Saturday is ruled by the god of Saturn. I was born on a Saturday and I was born under the planet of Saturn. I am Saturnine. And he’s a really tough dad.
Making others feel good makes me feel good.
My friends are used to the fact that I’m a cry baby.
Good or bad, that too will pass.
We will never have the same moment again once it’s gone.
The fact that I’ve never succumbed to suicide makes me think I’m even less likely to do it because I’ve built up so much tolerance to the idea, that I’m almost at peace with it, but that doesn’t mean I will. I don’t know for sure if I won’t, but definitely not today. I have today.
Every single person who deals with a chronic mental illness is a fucking warrior in my book. There is no light but the light we make.
It’s not that trippy to believe in souls.
I give a fuck about people but yet I don’t give a fuck.
The 72 hour hold can and usually is a waste of time and money. Suicidal people almost always talk about these ideations first, and usually frequently. It’s when they go unheard or are dismissed, the person feels there’s no other option. If you even care, reach out to them yourself. I’ve felt suicidal hundreds of times since my last stay in 2001. Yes, 18 years ago. People can be calmed down and recover from these intrusive feelings. The day the actually will, you likely won’t even know.
If you are suffering in silence, just know that I hear you.
I’m used to everyone ignoring me, but when I get manic they ignore me harder. I should just write a book and peace out Anne Sexton style.
If you’re suffering, just keep writing. Start a blog. Buy a journal; there’s beautiful leather-bound ones at Barnes & Noble. Paint something. Draw something. Create. Express. Get it out. Talk it out. Purge that shit.
Being ignored during a manic episode is painful. It hurts.
Is this a mixed episode?
I hate loneliness.
Agnostic existential crisis.
I’m having a spiritual crisis.
I swear I had a white light moment a couple of Thanksgivings ago but now I think I was just manic.
There’s a fine line between spirituality and insanity.
And I don’t wanna die today.
Bipolar Disorder is the ultimate blessing and curse mental illness.
I’ve had a hard but beautiful life…
When you see your psychiatrist, don’t leave any of your symptoms out. Bring a notepad if you have to. You need to be your own advocate.
I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does…
Maybe there is such thing as hope but for now it’s just another false alarm…
These tears came out of nowhere.
You might be Bipolar if you vacuum at 3 AM.
Money can’t buy a good personality.
The West Coast is calling my name.
There is beauty in pain.
I wanna learn to surf or snorkle.
I really am a free spirit… I just now came to that realization… and that makes me see the beauty in the disorder.
I walked outside. It was windy. I drove somewhere; I got outside. It was windy. I drove back home. It was windy. I laid back down.
I’m back to 94 days without drinking. Thinking about my alcoholism makes me sad, but at the same time I am proud of myself for always getting back on the horse. Alcoholism is so depressing and lonely.
Just spent a week straight listening to 7 audiobooks because this is my life.
Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?
I don’t know what I need right now but I always find a way to not feel good. Thinking of going over to AA to be with others who also don’t give a shit about the game.
I used to sleep all day (which obviously wasn’t good) but now that I’m on Effexor (Venlafaxine) I can’t sleep a wink! Will this subside over time? Because I’m gonna be working soon and I appreciate the energy but I’m tired!
I’ve been applying to all the CVS’ in the area so that I can use my recently renewed Pharmacy Tech license. I had anxiety driving to AA tonight but as soon as I got there I felt at peace. Then I got to go to dinner with my friends and I felt at peace. Sometimes depression takes a break.
I called back my grandmother a day late and thought she was going to be upset with me because my mom always guilts me but she didn’t. And when I said I was tired she said no, you’re just depressed, and it felt really comforting to know she understands.
I am going into residential treatment for mental health on Monday and I am nervous but I know it’s what’s best for me at this time. This isn’t a hospital setting, but maybe they’re similar. 😐
My psych added Trintellix to my Latuda and Lamictal. He gave me 2 weeks worth of samples so hopefully things go smoothly with my insurance since they eventually paid for Latuda. He says he’s seen good results with Trintellix combined so once again I hold out for hope.
Does Wellbutrin restlessness eventually go away? I’m so wired and tired at the same time.
I’m still very depressed. I have not improved at all with the addition of Wellbutrin. All I have to look forward to is my psych appointment. But now I’m just feeling so over it. I don’t know when I’m gonna ever be a healthy me again. Sleep is the only reprieve.
After not having worked since June of 2016 because of Bipolar depression, I have now recently started working on renewing my RPT (Registered Pharmacy Tech) license and look forward to job hunting again. I need something to look forward to in my life or I’ll never fully be better.
Lamictal seems to have balanced me out. Latuda seems to have taken care of the hypomania but I still need help with the depression, so I’m trying Wellbutrin but something is still missing; I’m still lacking interest. Psych on Tuesday to keep playing Musical Medications.
Welp, gonna have to appeal the disability rejection. Not living in a very depression friendly system. At a loss for connection which most people get through work. Cannot afford general education (TBD). At least I can keep going to therapy about it.
Breakthrough Bipolar depression trying to crush me but I will feel my feelings and cry when I need to. Please Universe be on my side and stand by me as I try to ride it out.
Another man deathly afraid of any kind of emotion. That I’m not allowed to get upset. Any “man” who can’t handle emotion is a coward and a fraud, undeserving of the rare love in this cruel, heartless world. This is why I have trust issues. This is why I cannot find what I need.
