Awash in a sea of confusion...

I remember some dumb poems I used to write when I couldn't or wouldn't be able to express my emotions in a direct and honest manner.

I've changed that entirely as I now wish to express my emotions, when and where I like. Here on the bipolar American is even better. For my friends and fellow bipolar american's this growth period is for you.

What does it represent? What does the bipolar do that is significantly different than other people?

Damn good questions, but now for the answer: balance.

The polarity which is life, we've got a north pole and a south pole, making the world bi-polar.

Being ill has been the toughest experience for me of late. I'm sure it therefore contains the most information I need to carry on, so I have to face the situation with complete honesty like a surgeon's blade cutting through years of defense mechanisms, negative characterizations of myself, family luggage tossed my way to carry, and the force which holds it all together: fear.

I no longer believe that a doctor can help me with this illness, I think I'm the only one.

Right now there is so much energy around me that is from the past, that is depressing and negative, but then I realize that I called it out, and now must put it away and to rest.

I sure don't want to stay in this atmosphere I've created for very long, and I can't imagine how I intended to live through this.

For some reason I was thinking about an old friend of mine who used drugs since she was a pre-teen and now she's over 50 and still using drugs. I saw her last year as I stayed at the house, she still lives at home, her father is quite old and an old friend too.

But she refused to change anything, she apparently wanted and continues to want to be intoxicated at all times, on anything from alcohol to psychiatric medications. Yes, it's a serious lifetime of decay going on.

Yet, she's a really nice person, but could never love herself enough to get through all the shit.

I see it now with kids I know here who are really struggling. One particular kid attempted to get into the military and was refused because of the practice of "cutting."

Now, he's either going to believe that there is something wrong with him, and allow this experience to verify that supposition, or he's going to believe that there's something wrong with them, and point the finger their way.

Here comes balance once again, the teacher.

There is something he's not being honest with himself about, something causing great amounts of pain which bring him to a point of consciously inflicting pain and altering his body.

Likely he will internalize this as more evidence of his failures and his feelings of being different and misunderstood.

What can change this?

Learning from it. What could he possibly learn from being thrown out of the military for cutting.

He could begin to ask himself why he's cutting. Not judge cutting as right or wrong, like the military did. They don't cut, they kill.

He also could realize that he almost went somewhere that he could have been killed or worse maimed. He may have had to kill other people, and really, likely, as sensitive a nature as he actually has, that may have been worse than being hurt himself.

The basic element to all of this, is balance. Not having the balance to look at each situation individually. And judging is not necessarily the same as using good judgement, so he needs to begin to understand that just to get to the surface to take a deep breath of fresh air.

We can never do exactly the same thing twice. That is an illusion. Because you cannot put together the exact time and circumstances it stands to reason you cannot do the same thing twice.

So, every single thing you do, is unique and good for one ride only. You might want to make it good.

But there are those who are caught up in the illusion of repetition, we all have believed it at some point, as we learn the vitality of each moment, of the here and now.

I refuse to struggle against all this old energy that has been churned up on the storm waves of my life. I can see and feel it all there, depression, anger, hopelessness, swirling around me, yet there is no clear and present danger to account for the onslaught.

I've been watching it for a few days not knowing what it all meant. Then I refused to be a part of what needs to be naturally molted, sloughed off, so that a new shinier skin can appear.

So, I'm not interested in wrestling with it, talking about it, or judging it, I'm ready to let it go.

I think healing is the letting go process. And I believe now that this current storm is directly related to my "illness."

When I focus on what I want and not what I don't want, I usually get it. When I'm in fear of not having something I want, then the consequences are exactly what I asked for. I asked that the universe verify for me that I will not get what I want by having fear.

I feel more fear right now than I have in a long time. In fact, it's been overwhelming. That's what gave this all away to me, I'm in far too much fear for it to be totally created here in the present time, this comes from way back.

As I've changed my beliefs, it has altered my actions, and therefore my energy.

Faith is something I am beginning to understand in a way I may even be able to casually explain it. It's such a powerful system to live by that we don't even recognize it's simplicity.

I like the fact that many geniuses such as Albert Einstein, have recognized the obvious evidence of the creator. The role of a "creator" has often been criticized and argued by those confusing religion, a series of rituals and dogmas which we are to adhere to if we are to move on to a "better place," missing the whole point.

(really religion is a manifestation to deal with the fear of death or death of the ego, as in old age.)

We are all made of the same stuff, whether you're an earthworm or a government employee.

And we are here. This is your destination.

Knowing that every single thing that happens or has happened has been in your best interest, for us to learn to turn something unpleasant into something better is emotional alchemy. Learning not to turn everything into a negative is another handy tool for the life kit.

When I know that I am from the same creator as everyone else, I am compassionate.

When I know that everything that is happening to me will be to my benefit, I am safe to learn from my mistakes.

When I know in my heart that my life is my service to this whole world, to the whole source, than I know I am a co-creator in life and take that responsibility seriously.

When I change my energy and create a positive flow, a truth, whatever we want to call it, I am powerful.

When I realize I don't have to change the negative energy, that I only have to create the positive energy; it requires no ingredients at all, except to have the awareness to put it into action.

I got these words of wisdom sometime last year from a friend of mine, and it made a difference in how I would soon be looking at my world.
"Get in touch with joy. Any idiot can be happy cause their life is going well. A Superior person aspires to be happy in spite of their fucked life! That's how optimists think. Love you lots. Forgive yourself every day."

No truer words could be said. Create happiness, it doesn't happen, it's a state of mind.

And forgive yourself everyday. I didn't know what that meant for a while, since I am more masochistic and prefer to crucify myself everyday, so I had to ponder that whole idea.

"What? let me off the hook for being stupid, I don't think so."

Then it became a reality that some of my physical difficulties are manifesting from my own brutal treatment of myself. Which I should acknowledge was borrowed from those around me who "loved" me.

As I realize forgiving myself is as important as forgiving others. Treating other people with more compassion than yourself, is what?

Not in balance.

I'm in the middle of a shit storm, and moments from now I may again get caught in the layers of stripping paint. Just when you think you found the bare wood, you find that a lot of layers can be painted over the long years. Although you maybe tempted to paint over the peeling layers, it won't work. It will all just strip away. All your work gone.

When you do get to the bare wood, sand it, and look at it like it's the first time, you may decide not to paint it. You may like it and just finish it, blemishes and all.

I lived in Greensburg, Indiana for a few years, in an old Victorian home, two staircases, years of wallpapering and paint, and we didn't know what was underneath.

Our entry moulding, staircase and railings were covered in carpet and paint. One day I was doing what kids do, racing up and down the stairs, and I tore the carpet.

After a great big family argument about how irresponsible, immature, and so on, I was for doing this damage, we realized that there was some really nice old, solid oak.

