Tag Archives: bipolar

just a dull ache

Constant. Chronic. A dull, dull ache in my chest. In my heart. In my stomach.

So tired of crying over you.

So tired of loving you.

So tired of you loving me back but choosing a different life.

_____

There is not a soul in this world that would not be fine without me.

Tough pill to swallow.

I am no one’s person.

I would have thought I was, to several people, but everyone chooses a different life. One without me. Every single person.

_____

I’m honestly not sure how you can walk away and say you’d be upset if something happened to me. That doesn’t make sense. How would it actually affect you if you have chosen to walk away when I’m alive?

I don’t understand.

Every. Single. Person.

_____

A dull, dull ache that stabs sometimes. Constant. Chronic.

Overwhelming.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

upswinging

It’s funny, people asking me if I’m okay now that I finally feel okay.

One of my very best friends has found the love of his life. Or so he thinks. He also found Jesus. A few months ago, he found Jesus. After wanting to be a Youth Pastor when he was in college, to going to seminary, to realizing God is fucked up and church is fucked up and people in church are fucked up. Then a staunch atheist for a long long time. Then a quiet atheist. Then, Jesus.

But I haven’t seen Jesus in awhile, only his new girlfriend. Almost fiance. After a few weeks, he has bought the ring.

You’re an addict, dude. You’re addicted to something, always. To drugs, or alcohol, or me, or work, or Jesus, or her. I guess it’s not okay to say that, at least not before I’ve met her and not before he asks and not over text message.

I spend too much time thinking about loss. So many friends gone this year, but the choosing kind of gone. I know I’ve said it before. It’s just always there, the holes, and more added every day it seems like. It’s okay. I have new friends, or old friends who have stuck around, and I try to focus on them. I try to remember the holes I’ve left in other people’s lives. Try to convince myself I mattered to someone as much as these people matter to me.

I don’t even know her last name. Did she keep hers? Add his? Take his only?

She said Happy Birthday and some other kind and thoughtful things. I didn’t respond. What would I even say? What could I even want from her? And do I risk responding only to find that her message was just…a thing, and not an attempt to get me back.

I feel okay. It’s pretty cool. Of course I anticipate the upswing to keep going straight on to mania, but for now it’s awesome, and welcome.

Thanks, beach time last week! You put me on the right track.

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

hypomania some more

Tired of living in this state.

So high. So irritated. So depressed. So angry.

Biggest week of the year. Missing the players from last year. Fantasizing she shows up. Avoiding him with all the willpower I can muster.

Do I walk funny?

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

can I get a redo?

My experience with psychotherapy supports the findings that we can “rewire our brains.” In cognitive therapy, I learned to stop negative thoughts and suicidal ideation, rewrite those thoughts and replace them with more accurate ones. In therapy I’ve learned to reframe my life experiences as meaningful – as preparing me to be a better mother, wife, and daughter, […]

via Bipolar Disorder and Neurocounseling — Kitt O’Malley

Tagged , , , , , , ,

ready for love

When I was married, I thought I was amazing. I mean, I was manic or hypomanic much of the time, so obviously I was amazing. But it’s more than that. I had men everywhere. Falling over themselves to be with me. If only I were single, they’d say. I’d say. If only. I had 3 proposals between the time I got engaged and the day I got married.

I thought I was amazing.

Then I left, thinking I’d be amazing forever.

And I realized, the only men that wanted me were men who would go after a married woman. I mean, yes, it was me they were after and sure, they might have wanted me if I were single. But I wasn’t single, and they still tried.

I didn’t want a man like that. As I realized it, I disappointed them. I was disappointed.

They were placeholders, and I hate it. Some of them knew it; I was safe because I was unattainable and I don’t think it really hurt them to know I wasn’t interested anymore. Some of them just bowed out as I pulled away.

The thing is. I’m a placeholder now. And it sucks, because I know what happens to placeholders.

I feel different than the girl on the side, somehow. Maybe because I’m not getting all that much out of it?

My thesis one day will be about cheating and affairs, I’m sure of it.

Anyway.

I’ve been a placeholder so many times. Just now naming it. You know. I was your placeholder.

I’m just that good at lurking in the darkness. Keeping secrets, being the confidante. Hiding. What is it that makes me keep doing it? Why do I settle for this place? Is it even settling? It can’t be. Somehow I must be seeking it. But why?

So tired of the dark. I want to love in the daylight. I want to BE loved in the daylight. I want to be FRIENDS in the daylight. I spend way too much time censoring names out of my conversations. “My friend.” “This friend.” “This guy I know.” “Oh you don’t know him.”

So tired.

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

no more memories.

Forgot my real journal.

Going up on the lamotrigine. Really pumped about it, only not that pumped b/c I’m super down.

