviously don't.

Having bipolar and having that continuous emotional intrusion in my life I am very much drawn to facts and science. I love things that you just can't argue with and are based on solid research. That's my solace in a brain overrun by uncertainties. I like mechanical things like bicycles and all their moving parts. I like the internal workings of cars. I'm terrible at math but I fucking love geometry. I like knowing there are somethings in life that are solid and predictable or at least follow a common law. It's what I don't have naturally so I am drawn to it.

Dorian's approach very much appealed to that side of me. He taught me how to see something as simple as light, the way it works and how to use it to create form. Light! I love light! It has rules and regulations but infinite uses and applications! He uses light to create form and therefor create these fantastic alternate universes in his artwork that look real. They are believable in the fact they follow the laws of nature but are obviously not real because I've never know a giant octopus, dragon, bat, medusa, underwater lady thing to exist.. But there are concrete concepts being followed! Science! Fabric, water, foliage, metal, skin, scales- everything found naturally that is effected by gravity, light, or other scientific elements- can be used to fabricate realistic but completely original images.

Oh happy day!

I was completely taken over by these concepts. I have become obsessed since day one.

I was always artistic but I wasn't "artsy" in the sense that I had my own style drawing or painting when I was younger. I had a great imagination but didn't have that freedom of expression feeling that most of the other art students did. I was really good with realism but that didn't seem as cool or as "artsy" as what the other kids were doing. I became discouraged because everyone else was doing really abstract stuff or into comic/comic book type things. I wasn't really into that stuff. I had picked up enough comic books to be familiar with Dorian's work but that's about it. I was drawn to Dorian's artwork as well as H.R. Giger. It was stylized but it was real. I fell in love with that.

I unfortunately gave up all artistic pursuits after high school. I became really good at costuming but it was all self taught fun stuff and a lot of it was for goth nights or other theme nights at bars. Fun but nothing worth bragging about.

I have since taken off as an unstoppable creative entity since being back on meds and taking this class. I have a painting for every range in the bipolar spectrum. When I'm in a mood I can't shake I will pull out the painting that best represents my mood and literally paint myself out of a mental hell hole. If I can't paint my way out I at least give myself something to focus on so I don't act out.

It has saved my life. It is saving my relationship with others and it is saving my future from possible failure.

It's one of the best tools I have in my bag of tricks to fight back against the parasite inside of me. And it's not just the paint or painting itself. I've obtained a whole new look on life and a way to combat some of the bad behaviors that come out of having this disorder.

When ever my thoughts start racing or I become paranoid I will go outside and study how the light effects the surface of the rocks or how it differs from the way the light is reflected off the pavement. I will force my mind into reality and into the factual state of nature. If I'm manic I will look at brightly colored images (usually lots of reds and warm tones) and study how color effects the form of an object. If I'm depressed I'll study the effect the weather has on a couple hundred year old marble memorial statue in a cemetery.

It might look like I've lost my mind to those watching me sit and stare at rocks, pavement, and tombstones. I'm ok with looking like I'm crazy if what I'm doing is keeping me sane.

 I posted my unfinished painting on purpose. It's incredibly flawed and is a far cry from the reference. It looks sloppy and there isn't any unified form to it. The learning process is trial and error and it's currently comprised of mostly errors. I posted it that way because despite how gimpy it looks right now I will finish it and it will be awesome. I have no problem exposing how imperfect the process and stages are when it's being worked on. I don't create masterpieces- I problem solve. I fuck up more than I get right but I'm willing to keep trying until it's where I want it, and every time I get it right I walk away having learned something.

 It will eventually be realistic and show the folds of the fabric perfectly, it will be conveyed as slate and specifically old slate that has been weather damaged over the past couple hundred years.

I see that in all of my current unfinished paintings. I see that as a representation of myself and my struggle against bipolar. I'm far from perfect or even where I want to be but I'm not giving up. I am not a complete person and I'm far from perfect but I'm a problem solver.

Light has rules but you can create anything with it once you understand it. My brain has a different set of rules but when I fully understand them I will use it to create the life I've always wanted- consistent, happy, productive, successful, and beneficial to the ones I love.

I won't ever stop painting or perusing my artistic talents. My last day of class is tomorrow and I'm sad but what I take away from this experience too monumental to focus on what I lose after Friday. I have the tools and the dedication to finish every one of these paintings as well as myself. I don't care what the world thinks of me or my work when it's unfinished. I know where it's going and I know how awesome it's going to end up.

Thank you for reading.

P.S. Thank you Dorian for being a part of my life. Thanks for everything you've taught me and the time you took to further me as an artist and a person. I listened to every word. I took in everything you said and I will hold onto it for the rest of my life.

P.S.S. That's DC and myself- I'm the one who has the terrified look on her face. The airbrush was scary and wreckless. 

The Pinocchio Effect

After two weeks of being completely out of my mind and having no control over anything in my head I finally figured out why. I had been eating granola bars with malted barley in them for 6 days.

