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...
Monday, September 28, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
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
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
Thursday, September 17, 2009
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?
"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?
Crazy days indeed...depression...illness as a metaphor
So, I got my sorry ass out of bed this morning and headed over to my new doctor to get some trigger point injections in my neck and back. I had completely forgotten about the fact I had blood tests run a week or so ago.
The doctor tells me today, that my tests are showing that I have Lupus.
That's called a diagnosis. I've had quite a few of them in the last six years as I've struggled with my health. Grave's disease, still have that I guess.
But as I was thinking about the depression yesterday, and pondering the idea that I might just "hate" myself, I realize today that Lupus is an autoimmune disease which attacks the host, me.
So, something in my body is attacking me, stripping me of my weight, causing me pain, and there just may be some sort of link, I think.
My childhood was stressful at best, but something must have influenced me to a degree that I was not worhty in some way to be free to enjoy my life, how I see fit to live it.
How do I handle things from here? I'm not sure yet.
I know that the treatments consist of steroids, which I cannot take, so there's not much in the way of medical treatments to help.
Somehow, I feel like I'm going to have to help myself, and come to terms with whatever energy/thought patterns/unexpressed feelings which are causing my illness.
I'm sure it will be interesting, it always is when you learn about yourself.
So, I'm not out of the depression, not fighting it, just praying for answers.
Thinking again, what does this mean, this diagnosis? And how can I learn from it?
I'll let you know.
The doctor tells me today, that my tests are showing that I have Lupus.
That's called a diagnosis. I've had quite a few of them in the last six years as I've struggled with my health. Grave's disease, still have that I guess.
But as I was thinking about the depression yesterday, and pondering the idea that I might just "hate" myself, I realize today that Lupus is an autoimmune disease which attacks the host, me.
So, something in my body is attacking me, stripping me of my weight, causing me pain, and there just may be some sort of link, I think.
My childhood was stressful at best, but something must have influenced me to a degree that I was not worhty in some way to be free to enjoy my life, how I see fit to live it.
How do I handle things from here? I'm not sure yet.
I know that the treatments consist of steroids, which I cannot take, so there's not much in the way of medical treatments to help.
Somehow, I feel like I'm going to have to help myself, and come to terms with whatever energy/thought patterns/unexpressed feelings which are causing my illness.
I'm sure it will be interesting, it always is when you learn about yourself.
So, I'm not out of the depression, not fighting it, just praying for answers.
Thinking again, what does this mean, this diagnosis? And how can I learn from it?
I'll let you know.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
"To Be or Not to Be" oh crap that's been used
Day #7: depression
Well, it doesn't seem to want to wear off on its own, it just keeps going, taunting me to the point I can't help but go back and forth on what I want to do with my "life."
So, it's part of the program of bi-polar. Not that I haven't experienced this before, its just when you're right in the middle of it, it seems there's no way out.
I feel like the worst person on the earth, yet my friends and family, still, for some reason, want me to prevail.
We all have to learn to get over this kind of thing. Its not easy, no at all, your mind lies and tells you that you're nothing but a scoundrel who should have never been born.
How do I get through this? Well, I've prayed that my health would get better and that would do quite a bit for my depression right now.
I remember just six months ago, trying to check myself into to a psyche place, but they wouldn't take me because they said my physical problems were worse than my mental problems.
Really, I laughed so hard at them.
They gave me the quiz about do you want to live, I said no not like this, they said, what helps? Nothing really.
Looking at my bird, my crazy, cussing, parrot, sometimes helps, but then there has been too much in my life of recent.
My sister actually had to explain to my father how screwed up I am. Apparenlty, he thought, and maybe I gave him the false idea, that everything was okay.
Now they know.
I was supposed to be in Europe with my good friend, but then she got a gander at how I looked and maybe finally understood why I couldn't go. I wouldn't have enjoyed it.
Let's try day 7 and see what my wicked chemistry has in store for me tomorrow.
There's so many things I want to do, but not like this. I honestly have to start caring to have my life back. Those with depression out there, you need to understand, you have to care about yourself, no matter what your crazy brain tells you.
Okay, let's try this again, what do you want from me Scooter?
Well, it doesn't seem to want to wear off on its own, it just keeps going, taunting me to the point I can't help but go back and forth on what I want to do with my "life."