Super.

I hate this time of year. Obviously I think we’ve caught on to that. Waiting on the upswing.

All of my best memories are with you.

^^^^Statements that are false. But you know when you’re sad and lonely how you can only think of one thing? That’s where I am.

“I want you to see it before anyone else.”

Why? Because you love me? Because you know I’ll be upset otherwise? Because old time’s sake?

I want to see it before anyone else. But I want it to be for me.

It’s not for me, is it?

I always hear the lyrics first. You? What do you hear?

I haven’t been hungry or full in a month or more. I eat when I shake, or when I realize I took meds without food and feel nauseated. It’s like my stomach went numb.

I talk about money too much. Fixated.

Selfish.

Things are terrible in the world and I am selfish.

All of my best memories are done. I feel like I haven’t made a memory in a year. Isn’t that weird? All of the memorable things I’ve done this year and I feel like I can’t remember them.

I barely remember anything. Cannot get up for work. Cannot work. But I love my work. But I’m not doing any work.

I need new music. The world needs new music. I cannot write music.

Cannot cannot cannot.

I think of things that I cannot do all day every day. Because I could have done them, if I’d learned or worked hard.

Even the things I could do, I can’t do anymore.

Who am I, if not a runner, or a dancer, or an actor, or a dog trainer, or the one who dresses nice and always look good for work?

Who even am I.

Sorry for this irrelevant stream of consciousness.

Someone write it in a song, because I cannot.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

In other news

I want to stab everyone I see today. Anyone else?

Tagged , , , , , ,

I hate November.

[for the ones we’ve loved too much + lost too soon, all because of a past love that’s clouding their mind. oh, november and your way of breaking all our hearts]

how can i find my home
in the darkness of your mind
you talk of her too much to let it go easy
Will you Ever let go long enough to wAnt me?

oh, because i saw, bLack as a night, ocean’s abyss of her in your eyes
i saW it when you looked through me that night
i heArd it in the whispers between Your teeth,
heard it in the way you tried to Say that you loved me
heard it in your leaving, you were packing up your things
i should have known you didn’t want me
you never had room to want me

a FlickEring of innocEnt Light,
but a fire never burns all the way through a windy night
i can’t help but notice that you LOok so NicE
oh, and november’s chiLling my spine with his call

oh, because i saw, black as a night, ocean’s abYss of her In your eyes
i saw it wheN you looked Through me tHat night
i hEard it in the whispers between your teeth,
heArd it in the way yoU Tried to say that yoU loved me
heard it in your leaving, you were packing up your things
i should have known you didn’t want Me
you never had room to waNt me

(all of the lyrics, including capitalization choices, taken directly from Liza Anne’s website).

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Doing it Wrong

Last night I had a total breakdown. It was a long time coming, but I’ve been super up and down the past couple of weeks (as if you couldn’t tell) and last night I just lost it.

I realized that for the past 6-8 months, possibly more, possibly the past 5 years…oh geez, possibly the past TEN years, I have been investing in the wrong things. Okay let’s stop with the global look at disappointing things in my life and just talk about the past few months.

My friend who called off her wedding and had an eating disorder return. I invested so many tears, so many hours of counseling, only for her to suddenly decide everything is fine and now the wedding is back on. I can’t even talk to her right now because I have so little respect for what she is doing to her fiance. I haven’t heard from her since the text that said “thanks for being my friend, the wedding is back on.”

My friend who sat on my couch suicidal for a week, for whom I missed days of work and arranged inpatient care and spoke with her family and cried with for days…months. She told me to go fuck myself once she started feeling better. I mean, borderlines will be borderline, but still.

My friend who called me hyperventilating five weeks before her wedding. My best friend, with whom I’d spoken nearly every day for the past eight months, who visits regularly and who is, did I mention, my best friend. The one for whom I worried so much that I didn’t sleep for days and had heart palpitations over and over. I haven’t heard from her since her wedding day, the one where I stood by her knowing that she meant none of the promises she made. I can’t decide if I did something wrong or if she’s ashamed. I’m obsessing nearly every minute over the week that I was with her and what I could have done so wrong for her to go a month without reaching out to me, or answering my texts and calls.

My doctor.

My friend that can’t be my friend.

My ex that I love who loves me.

I tended a lot of concrete that I thought was soil. And I’m getting the blooms one would expect from such pointless toil. I realize that this is a common problem when you’re everyone’s social worker…but man. It sucks.

Glad to finally realize why I’ve been so upset recently. I’ve known that I felt abandoned. I hadn’t realized how used I feel.

Grateful for some patients who are doing much better today. I may owe my alma mater a million dollars, but for now it seems like the only worthy investment I’ve made.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
%d bloggers like this: