Showing posts with label bi-polar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bi-polar. Show all posts

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Bi-polar by the lake...

What a beautiful weekend we had here in the Kern River Valley above the smog in Bakersfield, and next to Lake Isabella.

We had a great time getting out, stretching, after the in-climate weather passed us by. Nothing but sunny skies as Walter and his new buddy ran wild and free!
 


This is our spot to walk or run as is the case with Walter. We enjoy our lake side sprints, but this weekend, Walter had a friend to play with and they enjoyed the hell out of it!

His owner and I took a stroll and watched the two dumb asses play and get in the water...and also knock me down.

Yes, that was something I learned this weekend, that Walter may just be intentionally knocking me down. The very first time we came out to the lake and met another dog/owner, Walter sped around and the dogs knocked me down.

We went out one evening and Walter had to run after another dog who was minding his own business and his owner. Walter was told not to go and bother them, but apparently he overrode my command and got this poor dog all stirred up.

A teenage girl and her mother were just ambling along when Walter started the commotion. They were really nice about it, but Walter was getting their Australian Shepherd all worked up by jumping on the girl whom this dog was trying to protect.

And that asshole Walter seemed to be doing this on purpose. As he and this dog ran, somehow I got knocked down three times! Nobody else was knocked down...Hmmm?
I had only started filming Walter and company this weekend, when I was suddenly jettisoned off my feet, and  I fell to the ground protecting the camera.

I have two videos clearly showing this bad dog Walter intentionally knocking me down. He's a passive aggressive asshole...and I love him for it!
This is the first picture post but I will try to put up the "bad dog" video showing Walter trying to knock his own caring, thoughtful owner, (me) to the dirt. What a bastard!

The dogs chased not only those crazy "sea gulls" or "land gulls" but went after a Raven. According to Avian literature, Raven's are one of the smartest birds on the planet. However, I was shocked to find this bird, as well as another, eating cow shit.

He took a bite and then flew away. I am wondering if they choose to eat shit or they have nothing else? (That same question could be asked of people I know too...)

Now that I'm with camera again, it's time to bring some photos to the blog, making it more real. After Walter and I enjoyed our long walk with friends, we took off and played some basketball at the park.

Good thing I don't embarrass easily as Walter made an "ass" of me chasing me and biting my butt while I dribbled the basketball up and down the court.

There were a group of young teens watching and laughing as Walter and I were playing Dog/Human basketball. That SOB was pretty good keeping the ball himself, he just can't shoot the thing. We will be playing again tomorrow with another friend so maybe...now just maybe as it was embarrassing, I'll get some pictures or video.

That depends on my level of self esteem tomorrow. Walter is not helping!

Have a great day with your dogs...but don't trust them!  Laura Hart (a bad dog herself)

Friday, January 20, 2012

Mad pride...

We can even like our bi-polar?

I guess I have some of it too, what they call "mad pride." I'm happy to be a bi-polar even when I'm depressed, honestly, I do not desire to be anything but what I am. This is my life, I do- do what I want.

I'm not a victim, though it would have seemed that way had I listened to all the doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, and, of course, my parents. Luckily I have a short attention span and dumped the lesson that I have no control over my destiny for a feeling of mad pride.

To this day, there are people who would LOVE that I was chemically restrained. They would love that I admit that my thoughts are inferior to their superior, sane, thoughts.

Thank God, we the peculiar have made great strides going beyond the limitations society wishes to put on us, collectively, that is. Enough people are now of the mind set that the label insanity, or severe mental illness, imposes a judgment which diminishes our experiences. Therefore we are free to enjoy the ride! Explore the terrain such as LSD or other "hallucinogenics" provided to people looking for their answers, spiritual and otherwise.

To argue about this would be stupid and a big time waster, we are all fucking nuts and we know it. Now there are times we need SUPPORT. That's a different animal. Depression, lack of self esteem, feeling isolated and different, they all require some comfort from the outside as we often just need the acceptance of our personal plight.

Then you have the mania. Oh good Lord, the people I have angered when I've been "too happy." I do have a great resource of enthusiasm about life, that helps me sail past depression or crisis on a regular basis. My sister upon picking me up from jail last month, after not being able to bail me out, or know my condition stated: It looks like you've done it again...come out all right.

Since I was a teenager, I took medication of sorts for my anger.  I chose marijuana as my drug of choice for my surly self. My new mindset, however, wants to remove the barrier between me and my emotions...so no to anything which suppresses this information. And yes to anger as it's part of the life experience.

And yes to everything that has to do with life. I cannot really conceive of what others might label me as and I guess I don't care. The more I make people uncomfortable the better my understanding that "IT'S NOT ME." I'm not in charge of anyone's reaction, but my own. That doesn't mean I may not encounter consequences, we all do.

It's exciting to see people steer away from labeling themselves mental and more aptly creating an understanding and acceptance of their personal situation.

One organization very much dedicated to looking at mental illness as potentially a "dangerous gift" is called "The Icarus Project." They have created an outlet for many people formerly known as "crazy" now known as "fucking crazy, but cool anyway." LOL

Check out the site: http://theicarusproject.net/about-us/2011-miscellaneous-member-reportbacks

The Bi-polar American is a lifestyle, a way of thinking, an attitude! And hopefully even a beacon for others to consider in terms of thriving and not just surviving. There is nothing about this way of thinking in terms of bi-polar that should stop anyone from having a damn good time with life. And thankfully, it doesn't matter the circumstances of your life, a Bi-polar American can create heaven where there is only hell and vise-a-verse. 


