A Truth

I don’t know if I’m different than other bipolars.  Sometimes I know I am “normal” other times I question things.  I’m sure from my family’s point of view they would give a resounding “Oh your mental alright.” LOL.

It’s just that here it is day 2 of minimal sleep and I feel frustrated, anxious and angry.  I don’t feel tired but rather like I’ve drank too much coffee.  But I never feel empowered or do I enjoy any part of the highs and I really hate the lows.  I don’t stop taking medication because I feel dull.  I stop because I just don’t want to be sick anymore.  I simply hate that I can’t make it go away.  Had an enlightment one time that god healed me.  Stopped taking my meds and everyone was sorry not long after.

When I was younger I was crazy and hurtful and spontaneous and mean and passionate and destructive, but I didn’t know I was sick.  I knew I was different and antidepressants were of no use to me.  It actually made the depressive periods worse.  No matter how many variations they tried, they were not in anyway helping.

But it was back in 2009 durring the time of the housing market slump.  My husband’s company tanked and we were suddenly losing everything.  My kids were also preparing to head into adulthood and as everything fell apart so did I, in a major way.  And suddenly I couldn’t leave the house.  I had to be driven to dr appts, to the store, and I began doing so much drugs I dropped too much weight too fast and I was just a skeleton with loose skin. I became by far the most eratic and evil I’ve ever been.

Over the course of a year, I worked very hard to get back.  Back to life, back to work and back to my normal. It was tough though…  I had irrational fears of people jumping out of cars to kidnap me.  I got to the point of getting a routine to my day including taking walks with my dog and I would just watch her to gauge if threats were real. It worked over time.  I did go back to work, then start my business, but I still haven’t come back fully.  The need for routine and consistant tools to help me navigate helps so much but it feels so confining.  I have to do it because it’s needed.  But it just feels so unfair sometimes.

I miss the crazy woman who although can no longer drink on a nightly basis to compartmentalize my demons but the part where I wasn’t anxious, afraid and so far from what I have become. I just don’t ever see her coming back.  There was so much I hated about her and what she has done, but she brought a fun spontenaty that is missed by everyone. Such as a decision a day before Christmas that I didn’t want it at home.  I wanted snow.  So the presents were packed and we drove to Tahoe and had Christmas in a hotel room.  One of the funnest Christmas’s ever.

When we were helping my mom pack I saw so many lovely gifts my mom had saved from us over the years.  It’s so weird… I was so thoughtful.  I had to get reasurance from her that we gave them to her.  I don’t recall buying a single one.  Isn’t that the strangest thing?

So if I was able to be who I was then, can’t she still be somewhere in me now?  And if so, how do I get her to come back?



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