I love my father but men have been nothing but terrible to me. I have tried so hard, worked so hard on myself and it’s never good enough. I will never not be abandoned by men for showing emotion, feeling. Where is the feeling in this world? Everyone is a fraud and out to hurt.
All I ever asked for is support, not someone to save me OR my life. And still that seems elusive.
Had to start setting alarms in addition to the ones on the app because I cannot keep missing anymore Latuda. I’m already feeling the Bipolar depression again. And I feel like I can’t trust anyone not already in my life, the few that are.
Connection, real connection, is elusive.
People are too self-absorbed. At least that’s what I observed tonight.
Why did I have to be such an introvert? I can’t find anyone and maybe some can’t find me? What’s the point of going out to meet people? For a minute? No, I’m trying to find a connection. And it’s proven elusive.
Still need friends.
I’ve been getting off track with my medicine and appointment schedule due to smoking pot again and I need to get it together. Tomorrow is my mental health assessment with disability. This is probably good timing, considering. Urg.
Don’t go back, stay in the moment. The moment is all you have and you can never have that moment again.
Loneliness is a killer.
I came across Songs with Our Eyes Closed by Tyler Kent White while skimming through the poetry section, trying and hoping and flipping through words empty of meaning to me and I found this book. I read only a few lines and I knew. And I bought.
But I didn’t know; I didn’t know what poignant and emotional rollercoaster I had purchased tickets for. I have tears still staining my face at page 117. I think it would be masochistic to keep on tonight, though it would match the obsession of his words.
I shared some of my blog content at a writer’s workshop and got such helpful advice! I need to be more vulnerable, to write from the reader’s POV and to go into more intimate detail. I’ve always made the mistake of expecting others to know me and clinical terms more than they really do!
Spending too much time and paint on a painting I don’t even really like yet. Guess I’ll keep using paint on it until I like it. Just like with people, I don’t like to give up. I want to make this work.
(9 hours later) I just put away my paint supplies. I got so effing mad I went manic and just went at it with my paint knife like I should’ve done in the first place. I cannot paint ORDER. Chaos ONLY!!
P. S. Yes, I’m on a great cocktail of medicine and no, meds do not rob you of your creativity. Those moments of manic creating are still there, although this time it took 9 hours because I shoulda been painting in a different style the whole time.
I love the beach. I love the sand exfoliating my skin. I love the salty air. The breeze. The calmness. The sun giving me Vitamin D. Being able to be lazy and not judged.
Euthymia, anhedonia, hypomania . . . It can be a bit much to keep up with; the hyper-awareness of your Bipolar “state” is borderline obsessive itself. I don’t freakin’ know; I guess I feel “fine” with a dash of “was able to run errands, deep clean 3 litter boxes, vacuum, shave my legs, shower, put some blog writing in a PDF, and now I’m ready for bed and no, I’m not gonna paint now.”
Surprisingly pleasant appointment this time at the psych. Instead of 2 hours, I got seen in 10 minutes, and with a psych that gives more “therapy” time. Increased Lamictal to 300 MG, Latuda to 40 MG, and Klonopin to 1 MG. Still bored with my life, but more stable?
Much needed self-care (paint class; whoa, socialization).
AUGUST 6TH (alcohol relapse)
I quit drinking so I wouldn’t be alone. I am alone. I want to drink.
Reading my journal is so triggering for me. I just got to the part where he left me and hadn’t been supportive for a while prior. I am still SO hurt. IDK if I’ll ever recover from the abandonment. This is pain meds do not salve. I hurt so intensely. I really want to drink now.
It’s easy to be alone. It’s hard to remain alone.
Dear life, am I even doing this right?
I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m lonely and I’m frustrated.
Thank you med cocktail and the overall OVER IT for protecting my voluntary celibacy.
I’m finding abandoned journals around my room I had originally started out on a roll in. But then I’d take a hiatus from writing and begin again in a new one. How Bipolar to start out inspired and then abandon the project. At least that hasn’t happened to my blog yet.
Every time I post on my blog I get a little kick of dopamine.
Feeling physiologically personally attacked today.
The mental health advocates are my community and I’m happy and comfortable here. New Age helped keep me sober after my last relapse but the antipsychiatry drove me away. That kind of “love and light” is irresponsible and toxic at this point. And it’s sad because the sick are vulnerable to spiritual communities.
I really appreciate and love my therapist. I am going every week at the same time to establish more routine.
Life can feel very discouraging when it involves relapse (mood, energy, pain, addiction, et. al.). Yes, everyone experiences this to varying degrees, but I’m talking the level of intensity/instability; governmentally-recognized disability.
This shit’s exhausting. AA had a lot of great suggestions that also apply to Bipolar Disorder. Keep it simple. Progress not perfection. One day at a time.
Prioritize. Put restful sleep and a personalized music collection first. I bought Spotify Premium for my mental health.
I have playlists at the ready whether I’m in a crisis, trying to go to sleep, cleaning, or even showering.
Noise-limiting headphones, the ones that go over your ears. Helps get errands done around other people and block out when your cats are freakin’ annoying.
Keep your peace. Drama and intensity is yesterday’s news. Fights don’t equal passion. The isolation thing… I’m still stuck between wanting my privacy and wanting support. That, for me, might be the trickiest part of this whole disorder.