Kryptonite and Inevitable Triggers

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My Kryptonite

“Which of my feelings are real? Which of the me’s is me? The wild, impulsive, chaotic, energetic, and crazy one? Or the shy, withdrawn, desperate, suicidal, doomed, and tired one? Probably a bit of both, hopefully much that is neither.”
Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

Consistently trying to mimic emotions of others everyday in itself is hard, trying to be happy when you are sad and and stop the acceleration of happiness is exhausting.  I cherish the moments when I can completely be myself, drown in the things I love with joy. I wish I could be consistent and a “trigger” is just a word for a simple release mechanism.

I have to pause before the hamster falls off the wheel and rewind a bit. Lately, I can’t figure out if I’m okay, about to be manic, or about to face the black dog (depression). It’s a typical meme you’ll find on the Internet. Basically, if you don’t like my mood now, wait a few minutes. I haven’t written as much on my blog in the last few weeks, mostly just unable to focus. I have emails I desperately need and want to reply too regarding how I handle having bipolar and mental illnesses or blog in general. Many praising how I am shifting such a horrible illnesses into a superpower. It’s hard to tell someone with bipolar, PTSD, depression or anxiety what works for me, because I am constantly trying to pinpoint the answer myself. Ithe is ever changing. I never post trigger warnings on my blog because no single person has the same triggers. Yes, we probably all share many of the same. But mine can be anything from hearing a baby cry in a bathroom echoing off the walls to someone asking me, “Do I know you?” to trigger a response.

So today, I was completely fine, enjoying a day with the family. We had chosen to go see a movie and walk around the mall prior. Today is Memorial day, for our family everyday is memorial day like many of our friends. We never forget those who gave all, so today was like no other except it reminds the rest of the world to pause for the day. It’s a trigger, I am reminded of my husband’s deployments, nearly losing him in the Pentagon on September 11th and those who did not come home on those days or those deployments. So for my family they are remembered everyday. So today a movie and the mall sounded perfect.

While shopping, I get a call from my credit card telling me of possible fraudulent charges. Instantly a trigger, “Did I do something and spend thousands online? Did I charge away to ASPCA  (The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) late at night watching those emotional commercials involving animal cruelty? Or to an organization for wounded warriors that pulled at my heartstrings?” These things ran instantly through my head. I knew it was none of those things, but what if? What if it happened and I didn’t remember. The thoughts of other things ran through my head. As I listened, I learned that it was simply we hadn’t used our credit card and when my husband bought the kids a snack with the card just minutes before, it triggered the alert from the card company (Bravo to Chase Bank for diligently). This in turn triggered me.

It was obvious to everyone, the day was over. I was rigid, emotionless, angry, irritated, and every muscle remained tense. It was no one’s fault. I just hated myself, reminded of who I was like Kryptonite to Superman. I was wounded. I saw the disappointment on everyone’s face as we left the mall for the car. Everyone knew the day with Mom was over.

Once home it took hours to stop my muscles from being so tense. Release myself from the fear and tension that had occurred in my head. I sat on the couch and didn’t move. Shortly, I fell asleep from exhaustion. Once I woke, my body ached, I was tired, not sleepy but drained. Dinner was prepared for me, the kids and Dad went to a neighborhood cookout. The day was savaged for them, but I felt like I’d spent the day in the gym. In a fog, reflecting how real it all felt.

I wanted to share that regardless of how awesome and healthy I look or appear I’m not immune to triggers. I am not perfectly super bipolar all the time. What makes me great is also what makes me horrible. A trigger to me is what I imagine and compare to the weaknesses of superheroes.

As I sat down to write tonight I was reminded of, Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness. I flipped to the highlighted quote you see at the beginning of this post. It perfectly described me. It is me yesterday, today and tomorrow. The battle never ends, but like all superheroes I will survive to fight another day.

Who is the mad woman?

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So for several months I’ve written here and there and neglected my blog and my apologies. It has been heartwarming that many followers reached out to checkup on me and I can assure you I am doing very well. I hope to write a bit more about that soon and get back to my blog. For those new to my blog….well this was my first intro, I really don’t hold back and I’m always open about mental health so if you know me in real life feel free to ask me anything or even here or my Facebook book page for blog. I’m an advocate and hate the stigma associated with all mental disorders…..even those I loathe and write about such as my narcissistic cat.
Speaking of the cat, she just pour water on my Ipad…. just walked right up and hit my cup. Perfect timing for this reblog and reintroduction.🙂

Musings of a mad woman

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“A man’s face is his autobiography. A woman’s face is her work of fiction.” Oscar Wilde


I’m sure some curiosity is stirring about the person behind the blog. I use to be completely normal. That statement seems funny now, because I am a new normal. So how is it normal isn’t the same now? Now I’ve learned to embrace my genetic flaws. Society would probably never labeled me as normal, society puts labels on mental disorders such as crazy, depressed, or sickness. The doctors over the years have added labels such as Bipolardisorder, General anxiety disorder (GAD), post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), and Depression. Overtime I’ll share the stories behind the labels. Life happened and my brain just stopped making certain chemicals and wasn’t able to deal with trauma or stress. The big label is Bipolar disorder. In combination, I am a physiological mess and…

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The perfect lover and demon. Hypersexuality and a bit about whiskey

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The perfect lover and demon. Hypersexuality and a bit about whiskey

Musings of a mad woman

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“My dear,

Find what you love and let it kill you.Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.
Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.”
~ Falsely yours
Charles Bukowski

Dirty bipolar symptom #1

This quote has been on my mind all day, actually for about a month. I think talking about darker indulgences in life is harder than the sad, happy, or lonely. But I know this will relate somehow to some to better understand symptoms or understand a friend or loved one.

We all have our vices, I love whiskey neat. It’s flavors can be dignified, youthful, soft, firm, dry, sweet, big, subtle, and rich. I just described the perfect lover. Let’s explore…

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I just want to f*cking color

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I went back to my very first post. It was a day much like today, all I wanted to do was escape and do something for myself instead of facing the realities of adulthood. This is a very good reminder we all need to remember it’s okay to just say no, I need a break. Life is too short to get so caught up in a routine that you follow the masses when you clearly aren’t ready.

Musings of a mad woman

“I just want to fucking color”

At age 3 the world is an amazing place. Full of the unexpected, every minute is filled with hundreds of new sights, sounds, and smells. Imagine if you could turn it off for a few minutes. Peter did just that on this day. I learned probably one of the applicable statement for living from a disobedient child who genuinely just wanted to finish a task.