So, we pulled all the carpet, removed paint of various colors and shades, and found a beautiful 100 plus, year old, staircase. We, I actually did most of the work, finished it and it turned out to be a showpiece really.

How many of us are hiding under years of paint and wallpaper? I know I have been, and make a sincere promise that is not what I am doing anymore.

There's been a shift, moving a large tectonic plate, the rumble has been felt and heard. Real change is associated with resistance from the other side, the side that is used to you being a certain way.

I've never acted in a vulnerable manner, which makes me wonder how strong I really am. I have changed that now, and I can feel the shift, the shaky ground, and it's scary.

But that's where faith balances that fear.

(Just to let you know, so you feel better today, it works this way whether you're labeled bipolar or not. It's life.)

I'll be riding my own creation of the bucking, stubborn mule that I am. I'm sure it will be fun and full of kicks in the teeth.

Bi-polar Chic

Just to warn you in case of animal sabotage, I am getting sleepy, very sleepy...

A good friend of mine whom I met during one of the many upheavals which mark my life, wrote to me recently and told me what I am doing on these blogs, the fight I have put on, was "bi-polar chic."

And what she meant by this is that we bipolars are scatter brains who have more ideas swarming through our minds, at all times of the night I might add, than has existed since time on earth. We are weird for sure.

Because of the tidal wave of information we have a tendency to drop something, a goal, a career even and move on rather quickly to something else more interesting.

That has not been the case with me of late, I've been rather, umm, let's try to say or see it, "focused."

My friend happens to be a hypnotherapist and also teaches meditation (sshh, quiet, somebody's trying not to think), which you can only imagine, my frenetic mind must be quite the entertainment or irritation, same difference.

She's been one of the people who have kept me anchored to tasks, though I have not completed my books the way she wanted me to, I still am on those projects as well. All in good time.

She's also wickedly funny, and intelligent, and has helped me through a lot of walls and issues, always with encouragement. And to have her call me bipolar chic, was too cool.

I've been thinking about her great loss this year, losing her brother, and the greif it brought on, I pray for her all the time, and she knows that I'm always here too. And I know she will come through it all with grace and more understanding...

I think I am more clear on a daily basis as to what and where I am going. I'm following the trail of bread crumbs God leaves everyday and I eagerly watch and listen for the signs on the road.

I've had an incredible learning experience over the last years, decades, oh, hell, all my life, but particularly so now.

I've used more patience, yes, this is my standard for patience, it may seem low to some of you, but I'm pushing a cannonn up a mountain, and plan on shooting it off. So, I can't expect to do this tomorrow.

But there are things that are important to me, I've clarified this murky purpose I've felt hovering around my mind, and now feel more in contact with the universe, and all it's peeples. I feel content knowing now what I want, and also the confidence in my own ability to persist and carry out the actions necessary to get there.

(starting to doze, it's nighty night time, let's see if I can finish)

Bipolar chic: I like it. Thank you.

Somebody needs to tell me it's okay to take a break...I fell asleep during the last post

I just signed on here to look at and possibly finish my post on labels, and I started laughing when I saw what had happened. I fell asleep, you can see where I start to lose it, misspelling, then suddenly there's a whole series of question marks.

Either me, the dogs or the cat, hit that button and scrolled out all the question marks, and then I actually woke back up to finish it. But I apparently was so groggy, I didn't notice the repeated symbols.

That is both funny and sad, as I think I need somebody to tell me it's okay to take a break. Yes, I want to finish my story about labels and I will, (I'm leaving the post the way it is, it's funny) but I need to be okay to relax.

I just don't relax anymore. I don't know how really. I push myself as far as I can go, until, I get a blog full of cat or dog typing.

(Maybe the dogs saw I fell asleep and attempted to write their own blog. Just a thought, a stupid one)

Today, I felt good, got some shots in my neck, and the first thing I wanted to do this morning, was lay down and relax. Not do anything.

It was nice, sitting in bed, tired, but having really low pain levels. I didn't want to ruin it by driving or doing anything.

Truth, I actually sent my 90 year old neighbor to the store and then later for dinner, take out. He needed the exercise and we are quite a pair of neighbors.

The first time I met him, Brad, the WWII veteran, and general good guy, I was stuck on my roof and couldn't get down.

What possessed me to attempt the roof was unbeknownst to me, but I did, then got stuck. With no balance system getting back down the latter was tough.

I yelled for Brad, "help, umm, I'm stuck on my roof."

Finally, the elderly SOB heard me and came out and helped me off the roof.

He's been a great neighbor, I'm lucky, and at 90 he's doing pretty well. But he did have a stroke a couple years ago, and has had some health problems since then.

I watch for him, he watches for me, knows what time I get home if I leave, and knows when I'm back.

One day, I called him and he said he had fallen, and I could hear a slight slur to his voice, so I went over to check. He was disoriented and had a rug burn on his head from falling out of his chair. He has an electric chair, I don't know if it ejected him or what, but he slid in face first.

He wouldn't go to the hospital the stubborn old man he is, so the stubborn mule I am, called an ambulance.

We checked his blood pressure and off he went. When I got to the hospital 20 minutes later, I asked how he was doing, they said fine. I said, what do you mean fine, he's having a stroke, how's his blood pressure? She said fine.

I went in and indeed on the monitor, blinking away, was normal blood pressure. I asked what they had given him and she said, nothing.

Then the doctor came along and I grabbed him and told him he needed to recheck the pressure, as both the paramedics and Brad's home blood pressure test read him as high.

The doctor then said something about giving him different channel blockers, calcium blockers, and a whole show off list of medications. I stopped him to tell him Brad had been given nothing.

He yelled for a nurse and they used a new cuff and indeed, he had high blood pressure, so they began treating his stroke.

Long story, but it goes to show you how a small, strange incident can occur to change everything. What would have happened if I didn't go in there and check?

Well, one thing might be that Brad would not have been available today to shop and get Mexican take out for me, and I would have been hungry.

Somebody, stop me, and tell me to relax. I won't, but it's a thought...I'll just fall asleep writing.
Hey, readers, didn't you think that was weird, the scrolling thing? You should have told me my fly was down and there was spinach in my front teeth. Thanks.

More on labels, but the issue is being addressed in the blog: The jewel of the district, over at KVHD under fire.

Label makers

My sister said to me the other day, "I'm agorophobic," which means you are usual afraid of leaving your home, but it's translated as afraid of wide open spaces.

Anyway, I said what does that even mean, you're agorophobic? It's a label for something underlying. And then you are categorized as a mental health problem. Then you talk to doctors who want to give you drugs for it. Then the regular doctors have records of your "problem" contained only in a label, and base your treatment on this all inclusive title you now have. You tell your friends and family that you are agorophobic and they begin to treat you differently. They are worried, they want to intervene, they won't tell you the truth to avoid an argument. Then on some level you internalize this label and you deem it positive or negative. The symptoms are negative, but it gives you a way out from dealing with the underlying issues.