I don't know if most people know about the connection between bipolar and gluten intolerance. Here's one of many studies done on the subject.

A short and unprofessional version is this- gluten is a protein found in wheat, rye, and barley. Having a sensitivity to it means it activates my immune system- my body literally attacks itself. In the behavioral part of your brain is something that's very close to the gluten protein  My system attacks not only the gluten in my intestines but it also attacks the behavioral part of my brain.

That is a very simple version of the whole story. I would also like to point out I'm not a Dr. If you somehow thought I was medically qualified for any reason you should stop drinking right now and stick to chronic masturbation.

I've been gluten free for almost 4 years. I decided to try it because my meds would work some days and it wouldn't others. That was devastating because the level of my bipolar makes normal life almost impossible. I decided to try it because I was desperate.

HOLY MOTHER OF SWEET BABY FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER!!! After 2 weeks I was a whole different person. My meds worked. My moods were stable and fantastic. My bicycling performance went through the roof. I had so much more energy.

I've had the intolerance my whole life and never knew it. I've always been a strange level of sleepy but hyperactive. I've always had severe stomach issues. I didn't know these weren't part of regular life. I hadn't know any other way of existing. I was unbelievable and it was fantastic.

I was able to be productive and stay on task better at work. I was able to have a social life and my relationship at the time sky rocketed into the awesome zone. Everything was better just because I cut out one simple protein out of my diet.

I was cycling (bicycle) at about 300 miles a week back then. I could do it but it took a pretty heavy toll on me but I've always been pretty dedicated to staying physically active so I just figured that was part of riding so much. With that many calories being burnt up daily I relied a lot on pasta, bread, and similar staples of the American diet. After I cut out gluten I was able to do 300 miles a week no problem and I became significantly faster. I even ended up adding more miles to my weeks. Like was fucking great.

I had never in my life been so stable. Ever.

But like a lot of bipolar people I eventually went off my meds. I was fixed right? I felt so good I didn't need the meds right?

I went full retard.

My younger brother died a couple months after going off my meds. I was not prepared to deal with that and an unmedicated bipolar person is incapable.

I ended up eventually cycling so bad and frequently I destroyed my relationship, job, and just about everything in my life. It didn't really start until about 4 moths after going off my meds when my brother died, but by then I was so convinced I was fine and it was the rest of the world that was fucked up. I never recovered from rapid cycling until going on meds again. I destroyed everything.

Long story short I've stayed gluten free and thanks to someone who genuinely gives a shit about me I've gone back on meds and have been steadily taking care of myself since December 2012. The difference this time is I refuse to let the disorder fuck up my life like it has for almost all of it.

Through all of this I've learned the way to beat this thing is prevention. Once I'm in a bipolar cycle I can't come out of it and my episodes are BAD. I've been spending a lot of my free time educating myself. There is so fucking much I didn't know. There is still so much to learn.

I will have this the rest of my life. I cannot ignore that fact. I currently have a lot going for me and I refuse to let it go. I refuse to lose this time around.

Meds + education + prevention = success.

Also with that I have to stay gluten free. Regardless of whatever meds I'm on if gluten gets into my system my bipolar kicks into overdrive.

I missed an ingredient in some stupid fucking granola bars for 6 days and basically went bat shit insane.

I'm glad it's over and I can't say I'm glad it happened but through that I was able to start this blog and have an escape to help myself cope. I spent the night a couple days ago curled up in my basement switching from uncontrollable crying to fits of complete rage. I sat shaking, gripping my knees until my fingers hurt and then went numb. I sat down and told myself not to get up so I didn't act out. That was the only bit of control I had.

I had to sit there by myself with every terrible thought and impulse rushing through my body all at once. Unless you've been there you can't possibly imagine how terrible it is. As bad as it might look to someone around this- there is no way you could possibly fathom how impossible it is to deal with.

It has passed. I'm turning that horrific experience into a learning opportunity.

The disorder is not my fault. When I'm cycling my thoughts, emotions, and actions aren't my fault. It is my fault if I get there. It's my fault if I don't take the extra second to double check ingredients. It's my fault if I don't educate myself. It's my fault if I don't stay on my meds. It's my fault if I let this continue.

It's my burden to deal with the aftermath of the destruction. It can destroy not only my self worth but it can destroy my relationships, my productivity, and my life.

When you get your mind back and realize the world is ok again it's very similar to the part in Pinocchio where he's excited to be a "real boy." After being in the grip of the parasite and not having control over yourself when you come out of it you're just glad you exist. You feel like a human again- you feel like yourself. That experience is indescribable.

I call it the Pinocchio effect.

Thank you for reading.

P.S. Happy World Goth Day.   Go do something spooky.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

I Can't Control My Fingers I Can't Control My Brain

It's terrifying to think if I was born a decade or two earlier I would have been committed to an asylum  probably for life.