So, it's part of the program of bi-polar. Not that I haven't experienced this before, its just when you're right in the middle of it, it seems there's no way out.
I feel like the worst person on the earth, yet my friends and family, still, for some reason, want me to prevail.
We all have to learn to get over this kind of thing. Its not easy, no at all, your mind lies and tells you that you're nothing but a scoundrel who should have never been born.
How do I get through this? Well, I've prayed that my health would get better and that would do quite a bit for my depression right now.
I remember just six months ago, trying to check myself into to a psyche place, but they wouldn't take me because they said my physical problems were worse than my mental problems.
Really, I laughed so hard at them.
They gave me the quiz about do you want to live, I said no not like this, they said, what helps? Nothing really.
Looking at my bird, my crazy, cussing, parrot, sometimes helps, but then there has been too much in my life of recent.
My sister actually had to explain to my father how screwed up I am. Apparenlty, he thought, and maybe I gave him the false idea, that everything was okay.
Now they know.
I was supposed to be in Europe with my good friend, but then she got a gander at how I looked and maybe finally understood why I couldn't go. I wouldn't have enjoyed it.
Let's try day 7 and see what my wicked chemistry has in store for me tomorrow.
There's so many things I want to do, but not like this. I honestly have to start caring to have my life back. Those with depression out there, you need to understand, you have to care about yourself, no matter what your crazy brain tells you.
Okay, let's try this again, what do you want from me Scooter?
Monday, September 14, 2009
Depression and the void of laughter...
Well, I guess I blew all my good chemicals out my ears, as I'm in the middle of severe depression. The kind you don't really want to talk about.
After a family meltdown, and additional craziness that keeps me from trying to recover, I started to think about what the hell I can learn from this.
Yes, I can spin anything, even my own dark thoughts.
I've come to a point where its tough to admit, or talk about, but I think I hate myself. I think there has been a build up of dissappointment internally, and it plagues me.
When I get into this awful state of mind, I realize there is nothing anyone can do for me. It's all about me doing what I can to try to do to change this energy.
I've had all the helpful advice I can take, I just want to be left alone. And I've been verbally attacked, diminished, which didn't help either. Funny enough I'm too depressed to be angry about it at this point.
My energy is so bad, I can feel it, I don't know what it is all about, but if I plan on continuing my life, I better find out soon.
Hurting myself the other day made matters worse, as pain is not a friend, its an impediment. It's adding to the despondency.
All I can say to you people who have to suffer through this shit, is to not use your brain to figure it out. It's like submission, just accepting it, and praying the answers will come.
I've wrangled with depression all my life, but found myself intellectualizing it all. I could list all the reasonable things to do about it, but I didn't know how to utilize them.
When I can't laugh its like a void as it is my emotional tool.
Since everyone involved whirled right in behind me when I hit manic rage, they were affected which always makes me feel terrible.
So, now we're all depressed. And everyone is wondering what I'm doing. They have to call and check in.
I'll tell you I'm just trying to get through it that's all. Apparently, I've got to deal with these demons on some level so that I can find my way back from being lost.
Don't fight it, see it, and find out what happened to lead to the darkness.
I'll get back to you on that...
After a family meltdown, and additional craziness that keeps me from trying to recover, I started to think about what the hell I can learn from this.
Yes, I can spin anything, even my own dark thoughts.
I've come to a point where its tough to admit, or talk about, but I think I hate myself. I think there has been a build up of dissappointment internally, and it plagues me.
When I get into this awful state of mind, I realize there is nothing anyone can do for me. It's all about me doing what I can to try to do to change this energy.
I've had all the helpful advice I can take, I just want to be left alone. And I've been verbally attacked, diminished, which didn't help either. Funny enough I'm too depressed to be angry about it at this point.
My energy is so bad, I can feel it, I don't know what it is all about, but if I plan on continuing my life, I better find out soon.
Hurting myself the other day made matters worse, as pain is not a friend, its an impediment. It's adding to the despondency.
All I can say to you people who have to suffer through this shit, is to not use your brain to figure it out. It's like submission, just accepting it, and praying the answers will come.
I've wrangled with depression all my life, but found myself intellectualizing it all. I could list all the reasonable things to do about it, but I didn't know how to utilize them.
When I can't laugh its like a void as it is my emotional tool.