And we do it...Our way!

Best wishes. Laura Hart

Monday, January 16, 2012

Eyes wide open...listening to bi-polar stories

They were wide eyed when I finished the story...

I must say people who listen to my stories tend to be sort of shocked. I recently recounted the month of December in 2007. My cousin and her husband had not heard about the events of this wicked month, so I sort of went into the whole dramatic tale.

I suppose some background is in order, but that was the year I died on the bath tub and decided to come back. Yes, I discovered death's secret!

The first part of December, 2007, I had been attacked by my biological mother's friend, let's call him. He caught me off my guard one night, and a struggle which would last five hours took place. I wasn't in the best of shape, I was maybe 90 pounds, and emotionally drained dealing with my mother's breakdown.

This dude had some idea that he would overpower me and possibly rape me. I had the notion that there would be a fight before that happened...and there was. I'm not saying that I didn't get beat up, I had my head cracked against the dresser, but then that's my head, harder than fucking wood!

We fought and fought and finally he got up and said the famous words: "You're stronger than you look."

Indeed, mutherfucker!

The stress of that event would set off a drinking binge which would end with my sister and brother finding me in the house ingesting pills, ghostly white, and half dead. They were my rescue squad.

Earlier in the day I had tried to find this asshole to fuck him up. For some reason he wasn't home when I came calling. I took it personally and got very drunk.


My siblings took my sorry ass back to my brother's house where they waited to see if I could emotionally recover from the fight. My sister stayed with me too and we three bi-polars came together to survive another ordeal.


The book wrote itself...

Weird things happened when we the three bi-polars stayed together that week. My brother's father had died of a heart attack at the house only a month earlier.

The whole thing shook the stability of us all as his father had become sort of a stabilizing agent for us grown up kids! His loss was felt by the order of the bi-polar disorder, but my brother was deeply distraught and started drinking heavily every night. I honestly thought I would go insane myself from all the pressure.

Trying to stave off madness, I had my sister and brother hook up my computer and I started to write..the first book in the series, "The Chronicles of the Bi-polar Reporter." My mind was locked into the book, the imaginary story running through me without any effort.

I remember looking out at the people around me, but I could not hear them. I could see them talking, laughing, but I was inside the book. I was writing and I became the characters. I became the events of the story and I got lost there. 

No sleep for the weary only death...

After my book was complete, my sister had left, it was my brother, his booze, and the bird. It was tough as he kept the music playing, mostly Pink Floyd's "The Wall," all night. Then one night I woke up and realized he had passed out.

I was so happy I had to pee. Actually, I had to pee anyway, and tried to be quiet...that didn't work out too well. LOL

Hazy from the sleep, I quickly headed to the bathroom. I wasn't quite awake and kind of confused his house for my house, so when I entered the bathroom I tried to flip the light switch into the up position. Too bad for me as the switch was side to side. Ooops!

I had moved too quickly, the darkness grabbed me, and I fell forward. 

I was falling and had no idea where I would land. Time slowed down- my hands reaching for something, anything, to catch me.

The next thing I remember was a sound so loud it woke the dead, or my drunken brother in the other room. He said it was so loud he knew something terrible had happened.

It was a matter of inches...

We live and die within inches, and had I been standing four inches back I would have missed the pleasure of mutilating myself on the side of a tub. 

Quick point here is that I had been in the tub area earlier in the day getting it ready for my parrot, Sky, to take a bath. However, the tub was disgusting and I did not want my parrot in there. But I had done something which probably saved me from plastic surgery: I left the glass tub doors open.

Lazy ass that I am left those doors open and thankfully so, or I would be a face full of scars. 

Had the glass door been shut I would have hit that and likely had severe lacerations. As it was I hit the metal rail leaving a dent in it that fits my head!

Shit, some psychic's bend spoons, I bend metal rails with my fucking head. This metal rail has been examined by many people and each one is more amazed as the metal is solid with no give.(I'll show you a picture soon)

A bloody mess...

It wasn't a pretty scene, my brother said my blood sprayed the whole bathroom.

I remember hitting the tub, then drifting off above my body lying on the floor. I could see my spirit breaking into pieces, disassembling itself for the afterlife. It was eerily quiet except for the pleading voice of my brother: "Don't die!" 

Jesus Christ, that SOB, my brother, would not stop saying that.

Here I was in the presence of the creator, ready to bow out of my performance, and yet I could not because this sorry ass could not stop trying to save me. 

I knew I had a choice to die or not to die. "Oh shit!" I thought as I realized death would be boring and I would want to come back right away to avoid this boredom. New revelation! We do reincarnate for a reason.

In a moment, I resumed my life and I sat straight up. "Shut up!" I yelled at my pathetic, sobbing, brother. Yes, my first words back were shut up and I'm sure more cuss words.

It's not a theme I had expected. Near death did not contain any religious figures, any fan fare, only the stark realization that all we  have is here and now. Those fucking Bhuddists were not kidding.

My brother seemed satisfied that he had done his work and I would live. Fuck him! But I do love his tenacity, raising the dead takes some real balls!

Take me to the hospital, I ordered...

At the hospital, I was alert and covered in blood. Two nurses worked to clean the blood which was still bleeding from the wounds. Once they had cleared my face, they jumped back from me and said, "It's the reporter!."

Great.

Just what I needed upon my return from death was to be recognized at the hospital which loves to hate me. I didn't say much to them, but did not get much treatment either. No stitches, only a cleaning and some band aids.