 I'm fortunate to live in a time where science can keep the rest of the world from just locking me away. My biggest fear is being locked up and away from everyone I love. I am in constant fear of losing control- that's why I've never used heavy drugs. I struggle so hard daily just to have control over myself I couldn't imagine giving that little bit up. It would be a complete loss of freedom and control if I was locked up.

Anyway, I found this Really cool link to a photo collection of abandoned asylums

I love looking at these. They remind me that no matter what I can be grateful that I never had to end up in one of these places.

I also absolutly love this show-

Thanks for reading.

Monday, May 20, 2013

No Light, No Light

Here is the video I've been talking about if you've had the unfortunate situation of listen to me. This video helped me out a lot. It's one of the two things that kick started my adventure into getting my self under control.

Bipolar Light by Dr. Jay Style

For comic relief I give you this: a peanut that I turned into Pinhead from the Hellraiser movies.

When Does The Narwhal Bacon

For those of you who don't know- I'm a stupid huge Reddit fan. I have been for years. It's been there for me through everything. When ever I wanted to test how "tough" I was I would wonder into /r/wtf, if I was in a good mood I would be in /r/funny, I spend a lot of time in /r/horror, and I've found a ton of artistic inspiration in countless subreddits. Just recently I decided to lurk in /r/bipolar. I was in a horrible state and I needed something, anything! I didn't have anyone around who could help me- I was on my own. I looked it up and BAM- a bipolar subreddit. I've been spending a lot of time there and for anyone who isn't aware of it I suggest at least trying it. I've found a lot of help and a lot of it in the form of listening. I'm so fucking stuck in my head that I want out- I want to focus on someone else and who better than someone struggling like I am?

So I highly suggest trying /r/bipolar. It's helped me realize I'm not hopeless and it's also the inspiration behind my blog. Thanks strange faceless internet people who are obsessed with cats and bacon.

No Turning Back, Face the Fact, I Am Lost in Space and Time

Another horrible aspect of the parasite is the isolation it creates. I call it a parasite because it isn't me- it acts like a separate organism that tries to preserve itself. It fights to stay alive.

It causes isolation in many different ways. When I'm depressed it uses self defeat to keep me down. Not good enough, wasting my time, I'm a burden, and so on. In my post Do Not Go into the Light Carol Anne I cover a lot of the depression spectrum.

When I'm upset I can't communicate what I need. I can't explain what I need. In an argument it's very easy to get me heated up. The rising frustration is what gets to me. Everyone gets frustrated but most people don't get to the point where they want to throw themselves down a flight of stairs. That's how bad it escalates when someone with bipolar gets over run emotionally. It can be quick too, some times it doesn't take but a couple minutes. It becomes so overwhelming that you act out, start screaming, throwing insults, breaking stuff, cause injury to yourself, or worse- hurt someone else.

If I could put you in my mind when the frustration gets to that level I would. I don't wish that upon anyone else but I want my loved ones to see how completely overwhelming it is. I just want them to understand what it feels like so they don't see me as an awful person. It's unbearable and uncontrollable. I'm not quick to anger- anger is a result of my frustration working overtime.

 Holding all of that frustration in is impossible- you would do anything to get away from it, to have some relief. That's where the acting out comes into play. It's an inappropriate emotional response  That's what the parasite it- your brain doesn't create proper emotional responses.

I don't want to hurt anyone or myself. I act out as a desperate grab for relief. I want to get away from myself.

 Most people get mad or frustrated and it's the equivalent to a pot of water boiling over. They might say something they regret or raise their voice. When a bipolar person gets mad or frustrated it's like an atomic bomb. The parasite acts this way- it opens up a flood gate I can't control. I want to so bad! Oh dear god I would give anything to control this side of me. I want to be able to take a deep breath- remember the person I'm talking to is someone I love and go back to reason. The sane part of me that is buried inside never forgets the importance of these people- it never forgets the love, admiration, and respect I have for them. I strive to be diplomatic in all interactions with people- I especially would like to extend that courtesy to the person I love the most.

The real me never wants to argue- she always wants to have a civil debate, come to a compromise, and move on. No one wins but everyone is happy.

I would give anything to show that person that no matter what I love and care for them. Any issue in an argument is still less important than making sure I treat them right. I care for their mental health, their physical well being, and how I effect their life. I'm not here to try and cause you pain- I only want to be a source of good in your life.

I'm not a bad person- I just have a bad disorder.

I cannot get rid of the frustration, I cannot calm down, I cannot reason with myself or anyone else. When the anger does subside, and for me it's a pretty quick shift, it falls into depression. The chemical reaction (overreaction) in my brain has happened. The chemicals have been released. I can't turn my emotions off. I can't get rid of them like wiping up a spill off the counter. There's no handle to flush the excess waste once I recognize it's happening. It's science. It has happened and they have to run their course. It is out of my control.

The frustration merely redirects itself to acting out or I end up internalizing it. I have come to internalizing it by default because I rather beat myself up than act out towards the ones I love. But the damage I can do to myself is 10x worse than I'm capable of doing to anyone else.

