Monday, October 27, 2014


Okay, this is likely not going to make any sense to most people because sometimes the things that come out of my brain are nonsense to anyone but myself and a VERY select few people who get me, but here goes anyway.

I sometimes wonder if, in the face of adversity and diagnoses, medications and therapy, blogging about my life and living in it, I may be losing my me-ness.  Am I losing myself to everything that is happening to me and within me?

Even having put it here, I'm still not sure it makes sense to me. It's just that I feel like I'm dealing with a little more than I can handle, and, other than here, I'm not sure how to talk it out. It's so much harder to be honest to someone's face than it is on my wonderfully faceless blog. I know people who are close to me read it, but knowing that and seeing their expressions as they take in my craziness are two different things. One I can deal with, the other......well, not so much.

Back on topic, though. Y'see, I'm still dealing with my amnesia and all of the fallout from that, with an added twist. I still have gaps and gray areas, where I can see what happened in my life through almost a fog, most of it so out of focus I might as well not be seeing anything. However, now I am afraid of poking and prodding at those gaps and out of focus areas. I'm not sure I want to know. The last time I poked at my memory with a metaphorical stick, things turned out bad. Very, very bad, with me hurting myself in the worst way possible. Yes, that led to a diagnosis of something I was pretty sure I had, and a lot of revelations of what that means to my life, my universe, and my everything (42, people.) It also lead to revelations of bad things that had already happened to me, ways I'd been hurt and had caused hurt to others, people I know and don't know, that I'm having trouble forgiving myself for. The ripples in the pond that is my life from poking and prodding where I should have left well enough alone may never calm, especially if I keep it up. I don't like having amnesia and I'm not good at leaving well enough alone, but I don't like the intense pain associated with the truth that is my life.

Those ripples in the pond have lead to a new thing to deal with: a secondary persona. Whether she is always there, barely resting beneath the surface of me or was only a temporary/necessary thing I may never know. Once again, as with the fugue, I am faced with something huge in my life I may never know the answer for. I am less content to sit back and accept this than I was with the fugue because remembering a fugue is fairly unique (Possibly completely so. I know I've never heard of regaining ones memory of such a time before, but what do I know. I'm no P-sychiatrist (Hell-oooooooo, Nurse!) and can only go off the number of times I would never remember. Period.) I am less content simply because so many were wrong before, and my brain has this amazing ability to surprise me so very often. It's terrifying and mystifying and wondrous all at once that there is this new puzzle to solve.

Now I'm dealing with bipolar disorder. Sometimes I can joke and laugh at it. Sometimes I can revel in finally understanding why I am the way I am. Most of the time, though, I give in to the fear of the stigma of it, and worry that everything that could be taken as a symptom of it being worse than we first assumed actually is a confirmation of just that. I worry that my meds aren't strong enough, or are too strong. I worry that I'm not strong enough to overcome this. I worry that my relationships aren't strong enough to handle this, or if it gets worse that they will truly fall apart. I worry that I cling too much and simultaneously that I push people away too much. I have trouble with that little thing called a "middle ground" where things are good and balanced.

Just now I re-read what I'd written and now I worry that I worry too much. :-P  AARRRGGGGHHHHH!!

Sunday, October 26, 2014


I wish sometimes (like tonight) that someone had all the answers for all of me and just tell me what's what and why. I hate it when I don't make sense to myself like right now.  The things that happen to me because of my messed up brain are startling or horrible or slightly stupid or sometimes all of the above. I want to know why.

I want to know why sometimes funny is easy, and sometimes even just a smile is a struggle, let alone goofy silly (which is so much better than serious, it's shocking or maybe a bit alarming if you're in an especially serious mood.)

I want to know why I can't cry even when I desperately need to. People think tearing up is crying, but letting a tear fall seldom happens, and sometime I cry dry sobs and hurt my throat and make me want to scream to the world that something is wrong. Just because I can't get myself to cry so the world can see my red eyes and tear streaks doesn't mean I'm good.