What did my sister really mean to say when she labeled herself? I think it was something difficult to cope with. It was changing jobs in a tough economy, a sick relationship, a pop on the head from the kids, the anniversary of her father's death, and on.

That's what she meant.

Those labels we hide behind them. The bi-polar label is a complex matter for me. I guess I accept all the connotations which go with it for the sake of helping others understand their chemical differences.

I'm emotionally and chemically different, and I refuse to say that it is not both good and tough at the same time.

Labels and judgments

People make judgments based on labels, and we are covered in labels, take a look at yourself. What labels have you internalized?

Are you an intellectual, stupid, average, happy, nice, mean, ugly, beautiful, old, young, strong, weak, cowardly, courageous, or one of many labels you have on you.

What does it mean to have all these labels

People think of you in terms of your lables. You are, say, a female, mother, overweight, white skinned, and you will be treated based on these first impressions.

Labels speak and portray certain things without any facts to stand pebehind them. I've recently dealt with such a person. I should call her no facts, that should her label.

But there is also the fact that we give labels to others: "she's an alcoholic," "he's a workaholic," she's a difficult woman and or "bitch" or he's a real "bastard."

I've entered situations where I've been given the "rundown" on people with a bunch of label making. The boss is fair up to a point, where he isn't really fair. He's a slave driver, a monarch, or whatever pejorative terms to come up with.

Now, I go meet this person with this impression in my head. Sometimes people don't question the label, knowing that if tlfey do, they dontinued and 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Imagine now that you have been scanned by the "average" mind, you also know how to manipulate the interpretaton by acting a certain way. Or if you gave completely false information, this person would have to accept the data until proven wrong.

Writing from the heart...

Although this blog is about a lot of things, bi-polar disorder, creativity, sprituality, life, love, happiness and fighting of course, I thought I would start here to explain what I will be writing about on my other blog this week.

It's a personal story, and it's a real story, of rural health. My interest in writing it is to stave off the bad medicine which seems to happen at the Rural Health Clinic in Mt. Mesa, California.

When I say "bad medicine" that means a lot of different things. I think about how the fact that I am bi-polar has kept me from getting treated like a human being over there.

I left the place two months ago, and have been planning this story since the last day I spoke to my doctor over there. It's not like we spoke, we hit a wall, and he thought that was okay. (I carry a sledge hammer though and walls don't bother me much)

This story, I hope, will make better healthcare professionals out of these people. Not that I think it will happen overnight: they're not going to read it and suddenly understand what kind of fuck ups having been going on over there.

I'm sure they will be angry with me at first. I think what I will be saying in it's rawest form, will be at the very least uncomfortable, and at the most it will have them blowing smoke out of their ears.

But when we don't complain, when we don't tell the truth, things don't change and illness festers.

Walking away from a situation only to know others will follow that same path and may suffer the same mistakes you endured, is not fair.

Telling the truth, is what is fair. I'm going to tell it like it was. All of it.

The community here can accept it or reject it, it's truly up to them. But I will have the knowledge that I tried to make a change.

Healthcare reform has less to do with insurance as it has to do with how we treat people, and how we allow the pharmaceutical companies to remain in control of the medications, while insurance companies control their part of the money. It's a mess.

It doesn't have to be, but it is. I was going to go into insurance as some of my family wanted me to work with them. They thought i would be good at it. I did go to the point of taking the classes and getting the license, then realized, what kind of fucked up industry is this?

I did not like it or respect it, knowing that with a few changes, we all could have good insurance, doctors could be paid what they want, pharmaceuticals could still get their share, and insurance companies could simplify and have all the money they want.

I'll preview this as I intend to outline the whole plan on the other blog: Your government, your problem: an owner's manual.

But what if every single person in this country put in money to cover their insurance? If you take the population figures, and multiply by $5, then you would have a booming industry. Anyone who is not a resident would pay more, and those on vacation here would have to pay a healthcare tax before departing their plane.

Done. Everyone has insurance, and everyone is treated. Volume. (I stole that thought from a CFO)

It didn't take much to figure this out, but our government can't seem to get those hands out of their pockets long enough to do the right thing.

Obama's plan should scare us all. It was thrown together too quickly for one thing, and second, the beneficiaries of the plans are the insurance companies and pharma. Nothing changed, it was just spun.

Back to the story, I am only one, but everyone is one, and all of us can do something about the things that come across in our lives the one's that call to us, our call to duty.

This story is calling me...See you soon Rural Health Clinic

Take your own advice

I've been thinking about this for a while now, and that is that we as social creatures feel we need to help each other out. In the course of doing just that, we come up with some "good advice."

"I think you should slow down the pace, take time to look at things while you're relaxed, and then come up with an answer. Don't do it while you're in a bad state of mind"

Hey, that's some good advice.

We all know sometimes we're in a mood or under pressure and we make a decision we would not otherwise make, and if we had only waited and relaxed we could have seen more of the picture to make a wiser decision.

But we rarely take advice. Yes, we nod in agreement, "good thinking", and then go about following our out of control emotions.

And we never seem to take our own advice, which is what this blog is about. Each of us at some time or another gave out some great advice, something that dropped out of the heavens in fact. We were even proud that we could so clearly see what somebody else should do.

Then a week or so later, we, ourselves, the sagacious advice givers, find that we should have taken our own advice, but we didn't.

It was good enough for somebody else, but then when we need it, we totally forget what advice we created. Suddenly we're lost.

I love my friends. They hear the wisdom of my advice and so gently throw it back in my face when I'm not using it myself.

But what is advice? Well, it's a plan to deal with a situation which the person has blocked, been in denial about, or cannot see for some reason the practicality of the suggestion.

Advice is suggestion and there is different kinds of advice.

There's advice about an issue like your taxes, where you really don't know much about it and you have to pay to get advice as what to do, what is the best course of action.

Then there's suggestions from people who have been around you and observed you and know from experience what type of advice to give you. They probably have said it ten times before, but you weren't listening.

"Oh, that is really smart, why didn't you tell me that before?" (I did)

Selective hearing and selective understanding is an issue we deal with when someone is in a situation that isn't necessarily good for them and they don't want to face it.

You say, "I know the car means a lot to you, but it's not worth the money to fix it."

"But I have had that car since I was in high school (which isn't an argument, more of an emotional response); there are too many memories to just give it away."

Now you can't give advice based on logic and reason to someone who is basing all their actions on their emotions. So, now you have the opportunity to give emotional advice, which is different.