I don't have a choice to "let it go." I can't just walk away.

I'm not in control. It's not that I'm unwilling to make these choices- It's that I can't.

If you don't have the disorder then it's impossible to understand the difference between "can't" and "won't" in an afflicted mind.

This is when the isolation kicks in and it's debilitating.

I'm alone in my frustration. I'm alone in trying to explain my frustration. I'm alone because despite my obvious emotionally instability I desperately want to solve the problem/argument. I want the other person to know I care and that I'm unhappy with the situation but I want to work it out. It's an argument- I'm not the only one involved but I want to be the first one towards making it right.

But I can't. I can fix the situation just as well as I can calm myself down. My attempts just add fuel to the fire. I end up contributing to the frustration, anger, or contempt the other person has toward me.

I'm alone with this chemical reaction in my head and no one to help me. It has completely isolated me and has left me with an over abundance of frustration.

I can't run to the person I've been arguing with. They're mad at me because of how I've been acting. I want to tell them that isn't me but it looks like I'm trying to deflect my responsibility or trying to manipulate them to get my way.

I'm not. I'm reaching out for help. I'm screaming for salvation. I'm alone and scared.

I always end up the bad guy because I can't keep myself under control, even when the other person is wrong, being unfair, or taking jabs at me.

 I want closure so I don't feel this way. I don't want to end up emotionally imploding.

Don't argue with a person who is under the control of this thing. That doesn't mean placate them, give in to their demands, avoid all confrontation, or that they "win." It simply means that it needs to be recognized that situation isn't going to be resolved at that moment. Put the game on pause and come back when your hands are no longer sweaty. No one is going to win if they continue - it's a battlefield set up for disaster.

I don't have the answers for what to do- I only know what not to do.

Remember you're not arguing with this person- you're arguing with a parasite. That isn't your loved one. They're in there but arguing, yelling, or taking stabs at them is prolonging the grip of the parasite and doing damage to the person underneath. We're not in control of it but your reaction to the parasite's control is hurting the person underneath. The people we really are.

It's hard to solve any problems when everyone ends up having to deal with the aftermath of the parasite's control. The original issues become buried underneath a plethora of emotional scars.

Do not take it personal. In my opinion and from my own experiences that is the hardest hurdle to get over. Realize they aren't out to get you- the parasite is. It does this to preserve itself and the hold is has over them.

Both sides need to take part in dealing with this. Both sides need to find methods that work. Communicate when the disorder isn't taking control.

You can't teach someone to swim while they're drowning. Teach them when they are ready, willing, and have confidence that they can do this.

There is no job tougher than to be the loved one of someone with emotional disorders.

It may not seem like it all the time but we love and value you.

You keep us going.

I love listening to this song to help cry it out and bring me back.

Thank you for reading.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Hyperbole and a Half is Saving my Life

Read this, it's perfect

I absolutely love her blog. I'm slowly falling in love with her as a human. She puts into words and drawings what it really feels like. She can present to the world what the rest of can barely to recognize ourselves. Thank you Alley Brosh.

Do Not Go Into the Light Carol Anne

The depression is subsiding.

This is amazing, awesome, and a great sign. The depression is the hardest to deal with because it renders me useless. I become completely incapable of communicating and when I try it ends in disaster. My mind wont complete thoughts, I'm overly sensitive towards my environment, and I need someone or something to provide comfort that I can't find or doesn't exist. When I'm manic I need to walk away, calm down, take a sedative, and need to be held until I cool down. The manic state is easier for people to be empathetic with because it genuinely looks crazy and regular people can't experience pure mania- they are more willing to sympathize with that end of the bipolar spectrum.

Depression is the part people sympathize or empathize with the least. It comes across as being lazy or unwilling to get better. Everyone can tell you to focus on the positive things in my life or in the universe. I do. I focus on everything I have going for me but there's no response inside of me. My mind cuts off positive feelings or feeling all together towards everything I like, love, or enjoy. The chemical factory in the happiness part of my brain has been shut off. I try to flood my brain with positivity and without getting any response I start to feel hopeless, weak, and exposed. I can't leave the house, I can't face the world, I have to spend 6 hours yelling at myself just to get into a damn shower.

I hide from the whole world when I feel like this. No facebook, no phone calls, no text messages, no contact. The rest of the world seems terrifying.

"Just get up and do those things, it's not that hard." If I was able to I would. You can't explain that to people who haven't had debilitating depression. Even if they were able to pull themselves out of it they have no idea what it's like to be pushed that far down emotionally without having control over it. It's different to be depressed over an event in your life vs you're mind being controlled and you're forced so low against your will.

The parasite makes me horribly depressed, not me. I don't get depressed because something in life upsets me- it shows up and takes over. Part of the frustration is understanding I have a lot going for me and I don't have a reason for being depressed. Against my will my brain latches on to sad and even torturous thoughts. I spend all day flooding my brain with positive thoughts and positive activities I could do that day but my mind doesn't care. It sits in my skull and tortures me.