Since everyone involved whirled right in behind me when I hit manic rage, they were affected which always makes me feel terrible.
So, now we're all depressed. And everyone is wondering what I'm doing. They have to call and check in.
I'll tell you I'm just trying to get through it that's all. Apparently, I've got to deal with these demons on some level so that I can find my way back from being lost.
Don't fight it, see it, and find out what happened to lead to the darkness.
I'll get back to you on that...
Thursday, September 10, 2009
There's a manic in the neighborhood...
I'm sure it was lack of sleep, and too much expectation, or something that caused me to head to manic rage yesterday.
The day after such events, like today, leave me feeling drained and deeply depressed. I slept until this evening, got up, only to the feeling of pain probably caused by yesterdays "big scene."
My sister arrived with a trailer full of my stuff left at my father's house, which was fine.
I stayed up to wait for her in the middle of the night arrival, but she didn't get here. So, after two hours of sleep they rolled up.
After unloading and a few hours to chat, she and my nephew took off.
I understood there was a big scene at my father's house, and I had told my sister you don't want to deal with them after their five O'clock martinis.
Well, her timing was perfect as they were drunk and obnoxious. There was nothing I could do about it, so I just stayed out of it, until I hit manic rage late yesterday afternoon.
A invited a friend of mine to come over and have some ribs with me, but the timing couldn't have been worse.
I went to look thru the boxes which arrived, only to find that insane people had packed the crap. I started to get madder and madder as I opened each box.
My friend arrived, who is bi-polar as well, so the scene was not "shocking."
At least at first.
I should have walked away, but before I knew it, I was throwing things all over the yard and hitting the boxes with a baseball bat.
My neighbor looked across the street and asked me what was wrong. I couldn't answer I was too angry and the chemicals were pumped up in my brain and body.
Since I have disc problems in my neck and a nice long cut in my abdomen from surgery which has weakened my lower back, it probably wasn't a good idea to begin picking things up and throwing them.
But I did.
I'm sure it looks like a schizophrenic garage sale outside my house, but I ended up hurting myself more than the boxes I threw around.
My friend whipped up the ribs, which I could have cared less about at that point, and watched with neutrality as I spun out right then and there.
Next great thing, get mad and get on the phone. Of course, I did it, making things worse in the process as nothing I could say at that point was even remotely nice.
Yes, I cuss and yell, but I took it to a new level yesterday. Every sentence contained the word "fuck" and then just about everything else I could say contained foul language.
Could I stop? No.
This went way into the night, and my still alcoholic brother, tried to talk me down. He even mentioned the irony of the situation, as I am usually the one doing the talking down for him.
We talked for hours until I finally got tired, the chemicals beginning to recede long enough for my emotions to begin to make sense to me.
Then the depression hits. I blew off all the good chemicals in the angry rage, so the next feeling is one of embarrassment and resignation.
When I woke up this morning, I didn't really care if I lived or died. Then there's the lingering feeling of "how stupid am I?"
That quickly passed as I realized I had hurt myself lifting and throwing and swinging that bat around. The pain was everywhere which made me even more depressed.
I got up for a few minutes, long enough to make some calls, wiping tears away so I could speak.
I was told that I should get someone to talk to about it. Like a psychologist or a Preist? Whatever, they are useless to the bi-polar in this state of mind.
My sister told me not to let crazy people make me crazy. Well it seems to be an infectious situation.
So, we shall see what comes of this, as deep depression has settled in, and mania is gone for now.
I told my dog to eat all the crap I threw in the yard. He had some fun today.
I'm not having fun yet. From this vantage point in time, I feel like it will never be fun again.
It's fucking great to be bi-polar: see you around, maybe.
The day after such events, like today, leave me feeling drained and deeply depressed. I slept until this evening, got up, only to the feeling of pain probably caused by yesterdays "big scene."
My sister arrived with a trailer full of my stuff left at my father's house, which was fine.
I stayed up to wait for her in the middle of the night arrival, but she didn't get here. So, after two hours of sleep they rolled up.
After unloading and a few hours to chat, she and my nephew took off.
I understood there was a big scene at my father's house, and I had told my sister you don't want to deal with them after their five O'clock martinis.
Well, her timing was perfect as they were drunk and obnoxious. There was nothing I could do about it, so I just stayed out of it, until I hit manic rage late yesterday afternoon.