There were two cuts in my forehead which match the rails on the tub. Then there was skin torn off between my eyes which should have solved the problem of my "uni-brow." However, the malignant hairs somehow grew back.

Then there was the damage to my left nostril. The hospital released me with continued bleeding, no stitches, and I had to contend with a severe cut inside my nose.

As I worked on myself at home in front of the mirror, a piece of my nose, cut like a watermelon wedge, fell out in my hand. I was kind of taken aback but decided it was too big a piece to just throw away. So, I found the wound and stuck the damn thing back in! I held pressure on it until it started to regrow back into the area it fell out of...Awesome!


It was a long night of mopping up the blood. I waited to be seen the next day by my regular doctor who did nothing. In fact, he told me that the tub rail had to be aluminum or I would have been dead from the accident. Well, I was dead, he had that part correct.

I never got one stitch but the clinic doctor said he would owe me some plastic surgery instead. Right. Yeah. 

I like my scars, they remind me of my brush with death. And death reminds me I'm alive right now, so fucking enjoy it!

Ten days after the fall I would have a stroke and be jettisoned into a portal in the hospital ER...LOL. That's another story for another time.


My cousin just gasped...

So, my cousin and her husband listened to the story, well they gasped mostly. At one or two points I heard, "oh my God!" And I do believe they had big wide eyes.

The issue of dying has caused more than some disagreement among people who have heard this story. I know what happened to me. I have a tub rail sitting on my deck with my head imprinted in it. I remember it all!

These things happened to me in month's time. There really is so much to learn in this life...I can hardly wrap my head around it! LOL

Have a great day and I hope you create stories that could raise the eyebrow of a bi-polar! Go get 'em!

Laura Hart (bored with death)

Monday, January 9, 2012

Zen and the art of bi-polar

Keeping it real...

Knowing that my bi-polar chemistry has great potential for misuse, LOL, as with any other drug or chemical that alters your thinking, you must be aware of what is happening at all times.

I know I've drifted in and out of depression a few times in the last two weeks. There was a low then a gradual rise in energy to meet the day. I did not stay in the low, I was aware of it, saw the cause then removed the problem.

Each time I encounter a problem it becomes an immediate issue to remove it so I can enjoy myself. I choose not to become involved in each and every mood swing. And I choose to be happy in this moment. I'm also well aware I have no other moments, but right fucking now! That simplifies things for me...

Thank God for stretch denim...

I've noticed that everyone has an eating disorder of some sort. At first I thought it was me, but NOOOO all of us has one of these eating disorder thingies.

I get the fun disorder where you eat and everyone cheers you on! I'm too skinny, doesn't that suck?

As I pointed out at our NA meeting the other night, if I were fat and had bought a roll of cookie dough- tore the package open with my teeth- squeezed the dough out a hole as I drove home- someone would not have thought it was so cute. But that was me a week ago. 

These are the unfortunate and sad realities of judgmental thinking. I happen to be underweight-or I used to be-now my stomach hangs out further than my boobs or butt! That's where stretch denim is both handy and comfortable.

Everyone has a weight issue, so we need to put it aside long enough to enjoy life! 

Still underweight according to US statistics...

It would be difficult to continue this kind of eating binge. Every two hours it's food, food, food. At night I can't sleep with out food. But I could still use more weight for my height! Likely, this binge will end on its own and I will adopt new habits.

I can feel the food whether it reacts to the needs of my body. There seems to be a way to know "how to eat." This is part of my mission.

Right now, it's me as a child, eating whatever crap I remember as good. Hot tamales, the candy not the Mexican dish, happen to be a favorite for moments of anxiety. I like the jelly bean like candy sticking to my teeth. I know that must be wrong somehow, but I do! I love it!

I think I'll mellow out on the food as soon as I satisfy this beast within. I'll write, "Feed me Seymour" on this growth I used to call my abs!

I guess we will see what weight is best. I have bigger plans for me than just weight gain. I plan on making this body work like a top...for it's age anyway.

Suspend your judgment...

Now that I've told you that everyone has an eating disorder are you going to watch how you eat? What if you find yourself thinking you may just have an eating problem? That's your new mission to figure out the problem then fucking get rid of it. Not that easy when it comes to food.

Question yourself: "how does this food make me feel?" The whole point is we truly do react to our food. And not just the content of the food. Also the preparation. Was it really made with love? Or did a pubescent throw it together on a grill? Taking care of our food does make it better!

Today we all endeavor to know how we are eating and what it is doing to us. Whether we think we're heavy, underweight, slim, bulky, droopy, phat, robust, humungous, misshapen-(you get the message)-we can agree that our disorder needs balance. The key to all bi-polar is balance. Start there. Have a great day! Laura Hart (hungry)

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Stories of bi-polar past...

I had a twinge of guilt...

The morning following my decision to leave my friends out of town due to the fact they did not like the way I drive, I found myself feeling slightly guilty. I realize they were not going to budge about my driving and were seriously threatened by it. It's too bad for them that they could not relax and enjoy the type of driving I do.

My father and I did a tour from Arizona some years ago where we torched the highway. I mean we knew exactly how to use both cars to move people out of the way. My dad had to admit it was fun! His wife doesn't allow him to be close to the car in front of him. She would have lost her lunch if she saw what he and I did to the 91 freeway full of traffic.

We kicked some driving ass!