"Remember that one time when you found out your ex cheated on you for the 5th time? Yeah, you should think about that. Remember how shitty you felt? Remember how you cried for 2 weeks straight? We're going to go ahead and force you to dwell on this- like it happened yesterday. These positive thoughts are cute but they're no match over what we've decided you're going to think about."

"You haven't done the dishes in a couple days. It's disgusting  It's an easy thing to do and you can't do it because you're a piece of shit. You'll never get your shit together. You're too fucked up as a person to possibly get it together. You can't even do the dishes, how do you expect to be able to succeed in life? You're useless, give up now"

 Awesome brain. Thank you. That's exactly what I needed.

I have 0% control over these thoughts. If I can't beat them with positivity then I'll just block them out of my mind, cut them off.

Doesn't work. The parasite will find worst thoughts and memories to shove into my consciousness.

"Remember that statistic about how little the chance is for a successful long term relationship for bipolar people? Remember how it's even worse for people with your version of it? See the mood you're in right now- you're a piece of shit for being like that. This is how you're going to lose Johnny and anyone else you inflict yourself upon. You shouldn't just be alone- you should just not be here."

"You're fucking up your boyfriend's life. He has a lot going for him and you're dragging him down and you know it. You're too fucked up to get your shit together so why are you dragging him down? Is this how you repay someone who has done so much for you? Your mere existence in his life is the biggest insult."

This is literally what happens in my head when I'm depressed. I do not generate these thoughts. I do not perpetuate these thoughts. I have no control over them. The parasite tries to take me out if it can't completely control me.

I know these thoughts aren't true. I know it's the parasite- it's not me. I still try to flood my brain with positive thoughts but what I'm fighting against is chemical- it isn't reasonable. I cannot simply change my view.

I don't choose to be this way. I don't choose to have debilitating depression and the real me is trying hard to shake it. It's like swimming against the current in a river of quicksand with your legs duct taped together. I am always trying my absolute damnedest to swim regardless of the odds against me but I'm fighting a loosing battle. I will always try to swim- it's all I can do.

It's the one symptom of the disorder that looks like I have a choice. I look like a whiny self pity case.

It's a chemical reaction in my brain that is malfunctioning. It's not something I choose or enjoy at all. It cannot be cured with positive thoughts and I cannot "snap out of it."

I have no desire for people to feel sorry for me. I just want out when it happens.

Thank you for reading

Saturday, May 18, 2013

We Live On Front Porches And Swing Life Away

Day 2 without coffee. I haven't been able to get up. I slept an extra 5 hours the day before, 12 hours last night and then another 3 hours. The last 3 hours have been on adderall. I didn't know sleeping on adderall was possible.

The depression is hitting hard.

I have never been able to accept not being productive, especially right now. I have way too much to be doing but I can't get up. I can't drink tea or soda- I have to give up all caffeine.

I had nightmares again last night. Pretty bad ones.

I don't have anything here that usually cheers me up. I'm an outdoors person and I miss Richmond for that single reason the most. I don't have the James River I can just ride down to with my friends and spend all day there enjoying the water, sun, and the warm rocks. There are no bike rides here to show up to. There isn't off road trails to go running at. I don't even know any athletic people.

I should get out there and try to find this stuff or find something I can make do with. But it just doesn't fucking exist. Plus I've been to sick to use my mind effectively to go out and try to figure this shit out.

I miss riding 60 miles at  in the morning. I miss the 15 mile urban rides at night. I miss the Buttermilk trail. I miss the VCU gym. I miss the 80 mile solo rides I would do in Varina.

I don't have that here. I have a 1 mile loop at a cemetery and the P90X. I like P90X but I hate working out indoors when it's so nice out and I don't have anyone to do it with.

I'm stuck indoors at almost all times up here and it's contributing to my depression.

I need outdoor endurance athletic challenges in order to be a well rounded productive person. I need people to argue with about SRAM vs Shimano. I want other, better cyclists to push me.

There's Pittsburgh but it's almost an hour away- I didn't realize that when I moved here. Plus I don't have anyone to ride with. I don't know anyone and going an hour both ways isn't doable with my schedule.

I don't know if it's a product of the parasite or if it's true but I'm pretty sure it's a lack of stuff to do. The kind of stuff I like. I HATE being indoors. I HATE being here. This place is a fucking pit.

I know it's temporary but I'm trying to get myself healthy and this place is preventing it.

I want to go swimming. I want to do a warrior dash type event. I want to do a triathlon. I want to go hiking. I want to have somewhere to run for 10 miles.

I don't want to be here. I hate Monessen.

I want to be healthy. I want to be sane. They are linked to each other.

I want out of here.

Friday, May 17, 2013

Dawn of the Brain Dead

My manic states have been pretty intense recently. I couldn't figure out why my meds and dedication weren't working.