A invited a friend of mine to come over and have some ribs with me, but the timing couldn't have been worse.
I went to look thru the boxes which arrived, only to find that insane people had packed the crap. I started to get madder and madder as I opened each box.
My friend arrived, who is bi-polar as well, so the scene was not "shocking."
At least at first.
I should have walked away, but before I knew it, I was throwing things all over the yard and hitting the boxes with a baseball bat.
My neighbor looked across the street and asked me what was wrong. I couldn't answer I was too angry and the chemicals were pumped up in my brain and body.
Since I have disc problems in my neck and a nice long cut in my abdomen from surgery which has weakened my lower back, it probably wasn't a good idea to begin picking things up and throwing them.
But I did.
I'm sure it looks like a schizophrenic garage sale outside my house, but I ended up hurting myself more than the boxes I threw around.
My friend whipped up the ribs, which I could have cared less about at that point, and watched with neutrality as I spun out right then and there.
Next great thing, get mad and get on the phone. Of course, I did it, making things worse in the process as nothing I could say at that point was even remotely nice.
Yes, I cuss and yell, but I took it to a new level yesterday. Every sentence contained the word "fuck" and then just about everything else I could say contained foul language.
Could I stop? No.
This went way into the night, and my still alcoholic brother, tried to talk me down. He even mentioned the irony of the situation, as I am usually the one doing the talking down for him.
We talked for hours until I finally got tired, the chemicals beginning to recede long enough for my emotions to begin to make sense to me.
Then the depression hits. I blew off all the good chemicals in the angry rage, so the next feeling is one of embarrassment and resignation.
When I woke up this morning, I didn't really care if I lived or died. Then there's the lingering feeling of "how stupid am I?"
That quickly passed as I realized I had hurt myself lifting and throwing and swinging that bat around. The pain was everywhere which made me even more depressed.
I got up for a few minutes, long enough to make some calls, wiping tears away so I could speak.
I was told that I should get someone to talk to about it. Like a psychologist or a Preist? Whatever, they are useless to the bi-polar in this state of mind.
My sister told me not to let crazy people make me crazy. Well it seems to be an infectious situation.
So, we shall see what comes of this, as deep depression has settled in, and mania is gone for now.
I told my dog to eat all the crap I threw in the yard. He had some fun today.
I'm not having fun yet. From this vantage point in time, I feel like it will never be fun again.
It's fucking great to be bi-polar: see you around, maybe.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Emotional geography!
The bi-polar reporter on the loose, hunting big game, the former CEO of our local hospital, public healthcare district. And what a hunt its been.
I'd like to have an ending for my second book, and I'm getting anxious to see what it is. But like anything else I do, I have to get around my bi-polar to do it.
So, it started last night as I kept thinking that this white collar criminal is going to get away from a good public spanking. Nothing I could do about it, but say it on my other blog.
I've been trying to quit smoking, using Twizzlers as a substitute. Quite frankly I will never have another one after eating a pound of them last night. I don't even know what those damn things are, recycled plastic bottles with sugar and food coloring?
I knew I shouldn't have tried to eat that last one. I heard the rumble start in my stomach, and next thing I brought out my heating pad to try and stop the onslaught. I belched, turned green and fell asleep without setting the alarm.
At 7:15 I jumped out of bed, looking everywhere, confused, and suddenly realized I was running late.
Its not easy for me to get out of bed, but regardless of the Twizzler overdose and subsequent gas issues, and the regular pain of living, I hauled ass into the shower and raced to my destination.
Overdoing it comes natural to me apparently. My friend asked me how late I work. Well first I don't come alive until after 6 pm, so I do stay up late.
I then confessed that I work until the pain is too great and I can no longer see or feel my arms. Then I just pass out from there.
Her response was, "what the hell are you doing?" I wondered for a moment myself what I was doing, then realized, doing what I love.
So many people have watched me do the crazy things I do on my blogs, and they don't know where it comes from. I don't either, I'm just weird, and I get bored.
I can no longer do straight up news stories, I'm working out my own style and "spin."
And people have told me even though they "don't like me" or even what I write, they think its funny.
Absolutely, life is funny, that's my point. And there's a story in everything, I try to tell my writers, who are more frightened than I thought.
People seem to be frightened of me. I will never be able to get away with saying I'm a kind person again, after this fray with the healthcare district.