Many times I find myself with another driver who wants to fly with me. I've had some good and bad ones. One was so intense I actually lost control of my car. I was scared! LOL But I persisted and we raced through Riverside cutting each other off, but in a friendly way. Finally, after hours of this driving, we departed company with a wave to each other. It was awesome and I had a great time.

But I do know when to drive wicked and when not to. There are also things I have not admitted to in terms of my driving.

Hold onto to your hats!

My latest story involved allowing my friend to drive what is known as "blood alley." This is a windy road that requires passing in a leap frog manner as you don't get the vision due to tight turns and too much traffic. Had I done this part of the drive I would have scared the hell out of everyone.

What they did not know about my driving history was an incident on this road some years back where another car got ready to pass a big rig truck.

I was in one lane, minding my own business, when some asshole decides to pass the truck in front of him. He enters my lane and begins coming straight towards me. I suppose the best way to deal with it would have been to just pull over. NO, I had to challenge him.

We were on a collision course and I was so irritated by this fucked up driving move that I refused to give up the lane. We both refused to give up the lane and headed directly toward each other. They call it chicken, but you can't have any fear to do this.

At the last second we each moved "slightly" and did not collide. But we were in jeopardy as if he had not turned one direction and I another, we still could've crashed. As it was, it was a close call.


There again are no guarantees...

Just because I drive safe does not mean nothing will happen to me. Another story I thought of involves no responsibility on my part. It was indeed another head on collision which could have occurred, but I was innocent,so to speak.

In this scenario I was on the freeway late at night heading somewhere and in no big hurry either. At some point I take the off ramp and find myself facing a Mustang roaring towards me. This guy was obviously drunk or insane but I managed to avoid this horrible fate. I moved the car out of the way quickly because I have incredible reaction times.

I had no idea a drunk driver would be heading towards me and also ready to get on the freeway going the wrong direction. But again I survived because it was my fate to do so. There were no cell phones back then so I could not report this to the police. I don't know if anyone else got hurt by this wrong way driver that night, but it sure seemed like they would end up in trouble.


Drunk drivers survive...

Then again, remember drunk drivers somehow survive these horrendous wrecks they cause. How many reports have we heard about ten people killed but the drunk driver bounced off the car and remained alive. Amazing.

So, there are no guarantees in this world that you drive safely and you will be safe. My grandmother and her friend always followed the rules of the road. Then one night someone else didn't and hit them. This was a blind hit they did not see coming.

I drive the way I do when the time is right. I used to be so good at knowing when the cops were around too. I could feel the traffic react to their presence as long as I paid attention.

One of the best tips I can give to other drivers, no matter how they drive, is to always pay attention. Stay on the road trip and out of the food, cigarettes, and most certainly off your cell phone. If you have enough time you can get out of the way, but you need to be in the moment.

Even though I've just admitted to playing chicken with another car, which doesn't sound too good, I also have talent as a driver.

Once upon a time I was driving home in my neighborhood (they say accidents happen close to home) when I made a right turn only to find a car parked on the side of the road suddenly making a U turn in front of me. I would have hit him if I did not react immediately and made my own U turn.

We sat next to each other, me panting from the excitement, and this ass telling me to watch where I'm going. Again, other drivers will not see things your way. I narrowly missed an accident because I had the correct reaction and the in the moment experience to carry it out.

So, enjoy your drive and don't be scared, if it's your time, well then it's your time. Just stay in the moment and drive the way that makes you happy. And probably don't play chicken and you'll be fine. LOL

Laura Hart (the scary driver)

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Feeling like a million bucks!

What are limitations?

I have only recently thought about why the people around me want to limit my desires and dreams...why, because that is what people do. We put limits on ourselves constantly, making us miserable and unable to get the things we could have.

I've enjoyed the hell out of food this week! Geez, I've eaten more than any fat person I know. I also have barely gained a fucking pound. I went out and walked yesterday, it was too cold for a really good walk, but I had to do something about all the food. Walking is great, it would be even more awesome if the temperature would stay above fucking 30 degrees!

Now I've slept like a baby, eaten like a baby, and have a big goal of doing more. I get people who want me to stop enjoying myself, which I am doing. They don't bother me much anymore. As I pray and sleep I get information of the world I live in.

Even though I seem to be moving rather quickly, attacking all my weaknesses, I still have a desire to be part of the world around me. I allowed my life to get boring and I allowed others to control me, now I realize I have the control I always thought I should have.

Take time to look at it all...

If you're confused as I have been, it's time to look at the whole picture. What can be done that no one else is even considering could happen? You have all the power you need to make things happen for yourself, the same as I do for me.

Are you using it? Well, I'm going to be using it for all it's worth! That is the fun of this life, the one we all come charging back to create over and over again. Talking to the religious who hide behind their bibles will not bring the joy you so desire. Enjoying every minute, every person, every story, etc., will bring the results of happiness.

I'm way too happy as each moment brings new sensations...There are those who want me to stop the happiness and get into the misery, but I'm not willing. I happen to enjoy the happy and may want to be miserable "another time."

There is one rule to this life and that is you only have "right now!" Enjoy it! Take care, Laura Hart

Friday, December 16, 2011

Rising from the ashes...fuck you!

Okay, another sobering experience

I won't and really have no desire to use anything. I'm more interested in my state of mind, which was impaired as hell this morning. I guess it's time to breathe. I can't say I'm "good" but I'm all right now. I had to let the feeling of being a victim go forever. I'm not a victim and the only thing to hang onto is truth.

There is nothing I can do to change what happened except change my thinking. That is the truth.