I fucking love the stuff.

Coffee coffee coffee coffee. I like to have a cup in the morning and I wash that down with another cup, then I'll grab a cup after my workout and then it's off to Starbucks!!!!!

There is a link between caffeine and mania in bipolar.


I've been having some stage of mania almost every day. It doesn't last long because I don't live in a manic state anymore- I can recognize it. The mania drops to anger or depression so fast I don't have time to save myself or prevent it. Days have been lost in emotional turmoil. Almost two weeks of ups and downs. My boyfriend has been understanding and he always fights on my side but it's almost impossible at times. He knows I love him and he just wants to see me get better. He wants to comfort me and let me know that he's waiting for me to come back to him.

It's like trying to hug a charging velociraptor with laser eyes. It's not happening.

So today is day one of no coffee. I feel great but sleepy. I took my adderal this morning- it's done nothing. I feel like the scene of a zombie movie where they write in giant letters "ALIVE INSIDE" to alert the living. I should write that on my face. I swear there's life in here.

Sane, intelligent, not episode having life.

I'm back to being me but the compromise is I can't leave the comfort of the living room chaise.

I should be in class...... but chaise.....
I need to do the dishes........ but chaaaaaaise.....
I need to go take photos.....but.......chaaaaaaaaaaaise.......

I am sane. I am one with the chaise.

This is my fortress of non-bipolar solitude and your night in shining adderal can't get through my defenses......

I wish I still had Skyrim

UPDATE: I found out why everything was going so poorly. Also- my bf got me Skyrim

Stop Having All Of Their Feelings At Me

If you haven't read this then do it now

I can't express enough how much I can relate to this. Not only that but it's funny. That's how I deal with a lot- my sense of humor. I try to keep it alive so I don't fall apart. A million cups in the air for this person.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Clean Cup, Clean Cup, Move Down, Move Down!

I loved Disney's Alice in Wonderland when I was a kid. I still do. I loved the pure insanity of the story and all the strange characters. Other kids movies were nothing like that. Sporadic characters popping up everywhere  all of them pretty much stuck in their own little world. I really liked the Mad Hatter and the March Hair because they were bat shit insane. Completely absorbed in some tea party they were convinced was going on. A huge important ordeal that was a funny illusion in their minds. The Mad Hatter spewing what ever was on his mind- asking riddles just to troll Alice. He was the head of this tea party and completely enveloped by his delusion.

Mania- the other end of bipolar. I always recognized something was wrong when I was really depressed or really angry. All of the other time I was fine- euphoric even. Nothings wrong when you feel that good! I never acknowledged the mania. I never looked into it, I never even thought about it. Why would you change a good mood?

 I have always been very social and I love crowds. I also very much liked attention but I never needed it for validation. I'm a party girl and the life of the party. I was always in an incredibly elevated state. It was all a product of the parasite- a survival mechanism is used in order to get through my childhood and young adult years.

I've had a bad past and childhood- I don't care to share it not because I'm ashamed or depressed by it- I don't care about that. Everyone has had a shitty past, especially if you have any sort of behavioral disorders. I don't want to downplay anyone else's shitty past by presenting mine as a unique sob story of epic proportions. I have been through some shit but the one thing I always had that most people didn't was I never felt like a victim. Physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, it didn't matter. I always fought back and I never let myself be or feel like a victim. I ended up pretty angry in my teen years but I feel like that's not a big surprise. It took a lot of therapy but I was able to overcome the damage of what I endured. But never, ever, did I feel like a victim.

Awesome right? I always thought it was until recently. I now realized I was able to feel that way because the bipolar parasite took control and kept me in a perpetual state of mania. Elevated moods, highly productive, narcissistic, unrealistic feelings of self importance, irritability  and insanely high levels of energy. Doesn't sound too bad when compared to the opposite end of the bipolar spectrum a lot of people are stuck in.

I didn't give a fuck. It was awesome. I could dance on stage almost naked with tampons attached to my nipples in a burlesque routine at a vampire themed night. I could dance anywhere, to any music, and I was damn good at it. I could- and did- talk to anyone and everyone. I was loud, hilarious, and damn good at making a presence. I could throw huge parties and be the center of attention all night. I always looked the best and the scariest. I was always the sexiest and most daring. What part of that isn't the best shit ever?

It's hollow. It's built on the illusion of self importance and not on actually being important. It's a drug and I loved being that high.

If you're brain is chemically designed to switch moods at the smallest of triggers, then what goes up must come down. And it came down hard every time. I would snap on someone and bash their face in. It wasn't completely undeserved- touching me inappropriately, trying to start shit, or fucking with me. I would get drunk and get into horrible spats with my boyfriend at the time. I would use my venomous words to put him down and feed my ego. It took almost no time at all for me to switch from laughter instantaneously into violence. I never started shit but fuck if I wasn't quick to react to it.