I know exactly how my parrot feels. I tell everyone she's just a sweet bird with a big beak. Then she freaks out one day and bites them on the face. She didn't mean it, she got too excited.
She's my bird, I've been bloodied by her on numerous occassions, but I'm crazy about that bad bird anyway. My friends have been chomped and pecked, and they forgive, me, I mean, her too.
I've bit the whole Kern River Valley on the face and they will always be watching for my beak forever more.
There is this wonderfully understanding and compassionate woman who works as an advocate for patients in nursing homes, and I told her I was bi-polar, and she pulled back on me for a minute or two.
Then she read the blog, the other one, the one with the guns, and she said, she had a son with ADHD, and worked with us different people in different capacities.
In her email she closed by saying, "I'm sure you are aware that in your "up phase" you have more energy than the average person, and that tends to overwhelm others. It's like a fire crew handling a high pressure fire hose. They have to keep a firm grip on it so that it doesn't become distructive."
Well, I relate this to the trials with my thyroid/bi-polar imbalance which ate up years of my life. Hell, that hose would fill, and I would be hanging on with both hands, trying to get a grip, then just as suddenly there would be nothing there.
Down I'd go. While I was dealing my new state of mind, the hose would start filling, I began to listen for the hissing sound, and off I'd go again.
These two very different states of mind can be confusing to get through, and certainly anyone with this disorder out of control, must realize that they are definitely a problem for others.
I've had more mania over the past six years than I can recall ever having to handle before. Yes, it was very bad during puberty, and then my twenties weren't so hot; okay, I'm stopping myself here, because it is difficult to compare these "eras" of bi-polar.
I do know one thing for certain, I learned a lot.
Today is one of dejavu days with flashbacks. In 2006 I had my best year in years. I was actually sleeping a few hours a night, I weighed almost 115 pounds, I was in an exercise class, I built up to writing several stories a week, the bi-polar was somewhat under control and I thought I was on my way back...again.
As the story goes that didn't happen, and within just two months I was suddenly missing 25 pounds, a rash began developing around my thyroid area, and I simply was on the way down.
The stress began to get to me, and by 2007, I was fully an out of control bi-polar. That hose was spraying everywhere. It didn't mean I was unable to recognize reality or had hallucinations, it meant I was so jacked up that I would wrestle constantly with irritation, adrenaline and emotions.
Nobody understood what the hell I was talking about, I tried to manage by myself staying what I call, "destimulated." meaning, reduce the stimulation, reduce the mania. A dark room for a few hours is what it takes sometimes.
As my health fell back apart, and the hope for some resolution to the problems always out of reach, I just held on for the rest of the ride. I white knuckled it. It was a roller coaster and the only way out was through it.
Then trauma after trauma hit in waves, one after the other until one day, I got the thyroid under control.
That was nine months ago, and I'm now the perfect person. Right. Anyway, survival of the fittest, you hang on and hang in, "beaten up, but never beaten down," and you will find your way.
Unfortunately, there is nobody who can help you but you. Great realization. Scary for some people. But its important to understand on a bi-polar level. Yes, if you fuck up, then apologize and hope for forgiveness. But recognize at all times what you are doing.
If your friends who know and understand you, tell you, hey, stay out of trouble for a few days, you know you've been bad bi-polar. If they are amused and you are productive, then that is another sign.
But we are responsible for our own behaviors, whether we are bi-polar or not. And no one else can get in that crazy head of yours that you're really all right, you just need to understand your current emotional geography.
Are you north pole or south pole? Well, my advice is always head for the equator. There is no GPS system for us. We have to do our own personal cartography.
Laura Hart, still bi-polar after all these years...
I'd like to have an ending for my second book, and I'm getting anxious to see what it is. But like anything else I do, I have to get around my bi-polar to do it.
So, it started last night as I kept thinking that this white collar criminal is going to get away from a good public spanking. Nothing I could do about it, but say it on my other blog.
I've been trying to quit smoking, using Twizzlers as a substitute. Quite frankly I will never have another one after eating a pound of them last night. I don't even know what those damn things are, recycled plastic bottles with sugar and food coloring?
I knew I shouldn't have tried to eat that last one. I heard the rumble start in my stomach, and next thing I brought out my heating pad to try and stop the onslaught. I belched, turned green and fell asleep without setting the alarm.