It was all in my head...

No wonder I had a headache, my brain and spirit were filled to the brim with negative emotions. Nothing was good. Everything was most certainly bad though. I believed that. And that is all it took to screw a whole morning up.

Well, sometimes it takes time when things get roiled up to settle them down. AND FOR THOSE WHO WISH TO MEDICATE ME I TOOK NOTHING! I simply want to know who I am and even doctor dope is not going to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. I need to leave those who can't watch this and let them go. I know that now. I make people crazy around me and they need to learn to let me do what I need to do. I CAN AND I WILL CHANGE.

I made sure I had thyroid...

The medication I need to remember always, each morning to take is thyroid. It controls everything really. It also causes problems when I don't take it. Or for anyone.

For three weeks no one gave me my thyroid, and now I say, "FUCK YOU I FORGIVE YOU!" What else can I do. I can't make anyone accountable who doesn't want to be. I can make myself let go of hurting me and destroying every thing I have tried to accomplish. I change what I can and there you are...poof!

The reaction is...

When I have a reaction I'm back in the old days, the old ways. Now I'm acting more so, which meant I needed my space to remember, grieve the loss, and then let the fucker go. It should not be a surprise to me the way others acted. The circumstances got screwed up. People rarely take responsibility, and I must accept that. I can take my responsibility and hope that those who helped create the nightmare for me and my pets learn something.

Maybe they will...likely they will be in the 98 percent who drink it away, or pretend it didn't happen. I know myself there are some difficult lessons I've had to learn. So, I need to stop judging and living in that judgment.

I admit, I don't trust people. 

I not only don't trust people, I'm very standoffish. If people get in I'm afraid of losing myself. I'm afraid of the responsibility too. I assume from the beginning they will know how fucked up I am. This is without evidence just a thing from my past. So, I keep them out!

Wrong again...

How many times will I be wrong? Hmm, let's see a million, two million, I guess as many as it takes to learn. I'm sort of glad I did not let too much of this horrible depression loose. I did say some things I didn't mean. And it was all mean. More frustration really.

To allow the people whom I clashed with to have power over me is ridiculous. I have better things to do, or other things to do. If there is no one who will share or admit, then I have to forgive us all. We were in this together and now we are not. We created it together now I say goodbye to yesterday and hello to today.


Starting to see the future...

When I returned from jail I could not even operate the microwave. Now I have some idea about how I want to spend my life. This really is the first time I've thought past..."what is to eat?" Maybe this is a step to know where I want to be.

I missed out on so many things such as spending time with my awesome friend in London. Now she wants me to be there by her birthday in February. I will at least begin to see if this could happen, realistically. Again, what is realistic? I want to go and have some fun! I stopped myself with my bird as an excuse.

Sky is great, she's funny, interesting, she talks, cusses, and would make a great pet for someone who was living in the same place and had kids or time. I did this for nine years and now I have other things on my mind. I want to get out of here and move on. But I must step carefully and find a new place where I'm accepted, not the friend no one wants to admit to.

Geez, it's been fun...bye bye!

I acted idiotic today, but I did not realize that all of the emotion needed to be channeled into something that finally serves me! I never know what will happen and today was not an exception. One friend calls me a roller coaster ride. Lot's of screaming in fear, but when the rides over, you want to do it again. Or at least I do. I'm ready for major change and each day there is an opportunity.

One change would be to eliminate the bullshit. I can handle only so much. I'm far too obsessed with truth and fairness, openness, and so forth to deal with unnecessary drama. I have to deal with the crap in my head which takes too much time. I could have had  more done today, but I was side tracked with my drama.

My fear has become a fucking lifestyle, Geez ! No more, I don't want to waste my time anymore. I want out of this valley...there I said it. I want to be away from the drama that I probably helped create. People expect me to be "crazy" or "a good friend" which means they have decided what I'm supposed to be. No, I decide what I am going to be.


I'll be a friend to me...

I've known it all along, the answers are there for us all. I needed to look but had too much of the past right in my face, on my mind. It is time to settle it all down and be my own friend. Have positive things to say about me. "Gee Laura good job not being too insane..." Kidding.

But that is another big step: liking me. I'm not exactly into it. Hating me has been my activity. Not a good idea. Those who do this are rarely successful or happy. I am toying with the whole idea of being happy. What if I could do it? What would it look like?

Thanks for another lesson...

Those who played this event out...thank you. I would not be facing all this emotion without you. Now I can get rid of it. Hope you can too.

I'll be back for more I guess. Good luck to us all. Laura Hart

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Following the trail: back up the rabbit hole...

hello, I'm Laura and I'm a drug addict, alcoholic, sex addict, food freak, etc if you will...

I have to get used to the "outside" again, as I was incarcerated recently, not for long, as I'm not one to settle in anywhere. But new information about what happened on November 11, 2011, the day my bi-polar became seriously out of control, has come to the surface as I have to retrace my missteps from this past month.
I'm clean of it all, the drugs are gone...but then so was I.
Can you imagine watching someone kick opiates and benzo's all at once?
God it must have been terrible for those around me, and I must apologize, because that is what bi-polar American's do when they fuck up royally.
I want to not only make amends, as I could have escaped this pain by simply reducing medications over the course of some months and then gone on my way, I want to be better because of it.

BUT NO...
Being bi-polar means knowing what you are and what you are not. I'm not sane all the time, and I'm not able to handle the drugs I was taking. It was awful for All of us, not just me.
Oh my it hurt to writhe in agony, but I will never forget, and that is something that may save us all from another bad trip. I'm the one in charge, so whatever goes wrong is my responsibility.