"Do you think passing that car along to your son the automechanic would be okay as he could fix it and it would still be in the family. He might let you drive it around."

"Hey, that's good advice."

Then there's the bad advice, the type given just to make the person seem stupid, ugly or to put them down or to manipulate them.

"You know if you lost 2o pounds you would look so much better and people wouldn't look at you and say you're fat. And then if you just dress differently you could cover up those rolls you're cooking around your waste."

That is not advice or is it being said because your best interest is in mind. This is called fake advice to make the other person feel superior.

"You know you could have done so many other things, I don't know why you continue to work in this field there's no money there."

Again, it's all negative, its not intended for anyone's benefit.

Also, if you notice, people who give negative "advice" are usually the one's who are insecure. Both the examples above could be coming from people who hate their jobs and stay for the security and money, and a person overly obsessed with the way they look therefore the way others look.

But when you hear yourself give a gem of advice to someone you care about, use it. You will probably need it yourself some day.

Don't say to someone stop smoking cigarettes, and then light up.

Don't tell your kids not to stay out late and come crawling in at dawn.

Advice is a powerful tool for yourself and the people you care about. Just be sure you're doing it for the right reasons and if you are, then take your own advice.

We often want the best for our friends before ourselves. But that same sage wisdom can be used by you.

It's amazing how smart we are if we are not so afraid as to speak up but even more so if we are able to listen to our own words and utilize them.

Advice which is proven is another thing too.

It falls into categories such as direction, education, and friendship.

"I got the stains out of the carpet with a glass of wine and battery acid."

(Thanks, I might try it or not)

But advice should never be forced upon someone, we all have our own ideas about how we want to live, and feelings of the direction we need to go in, and that's when advice should turn into support.

"I really like how happy you are these days with your new job. You seem to enjoy it and they seem to appreciate you. You made a good choice there. Glad to see you doing so well."

People sometimes have issues of jealousy, and instead of giving support, they turn it into competition.

Same scenario: "I haven't seen you at all since you got that job. Hope you're getting paid for all your hours. And do you really think that commute is worth it. It's your life, I'm just saying."

Now, putting both these scenarios together into supportive advice: "I'm so glad to see you happy these days and I think your new job has really changed you and given you confidence. The only drawback I see is the commute. Do you think you could use the train?"

We share advice with each other, and sometimes we need to understand what we are doing when we communicate in this manner.

Sometimes I'll be telling someone something and I'll realize that it applies to me too. So, we both benefit from the exchange.

If you find that people give you mostly negative advice, then you need to stop listening to them. Keep the people around you who will be honest, straightforward, not critical and jealous.

There are always going to be those who can't see you for the great person you are, because they can't see themselves that way either.

My advice is this: understand that people do have things to say that can assist you on your journey, and you also have experience, wisdom and compassion to pass along on your way too. However, there will be those who will not be capable of having your best interests at heart, and therefore you may want to take heed that advice coming from these types of people is usually very self centered.
But there is wisdom in everything, listen and look for it.

(Oh where did I put it?)

For crying out loud

I'm all scrambled eggs this morning as I have a huge decision to make based on new information regarding my investigation into my local public healthcare district.
I've known for a while, or actually just sensed it, but now have information to prove it, that my case is way beyond my reach. It will never be solved or rectified.
The mismanagement that grows in the dark, moldy areas seems to have seeded itself at the healthcare district.
But it goes up and beyond where I can reach. I think anyway. I could change my mind on that.
I guess I'm just tired of elected officials serving themselves and not the constituents.
There's no change which can occur without some sort of radical action.
For instance, the healthcare insurance reform business. This is not an altruistic cause, this is about changing money from one special interest group over to another.
Real change cannot exist in a capitalist society. We're doomed. We will not be the roman empire, and we will fall by the wayside as our bogged down government cannot keep up with the necessary changes.
And honestly, they really don't care.
If they did, then they would not be fooling around playing games with people's lives. They would take their responsibilities seriously.
I'm always amused how the US constitution is used to argue about so many issues, but in the long run, it really has little to offer modern society.
We need new blood, new ideas, cutting edge technology which can analyze the new America we need to create.
It makes me nauseous to see what is happening in Washout DC, as the President is leading an army of the ignorant, in a fake battle for change.
What a mess, for crying out loud.
Where would one citizen even begin to tackle the entrenched and power seeking political machine?
I don't know. I'm going to be thinking about it though.
You have to be a little crazy to get things done. I've got that down pat.

Anyone who would like to join me on this quest which is going to seemingly bring me down off this mountain and on up to Sacramento at some point.

I really am sick and tired of the mediocrity which is the political system who gutted its educational programs falling behind in the world. "Stupid Americans" could become a perspective about us.

Oh, hell, I don't know anything right now, I'll get back to you soon on this...Laura Hart

I've just got issues (I'm sure this is part one of many)

The title of this blog was created a long time ago during a conversation. I got done telling a friend a story and as if to make it seem as if I understood what I said, I closed with "I just have issues."

We laughed. I wrote down the title and waited until some morning where I could explore that whole idea. And that's today.

Well, I guess the hot topic amongst my friends is my fighting issues.

"We're just worried about you."

How sweet. Well fucking worry about something else. I'll worry about me.

Fighting, hey, its for something.

But then again, going back in time, I remember my childhood. Fighting and lots of it.

Being bi-polar fighting comes naturally, as the chemicals needed to fight are always "that was the wrong thing to say" away.

My personal problem is people who threaten me. I must say if you're going to make a threat, you fucking better be prepared for my reaction. You may not have much time to react either.

Physically threatening me is a whole other matter. I'm unfortunately not afraid to mix it up with someone twice my size. The chemical burst which occurs when I feel physically threatened is nothing you can buy on the streets, well maybe, PCP.

I've been beaten up two years in a row, each in December, the first an assailant and next the pseudoboyfriend mistake.

My assailant who was battling someone who has been in many battles, (but I happened to have been healthy back then), actually, weirdly, after he gave up the attempted rape/assault and the fun of trying to subdue me for five hours, complimented me: "You're stronger than you look."

Yeah fuckhead I'm bi-polar. Whatever drugs you were taking, the ones I make in my own body are unadulterated and of a higher quality.

Had I been a normal weight, all muscle, this piss ant wouldn't have been complimenting me, he would have been in the hospital.

My fighting career started early. Not that I looked for fights but fights always found me.

For the most part kid fights are one thing, except when you have older kids bullying the younger ones. I was a bully buster though and took on some big kids who thought they were pretty tough.

Nothing like being a teenage boy beaten up by a rabid seven year old girl. I'm sure they're still in therapy over it.

I remember telling my parents I would be taking Karate, not piano. I remember reading their faces before the ultimate answer of, "hell no."
They were thinking, training this force? No thanks.