At 7:15 I jumped out of bed, looking everywhere, confused, and suddenly realized I was running late.
Its not easy for me to get out of bed, but regardless of the Twizzler overdose and subsequent gas issues, and the regular pain of living, I hauled ass into the shower and raced to my destination.
Overdoing it comes natural to me apparently. My friend asked me how late I work. Well first I don't come alive until after 6 pm, so I do stay up late.
I then confessed that I work until the pain is too great and I can no longer see or feel my arms. Then I just pass out from there.
Her response was, "what the hell are you doing?" I wondered for a moment myself what I was doing, then realized, doing what I love.
So many people have watched me do the crazy things I do on my blogs, and they don't know where it comes from. I don't either, I'm just weird, and I get bored.
I can no longer do straight up news stories, I'm working out my own style and "spin."
And people have told me even though they "don't like me" or even what I write, they think its funny.
Absolutely, life is funny, that's my point. And there's a story in everything, I try to tell my writers, who are more frightened than I thought.
People seem to be frightened of me. I will never be able to get away with saying I'm a kind person again, after this fray with the healthcare district.
I know exactly how my parrot feels. I tell everyone she's just a sweet bird with a big beak. Then she freaks out one day and bites them on the face. She didn't mean it, she got too excited.
She's my bird, I've been bloodied by her on numerous occassions, but I'm crazy about that bad bird anyway. My friends have been chomped and pecked, and they forgive, me, I mean, her too.
I've bit the whole Kern River Valley on the face and they will always be watching for my beak forever more.
There is this wonderfully understanding and compassionate woman who works as an advocate for patients in nursing homes, and I told her I was bi-polar, and she pulled back on me for a minute or two.
Then she read the blog, the other one, the one with the guns, and she said, she had a son with ADHD, and worked with us different people in different capacities.
In her email she closed by saying, "I'm sure you are aware that in your "up phase" you have more energy than the average person, and that tends to overwhelm others. It's like a fire crew handling a high pressure fire hose. They have to keep a firm grip on it so that it doesn't become distructive."
Well, I relate this to the trials with my thyroid/bi-polar imbalance which ate up years of my life. Hell, that hose would fill, and I would be hanging on with both hands, trying to get a grip, then just as suddenly there would be nothing there.
Down I'd go. While I was dealing my new state of mind, the hose would start filling, I began to listen for the hissing sound, and off I'd go again.
These two very different states of mind can be confusing to get through, and certainly anyone with this disorder out of control, must realize that they are definitely a problem for others.
I've had more mania over the past six years than I can recall ever having to handle before. Yes, it was very bad during puberty, and then my twenties weren't so hot; okay, I'm stopping myself here, because it is difficult to compare these "eras" of bi-polar.
I do know one thing for certain, I learned a lot.
Today is one of dejavu days with flashbacks. In 2006 I had my best year in years. I was actually sleeping a few hours a night, I weighed almost 115 pounds, I was in an exercise class, I built up to writing several stories a week, the bi-polar was somewhat under control and I thought I was on my way back...again.
As the story goes that didn't happen, and within just two months I was suddenly missing 25 pounds, a rash began developing around my thyroid area, and I simply was on the way down.
The stress began to get to me, and by 2007, I was fully an out of control bi-polar. That hose was spraying everywhere. It didn't mean I was unable to recognize reality or had hallucinations, it meant I was so jacked up that I would wrestle constantly with irritation, adrenaline and emotions.
Nobody understood what the hell I was talking about, I tried to manage by myself staying what I call, "destimulated." meaning, reduce the stimulation, reduce the mania. A dark room for a few hours is what it takes sometimes.
As my health fell back apart, and the hope for some resolution to the problems always out of reach, I just held on for the rest of the ride. I white knuckled it. It was a roller coaster and the only way out was through it.
Then trauma after trauma hit in waves, one after the other until one day, I got the thyroid under control.
That was nine months ago, and I'm now the perfect person. Right. Anyway, survival of the fittest, you hang on and hang in, "beaten up, but never beaten down," and you will find your way.
Unfortunately, there is nobody who can help you but you. Great realization. Scary for some people. But its important to understand on a bi-polar level. Yes, if you fuck up, then apologize and hope for forgiveness. But recognize at all times what you are doing.