It’s a short story, at the height of one of my manic episodes so he spent the day in daycare so I could get that amazing tattoo I needed (story for later). My husband arrived to pick up our 3 year old and was pulled aside by his teacher. She questioned him a bit about whom he spends time around because of his vocabulary. She preceded to explain he had used the “F” word. Of course, embarrassed my husband…

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Indeed ;)

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“Everyone is indeed crazy, but the craziest are the ones who don’t know they’re crazy; they just keep repeating what others tell them to.”— Paulo Coelho Veronika Decides To Die

Memorial Day

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Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die. ~ Mary Elizabeth Frye

Visit a memorial and pay your respects for those who gave the ultimate sacrifice this holiday. Don’t cry, but be proud and thankful. It’s hard to hold back tears, but remembering where, what we are, what we have because they gave the ultimate sacrifice. Remember the honor and bravery of each soul. Take your kid and teach them, tell them a story. Remember a friend or family member. Cry if you must, it’s not about those serving now but those who gave all.

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Secrets

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secret“How can we expect another to keep our secret if we cannot keep it ourselves.” – François de La Rochefoucauld, Maxims

Random post tonight, something that eats at my soul is knowing, and defending others secrets only to learn they have drunkenly, inadvertently, or engaged publicly, then pretend others do not have memories. Sometime they shared it multiple times, with other friends. It’s when I have to tell a lie to protect their secret, they can’t even keep to themselves. Somewhat of a heavy burden.b143a5b9c678fef472bba1be96f542df

So what would you do if you found out you knew something, defended a secret that was not a secret at all? It certainly stimulates some strong emotional responses. Do you say something or just erase and never defend those people again? Do you give up on the friendship?

 

“Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.” – Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanack

I’m reflecting on something from long ago…..so no one get your panties in a bunch just yet, I’m just ranting a bit. Having heard stories about a friend who has no memory of sharing or doing things with multiple people during a drunken blackouts can be enlightening when you think you are protecting something.

“If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.” – Kahlil Gillian

I had a friend recently have this happen, and it hurt her to the core. It changed her personality, she put her reputation on the line to protect a friend’s honor and family. I watched her walk away from her family and many friends. I couldn’t share with her, I had a similar situation. Keeping a secret, that isn’t a secret isn’t my problem. I did have a dilemma, do I tell this friend the people, their friends who repeated things to me? Do I cause more friendships to end because the person have no memories of their actions? I certainly can relate, but these are stable grown adults.

Ultimately, I choose to ignore, move on, and never again would I defend something that is none of my business to defend in the first place. We all make mistakes and God knows I have made worse ones than probably any secret I have kept for others.

“To hide feelings when you are near crying is the secret of dignity.” – Dejan Stojanovic

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Period 💋

“Understanding me”

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“Understand me. I’m not like an ordinary world. I have my madness, I live in another dimension and I do not have time for things that have no soul.” ~ Charles Bukowski

I’ve done a lot of reflection, experienced great things, great people, and been part of some extraordinary projects and events even since my last post. Again, this is such a silent illness. If you know me in person you will rarely see me without a smile on my face. What is hard to admit is how many times I wanted to run or avoid any human interaction. I forced myself, not because it was for the experience, not for the social reward, but to make myself experience life. I do this because my family and my friends mean more than this thing I fight in my mind.

On social media, you only see the good and rarely the bad. I promise for every extraordinary experience, I’ve had a great fall from the over stimulation. It was never someone’s fault and I am thankful for the wonderful things I am blessed to be apart of socially and recreational. I am able to listen to everyone, hear everyone, remember, and listen. I do put together huge pictures in my head. It’s almost a curse, I pin and connect everything and have amazing epiphanies. People want to see other failures, it’s astonishing. I see it everyday, someone who volunteers and moves on to another endeavor is always criticized, success is criticize.

I connect the dots in my head and have an overwhelming sense of shame for knowing something I should not know, only because three or more people placed puzzle pieces via causal conversation. I was able to see it all completed, and it hurts me like a dagger upon completion of the puzzles in my head. I’ve found myself withdrawn from those whom I never wanted to finish the puzzles, but regrettably by forcing the smile and “living” it was inevitable.

As, Bukowski said above, “I do not have time for things that have no soul” and I shall not make my time available to be sucked dry of any hope I have to win the battles in my mind. I fight too hard everyday to erase, remember, and overcome the thoughts in my mind.

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle,” It’s questionable to the origins of the quote, was it Plato? Most likely Ian McClaren, but it is something we should all remember.  I am reminded daily by brief encounters, private messages, emails, or comments on wordpress that I am not alone and we are all very different, but….you are not alone.

Remember, you deserve understanding.

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Parenting through the blur

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“Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did – that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that – a parent’s heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”Debra Ginsberg

I enjoy every moment, occasionally I will complain about all the mommy chores. So many friends or facebook peeps complain constantly about the juggling act for various reasons. But, I remember this past summer struggling after moving. Changing all my doctors, trying to get my medication refilled. With each doctor, they rarely agreed on treatment plans. Each thinking they knew more than the other. So that left me in a pickle and found myself running out of my old medications. New doctor prescribing medications I’ve loathed and never worked, such as lithium again. So I found myself turned upside down, in a new town and state. I left behind my network I had built and people had just started to understand me and i’m relocated to a place to begin the cycle again. But as a mother, I put my children first and planned summer camps and summer sports for both kids before my appointments.  I delayed my own health to ensure they relocated and made friends. I’d find myself going to soccer practice and crying for no reason. Emotions completely unchecked, mood stabilizers not working. Sitting watching my kids play soccer. I would  remembered the times when I played outside carefree. I remember those moments and again I’d cry. It was just uncontrollable at times and and without rhyme or reason.

Even dealing with my problems and pretty sure some of the parents thought I was antisocial, it took everything to survive summer. Watching my kids play, helping them find friends, and trying my best to hide my mood imbalance, not to mention anxiety of all these new strangers. I wasn’t sleeping at all for various reasons. Watching all the kids reminded me of the ones I have lost and even more thankful for the amazing ones playing on the soccer field, I sat and cried. I wasn’t being antisocial, I was protecting these new parents from meeting that person. Somehow the stigma of people with mental health problems can cause others who do not understand to protect themselves and children from what they don’t understand. It’s a circle of protection. I’m protecting my kids, I’m protecting myself, and I’m protecting potential friends from knowing this person.

Eventually I survived the weekly blood draws, the medication changes, and surprisingly avoided the hospital. I worried what people thought if they noticed the needle bruises, sometime it took 4 or 5 times to give blood. I survived summer and got back on the very cocktail of medications I love to hate, but work.

I try not to talk much about what meds I take because I don’t want others thinking, “I need that because she’s awesome” when behind closed doors I’m not awesome all the time. I have a condition with no cure that makes me awesome, not my medication. It’s like Ironman and batman need their suits to be superheroes. This mom needs her meds to control her superpower and be my children’s superhero. It’s what helps me be awesome. I want people to know and understand mental illness.