I love the truth
As I've spent the last week at home working on the house of pain, the house of dirt, and disaster, I can see clearly that I was not in a state of mind that was conducive to living a clean and easy life. I like things the hard way.
If it can't be done, then I would do it. I would put all my personal issues aside to take on anything, even a dare. That is nothing new, it's been a whole life of putting my own needs on hold while I whip up a tornado and go out and do damage.
Now, I'm more interested in doing things that I know have at the least a seed of truth. I love the truth, and I'm irritated by people who bullshit. Oh yeah, and I'm a great bullshitter if I may say so myself. But the difference is only that I want and need to hear about my issues so I can change them. However, don't bull shit a bullshitter as I will know.

I'm working hard to come back and be all that I can be, and that includes dealing with my issues and they are numerous. You have no idea the kind of anger I have been carrying around...

Well, some out there got a taste of the personality we call the "bi-polar reporter" the one who makes sure that there are no people who are hurt or taken advantage of. How realistic is that? Not at all, therefore, this alter ego has spent years hounding others and threatening their very existence.


What can I do with all my anger?
I decided I had to come to terms with this or go over the edge and now it's a daily thing, making a bed, raking leaves, cooking stew, and having FAITH.
Thank you God or Scooter as I call it, the universe, for the breakdown, which was necessary for true change to occur. I want the truth, and I will find it, and be okay with it, as I was drunk, on opiates, freaking out, and now I'm into the moment, the only thing that counts.
I can no longer stuff this down. I kind of wish I could as the constant need for truth telling is getting on the nerves of others around me who would prefer to just package it all and call it a day.

Not bi-polar American's

We bi-polar's are all over it, the truth, the reason for our malady, and with the truth comes real change so it must not be feared.
It would be nice if I could stop telling everyone the truth, but I don't feel it's good for me or them to lie or couch the truth. It's a real skin peeler to take off all these layers of deceit. Maybe I will find that I'm still lying after all of this, but I won't worry about it, as it will do what it's going to do whether or not I actually do anything.

We are so extreme

I should say that I'm extremely angry at a lot of things, but that is not my focus. I want to take control of my mind, thoughts, life, and the only way is thru my "anger management." 

My therapist was told that she could not let the bi-polar reporter run the therapy, and I was not manic when I last saw her, which made a huge difference. 
I'm not my anger, but then what am I? I guess I'm a lot of things, too caring, too much of a pussy who constantly gives chances to others but sadly not myself. 


This is my first blog back and I want to say that my "authority complex" has gotten even more complex as I found friends in my guards at jail. They not only watched me kick opiates, including herion, which I used three times this year, and benzo's I relied upon for self control, but they were KIND. 


The last part I did not expect. They were on my bi-polar radar as the "bad guys" and I guess that made me a good guy, sort of, but now they are truly appreciated. 


I want the Sheriff's department to know that they are supported by the insane, unkempt, types like me, the bi-polars. I'm sure they are thrilled but they should be as I don't take to just anyone, I'm kind of picky, so they must be extremely cool! 


Thank you all for your support, I plan on making this work, and will get back with my progress. Right now it's white knuckle time, trying to be an adult. Oh, didn't I tell you, I'm like born yesterday or something. 


When I left the jail I had no idea what I would face here at home, but I was hoping that it would be easy. NOT. It's been arduous and tough, like a bi-polar likes it I know, but also it's a learning experience, like I like it. 


I'll continue to let you know what I'm learning. And if the Sheriff's hear this message, please know I am sincere, and would like to make good on my promise. Walter and I tried to get there, but we ended up crying and buying a cell phone...(Don't ask) which is fun and awesome, I love it! 


Thanks to the people who care about me, you are so stupid, yet I love you....


More to follow: Indeed

Monday, November 28, 2011

Some things going on in our Comunity

Well it's been a couple of weeks since a post here and I'm a guest author today November 28 2011.

 I and my significant other were arrested in 2003 for sales of marijuana and won our case in 2004. After that we decided to celebrate the win with a big party just for Medical Marijuana Patients, their caregivers and families. We camp out and have a big BBQ dinner Saturday night and a band and pretty much all the good bud you can consume. It runs from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon and is just a really good good time.

The second weekend of this month we had our big party again. After the first one we had to make it a twice a year tradition. Full Moon in June and Harvest Fest times for are our parties and we've had 7 harvests and 8 June parties.

Every party a wrench gets thrown into the storm that is planning for a party to feed 100 people and this last Harvest party was no exception, except, that the wrench thrown was not a printer going out or running out of ink or such, but the sudden snap of my very bipolar best friend. Yeah, she up and decided that she wasn't going to take anymore medicine; period. None of it!

This was not a good thing. My friend was on heavy narcotics, Xanax, and she had to take thyroid meds as hers didn't work anymore. For those of you out there who don't know the significance of needing thyroid replacement medicine; the thyroid controls the heart rate and other vital processes. Without thyroid hormones you die.

It was weird how I was able to watch the SNAP of my friend's mind. I've flipped out before but had never seen it. And once she snapped... It was like all of the sudden she was enraged and there were no words to calm her. I had to ride that rage all the way home. Ahhhh! 

 I was instantly angry too! How dare she do this to me three days before my big party! So now not only do I have to worry if I got everything for this party but I have to worry if my friend is going to kill herself. She said she wanted to die.  NOT ON MY WATCH!

So this is Tuesday before the party when she flips. She drops me off at home and I'm freaked and look it. She goes on home too, she thinks to die. NOT ON MY WATCH.

The next morning another couple of friends went to check on her at my request. They took food and were hoping to talk her back to compliance. However, she was not having any of it. So they went to the fire department up the street and reported her as an attempted suicide. The cops came and she threatened them and then had a seizure. They ended up taking her to the local ER where she attacked a nurse and ran away. The cops found her at a church, curled up in a ball on the floor crying. They took her back in and she went to jail.

Now, I thought she went to 3-B at KMC or something like that. I did not know they just took her to jail.

So, we have our party, and it goes off without a hitch. It's Monday and I get word that my friend is in jail not a hospital. OH NO! So I make the call to the jail and tell them I have information about an inmate and I need to talk to medical or they could have another death in custody! I get transferred and am able to tell the nurse what's up with my friend and that she wants to die. She transfers me to the mental health nurse, who I again tell, and she thanks me, and I feel better. I know now that she will get the attention she needs.

The next morning I get a call from a lady, identifying herself as my friends case manager at KMC's 3-B ward. She tells me that my friend is there and her thyroid condition had been diagnosed and treated
and she was after a little history. I was happy to oblige. I was even able to give them the name of her endocrinologist which the manager knew. After we were done she told me I probably saved my friends life. Ha! She's not suiciding on my watch! In Jail or not!

My question is; Why was she sent to jail without life sustaining medications? It's not like she wasn't brought in as a psychiatric patient in the first place. But somehow after she assaulted the nurse and made her escape, her psych problem got forgotten, along with the rest of her medical history, including the thyroid. So she went to jail with nothing. Will there be any lasting damage to her heart or other organs from being without her thyroid meds for almost a week? I guess we will see.

Right now my friend feels great! Newly off the narcotics she's riding the high of sobriety. I am newly off morphine so I kinda know the feeling of having that weight lifted off. I just hope she doesn't crash. I didn't, but I'm hot as radically bipolar as my friend. I just hope she's ok from now on. No more wanting to die.  
   

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

As I walk thru your valley of darkness I shall not fear: Here's your drugs assholes

I'm in full mania right now, on the verge of attack, raging, roaring and ready to fucking do what I should have done a long time ago: show them how good their drugs fucking work when I don't use them.

Here's the deal, another mediocre mind of medicine has struck the right cord. I can feel it, it's a nasty one, and it needs to be dealt with now.

Oh drug seeker, we are going to put a contract under your nose you can't see and then mess with your medications. Take your list, that you try to keep, such as health goals, drug changes, whatever the hell I wrote.

I made a mistake, I think I put it up somewhere, but let me say, with no knowledge tonight, most likely tomorrow the rockets red glare, I am doing what my insane mother did and that is to get angry and stop taking all my medications, ALL OF THEM.

Moments from now they will be in the trash, and likely so will I. I really don't know, and have too much fear to ignore. If I seizure fuck it then I do. If I have pain and am angry, that's not a problem for me either. What is a problem is having my physical problems ignored by the ignorant.

So, can we get on with it? My fucking healthcare now that I've removed all your fucking drugs? I'm not seeking, and I don't want your comfort or the leash that goes with seeing doctors.

I'm done with this shit. In fact, I'm about to show you how done with it I am. I'm not only embarrassed that I have to explain this all the time, but do NOT take Xanax, or pain killers, if you want treatment for things other than the judgement of others...who have nothing to judge.

My recent mistaken PA, lied to me. She is a real winner, I cannot even believe this gal. She has no personality, which I could've lived with, but she has nothing really to give. No openness which she obviously has missed out on in her own life.

Just a stone cold one. Okay, you win, I'm done. Good for you.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Insomnia: the forgotten symptom

Taking over my own health

I took a drive to the Rural Health Clinic over the weekend to see and maybe feel if I could, the beginning of what has become a mudslide of health problems that started in my life.

Yes, I'm bi-polar, but does that mean I am more prone to other disorders, mental or physical, or really what I'm saying was it the chicken or the egg?

Did my bi-polar  have anything to do with my thyroid problem for instance? The stress of being bi-polar could certainly link it to other problems, and here's the biggest problem I suddenly realized that I face: Insomnia.

For the last 8 years I have had differing levels of insomnia, meaning losing restful sleep so important to a BP, but also to any human being.

I could probably say that this symptom of itself has been a serious problem in my ability to regain my health. I've had autoimmune symptoms, and no diagnosis, but the problem I see is the fact that the symptom of lack of sleep, can exacerbate the rest of the problems.


Now I believe I may understand what happened with Michael Jackson

I've never had a sleep problem, I liked to sleep, and I made sure I had my 9 hours a night. It was clockwork back then, I didn't have to work to sleep, I just went to work and came home and fell asleep.

It seems easy enough, just like breathing, it was on it's own clock, the timer in my head, the Melatonin, all smooth sailing for 40 years.

And like a dark force had come over me, I couldn't sleep, my body went into stress.

Doctors immediately bring up "sleep aids" such as Ambien and I was given this drug at a time the insomnia was far beyond control of a drug.

The sleep pattern became so disturbed that I was in mania all the time, and I after a while I could not control it. In fact, my bird is living in a $800 dollar cage that was "free" to the crazy lady who nitpicked the imperfections of the cage, that the company decided to discontinue our purchase, and the cage was without cost.