 After that high of a level of mania- everything you are and thought you had drops. You're exposed and you hate what you see. You are ashamed at what you've done- especially the harm you do against your loved ones. All your self esteem plummets and you hate everything that you are. You don't want to look into the mirror, you can't face your friends, you can't go to work, you want to crawl away from the whole world. You don't know that person who was chugging beers half naked on table tops from the night before. You don't know the person with the giant deathhawk and giant boots that was queen of the world the night before. You don't know her and you're ashamed of her. If people really knew that girl they would hate her. I did. And that feeling would turn the mania back on in order to pull myself out of that head space.

It wasn't all bad. It's pretty cool to not give a fuck. That is definitely part of who I am. But what I don't give a fuck about is where the signals were mixed. Before I didn't give a fuck if I was arrested,  drunk as fuck, in a fight, hungover each day, snapping on people, climbing up buildings, puking onto someone else, was half naked, or anything that most people wouldn't dream of doing. Now in my life I don't give a fuck if people talk shit about me, I don't give a fuck if someone watches me paint/draw/sculpt, I don't give a fuck if I look like shit going out of the house (I got shit to do!), I don't give a fuck my body isn't perfect (use to be an obsession of mine), I don't give a fuck about normal every day tasks that before were impossible. I don't give a fuck how many studs my jacket has on it, I don't give a fuck if my painting isn't going well (I won't give up, I will fix and finish it), I don't give a fuck is someone is criticizing what I'm doing (I will listen and then decide if it's worth listening to), I don't give a fuck that when it comes down to it- I'm no body. I'm capable of so much, that's what I've learned from the mania, but the real me knows where to place the fucks and where to not give them.

I don't regret the person that was created- that's how I survived a shitty childhood. I just wish I had known that was still a sick person under the control of a mental disorder sooner. I wish I knew those times were a huge red flag letting my know about the volatile bipolar state I was it. A warning sign of being unstable.

I could model, I could get on stage and steal the whole show, I could conduct an audience, I could control a room or a whole building with my presence..... but I couldn't go into the grocery store the next day. I would sit in the parking lot having a huge anxiety attack. There were people in there, maybe people I knew- I can't talk to strangers, and I sure as hell can't talk to people I know right now. They expect that other girl, the super awesome entertaining one that never gives a fuck! The girl in the parking lot gives a fuck- she gives way too many fucks. I can't go inside because I'm afraid of what it's going to take to get some ham, or broccoli. Oh the pain I shall have to endure to get some broccoli.

It was pure insanity. I didn't know who I was at any given moment. I was either conquering the world or trying to avoid it at all cost. It was confusing and damaging.
I knew I was awesome but at what level varied day to day. The real me thought I was awesome because of what I was capable of but hadn't accomplished yet. The mania me thought I was awesome because I existed. She didn't give a fuck and she didn't need you to care.
That person was Typhoid. That person was a perpetual state of mania.
That is not who I am.
That was never who I was.
That was the parasite.

I don't regret that time in my life. I met and became good friends with people that I might not have been exposed to other wise. There were a lot of times I leaked through and got to enjoy the attention a little bit. I enjoyed the empire the parasite thought it had built. But it wasn't based on solid ground so it inevitably crumbled.
I'm glad it did. It was created my the parasite in my body and not by who I am.
It was fun and I learned a lot. I especially learned who I'm not.

I am not the queen of a goth/industrial scene.
I am not the queen of drinking.
I am not the queen of the bar scene.
I am not the queen of bar room brawling.
I am not the queen of the party.
I am not the queen of spooky dress up.
I am not the queen of costuming.
I am not the queen of dancing.

I am not Typhoid.

I am sick of the obsession I've had with myself. I'm sick of the mania. If I'm going to be awesome it's because I've done awesome things.

I'm the mad hatter at my own tea party. I recognize nothing but my party, my tea, and my irrational needs. My cups, my chairs, my table.

Mania is not who I am, it's just how I survived.

I'm sick of this party.

I will only set out to do awesome and let that speak for me.

I Want My Rewards Please

I wish you got patches for everything that's wrong with you- kind of like how they give out patches for skills and
accomplishments in girl scouts. I would have a lot of fully decked out vests. I would be cool.

Digesting the External

I've been off for almost two weeks now. That's a long fucking time to not have control over yourself and left wondering what's coming next. Now I am having physical complications but I have no idea if they're related or not. I'm dizzy, I always feel on the verge of throwing up, I'm off balance, and I'm getting bad headaches. I want to be in class painting. That is all I currently want out of life right now. The moment I can keep some part of myself together my body starts breaking down.
I wish I knew if they were related. It feels like they are. I have no reason to go from really physically healthy (sleep, excersise, and diet) to unable to stand up. I haven't had everything mentally under control but there haven't been any detrimental outbursts or set backs.

Something isn't right.

It sucks it's all a goddamn guessing game. I wish it was as simple as diagnosing a cold or a cavity. It would be nice to make some solid sense of it. Science could look and see which chemical reactors or receivers are malfunctioning and pump some more science in there and fix it.