 

You can always reach out to me if you’d like a dialogue or have questions. I’m not a professional, nor would I give medical advice. I just share my experiences with my blog andon my Facebook page www.facebook.com/itsnotcrazytoday A valuable tool  is wonderful to have interact on my page or via messenger. Invite friends to like the page too. Keep the dialog open! 

 

Shh. Don’t talk about it.

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Life beyond bipolar disorder, great article to read.

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One of my favorite parts of this article. I just had to share.

“It is important to keep in mind that you have more than a diagnosis. You have a destiny, and you can still realize all the dreams you ever had. Sure, it takes courage to move on with your life, but courage is like a muscle: the more you use it, the stronger it gets.

Bipolar disorder is only as limiting as you allow it to be, so do not let it hold you back. Bipolar disorder does not define your life: You do.” ~ Stephen Propst

Read the entire article link at bottom. It’s a great one to share and read.

http://www.bphope.com/ten-things-you-dont-want-to-know/

My Top 6 Books about Mental Illness

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Absolutely great list and post to read and books to check out

Fighting to Find Myself

As May is the annual Mental Health Awareness Month, I thought it would be fitting to combine my love of reading with my desire to raise awareness for mental health. So here we have it! A list of my favorite mental health themed books!

Believarexic by J.J. Johnson

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Believarexic follows the life of fifteen year old Jennifer after she discloses to her parents that she has an eating disorder. The story begins with her admission into the Samuel Tuke Centre, a treatment facility, and from there the book follows her through the ups and downs of recovery.

This books is my #1 book of 2016 so far! I absolutely LOVED it and I would recommend it to anyone, especially those who have struggled with an eating disorder as well as individuals who are interested in learning more about the disorders.

The Disappearing Girl by Heather Topham Wood

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The Disappearing Girl begins…

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Hello May, Birthday month, musing on aging gracefully

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“She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. ‘Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water.” – Roman Payne

I love growing older. As I age, each year I notice subtle changes in my body and appearance. I’ve grown to love myself even at my darkest. I complain about my weight, wrinkles, and body like any other woman. Unlike most women I feel more complete each year. My crows feet draw attention to my eyes and adds character. The weathered experienced look, as if I’ve lived too much; In reality, I lived too much, laughed too much, lost too much, and cried too much. I wish they were caused solely by laughter. People tell me I’m beautiful now and it very flattering. But, let me tell you about about my beauty.

I grew up being the ugly duckling. It’s hard growing up with boys, I had two brothers and my neighbor, all boys that I also considered my brothers. As you might imagine at critical times in the developmental years they weren’t as free with compliments. It’s possibly another reason I love Roman Payne’s, The Wanderess, “She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs.” That was me, but I was always alone. My brothers did the usual, you’re ugly, you’re fat, or my favorite was “Bertha butt” since I have always had a nice round butt and thighs. Looking back at pictures, I had a beautiful body. I’ve always had the pinup body, but as a kid in my head I  was ugly and fat. I don’t hold it against them now, but in my youth it hurt me deeply and it changed the way I dressed and covered body.
I would quickly get very dark skin from my mother’s American Indian heritage and straight black hair. It would reflect blue like a raven in the light. I found myself lightening, getting perms to curl, and doing various things to make it look like the other kids. I never told anyone, I just begged for a perm, curls, or some sort of chemical treatment to change it so I wouldn’t be teased. I wanted to look trendy, like other girls. Those things lightened my hair to a dark brown all because the straight black was just unnatural and I was teased. I was teased about my skin, my hair, my curves. I worked hard to change my appearance.  I wanted to be pretty, but made myself uglier in the process of fitting in with the girls.
So I always stayed active, involved, but withdrawn. So it  may be surprising to some to learn how incredibly ugly I felt thought my childhood years, even in my various uniforms which made me like the others. I never appreciated myself.

It wasn’t until I turned 20, I lived in Japan for several years. It was the different culture, that changed my view on aging. Aging is beautiful, I regret not being myself as a kid, it was learning I was beautiful not only on the outside, but the inside in a foreign country. It was at the end of my time in Japan bipolar slammed into me like a freight train. It possibly aged me ten more year in a single moment. But I did not fight it, I embraced it. I because free, happier, I was pretty and back in the United States. I had found myself, but I also found my superpower and did not know one thing about controlling my mind.
Aging for me, has been like being reborn each year. I feel unrecompensed with each passing year. Closer to something, closer to completely understanding myself and I welcome my birthday’s. With age, I’ve learned I’m attractive, intelligent, funny, intellectual, sexual, compassionate, complex, and introspective. Because of the experiences of my past, I honestly appreciate each and every compliment and even the negative compliments. It’s made me able to be modest and a more compassionate person. Modesty is rare in today’s society. It’s also recently made me brutally honest. That is what this birthday is going to celebrate. Being honest, telling my stories, and sharing my experiences.

It may appear, it’s been a beautiful ride, but my history and mileage learning to control the speed of my superpower, called Bipolar, with a bit of all the other crap included many training wreaks. Mental illness isn’t something you shouldn’t be ashamed of and I hope if you’re reading this, no matter your age don’t be ashamed for a second.

“’Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water.” – Roman Payne

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“Mental labels don’t define who I am, time and aging only gets me closer to those I love, will love, and have loved” ~ S.L. Cato

Hallucinations and delusions, a story with the black cat

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This morning the cat and I shared a moment. It confirmed, we both suffer various psychotic symptoms. Both of us thankful for our medications. *skip to the bottom if you’re impatient.

*I suppose this is another “don’t talk about it” dirty symptom.

So before I get to our experience. I figured I’d explain a bit about bipolar disorder delusions and hallucinations. They are very different, delusions being irrational, illogical, and just a bit of false grandeur. Hallucinations can be many things, hearing, seeing, smelling, and generally sensing things with something triggering the response. Usually experienced during manic episodes.

My grandiose delusions are usually related to when I’m suffering mania or it is fast approaching. In a recent setback, I believed that I was approached by an Angel and he told me I’m having a child. I began seeing things, but I’ll get to that a bit further.  This required, some help with medication. It’s what my husband refers to my mental reset. It also causes me to sleep for 16 to 24 hours or if that doesn’t work the good old hospital visit. It’s funny to look back on the experiences, but I mean biblically it’s happened before right? In all seriousness, it was a grandiose delusion. I have visions and find connections, I feel completely in sync with the earth’s energy, which can also be perceived as a delusional or maybe I’m just extremely in tune with nature. I can sometimes spend hours which feels like minutes staring into the woods. Keep in mind this is me medicated.

There are so many other things other than grandiose and persecutory delusions there are a great list of common hallucinations. They include olfactory (smell), auditory (hearing), gustatory (taste), tactile (feeling touched, creepy crawlers), somatic (feeling in your body) and last but not least, visual (seeing things).  These aren’t always all associated with Bipolar disorder, but remember, I’m the kitchen sink, PTSD, ADHD, GAD are sometime the culprit. Now put it all in a pot and stir it, actually shake it.

My primary culprits are auditory, olfactory, visual, and somatic. These are the ones I still experiences even on medication. The delusions are generally contained very well with medication. My kids and husband believe I have this superpower to smell, the ability smell anything and pinpoint precisely the source. The hallucination is when I am convinced I smell smoke most often, sometimes it’s Jasmine. Other strong smells include, rust or blood. One that almost always gets me is some old heirloom roses that were behind my grandmother’s house as a child. I remember as a kid always stopping to smell the roses, literally.  I only started smelling them after my father passed away. Roses today have lost the smell, these roses had such a strong, unique, unmistakable smell. Sometimes they smell as if they are right under my nose. Some would say this is spiritual and loved ones reaching out to let me know they are present, others hallucinations.

The auditory, are usually like whispers, but only at night. I recognize it as my mind decompressing, I’m simply hearing myself. But it’s interesting to know I sometime talk to myself in a completely sane manner. Sometime the pets and like other stories we have conversations, they have their voices too. Visually, it usually shadows…also reassured it medication adjustments by doctors. The somatic is usually gut feelings. They can be very unnerving. I could go on and on to the sense of being touched sometimes to waking at night and seeing someone.

So many of you may have skipped down here to me and the black cat. This morning in bed, the cat and I heard something downstairs. We currently live in a three story townhouse. So hearing something downstairs was a bit unnerving. So the dog, the cat and I walked downstairs to the sound in the main living area. Instantly, the cat completely puffed up her fur and arched her back and the dog stood in front of me and slightly growled. This happened once before when my mom visited and she witnessed a similar event. 

I am pretty sure I heard the cat say, “holy shit” and the black dog growled just trying to be brave and quickly ran to the couch. The cat and I stood for a few moments basically, she held her puffed, arched back hissing. I just closed my eyes and use my senses. Was it a smell, was it the sound, was it delusional. I kept my eyes shut and remembered the smell of the roses and suddenly it was all gone. Whatever cause the disturbance, was sent away by thinking of the most comforting thing, the smell of those heirloom roses. Some would say my guardian angels came to my side. The room smelled of roses. The cat calmed and purred on my leg. I opened my eyes to nothingness.

Just a peaceful feeling.

Anosognosia, hello old friend.

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“Part of having bipolar can be what is called “anosognosia,” a weird word for a simple idea: a mentally ill person who’s unable to perceive that he or she is ill. This means a huge part of bipolar is that, when your loved one most needs help, your partner will be least likely to look for it or accept it.”
Excerpt from http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2016/04/27/know-what-to-expect-when-you-love-someone-with-bipolar-disorder/

Denial, fear of medications, multiple combinations of medication, side effects, the list goes on forever. I had been told many, many years ago. I really believed it was a made up or only the over dramatic people.  I tried to hide my lows and tried be extraordinary with my highs. I used my gifts and talents, which now I understand as gift. I could focus, accomplish any task you give me. Then, lose myself for weeks sometimes. Sadly, unlike the writer of the article, I’m Bipolar I, There is a huge spectrum in diagnosing bipolar, the author of the article which is wonderful article to share, is Bipolar II.

Anosognosia, struck a cord or rang a bell tonight. So I read a bit more and ran across a very easy to read explanation on National Alliance of Mental health.

https://www.nami.org/Learn-More/Mental-Health-Conditions/Related-Conditions/Anosognosia.

I gave it much thought from the above post but this statistic struck me  “Anosognosia affects 50% of people with schizophrenia, and 40% of people with bipolar disorder. It can also accompany illnesses such as major depression with psychotic features. Treating these mental health conditions is much more complicated if lack of insight is one of the symptoms. People with anosognosia are placed at increased risk of homelessness or arrest. Learning to understand anosognosia and its risks can improve the odds of helping people with this difficult symptoms”

We have to be open about mental illness. May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Please share your stories on my Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/itsnotcrazytoday , Share my page or story that touched you with friends. I hate social media, but it reaches so many people who need and may suffer from the stigma or Anosognosia.

Obsessions, More Lovers and Demons

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“The cigar is something that commands respect. It is made for all the senses and all the pleasures; for the nose,the palate,the fingers, the eyes… a good cigar contains promise of a totally pleasurable experience” – Zino  Davidoff

*Dirty Bipolar or other symptom I am blessed to endure. #2 Obsessions and follow on to #1

Cigars are like people there are no two alike. No matter your mood, there is a cigar that will fit it, satisfy a craving. The varieties are endless and ever changing; thin, tiny to wide, thick. Sometime the obsession of holding the various shapes, body, lengths provides some insight into the person’s mood. Size matters greatly, Freud said that “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” But I do have my preferences. Cigars generate camaraderie, conversation, and community. But like people, cigars can be very delicate and requires lots of love and attention. My humidor has become a complete obsession. Sometime when neglected a extraordinary cigar will dry, peel, and burn poorly. Just like people, they come in every shape, size, color, and personalities all requiring just as much work. They deserve my obsession.

In the opening quote, a good cigar for me with scotch is a completely pleasurable experience. Finding the perfect cigar to go with my whiskey is an obsession. I can’t possibly smoke them all to find my perfect combination. Much like a perfect marriage. There is no perfect combination.

The sense of smelling various cigars is a pleasure for the nose. The complexity of the smells when surrounded with different cigars excite my senses. It’s like cologne or perfume as you pass someone, instantly you want to stop them and ask, “what are you wearing?” I like the temptation of so many complex choices surrounding me. The smell of certain cigars, can instantly force memories that were long forgotten.

The palate of course require my scotch. The pair are like perfectly entwined lovers. The oaky favors, the full body smoke from the draw, and occasional sight taste of peat from the scotch. I am satisfied.

Cigars require to be touched, appreciated, smelled before even cutting or being smoked.
The way you hold the cigar demands your attention. Your fingers have to be engaged. The feel of the wrapper can become an obsession. You want it in your hand, even if it’s unlit.

And to the eyes, each one is different. I am constantly looking for the most beautiful, knowing that my favorite isn’t the most desirable. I’m drawn to the beautiful ones, but my favorites are the ordinary. They are smooth, with slight hints of coffee, aged, and complex. They require nothing more than my care. Rarely, do a venture to the bold flavored cigars for fear of obsession.

So I find myself not addicted, but obsessed. It’s only an occasional vice. Sometimes I can’t control my obsessions. But, now I choose my obsessions very carefully.

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“Show me a man without vice and I’ll show you a man without virtue.” – Abraham Lincoln

Full moon rising, are you?

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“I fancied my luck to be witnessing yet another full moon. True, I’d seen hundreds of full moons in my life, but they were not limitless. When one starts thinking of the full moon as a common sight that will come again to one’s eyes ad-infinitum, the value of life is diminished and life goes by uncherished. ‘This may be my last moon,’ I sighed, feeling a sudden sweep of sorrow; and went back to reading more of The Odyssey.” ~ Roman Payne

*I adore Roman Payne if you’re not familiar with his works, he writes with such sexual energy, poetic and translates his passion and character’s passion in his books. His awareness, portrayal, and understanding of mental conditions are beautifully displayed in his book “The Wanderess”.

So back on topic, his quote struck a cord and sparked this blog post. Each month I look forward to the full moon. I read many articles and today ran across this one I’m sharing, It was an excellent article regarding lunacy and effects on mental health. It contains some great theories listed throughout the article from some of our greatest philosophers and psychologist discuss the theories based on my opinion outdated research from the 1980’s. I love the historical content, great article.

Read for yourself here:
http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/lunacy-and-the-full-moon/

I firmly believe it affects my cycles and moods. I’m one who can’t sleep and have a fascination with the full moon,  honestly the moon in general. It one of my many obcessions. It affect the earth, living creatures, and even plants. Why would it not affect us as well?

I get a surge of energy, elevated mood even with medication I can feel it happening. I’ve actually charted my moods. It can be argued it psychosomatic, but over the years and experience with others it seems Lunacy is real, yet still only a theory. I’m curious to hear from others. What is your experience or feelings on the subject? Do you experience mood changes?

The perfect lover and demon. Hypersexuality and a bit about whiskey

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The perfect lover and demon. Hypersexuality and a bit about whiskey

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“My dear,

Find what you love and let it kill you.Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.
Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.”
~ Falsely yours
Charles Bukowski

Dirty bipolar symptom #1

This quote has been on my mind all day, actually for about a month. I think talking about darker indulgences in life is harder than the sad, happy, or lonely. But I know this will relate somehow to some to better understand symptoms or understand a friend or loved one.

We all have our vices, I love whiskey neat. It’s flavors can be dignified, youthful, soft, firm, dry, sweet, big, subtle, and rich. I just described the perfect lover. Let’s explore that a bit.

Some have a smokey, woody, nutty, oaky taste that reminds me of nights under the stars, a fire and my night sky. Some can be almost salty with herbal overtones, instant memories of a night on a beach. Some are creamy, hot, and mouth-coating. A big whiskey dominates my mouth.Those instantly remind me of more intimate things. A sweet whiskey can leave you with a very wet feeling, literally a wet mouth. It like loving a woman. I like viscous thicker whiskeys that leave legs on the glass when swirled, how it reacts when swirled and lingers on the glass. I like a whiskey that’s body floods my mouth with flavor. That can provide the perfect finish.

Whiskey is like the perfect lover. I only see him briefly. Overindulgence can led my destruction. So I control my impulse to drink. When I do see these lovers, I have the inability to stop. I overindulge in all the sensations and crave all the different flavors.

I have my demons, my vices caused by Bipolar. Like whiskey, a symptom rarely talked about is hypersexuality. This is probably the most feared in a monogamous relationship. Sadly, sex is a constant thing I have to control. I control it with medication, but it’s the one thing I can never satisfy, I want sex constantly. Even minutes, after sex. Most would read that and offer a high five to my husband. I need intimacy, but honestly sex. When bipolar hypersexuality knocks on the door, I get help and that not sex. I’ve found many forms of therapy over the years and great support. It’s a dirty little secret, but it’s honestly very sad and hurts.

Think about it, even writing about whiskey can become sensual and sexy. I’m a hard woman to control, but knowing someone like me who is Bipolar 1 doesn’t mean we are all the same and my symptoms are different from type 2. There is actually a whole spectrum.

I love being complex. I love how I feel more than most humans. I feel sadness like now other, love like no other, and sex is a spiritual experience. It took me years to realize how bipolar is my superpower. Like all superpowers, we also have our Kryptonite. This is #1, stay turned for #2

I didn’t even get into describing the depth of cigars, another post😉

Prince, It’s raining Purple Rain

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  “All seven and we’ll watch them fall

They stand in the way of love

And we will smoke them all

With an intellect and a savior-faire

No one in the whole universe

Will ever compare


I am yours now and you are mine

And together we’ll love through all

Space and time, so don’t cry

One day all seven will die


All seven and we’ll watch them fall

They stand in the way of love

And we will smoke them all

With an intellect and a savoir-faire

No one in the whole universe

Will ever compare


I am yours now and you are mine

And together we’ll love through all

Space and time, so don’t cry

One day all seven will die


And I saw an angel come down unto me

In her hand she holds the very key

Words of compassion, words of peace

And in the distance an army’s marching feet (one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four)

But behold, we will watch them fall
And we lay down on the sand of the sea

And before us animosity will stand and decree

That we speak not of love only blasphemy

And in the distance, six others will curse me

But that’s alright (that’s alright)

For I will watch them fall (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven)


All seven and we’ll watch them fall

They stand in the way of love

And we will smoke them all

With an intellect and a savoir-faire

No one in the whole universe

Will ever compare


I am yours now and you are mine

And together we’ll love through all

Space and time, so don’t cry

One day all seven will die


And we will see a plague and a river of blood

And every evil soul will surely die in spite of

And seven tears, but do not fear

Four in the distance, twelve souls from now

You and me will still be here we will still be here
There will be a new city with streets of gold

The young so educated they never grow old

And a, there will be no death four with every breath

A voice of many colors sings a song

That’s so bold

Sing it while we watch them fall


All seven and we’ll watch them fall

They stand in the way of love

And we will smoke them all

With an intellect and a savoir-faire

No one in the whole universe

Will ever compare
I am yours now and you are mine

And together we’ll love through all

Space and time, so don’t cry

One day all seven will die”

7 Prince

Rest in Peace Prince

  

Sex and Facebook

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Sex….

That blog post is coming very soon so forgive me . Got your attention with the pictures but are you following and sharing my Facebook page https://m.facebook.com/Itsnotcrazytoday

It’s a great way for me to connect and message my blog followers and connect with others. Plus, it’s the only reason I went back to Fakebook. Stop over like and say hello. I love feedback and want to spread my blog and share the awareness of mental illness and how normal and amazing we can be, it’s not crazy. Write me and connect on Facebook, plus it’ll keep you up to date with new post on the page. Thanks you all and much love. The comments and blogs have brought tears to my eyes. I truly have amazing followers.
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How to enjoy being introverted…with some mad women steps….

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How to enjoy being introverted…with some mad women steps….

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Let’s explore how I reset and enjoy the healthy time alone.

1. Learn to observer and watch people. It’s simple, watch children play and interact. Sit in the bar or group and listen. It’s much the same. Listen, don’t talk, unless spoken too.

2. Enjoy your time alone. It’s rare, turn off every device in the house for 20 minutes. Everything, phone, WiFi, televisions. Actually, go find the breaker box main switch and flip it off (turn the usuals off before doing this), you’ll instantly feel peace. It’s a strange sensation. Close your eyes and feel the lack of WiFi and electricity…..you will feel it if you shut it all off.

3. Learn to talk to yourself. You can always be kind to yourself. Learn to appreciate what your mind tells you in silence. Many times I’ve ignored what I knew or I should have done only to have my mind tell me, “I told you so”. So it’s worth listening and talking to yourself. No one will ever love you or listen to you like yourself.

4. Volunteer! You can do the smallest thing and change a life. But you do it on your own, you don’t do it to seek recognition. You just do something that helps others selfishly.

5. Decide you’re going to learn a skill or project. Complete it! I wanted to learn electrical repair. Several vocational classes and yours truly can fixed a toaster, wire a lamp, or do general household repairs. It was so rewarding, I continued with woodworking, plumbing, and auto repair. I’m a bit obsession so don’t use me as an example.

6. Make a list. I hate list, but make an agenda of things you want to accomplish before bed. Make sure the first this on your list is MAKE YOUR BED. Trust me, if you don’t make your bed you’ve screwed up the list. Make your bed, you’ll feel a sense of accomplishment and then that first thing is checked off your list.

7. This is by far my hell on earth task, working out. Yes, workout! Walk 30 minutes, yoga, run, or what ever your vice….even sex. I prefer the latter. Sex count.

8. Do something completely alone. I’ll go to the movies, bookstore, and then have a drink and dinner while writing in my journal, ALONE! It is possibly, my best advice if you’re a mom or dad with a schedule. Plan a run away monthly!

9. Approach and engage strangers and be genuinely interested. I’ve learned so much about people just by removing the stigma of societies norm. I’ve made some of the best and life long friends whom I don’t think I could live without if not for letting go of my preconceived impressions based on societies normal. I’m in a military community, so normal is pretty straight laced.

10. Set goals, writing it down and put it in an envelope. In one year, I will have….? Next one, In 5 and 10 years. It can be big, it can be as simple as I’ll stop biting my nails. But, when you open that envelope you’re rewarding yourself. Do monthly envelopes! It’s goals with the satisfaction, you put it in writing and you accomplished something for yourself, not someone else. You discover and achieved it for yourself.

That is my alone time. That is how I’m alone and not defined by anyone else.

Falling in love with the Moon

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“Love is a serious mental disease.”

— Plato

Some times, I do like to write a bit about those little things off the wall. Tonight, it’s really obsession, falling in love and also of the idea of the unreachable goal. I have fallen in love with the moon. I’ve fallen in love with things that burn me.

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I speak of unreachable goals, because some may argue all goals are achievable. It certainly not true, but worth ever second to try to reach the moon. Love for some may seem unreachable, but it’s achievable. Some things are worth the chase, worth the wait, and certainly worth the risk.

I read blog and books now everyday, now obsessively. I set aside a few hours and really get to be inside others peoples minds for that time. A few, I’ve really fallen in love with as they write and post on blogs, others in books, I’ve started. I love writers and poets. I have fallen in love with dead authors and have this fantasy of them writing about me, because as to quote Mik Everett, “If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.” Maybe I never died and live as a character in my classics. Maybe a muse, an inspiration for a character in a classic. I love the writers and the poets. I’ve formed an obsession with the simple and the complex.

“You don’t love because: you love despite; not for the virtues, but despite the faults.” William Faulkner

And no matter what, I shall end with a classic story and movie quote.

“Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”
— The Princess Bride

I am certain, I’ve touch the moon. It was once unreachable.

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Why Society Views Bipolar Disorder as a Joke

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Why Society Views Bipolar Disorder as a Joke

Great post to read

bipolar998

We are constantly exposed to the topic of mental illness daily, on the news, in magazines, and on TV. Films today glamorize the struggles and problems of those who are mentally ill by displaying a false outlook on mental health and the necessities to achieve overall wellness. We obsess over entertainers, like Robin Williams, who shocked fans and the world when he lost his life to depression. Amy Winehouse, who died at the age of 27 due to her manic depression, bipolarity, and alcoholism, was talked about for months in the news, displaying helicopters swarming her estate looking for more information on her death. We see movies such as Silver Linings Playbook and Mr. Jones that add a more comedic essence to the lives of those who suffer from depression and bipolar disorder by glamorizing the true struggles of those who are not mentally stable. We make these characters in…

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Chasing butterflies at night

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I was a very internal kid regarding emotions. My love of the hunt, survival, and outdoors encompassed my childhood. Appalachia is a special place full of magic. Nature is my therapy.

Sometimes it’s easy for me to forget the past but brief moments flash back. Those moments flood back, I’m catching lighting bugs as a child in a mason jar. Catching June bugs in summer. The humidity is in the air and a storm is brewing. Storms in the mountains shake the earth. Suddenly a lighting bolt strikes, I cried.  It knew something bad had happened and my salvation hurt. My oak tree was struck by lighting in my front yard and I felt it’s pain. I think I can remember feeling it dying that night. It lived, but suffered, struggled, and eventually it was cut down. The strike was the death sentence, but the final euthanizing came by chainsaw. I watched it come down with tears. It was the end of something I’d known my whole life. Like watching an animal euthanized.

Solitude today is torture and pleasure, my mind never stops. Solitude is necessary for my survival. A storm brings me peace and closure because of that single memory. I crave summer storms, because of the energy I feel for all living thing.  I wanted 10 kids, I’m sure my oak wanted a forest. I’d like to think that my oak has bloomed and reborn many times.

I still have a leaf from the tree, but wish I had a kept a seed, an acorn.

The oak and I have both ended our lineage with different stories. I just wasn’t struck by lighting, but touch by fire and fate.

Ode to a brilliant woman, Marilyn Monroe and an FU to Megan Fox

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  “Dogs never bite me. Just humans.” ― Marilyn 

Marilyn lived a very troubled life and struggled with mental illness. When she was young her mother was even institutionalized as a paranoid schizophrenic. Marilyn constantly feared the eventual diagnoses of her own mental health. Marilyn was extremely intelligent and was said to have an IQ of 168. She had many marriages her first at age 16 to an young sweetheart later to Joe DiMaggio and Arthur Miller. After reading a great biography and there’s many of them written, but one particularly, “Marilyn: The Passion and the Paradox” by Lois Banner is a great one. In death Marilyn has been idolized; posters, shirts, art, truly a icon. She also very popular figure in tattoos. One particular story is of Megan Fox and her former Marilyn tattoo. She idolized her success, her image, her pose, and the face that Marilyn shown the world. What I found interesting was once Megan did research and learned about Marilyn as a person, her background, her history her tragedies. Megan made the choice to remove the tattoo of Marilyn to avoid possible”negative energy”. Megan is quoted in US weekly referring to the tattoo, “she (Marilyn) was a disturbed negative person, she was disturbed, bipolar. I do not want to attract this kind of negative energy in my life ” Well, I’m sorry Megan that’s a shitty answer and even a slap in the face to those who suffer from mental disorders. I could write much more on her, but she does not deserve my time nor money for any movies she may appear.

This quote is you Megan:

“I’ve never fooled anyone. I’ve let people fool themselves. They didn’t bother to find out who and what I was. Instead they would invent a character for me. I wouldn’t argue with them. They were obviously loving somebody I wasn’t.” ― Marilyn Monroe

So on to some of my favorite Monroe musings and quotes.


  
“This life is what you make it. No matter what, you’re going to mess up sometimes, it’s a universal truth. But the good part is you get to decide how you’re going to mess it up. Girls will be your friends – they’ll act like it anyway. But just remember, some come, some go. The ones that stay with you through everything – they’re your true best friends. Don’t let go of them. Also remember, sisters make the best friends in the world. As for lovers, well, they’ll come and go too. And baby, I hate to say it, most of them – actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can’t give up because if you give up, you’ll never find your soulmate. You’ll never find that half who makes you whole and that goes for everything. Just because you fail once, doesn’t mean you’re gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself, because if you don’t, then who will, sweetie? So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life’s a beautiful thing and there’s so much to smile about.” 
 

“She was a girl who knew how to be happy even when she was sad” ― Marilyn Monroe
RIP Marilyn
***edited to add some fun stuff I alway enjoyed and to say F*ck you Megan Fox.

1. Marilyn’s hero was Abraham Lincoln. She read everything she could find about him.

2. She loved Clark Gable so much she cried for days when he passed. She saw him as a father figure and would imagine him as her father.

3. She was rumored to have had a intimate relationship with Einstein who she openly talked about her attraction to him.

I could go on and on, but she was an extremely intelligent lady who hated being the labeled the Hollywood dumb blonde.

A tiny bit of wine….Emerging hibernation, 10 awesome musings

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I may have been into a bit of wine…

1. Josh Hartnett can kick one heck of a Scottish accent. Check out the 2015 “The Lovers”

2. Disc Golf is extremely therapeutic and I’m certain my daughter will kick butt in the Pro leagues, but we need sponsors see #6.

3. Her coach, well he’s my newest best friend. Possibly my mentally healthy doppelganger and pretty damn cool, because he is also a super comic book fan like myself. I am totally dressing up as Wonder Woman for Halloween this year.

4. Meds are good…..got a few changes yet again. Agoraphobia and introvert didn’t suit me.

5. I don’t need to be a size 2, I’m happy with curvy 4, well 6 but my boobs are perfect so suck it and I hear I have pretty eyes.

6.  You can gift me here https://paypal.me I really want a phone that doesn’t crash constantly. How about just funds for a phone, well honestly I’d spend it on my kids or someone else (possibly books, I heard there is a website to request those donation and I seriously laughed out loud). So you’re probably better off giving to a charity. Leave your blog or email for a very fun blog post as reward. It’ll make for a more entertaining blog entry that involves you, the reader. Plus, I’ll throw in a psychic reading to each donor. This could be really fun for you cheap people.

7. #6 ^^^ was horrible human behavior, but, I bet you thought about the psychic reading.

8. The black cat now speaks with a scottish accent.

9. Outlander kicked ass and I am stoked for the Game of Thrones premier. More to come on them both….books are AMAZING!

10. This is truly a musings of a mad woman.

I truly appreciate the amazing following and please find my page on Facebook and share your personal blog or experiences. I’d love to repost and share on my page. Here’s the link:

https://m.facebook.com/itsnotcrazytoday

I seriously have a great story for each 10 so make sure to follow if your new. And the cat just reminded me, I have some brutally honest movie reviews to post.

I just excaped the black dog🙂

Today my cat and I argued, Then we shared a glass of Jameson.

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She ended up being a horrible drinking partner. Whiskey just isn’t for everyone. She has this horrible black cat stigma of being bad luck. She tends to hold back and never opens up. Sobbing the narcissistic cat broke down. She removed her mask. We bonded and she ran upstairs to bed with the kids. I think it’s because we watched Cat’s eye the movie based on the Steven King’s novel. Now the cats thinks she is our gaurdian. The black cat stigma is one reason she was adopted. It’s horrible how poorly black cats are treated. They are killed, abandoned, mistreated, and judged because they are simply born black cats.

So a bit of musing, Tonight I realized, I’m a little like the black cat. It’s possibly the reason my cat and I don’t get along but love each other. We compete for attention, but wear very different mask.

Like me on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/Itsnotcrazytoday

Popped my cherry throwing disc and banging chains

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Best day ever!  It’s like finding money in the dryer or a jean pocket, but the joy keeps going and you are constantly being uplifted. Yesterday was one of those days. No anxiety or panic, no sadness, no flashbacks, no racing thoughts, no tears, nothing over the top. Just a blank canvas day, that ended up a beautiful picture.

My blank canvas didn’t involve winning the lottery or anything of grandeur. It simply involved waking up to two beautiful kids who let mom sleep, started the house chores, and my oldest made them both breakfast without burning the house down. When I finally woke up, a bit foggy forgetting the kids were even home on spring break. I walk downstairs and head directly for the coffee pot. From the other room two little heads pop up, “Hi Mom! Good morning!” I yawn and think to myself how awesome of them to let me sleep and go on autopilot. Then almost as if they planned the timing together they asked, “Mom, is today the day you have your friend teach us to play Disc Golf?”  I responded with my normal noncommittal, “We’ll see, mommy needs her coffee first.” This is a protective response from me when I don’t want to let them down. Two reasons, I needed to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and second I knew this activity required a commitment from a friend to teach them to play. I hate when I let down my kids, but to have someone else let them down physically hurts.

Bit of a backtrack, I decided months ago I needed to take back up a hobby such as golf. I was really good at one time and really remember it being fun and therapeutic. Then, I ran across Disc golf, I was immediately intrigued. Disc golf is where you throw a flying disc at a target like chained basket, the fun is scored like golf and based on precision and accuracy on a 18 basket courses. Win, win for me, no hauling balls or golf clubs, just a bag of various discs. I loved it instantly and quickly became obsessed with the concept. This was going to be my new sport. I shall master it and shared this with my kids. Who watched Vine and YouTube videos that my friend sent, over and over. They wanted to learn too!