However, I trained myself. I was athletic in every way, and BP chemically, truly even as a young child, mine started early. I worked on fighting moves all the time, and applied them to real life.

When my parents divorced, my Dad who never said a real cross word to me as a child, left the household, my Mother pushed him out. Then she marries my stepfather who woo's my sister and I.

I then discover all there is to know about alcoholism and the blackouts, as my stepfather, had them regularly.

We couldn't have been more a miserable mess than this family mixture, and I remember it well, my stepdad coming home from work, just getting in the door, suit and tie, and he began talking really mean to my mother.

I never heard my Dad talk like that, and something triggered.

"Shut up," I told him.

He just smiled. Then I jumped on him and grabbed his tie and let my body weight pull it tight around his neck. His face turned red and he gagged. He punched me right in the face and sent me flying across the room into the door, where I slid down and looked at the blood trickling from my face onto my shirt.

I knew not to move. My mother and my sister were screaming, and he came over to look at me. As soon as he was crouched down in a vulnerable position, I struck. I kicked him right in the balls.

The fight didn't last long as my Mother's screams got the neighbors attention.

But this would be the first fight which lasted for years until I almost killed him one night. Then he almost killed me too.

I would always try to find a way to come into my house of booze unnoticed, because there would always, and I mean always, be a problem which lead to a fight.

It's not been necessarily a want to fight situation, sometimes it happens. I crept up back stairways, climbed the garage and went into a window, used many windows in fact. I didn't want to fight, I wanted to be left alone.

So, why this sudden physical violence in my life, now so many years later? I don't know completely, but I have a few ideas.

Then I piss off Mr. Martial Arts, pseudoboyfriend, with my usual flair. But that day I had a migraine was throwing up and could not deal with his problems.

So, I said and did some things which pissed him off to the point he punched me fast, cold cocked me to the face, and dropped me like a rock to the floor. Both my hands were full, so it was a total domination, chicken shit, move.

Then he lost all control, when I was down, he put his knee in my back and started to repeatedly punch me in the head. I acknowledged I was down and turned my head to the already broken and numb side and waited for him to get down hitting me.

I passed out for a minute. I imagine he expected to have more time time to pack and leave.

I opened my eyes, realized what had happened and got up to my feet. Now there was nothing in my hands mutherfucker.

He was leaning down packing his clothes as quickly as possible, he didn't realize I had gotten up and was standing right behind, with knives within reach.

But he was a sorry lot, no control of his rage, trained in fighting, stabbing and some other gang related things, and I wasn't going to kill him or even hurt him. He needed to leave immediately and never come back.

He turned and saw me standing over him, and startled at the unexpected sight, growled, "I'm going to kill you."

I said flatly, no inflection, "better people have tried."

He took a swing at me, which I reacted to and fell down. He ran out the door, "bye pussy, chickenshit, run."

I didn't file charges against him, as I felt sorry for him: he wasn't strong, he was weak and that made him dangerous.

His father was cop who blew his head off in front of the family, so I figured he had had enough. He knew better than to come back. At the hospital where they treated my migraine and my completely shut eye, they said, "you better lock your doors tonight, he could come back."

I said, "I'm leaving them unlocked in fact, and its up to him if he would like to do that again."

That's when I realized: Beaten up, but never beaten down.

So, violence reared its ugly head in my life, somehow I got through it. But I still have the feelings that if you want to threaten me then you are really playing with fire.

Usually, I believe in an eye for an eye, balancing out the scale. You punch me, I punch you. Not, you punch me and I drive my car through your rented apartment.

So, yes, I just have issues...

Sean Time: Level headedness

Our man Sean, is he not the epitome of levelheadedness?

err, maybe not...

photos by "the cameraman"

what is today?

I sometimes wonder where time goes and often forget what day it is. I think I'm busy and I don't really care, because once I wake up, kill some pain, I'm off to work.

Oh, "off" to work is meaningful. I grab my computer and a whole process begins in my mind.

As I always tell other writers, there's a story in everything, but just as much a story in nothing.

I wonder sometimes how people look at my blogs after I've been to a meeting. I'm sure they wonder what I'm going to say on the blog.

But they never know, because I never know until I think about it for a while.

And some people are scared of me, oh so sad, because there is nothing safe to say around me, I can make anything into a story.

I've been asked "where did you come up with that?" Why it's the muses, they talk to me.

They have so far not asked me to kill anyone so I think its pretty safe to speak with them.

Today, I have a list as long as my arm to get done, and I might accomplish some of it. Driving away from the house is part of the day. I wish I could drive my bed all over town.

With my pillows behind my head, a steering wheel pops up, and off I go. No need for air conditioning and I have blankets for heat.

But up here in this god forsaken valley, I'm sure the cops would pull me over.

"Do you have tags for this thing?"

"Yeah, it's on the end of the mattress don't pull it off."

"Oh."

"Anything else officer?"

"What is that under your blankets?"

"Oh, this, this is my bong. Want a hit?"

"Just get out of here and drive safely."

Yeah right...

Another day, actually a Friday, another round of whatever the universe has whipped up for me.

I'm so impressed so far, I just can't wait to see what's next. Maybe locusts in my bathroom, or rabid animals chasing me. It really could be anything, I don't count out any possibilities anymore.

When my life got this weird, I knew that it was "unpredictable" and there is no controlling it. So, I became weird and unpredictable too.

Now, I just don't care anymore, its the way it is and what will happen will just have to happen. Fuck it.

The start of the end

Wow so this is it my start to wright something someone will take in and say to them self " hay this guy is fucking nuts. " Now we can have some fun, not your kind of fun... NO!!!! my kind of fun is the kind that will leave your ass dead with no head, and me playing kickball with it HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!

No really I would just stab you in the gut and twist the blade, so I can hear you scream like a school girl! Oh shit sorry I got a little hungry, I get a bit insane when I don't eat. OK now that I had some food where was I .... well fuck I lost my train of thought..... Well you look nice did you do something new with your hair? No? well the glare from the window behind you must be it then. Don't look at me or I will have to smash your face in and drag your ass out the broken window I came in. Then the neighbors would hear me so I would have to kill them to...... Fuck I did it again? sorry I need more than a candy bar maybe a soda to. I'm sorry next blog Ill focus less on killing you and more on killing other people. This has been your friend and every ones : Sean Time

Hope on hold

So, another blood test, another doctor, another long drive I cannot make anymore without serious side effects, such as pain.

I got home last night without much luster, it was late, and my cousin had left a couple messages. First one supportive and inquiring as to what happened at the doctor; the second, crying and cursing her bi-polar condition.

Not that I wasn't already depressed, but I empathized with her message, it is fucking unreal dealing with these mood swings. Its not just the swinging, its the actions you take, decisions you make as well as what screwed up things come out of your mouth.