Emotions are the most volatile and unpredictable elements in my life. The real me- the person that isn't driven by an external host- is very logical and relies on emotion very little. I can experience empathy, love, and indifference which are fantastic- but they don't control me.

The current state I'm in is difficult. I have to acknowledge that every single emotion I am currently experiencing is wrong. I have to use all of my physical strength to grasp onto that. I have to override the programing the parasite has done and cling desperately to what I need the most- facts. Fucking science. Shit you just can't argue with. I have to remind myself what is going on inside of me is science but what it's doing to me isn't reality. The way I see the world and the way I react to my environment are lies. Well right now they are. Tomorrow I could be back and start painting again, have a kick ass lunch with Johnny, and play my xbox. 

Or I could never come back.

I don't know. I never know. This is the science inside of me that makes the monster that is my reality.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Pure Mania

I've lost control today. It has an absolute full grip on me. I can't figure out why the past two weeks have been almost completely out of my control. I can't hide, I have to find my way back.
I hadn't eaten this morning and the past 3 days I haven't been eating right. Lots of sugar and simple carbs. Basically the worst dietary options possible for the disorder. I've lost control this morning. The sane part of me is trying desperately to shake out of the parasite's grip but it's almost unbelievably strong. 
I just want to paint. I want to be in class with Dorian, enjoying the last little bit of time I have left in this class. It renders me incapable of thinking clearly. It strips away my ability to socialize. It spits venom everywhere I turn and it hurts those I love most. 
It has complete control over me but the sane part of me-who I really am- is still inside. I watch in horror as everything unfolds before me. It gets so bad the real me gets so ashamed and frightened.The parasite   makes me wonder if it's worth trying to regain control again.
It's an awful existence. I don't want any part of this. I hate snapping back and looking around at the devastation it's caused. It's not ok.
I want my mind back.
I don't want this.
I don't want to hurt anyone.
That's not me. I'm in here somewhere.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

First Post, Step 100

This is my first blog which is completely new territory for me. I have a very bad habit of keeping everything inside, which is strange because I live my life like an open book. It's part of the disorder. Every part of my life is a product of what's wrong with me. There are no "normal" days anymore. As awful and depressing it sounds it's a good thing. It's another step towards managing my life, the fact I can recognize, acknowledge, and classify what's wrong. That's been the hardest part- recognizing my thoughts and behavior are being controlled by this parasite. When you're crazy you don't know any better. I've thought this way my whole life, I have nothing to compare it to. Some animals have receptors in their pupils that can pick up different colors that humans can't see. Try to imagine a color you've never seen before. It's impossible. We can understand the concept of other colors existing but we don't have the ability to see or possibly fathom what they look like. That's what it's been for me. I can't imagine what an appropriate human response is. I have no reference. I can watch other people and how they deal with life but I can't crawl inside their head to figure out what chemicals were released and compare it to my malfunctioning brain juices.

 Crazy people don't generally know they're crazy. I knew I was crazy but that's all the information I had. There was no moment where I thought something was wrong with how I reacted to everyday situations. I react appropriately in a logical sense- something that would make anyone mad makes me mad too, something that makes someone sad makes me sad as well. I have appropriate responses but where there's a sign that something is wrong is the level of angry, sad, or even happy that my mind escalates to. Something that would make someone sad can cause me to be depressed and completely incapable of functioning for days, weeks, or months. Another situation where it's appropriate to get angry will set me off into a screaming rage, a violent outburst, and I can hold onto anger for years if my mind wants to.

None of it is fun. None of it is my fault. All of it I take responsibility for.

It's been a heavy burden to always accept responsibility for situations I have no idea why I'm in or how I got there. It's my actions, it's my body, it's my reality, but it didn't feel like anything was truly mine. I know right from wrong and struggled to keep myself under control. I always thought it was a matter of self control. I didn't know what I was doing or how I was reacting was wrong. I just knew where I ended up wasn't where I wanted to be. The end results were wrong and the only common factor was me.

I'm 30 years old and I just started figuring out that something is wrong with me. I am severely bipolar and I have been whole life. Not just that but I have the worst form of bipolar- rapid cycling. It's when you have at least 4 episodes of mania or depression a year. I have them at least once a month, some times weekly- I can even go through a couple a day. I got the shit end of this whole thing.

The only saving grace I have is that I know something is wrong and I want to fix it. I'm willing to accept that everything I do or think may be wrong on one level or another. I want and need to become a functioning person. I don't want to feel sorry for myself or use this disorder as an excuse. There is no cure for bipolar, there is only the possibility of managing it. I have to reorganize my entire life if I am going to have any possibility of success. 

I am literally set up for failure. At a scientific chemical level I am programmed to fail. I'm a flaw in natures design with a hair pin trigger self destruct button.

I will not fail. I refuse to buckle and accept this genetic shit that life took on me. The healthy person inside of me has too much to offer.

Thank you for reading.