Back to best day ever, “We’ll see” I tell the kids and I sent text to my friend. He’s, a disc golf junkie and jumped at the opportunity to teach the kids and myself. We meet at the park, I knew instantly his passion and obsession with the sport made him the perfect guy.  Plus, he was a bit of a kid himself so the kids loved him and the sport.

Peter couldn’t figure out if he was left or right handed thrower. This took some time since he is ambidextrous. Eventually, he threw it, just somehow backwards each time. When advised to run into it and throw, Peter literally ran 25ft forward then threw. Peter, always the one to look for the cheat.

Turns out Rowan was really good! She was a natural. Not only did she throw really well, she was noticed by some of the local disc golf  players in the league who encouraged her to join the league and play in a tournament next month. They said she probably win. That was really cool and a huge encouragement for her. She sometimes needs encouragement and this came from one of the best female players locally.

As for the mad woman, well I threw, but kept getting my butt kicked by my daughter and dodging Peters crazy Ivins. Try to not scare our new friend with our multiple personalities. Not only did we learn to play. My daughter found something she loves. Peter was still frolicking tossing, then came home to tell stories to his friend about how he plays disc golf like a boss. I found my new hobby and made a great friendship.

In retrospect today, I had a day without let downs, a day away from society. It was therapeutic. It was the perfect day. I was again, a new “normal” for the day.

See, it’s not always crazy.

The dreaded cone of shame!

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My cat is a narcissistic psychopath and my dog is a drug addict.

Let me introduce you to Lucy, my Portuguese Water Dog since I’ve already given you a glimpse into my cats troubled mind. But before you say, “Oh you have a Obama dog” I’ll stop you, I had Lucy long before President Obama. But as I was saying, Lucy my PWD has humorously vet diagnosed anxiety issues that lead to Irritable bowl syndrome. I think she has undiagnosed borderline personality disorder and mild schizophrenia. I certainly think the animals in my life were destined for my family because any other would have been a death sentence.

My whole life I’ve had stray dogs, mutts and rarely had health problems. But this beautiful little fluff ball wooed me, the promise of a hypoallergenic, and that they didn’t she’d sealed the deal. Within a year, health problems began manifesting, skin allergies would trump all her mental disorders.  Aside from all that, we love the nut. We loved her enough to recently fix a sudden onset of health problems, a blood hematoma in her ear, skin infection from allergies, double ear infection, and an eye infection, when it’s all said and done it damaged my checkbook by nearly $2000. But here’s the fun part, the cone of shame and she’s now a drug addict. Yes, a drug addict that is currently slapping the shit out of me with the big plastic cone begging for Tramadol. BEGGING!

The big damn plastic cone of shame is her weapon. She will slap the walls, bump into everything, knock things over more than the psychopathic black cat. She makes her presence known and will go to the kitchen to beg for her pills. Sunday, we finally gave her the last dose.

Monday was withdrawal hell! At times I think the dog is dying, she trapped the cat with her cone. In my head, I imagined a conversation from the dog, “Cat go knock the pills down or I will eat your black heart.” My kitchen is very narrow and each time I walk near the kitchen the dog rolls onto her back in submission for her pills. Then when she sees I’m walking away, up she’ll bolt and knock into me over and over and over with the cone. I tell myself, It’s only for three weeks and I spent so much I have to leave the cone on her. Last night, midnight…plastic scraping drywall, back and forth.  She’s learns this get a response from me. I kick her out of my room only to have her torture my children.

We survived the night. Tuesday, I think I was going mad, had to take my own anti-anxiety medication. The plastic scraping along the walls. She is taunting me back and forth raking the walls like nails on a chalkboard. Even the cat walks by and hisses at her. Even the cat has had it with the cone. The dog constantly flips over on her back begging for her Tramadol. I swear I saw her purposely trip down a couple steps and limp in hopes I’d get her more pills.

It’s morning now, I hate the damn cone. I snap at every clumsy move the dog makes now. She’s somehow knocked my coffee over twice. I think I’ve found myself a trigger. Hello Benzodiazepines!

I’m now walking around singing “Sunshine, lollipops, and Rainbows” by Lesley Gore. If you don’t know her songs google. You can thank me later for the songs on repeat in your head. As if it wasn’t already crazy enough, this too shall pass. I’ve planned myself a mommy night. No family, no pets, just me and a quite corner in a bookstore, coffee shop. I’d even settle for hanging out in Target for a couple hours without, “Mom, can I get this?” Maybe I’ll go have a meal and glass of wine.

My family can see the black dog coming, literally!

Oh the horror!

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Screams radiated from one bedroom, while a maniacal laugher rang out from another room.

It was the beginning of the perfect conclusion to awesome spring break day. Both my kids were playing quietly upstairs in their rooms. They had played all day, either with me or friends. I listen as my daughter asked my son, “Come on bud, let’s go play Minecraft.” Peter, “Really?” And off they went to play together. I say to myself, “You have parented well, now go reward yourself. You are winning!” It is spring break so Cork popped the cork on a meaty red wine! “Breathe beautiful wine, breathe”



They silence was beautiful. I was rather proud of my kids. They rarely need to be disciplined and are both amazingly intelligent. They were playing together in this virtual Minecraft world. Apparently, my daughter invited Peter to play in her world. They separated, he in his room and she in hers on separate devices. Suddenly screams of terror, cries from my daughter’s room. Sobbing hiccups crying, a barely audible, “He Godzilla’ed my world, he put lava everywhere!” Obviously, I’m not too informed on the Minecraft lingo or the complexity. I had read it was good for three dimensional thinking and brain development so I became a fan. In the other room, we hear laughter, maniacal laughter. Peter is obviously pleased with himself, he had finally won something against his older wiser sister. Peter saw himself as Peter the Minecraft dominator, Peter the destructor. 

My daughter’s sadness quickly grew into anger and then acceptance. Rowan would surely rise like a Phoenix from the Minecraft world ashes. My son, well… we all learned why he’s blocked so much on Minecraft. He was apparently known to Godzilla worlds with lava, he was indeed Peter the destructor. My husband and I often talk, she is a genius with the morality of a saint. Peter has a bit more creative genius with flexible morality. He’ll either go to prison or find the cure for cancer. Both are incredibly smart. I think about the possibility of one or both inheriting my genetics. Tonight I saw myself in them both, I laughed silently with Peter and cried internally for my daughter. Her forgiveness was humbling and his apology priceless, “It’s just a game, I’d never hurt you in real life row.” 
My hope is my children see my struggles and learn from my mistakes. They recognize the symptoms, they watch out for each other as adults. They learn from my openness of my own mental illnesses. They adapt and overcome, they are kind, they grow up knowing how to handle their superpower. Something I only learned as an adult.
I parented tonight and the wine was wonderful.