I've got no deeds to do
No promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
Life, I love you
All is groovy
Simon & Garfunkel--59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)
No miles to go before I sleep, either?
Once again, I totally bolloxed the time frame for one of my summer psych classes. I was so excited to have a night of nothing to do. I thought I'd read, maybe watch a little mindless television. (Cut me some slack. I watch about ten hours a year, max.) So anyway, imagine my dismay when I discovered I needed to post a couple of discussion comments, and write a paper on obsessive-compulsive disorder. Ack!!!
Fortunately, I think I did okay. Not as good as I would have under normal circumstances. But when the hell am I ever going to experience normal circumstances?
I cut my best friend in the world loose today. It hurts. It was the right thing to do; my conscience is clear on that level. But I miss him. Now is the time of day he and I would be chatting, and I'd be saying "ugh, okay, I have to get some sleep now!" But he is toxic as hell, and incapable of change. For three years I've listened to his reasons why things are the way they are, and his promises that after this, or this, or this, or this, he is getting his shit together and doing what must be done to fix his life. Today, the buzzer sounded. Game over, babe.
Thank god I am not drinking. (See previous post.) No way I could stay calm if I had a litre and a half of malbec in me. But tonight, when it should be at its worst, I am actually okay. No volatile emotions. No rage. No desire to engage him and try once again to understand what the hell he's thinking. Nope. I still care, but I no longer care to listen to his excuses. Arrivederce! A domani! Not.
In just over a week, my abnormal psych class will come to an end. I am relieved, I guess. The pace I am on is intolerable. Work, school, kids, all while trying to keep an iron grip on my mood. While not drinking. Yuck. I am really going to miss the class, though. The prof is wonderful, and the material fascinating. I'll be sorry to see it go.
So many endings. But so much that's in progress, or about to begin. I can't speak for tomorrow, but here, now, life is pretty good.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Merry Go Round, Merry Go Down
You see rabbits in the mirror
And you cry at puppet shows
You laugh at me when I take off my clothes
But underneath the dusty covers
Your madness, it almost shines
Yeah those sane girls they're so easy
But a crazy girl is hard to find
John Hiatt--A Crazy Girl is Hard to Find
What an up-down-up-down day it has been!
Should I go into the gory details here? Nah. Probably not. On the off chance someone actually reads this thing, it could maybe be bad to share the events of the past 12 hours. Suffice it to say that, after two years and ten months of riding a particularly crazy merry-go-round, I have finally had enough. Ride over. I think I'll stroll the midway for a while, maybe treat myself to a corn dog and try to win a goldfish.
It is so hard to blog when I'm not manic or depressed. Oh, have I mentioned I'm bipolar? Yep. Certified by a nice Jewish doctor from Columbus, Ohio, who wrote me a script for lamictal and told me he was optimistic it would work well for me.
Ha!
Here's what lamictal did for me: 1) Virtually nothing for my depressive episodes. I still felt that dull, grey hopelessness. The lamictal may have taken the edge of the pain, but that was about it. 2) Abolished my hypomanic phases. I was flat. No effusiveness, no laughter bubbling over, no over-the-top optimism or crazy dreams.
I wasn't me.
I am not alone in my desire to ditch the meds and stay crazy. Many of us feel that way. Many of us suffer, of course, and some of us even die. Obviously, I'm doing my best to avoid those last two. Whether or not I'll be successful... who can say?
The biggest problem I've had to deal with is my drinking. From 1989 till recently, I used alcohol to either jump start or prolong a hypomanic state, or to take the edge off the unpleasant form of mania that is extreme irritability. Interestingly enough, I've never used alcohol when I've been depressed. I think the one time I drank depressed, I felt positively suicidal the next day. Okay, then. No thank you. We'll stick with coffee when depressed.
The problem is, that was putting mania in the driver's seat, and damn the consequences. I knew I was damaging my body and my life, but I couldn't, wouldn't, stop. I thought the only options were to keep going, or give in and take meds like a good girl. Succumb to the nothing.