Yes, it does suck. But only some of the time.

I'm wrangling with a whole debate in my head if I can even live like this, in my physical condition anymore. Part of me has totally given up, which leads to thoughts such as "I can't do it" "I'm not strong enough" "I've been given an overdose of life."

Then the other side kicks in, with the words of wisdom. "Find it, the solution, the answers are there" "It is worth it" "Do this for yourself" and then I'm back.

I dragged out of the bed this morning, unable to make an appointment I had made with someone, and then ended up at my doctor, who is great, and had him give me shots in my neck and back, the trigger points.

Currently, icing and heating, as we speak.

However, I'm up, and now, my hand is not as numb, so I'm at least doing some writing. Progress, as best as I can do it.

I'm not disabled, I'm as abled as I can be. Fuck that shit, it sounded hokey when I wrote, yeah, I'm fucking disabled, but do the best I can to not waste the time I have here.

Even though I'm taking a day off, which I hate, I'll be planning and plotting the whole time.

I am noticing that everyone around me is going through some major changes in their lives and their way of thinking too. A shift in consciousness.

My sister is going through huge emotional changes and she is doing it, but its a tough time.

We all pray a lot around here. Most of the people I know, realize that I call God, Scooter, and whatever you want to call the core intelligence of the universe, prime mover unmoved, we often forget our part in this "big production" called life.

With my sister in her tumultuous existence right now, I get a chance to see how other people are progressing and making the world better as they or we get better on an individual basis.

I watched a friend of mine last night in a series of pain days which lead her to be very up-settable, and it reminded me of what the people around me have to hear about and deal with regularly.

When I looked at her last night, I could see the struggle, the energy she was dealing with, and I spoke to her about it. I then watched that energy just change.

Her color in her face changed, her demeanor changed, and I could see she had learned something from what was happening to her. Cool. And it manifests physically. So, the thoughts are causes of physical problems. Hmm, interesting.

After having spent several hours on their porch staring out over the horizon like a zombie, I went home. My friends are used to my behaviors: I come over and spend the whole time outside thinking. How fun am I?

A prayer for all who are in the middle of becoming the people we should be.

Scooter, its all really fun here thanks for everything. You piss us all off, you make us cry, and then you suddenly fill our candy dishes with candy. Just put out good energy for my friends and family, and my extended family, the human race, that we make it through the trials you so lovingly set up so we can learn. Make us all believe in the powers of the universe so vast and incredible that we fear it. Today, we will all have faith and believe in something greater than our little selves and petty problems. Make it good, Scooter, you know how I get bored.

And there's your prayer for the day.
That is how I talk to the universe. Yes, I'm just as sarcastic with God as I am with everybody else. And as a product of God, I feel at liberty to do so.

Have a good day...

The doctor better have some answers...

This last few weeks, months, years or whatever its been, have taken their toll on me, I can't deny it anymore.
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed every fucking morning is not what I want to do with the rest of my life.
Right now, I have some difficult choices to make, other than if I should go down the canyon to the doctor, that I know I have to do.

Thank Scooter for my cousin the other night, as I was in a mood, a frightening mood, even for me.

I had been screaming the night before about everything and nothing all at the same time. My cameraman actually handled it well, now he's not taking things personally and recognizing I get the way I get, because I'm not only bi-polar I'm in chronic pain.

The effort to get thru this became risky a week ago when I allowed my doctor to prescribe a steroid for me.

I've gotten very out of it on those, but I thought if I could keep my mind aware that I'm taking them, then I could control it.

Yeah, right.

I called my cousin the other day, why, I don't know, I didn't want to talk, I guess I wanted to breath into a phone like a perv.

She answered and knew instantly that I was fucked up in the head. She asked me a few questions like what kind of mood am I in.

"A bad one what do you fucking think?"

Then she asked when I was going to see the rheumotologist for the Lupus, and I told her this week.

She stepped in it next. "Do you have to go to Bakersfield."

That was enough to stop the heavy breathing.

"What the fuck do you think? Like we have a doctor here or something, what a fucking stupid question."

Good cousin. "You're right it was a stupid question. When was the last time you took the steroids, she slipped in at the end.

Oh yeah, duh.

"today."

"Do you think maybe that could have something to do with it?"

"Maybe," I said because I was still evil.

Thank you cousin, you are right.

For the rest of the night I kept telling myself, "don't forget you're on steroids."

Immediately my mood began to lift, not the it got much farther off than ground than they did at "KittyHawk", but it is better.

That's the awareness I keep talking about. Simply reacting to every thought you're going to probably regret someday is a bad place to be emotionally.

Being aware, still depressed and angry, I tell the negative thoughts that I know I really don't want that to happen or I don't "really" want to do that or say that.

It gets old though, as the pain is my other pain, I guess. It ramps up the mania like nobody's business. If I don't control that, I can't get sufficient control of me.

Now its the doctors turn. I need to hear something positive today, something that gives me hope. I need some hope that I can change this situation. That I can regain some of my health back and continue to work.

As I've discussed I would rather be dead than not working, but I'm half dead because of all the work I do.

For some reason I haven't studied Lupus yet, and really have no idea what sort of situation I'm in. My endocrinologist said I'm in an active phase.

I'm not active, but the disease is, and he attributes this to my weight loss, the rash on my neck that remains after three years, and the pain.

But the only potential problem I see is the medications they use to treat this: steroids is on top of the list. Unless you want to create a one woman army, a killing machine, I suggest we take this carefully.

There is another medication used to treat Malaria of all things, and I think that is what they will give me.

I get so many side effects, I'm a walking side effect of something.

I'm more than willing to risk myself in this way because the fact is I cannot live and won't live with this fucking pain and anorexia.

Then there's still in my mind that a medication I used for faxing, copying and scanning, Ativan, a benzodiazapine, may be a link to this mystery of why I suddenly lost weight, plagued with pain and fatigue issues.

It took one year to cut my previous dosage in half, and I still have a ways to go.

Scooter, I really hope you have something for me today, something that is positive, because I'm done with all of this.

I have a business in the making, and I am the most unreliable part of it. The owner/creator cannot be the weak link.

I've thought I'm just going to have to shut it all down before it really begins. I'll know today whether or not I have a good shot at getting well. I don't care about that shit where you live with things; bullshit.

That's not my plan. I'll do all I can to make this change, make it right, heal, be honest with myself completely, face my fears, and if that's not good enough then fuck off.

Sometimes, I lay in bed thinking I should be in a hospital. Then I realize that's where people get sick. And then stay sick.

I want to work, mainly because its the only thing I can control and even do.

I've had a particularly troublesome pain episode which doesn't want to go away.