If your friends who know and understand you, tell you, hey, stay out of trouble for a few days, you know you've been bad bi-polar. If they are amused and you are productive, then that is another sign.
But we are responsible for our own behaviors, whether we are bi-polar or not. And no one else can get in that crazy head of yours that you're really all right, you just need to understand your current emotional geography.
Are you north pole or south pole? Well, my advice is always head for the equator. There is no GPS system for us. We have to do our own personal cartography.
Laura Hart, still bi-polar after all these years...
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
What do I do to them...in the company of bi-polars
It amazes me the brilliance all around me, the minds of the bi-polar. But I push on them to write asking for the best.
I'm guessing this is too much pressure. But what I mean by the best is simply writing it the way you see it. What is created is aside from the process in your mind you go through when translating life into words.
Those words, even writers are afraid to use. I've had the opportunity to observe "writers block" in others, who are so eloquent as long as there is not a keyboard or a pen in front of them.
It's like being a farmer trying to get the milk out of these cows.
Some have been utterly disgusted with my assignments and just blow right past them, writing what they want to or nothing at all. They want structure, yet they don't. "What do you want me to write."
"Write about what you are because of it."
"I can't do that."
"What do you want to do you can do anything."
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do, now do it, click."
A friend of mine sat here today for an hour while waiting for some inspiration. I said, "good, don't leave the computer until you have something."
As I'm not known to shut up, I went on to describe the problems being encountered: "they're all in your head."
Naturally, that went over big. But I'm going to have to continue to push on them, because once confidence is established by way of communicating with the creative aspects of the universe, it can be grown and nurtured. It's like having faith.
So, I say, keep writing and don't worry about me, I'm just a writing machine, who is trying to show you how to get it going. "Really, its nothing personal." I've been writing since the womb; I think I left some graffiti or hieroglyphics behind.
Enjoy bringing in your own perspective, challenge the rules, hear your own voice in what you write. And then use spell check and everything is cool.
For some reason over the years people have had a difficult time writing with me. So, then I imagine its probably me.
Pardon me for now, extra pressures are on, so just write. Enjoy doing it.
Tips: don't be afraid to erase a whole page that didn't feel like it hit the mark.
However, sometimes successful fragments can be saved and used at some other point.
Know that the universe gave you all that you need to create: begin building your faith.
Keep it real, in the sense of plopping your perspectives right in the middle of it. That style has changed my writing and my life. Express things that are stuck within you. You may find an oil strike there.
Let's see what we can do this week....
I'm guessing this is too much pressure. But what I mean by the best is simply writing it the way you see it. What is created is aside from the process in your mind you go through when translating life into words.
Those words, even writers are afraid to use. I've had the opportunity to observe "writers block" in others, who are so eloquent as long as there is not a keyboard or a pen in front of them.
It's like being a farmer trying to get the milk out of these cows.
Some have been utterly disgusted with my assignments and just blow right past them, writing what they want to or nothing at all. They want structure, yet they don't. "What do you want me to write."
"Write about what you are because of it."
"I can't do that."
"What do you want to do you can do anything."
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do, now do it, click."
A friend of mine sat here today for an hour while waiting for some inspiration. I said, "good, don't leave the computer until you have something."
As I'm not known to shut up, I went on to describe the problems being encountered: "they're all in your head."
Naturally, that went over big. But I'm going to have to continue to push on them, because once confidence is established by way of communicating with the creative aspects of the universe, it can be grown and nurtured. It's like having faith.
So, I say, keep writing and don't worry about me, I'm just a writing machine, who is trying to show you how to get it going. "Really, its nothing personal." I've been writing since the womb; I think I left some graffiti or hieroglyphics behind.
Enjoy bringing in your own perspective, challenge the rules, hear your own voice in what you write. And then use spell check and everything is cool.
For some reason over the years people have had a difficult time writing with me. So, then I imagine its probably me.
Pardon me for now, extra pressures are on, so just write. Enjoy doing it.
Tips: don't be afraid to erase a whole page that didn't feel like it hit the mark.
However, sometimes successful fragments can be saved and used at some other point.
Know that the universe gave you all that you need to create: begin building your faith.
Keep it real, in the sense of plopping your perspectives right in the middle of it. That style has changed my writing and my life. Express things that are stuck within you. You may find an oil strike there.
Let's see what we can do this week....
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