I want to know why sometimes, when people really annoy me, I get unreasonably angry with them and yell, or unreasonably irritated and gripe about or snipe at them. It hurts people's feelings and I want to stop (wellllll......most of the time I want to stop. Some people live their lives to annoy others and I don't feel bad for the way I treat them in return. If you give me a reason to treat you with disrespect don't be a jerk when I do it. If you're a bully, don't try to turn it back on me and act like everything you do is my fault, and tell me to stop being so sensitive, because I will turn it all back on you and not in a nice way. KL, this is for you.)

I know, I know. "Because Bipolar" I said it myself previously, but why. What exactly happens in bipolar disorder that makes people act the way they do. My logical side is currently in overdrive and I'm dying to know AND understand all the stuff I already know. Plus, eventually I'm going to have to accept that I will likely never understand it all, since the way a person reacts to being bipolar is, from what I understand, highly affected by life experience and mine is unique to me, just like your's is unique to you.  We're all kinda stuck that way.

But, I still wanna know why. Why everything.....just EVERYTHING? (I don't say this sarcastically. I say this with a despair in me that causes me to pull my knees to my chest and rock back and forth. I'm a little antsy right now.)

Okay......maybe not EVERYTHING, but close enough. (Say that in my voice, but very whiny. I'll wait....................Theeeeere ya go!)

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Be Goofy, Because Serious is Not Good

So, yes I am trying to post more again. We all know how consistent I am with this, but I think the point is I am trying.

Today I've been looking at goofy images about bipolar disorder on the internet. If you know me, you know why. If you don't know me, you MAY be asking why (because you're nosy like that, I can tell.) Well, I'm gonna tell y'all anyway, so buckle in and deal, or shut your browser so you don't have to read my ramblings again. Either way, I'm good.

Just like with the amnesia, I needed to understand at first what it meant. That meant asking as many questions as my brain can come up with and research, research, research. That's the time for serious and angst and trying to wrap my head around something so big you can't really grasp it fully no matter how hard you try.

Now again, just like with the amnesia, I need to laugh and joke and find others with the same problems, but different because we are all human and like snowflakes, no two humans are exactly the same. The laughter is going well, and in the process the revelations keep coming. I'll look at a goofy picture and realize, "Oh my God!!! So I'm like that because Bipolar?"

Yup, it's become my new "because....." statement. When I'm talking 50 miles per hour and my brain is very distractible: because bipolar. When my mood is up for a day or two, then down in the major dumps (No, I'm not a rapid cycler, thank God!): because bipolar. When I'm screaming on the inside and "fine" on the outside: because bipolar. When I can't sleep because my brain won't shut up: because bipolar. When I see lights and movement out of the corner of my eye, but nothing is there (I didn't realize until recently that hallucinations that small and harmless were just as much bipolar as the big grandiose ones): because bipolar. When I impulse spend, big or small: because bipolar. When I'm super creative, writing like a genius (I wish), and can't stop moving/wiggling/wriggling: because bipolar.

Anyone else see how much it explains about me. It also, in a way, explains my fugue. People with a mental illness like bipolar disorder are more prone to episodes like that. It doesn't "explain" the amnesia, but it makes it easier to accept as just another part of my "crazy."

Just so y'all know, the amnesia will never not be a thing. I will always be an amnesiac because I will never know that I "remember it all." I will always wonder what I'm still missing. I wake up with that question every day and go to bed with that question every morning (night owl, work late shift, deal with it) and I'm just learning to live with the fact that the question will never go away. I still get the occassional surprise when someone says "Do you remember...." and I don't. It's a slight shock to the system, and not at all pleasant. I have to learn to deal with it.

Just like every other issue I've had, I also don't want to be ashamed. There's so much stupid stigma attached to bipolar. People think bipolar is all bipolar I, but we aren't all full of grandiose ideas and super manic episodes. Some of us are a little more mellow than that. It's called bipolar II. Look it up, people. Google is my friend, it can be yours too. I promise it won't bite.

And now, a gift for all of you:

GROUP HUG!!!! Friends make everything better.

GROUP HUG!!!! Friends make everything better.