A couple weeks ago I thought I would actually kill the pain. I take pain medication, which is strong and I'm sure horribly addictive, which pisses me off, but I never kill all the pain.

I only take enough to let the pain give the edge but not cut me or make me dysfunctional so that I cannot think and work.

But on this day, I really wanted to see what it would feel like without the pain and maybe get some good sleep.

So, I took my regular dose and doubled it. Then I decided to add more to that.

I sat in bed for an hour, when I suddenly realized, I didn't feel so terrible. In fact, I felt good. Instead of going to sleep, I was ready to go to work, and I even got up and cleaned up the house a bit.

But, reader you see the trap here don't you? I liked the four hours of being pain free, a little dingy, but basically okay. I would have to take a lot of pain medication to reach that state on a daily basis, and then I would build a tolerance. Thus not being able to live without my pain medication.

I don't think so. It's not in the plans.

Either we fix this, or I'll fix it myself. I hope that you see another blog from me, because I'm done fooling around, I need help. If there is none or there is some fraction thereof, I'll be quite serious: I'm not going to spend my days screaming in pain where my animals, my children, run from me.

They don't know it has nothing to do with them, the bird screams with me, the dogs bark and tear things up, and that cat looks at me with disdain.

So, I have to get my sorry ass up here, get dressed, and go to Bakersfield. Couldn't find a ride because the appointment was too quick, so I guess I'll be driving this again.

But I need to know, so I'm going to drag myself there, and hope for the best...

What have I done now? Started another fight?

It's been arguably, one of the most trying weeks of my life, and that is saying a lot.

But I just cannot take the crap any longer. As you all know I am a bi-polar reporter with an agenda which always seems so idealistic and Pollyanna, that I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I do care about people and the universe I am treading upon.

I've often put others ahead of my own needs and wants , but as I've been antagonized to no end, by people who should know better, I've had to make a decision on upcoming strategies.

First, the local newspaper is going to be sued. They have been nothing but a thorn in my side, and even after many threats, have continued their practice of getting me mad. It's not as easy as you may think.

I don't like to be mad, in fact, I prefer to spread good will, but there are those who in their ignorance of the world, who would think that fighting with me would win them some award.

Not.

Fighting with me, is a bad deal. I do not and will not, roll over in submission. I'm a bad dog, and if you're not up to it, you will regret taking me on.

I think our local newspaper is about to find out what they only dreaded could happen: they started a war with me.

Personally, even I would not be as stupid as to ire the likes of who I am. If there's even a notion that someone is being hurt or victimized, I will be on it, like a hawk on a rat, and I won't let go.

Yes, we are learning here in the Kern River Valley that one person can and does make a difference.

We all have the potential of being more than who we think we are, and have much more influence than we thought we could have. Thank God for that. Strong individuals make strong communities.

I am no longer interested in making people okay with my message, in fact, I don't care anymore as to the response, I care about the outcome.

It's been a long, arduous battle with the Kern Valley Healthcare District in Mt. Mesa, but it's been worth the effort.

I get emails thanking me for caring. Isn't that sad?

What happened to compassion in this world? What happened to standing up for what you believe in?

It seems to be gone.

I'm not doing this fighting to make a name for myself; apparently that has already happened without my knowledge. (There are good reasons for these battles, and then there is the real reason.)

I'm doing this because in some dark recess of my mind, I think that I can make a difference. How stupid am I?

Well, I'm stupid enough to have spent a good amount of time and money fighting a battle, which in the end will hopefully serve the community and future residents of our Kern River Valley.

The good things in my life are the ones that have made me think, made me stop and wonder with awe what this life is all about.

Someone called me the other day with good news and thanked me for my continuing plague on KVHD. I told him, if that is all that happens out of this, it is worth it to me.

I hardly know this person, yet over the course of time, phone calls, raw emotions, we have bonded in an unusual way: I am fighting for him and his family.

When I realize the magnitude of the events which have occurred and the lives that were scorched, in some cases squelched, along the way, I'm in shock most of the time.

But good things can be squeezed out of everything, you simply need to know how to do it.

I've prayed to make certain things right in my life, and I cannot say that I am disappointed with the outcome.

Just getting a chance to fix the past is an extraordinary opportunity. I don't like to leave things undone and unfinished.

Now, I'm about to undertake (sounds so mortuaryish) something I've never done which will require all the certainty I can muster: I'm about to fight the embedded miscreants of this valley: a karmic endeavour I imagine.

Nobody has done it...nobody wants to do it...but somehow I and the universe, I bow to, thinks it must be done.

Will I perish? I could. I've factored in my own vulnerabilities into the equation. I'm not exactly physically or emotionally strong enough for what I'm thinking of doing here. But, guess what, that never mattered before and it doesn't matter now.

You want a fight? Well come and get it mutherfuckers; I've got it right here in my pocket for you.

A friend of mine asked me almost nine months ago, what I thought I was doing in this crazy situation with the healthcare district.

I told her, I'm doing what I do best.

She asked, "what's that?"

"Fight" I said.

If you know me, you know it's true. If you really know me, you then know I don't really like to have to do these things, I would much rather have decent people around me, and live a more peaceful existence.

But somebody has to do it. And God made people for certain things and I guess this is my thing.

Don't get me wrong, I may not like it, but I am good at it. And those who choose to wrangle with me, will get what is coming to them.

As I tell everyone, if you're not a lying sack of shit, you have nothing to worry about from me. But if you are...

I should've just pissed her off myself...

If you have never met Laura Hart before, how might I describe her to you? Well that's a difficult and complicated question to answer. If I left this task in the hands of others they might choose to describe her physical appearance as frail, thin, or perhaps even weak and her demeanor as highly sarcastic and full of piss and vinegar.

True, she is thin in a sense but there is far more to this person than meets the eye and when you take the time to conversate with her you'll realize just as I did that the spirit residing within that unassuming, petite frame is vast and far more expansive than you could ever imagine.

Although I have only known her for a relatively short amount of time, I can say without the slightest bit of doubt that the Laura Hart I have come to know is not weak in any sense of the word nor is she ever lacking in cleverness, wit, or a willingness to help others.

So, again, how would I choose to describe Laura Hart? I'm sure there are many words I could use, like strong, passionate, generous, ahem, tenacious...but there is only one single word that truly comes to mind: genuine.

She is not afraid to show you or anyone else on this earth exactly how she feels, and like it or not, it is undeniable that she is one of the most genuine human beings you shall ever have the privilege of knowing...she is the real deal.
And because of this honest and genuine nature Laura Hart is an honest and genuine threat to those that prey on the weak; a threat in the sense that her words and her ability to discern the facts from a mountain of lies can do what most of us can't or are perhaps unwilling to do: expose the damn truth.