Recently I made the decision to try to harness my bipolar disorder. The depressions are rarely that bad, and don't usually last that long. I think a couple of months was the longest. I survive them because I know they're eventually going to go away.
The mania... oh, how I love my mania! The mania is why people always want me around. The mania gave me the balls to be a rock singer, and rescued me after the death of my son. The mania is why I can be 40 pounds overweight, and still have guys think I'm sexy. So we'll keep the mania, then, and learn how to control her, the bitch.
That means no more drinking for me. And what a tough thing that is. Have I mentioned what I do for a living? Take a look:
And you cry at puppet shows
You laugh at me when I take off my clothes
But underneath the dusty covers
Your madness, it almost shines
Yeah those sane girls they're so easy
But a crazy girl is hard to find
John Hiatt--A Crazy Girl is Hard to Find
What an up-down-up-down day it has been!
Should I go into the gory details here? Nah. Probably not. On the off chance someone actually reads this thing, it could maybe be bad to share the events of the past 12 hours. Suffice it to say that, after two years and ten months of riding a particularly crazy merry-go-round, I have finally had enough. Ride over. I think I'll stroll the midway for a while, maybe treat myself to a corn dog and try to win a goldfish.
It is so hard to blog when I'm not manic or depressed. Oh, have I mentioned I'm bipolar? Yep. Certified by a nice Jewish doctor from Columbus, Ohio, who wrote me a script for lamictal and told me he was optimistic it would work well for me.
Ha!
Here's what lamictal did for me: 1) Virtually nothing for my depressive episodes. I still felt that dull, grey hopelessness. The lamictal may have taken the edge of the pain, but that was about it. 2) Abolished my hypomanic phases. I was flat. No effusiveness, no laughter bubbling over, no over-the-top optimism or crazy dreams.
I wasn't me.
I am not alone in my desire to ditch the meds and stay crazy. Many of us feel that way. Many of us suffer, of course, and some of us even die. Obviously, I'm doing my best to avoid those last two. Whether or not I'll be successful... who can say?
The biggest problem I've had to deal with is my drinking. From 1989 till recently, I used alcohol to either jump start or prolong a hypomanic state, or to take the edge off the unpleasant form of mania that is extreme irritability. Interestingly enough, I've never used alcohol when I've been depressed. I think the one time I drank depressed, I felt positively suicidal the next day. Okay, then. No thank you. We'll stick with coffee when depressed.
The problem is, that was putting mania in the driver's seat, and damn the consequences. I knew I was damaging my body and my life, but I couldn't, wouldn't, stop. I thought the only options were to keep going, or give in and take meds like a good girl. Succumb to the nothing.
Recently I made the decision to try to harness my bipolar disorder. The depressions are rarely that bad, and don't usually last that long. I think a couple of months was the longest. I survive them because I know they're eventually going to go away.
The mania... oh, how I love my mania! The mania is why people always want me around. The mania gave me the balls to be a rock singer, and rescued me after the death of my son. The mania is why I can be 40 pounds overweight, and still have guys think I'm sexy. So we'll keep the mania, then, and learn how to control her, the bitch.
That means no more drinking for me. And what a tough thing that is. Have I mentioned what I do for a living? Take a look:
Yep, that's me. At work. At the liquor store :)
I haven't had a drop of alcohol in nine days. And honestly, I am doing better than I thought. Oh, I know it gets harder from here. But I managed to get through the alcohol withdrawal, and not give in. I am going to start going to AA, and hopefully hook up with a sponsor, so that I have someone to turn to when those voices in my head tell me that I will be just fine with just a couple of drinks, thankyouverymuch! In the meantime, I'll be counting on my mania to get me through those conversations where I pretend I'm still the malbec-swilling party girl.
Speaking of malbec....
Snicker. I made that this afternoon. And no, I didn't drink the wine after the photo shoot :)
I guess that's enough blogging for one day. I have homework to do, and I should probably go spend some time with the family. Oh, and I have to pee. I think I might do that standing up, just to prove that I am still The Man.
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