Now if you are at least somewhat aware of the vast array of things that have tried and failed to keep this woman down, you know that she has been through many ordeals (how in the hell did she survive hitting that bathtub rail head on with enough force to bend it?) that make her seemingly invulnerable, but you must understand that she is only human after all and quite vulnerable just like the rest of us and I have proof.

Over the course of this past week or so Laura slipped into a depression and worried even her closest family and friends who were all rather used to the various sides of bi-polarism and manic depression.

Somehow, this time it seemed much more serious.Bored, frustrated, and struggling for a sense of self, my crazy friend became suicidal and all of us closest to her stood there on the sidelines in the unknown, anticipating an outcome that had always been at the back of our minds but never in the forefront of our hearts.

We wondered if she had at last reached the point of no return...Well just when we thought things had just about reached their dreary and dreaded finale, and life's many burdens had proved too much for her to handle, something happened and she snapped back out of it.

What was this occurence that could thwart so easily Laura's ambitious goal of self-demise? Was it divine intervention or a simple twist of fate? Well call it what you like but I gotta call it from the perspective of us mere mortals: apparently somebody really pissed her the hell off.

And I was suddenly reminded that that was the one thing that reignited her fiery passion before: somebody with enough arrogance and indignity to speak of her as though she were somehow less of a person than they and in the process really pissing her off... Um, BIG mistake.

You see, Laura is a warrior; she lives for the fight. Sure, she can have her moments where she may lose sight briefly of what she is fighting for, as she did last week, but as mentioned earlier she is only human.

She was forged in the fires to take on that which few dare to tackle and in doing so she gives others strength and hope and leads them to the path of redemption. There is a word often used to describe such a person who gives and gives at personal expense for the sake and benefit of others and Marvel Entertainment knows that word well...but for now I think I'll leave that word up to you to figure out.

So, anyway, the fiery Laura Hart I am used to seeing sifting through paperwork, making untold amounts of phone calls, typing away for hours on end on her archaic computer, and ready to fucking kick the asses of those who dwell in injustice is back and badder than ever and, well, looks like I'm along for the ride once more being as I am officially (and proudly) one of the Bi-Polar Reporter's many "cronies".- The Cameraman

Kicking some bi-polar ass...getting past the depression...

"What did you say to him," a friend of mine asked me last week after I told her another friend was angry with me...again.

"Nothing, actually, it was all done with my hands."

So it seems I can make people angry even without uttering a single word. Wow, the power. (geez)

I apologized for doing whatever I did, which I'm not exactly sure of, but am sure that I was not happy at the time, and things can get misinterpretted very easily.

Sometimes people take things personally, which is the title, we have decided for the third book in the series, "The Chronicles of the Bi-polar Reporter." It has to do with a time that the medical establishment decided to give me some Paxil, and SSRI antidepressant, not meant for bi-polars.

I took one dose and went from depressive paralysis, to vigilante butt kicking, eradicating drugs from a whole city, maniac. None of it's true. Okay, I'm lying. Some of it is true. Well, most of it is true. People have not forgotten my bi-polar war on drugs. I'm thinking it should be called, "Tweekers versus Super Tweek." I don't care how much meth you consume, there will never be a rival to a bi-polar on antidepressants. That's what a whole city found out.

Anyway, I truly dislike it when my friends are more sensitive than I am insensitive, because I end up saying or doing something that brings them down.

Not knowing depression was on its way to my door step and into my mind, I was in what everyone around me likes to call a "mood." It was depression worming its way into my thinking and activities like a virus.

This is a serious subject as I know so many have suffered and even killed themselves because of the chemical breakdown which occurs during depressive phases of the bi=polar cycle.

I've said I would be honest and forthright on this blog, as an outlet for me, and a demonstration to the younger bi-polars, of how to handle these psychological challenges.

I wish I could say what happened this week was treated with my wisdom and experience, but it's not true. Depression hit like a rock against my head, and only now, more than a week later can I say that I feel...different. Nothing really happened except someone made me angry and it helped my mood.

Is that fucking crazy or what?

(I can hear the hissing of the hose filling again, and the mania on its way. )

What happened?

Sometimes nothing happens, and like someone told me this week, "what goes down, must come up," which is the only way to explain it.

There was an email on my computer last night that left me irritated. I didn't initially respond, because I didn't think this person was worth a mere sentence of rebuttal, but when I woke up this morning, I changed my mind.

I wrote back and made sure in four sentences to put this person quickly in her place, and left the sword hanging from her back. Felt pretty good actually.

But even as I did this, I recognized that my mood had changed, and stayed aware so I did not do more damage than was intended. I hit a target and left it at that. Pretty straightforward really.

Again, the game is this, keep aware of what you are thinking and doing at all times. It may seem a cumbersome task at first, but it is totally necessary to control the bi-polar.

This is not an easy life by any means, but it is interesting, never boring. I say always make it through the depression, don't let them be the defining moments. There are places our minds can go that others cannot follow or would be too afraid to follow. Its actually amazing if you can survive it.

I always have to remember that depression is a phase which will pass. And not to fuck everything up while I'm waiting.

Yes, I have tried many times to kill myself. So, I said it, even though it is difficult to admit.

The first attempt I was only 11 years old. After years of depression and a sudden onset of mania, I couldn't take it anymore. Obviously, it didn't work.

But try, try again. I attempted to kill myself in many ways, and was for some reason, always unsuccessful.

That is why this is such a serious subject and we should discuss it regularly. I've heard now, many young bi-polars talking about the "way out."

There is no way out, only a way through the mist kids. All of us at one time or another want to get out of the pain, but we have to, whether we like it or not, ride out the tidal wave of negative thinking. If I can do it, anyone can.

I'm no example to follow, and certainly no one to look up to. But I am someone who has done her best to not just stay alive, which is really nothing, but to create the best me I can create. When I go to sleep at night, I need to know I did my best, even if it didn't work too well. Your own life is your work of art. I'm a little abstract to say the least.

One of the funniest things said this week to me was when I related the manic rage incident from last week, where I tore myself up being angry over really nothing that couldn't be solved by a quieter mind. I was saying how stupid I was for getting so angry. I was simply told, "so what? You're human."

Now, generally speaking, people usually tell me in no uncertain terms that they agree I'm a dumbass, but to be told, I was human, well, that actually seemed okay.

Since a lot of us bi-polars feel like aliens from another planet most of the time, it was actually nice to have verification of my human status. That goes for all of you.

I'd like to apologize to everyone around me for my depressive attitude this week, and thank you all for understanding.

For some reason, when I get down, I bring everyone down with me. I hate that, and don't know exactly why it happens that way.

Now, the hose is filling again, by tomorrow a whole new outlook will replace the tattered remnants of the depression...so, let's kick some bi-polar ass...are you with me?