But it's never without cost

As I was saying about Michael Jackson, he obviously suffered from insomnia to even consider using the particular drug, I don't have the name of it in front of me, but it's delivered via licensed anesthesiologist, to get to sleep.

His health, mental health was at stake, and the doctors even with all his money did not treat him properly.

I don't know anything about his potential for abuse of children, but I do know, that insomnia can cause a myriad of symptoms, including lack of self control.

When Jackson died, it was unnecessarily so in my opinion. He was sick, he couldn't sleep, his body had no recovery system to steady his mind and keep a balance in his body.

I could not handle the loss of sleep. I have a sleep journal my friend, not doctor, suggested I mark down the pattern which was occurring. Looking back in time, I see that I had a serious problem, and nothing on my medical records says "insomnia."


Why is insomnia not noted for it's debilitating side effects?

When I arrived here in this rural area above Bakersfield, I was sick, very sick, and probably slept one minute a night. But I was never sure, as I would writhe in bed, trying to get comfortable all night long. Suddenly I think the candle blew out for only a moment, then with a start, I would re-awake to the unreal, the one minute of sleep.

I assume my brain had to shut down or it simply began to shut down on it's own, to save my life.

Stress a killer and Insomnia the stress-or, together break down muscle, change the chemistry of the mind.

Now I'm not saying as a bi-polar that I haven't done some really strange things based on a mind which had no "off" switch, but what happened 8 years ago, was way beyond my "normal" strangeness.

I was in constant stress, my heart, my mind, and followed by these symptoms, my hair fell out, my hands shook, my strength wavered, and nobody thought to ask how much I was sleeping.

I've been thru one of the most horrendous stress events of my life, when the local hospital, a health trap, mishandled a case of Bradycardia with the use of Narcan, an opiate antagonizer. Not only that but the issue of "informed consent" but the misunderstanding about lack of sleep.

XANAX

The name of this drug sounds like a new car, but unfortunately elicits judgment from healthcare staff, as it is an abused drug apparently.

The drug is in the class of drugs called "benzodiazapines" which are anti-seizure medications generally speaking, but are also used for anti-anxiety, and for manics who just won't shut up.

This group of drugs has the benefit of calming, and it helps in sleep.

I started taking Ativan, which is close the the characteristics of Xanax, but not all of the "benzo's" are created equal, meaning they do not all act the same way.

After six years on Ativan, up to a dosage of 8 milligrams, (yes, that's a lot of honey for the bee) and Melatonin, Valerian root, other herbal sleep aids, and hell even milk, to try and get that sleep I so need, I knew it was no longer working.

I stopped and started various remedies trying to get back to the eight hours or even seven, and it has not changed, except to the extent that it harms me.

One, two, three...and I'm up and awake again, each night. Often, I find food in my bed, so I am getting up during the night in a state that is almost like sleep walking, but more like sleep eating. Crumbs and ants, walk over me, in my "slots" of sleep, then I'm back up.

Netflix has been a good addition to my night owl activities, as it keeps me from getting started on a project and finding myself at noon the next day still writing. I stream TV programs I have heard were good, but since I despise the lassitude of laying in front of a box of numbers deciding how my next few hours are being spent, so Directv, go to hell, I don't watch regular television.

But during these stressful nights, I took my Ativan for years, in fact, as I said, I was at a 8 mg. dosage and was still not sleeping for more than a couple hours at a time. I could have taken more, but I began to realize there was a change in the effectiveness of Ativan for me.


Previous uses of Benzo's

When my mother died, I took Ativan to help the stress. I took 1/2 mg. of the stuff, and I was out in a moment, even a little sleepy when I would arise.

Can you even imagine the shape a person would be in to take 8 mg. of Ativan? I can't even imagine, but now, with a few doctors who care, I am beginning to learn some new things about what is really stealing my health.

I took 10 mg., not voluntarily, at a hospital which had staff making a mistake and insisting that I take, kid you not, 20 mg. of Ativan.

I told these nurses that they needed to check their nursing manuals, and come back with the 5 mg. I was titering down to. It took me 1 1/2 years to go from 8 mg. to 5 mg. and these nurses, who usually will always give less of these types of drugs, came on like gangbusters, trying to force me to take this dose.

Instead, I was given the option of splitting my 20 mg. into 10. So, knowing I had been on Ativan for five years, and it wasn't working properly now that I was reducing the dose, I took the 10 mg. and chewed them, accepting no water.

One half hour later, one of the nurses returned, and I was wide awake and angry that I had to take this mistake, and I say it was because I was bi-polar that I was forced into taking more drugs than necessary. I was also not asleep.

Most people who have no chemical problems, would not have awoken from this 10 mg. error, but I did. Why is the question, and it is the why the doctors avoided the anomaly of why I can take this much of the medication.


They called me the "light weight"

I was never able to take drugs, I was what was called a "lightweight." And I'm not talking about my weight, but my ability to handle intoxicants.

Why hasn't this been addressed? Several reasons such as the moniker "drug seeker" and "user" which don't help to find out what has happened. These are lazy judgments designed to get a doctor an extra hour of flirting with his staff while his wife/husband cooks dinner at home.

I would NEVER recommend that anyone else with insomnia, concomitant with bi-polar and thyroid the master hormone, problems, that they use benzodiazipines for insomnia.

I also would NEVER tell anyone to try Ambien either as it made me angry and a feeling of being drunk.

But it's a serious problem that needs to be addressed. Part two coming up... 

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Just how bi-polar am I? A good witch or a bad witch?

A friend of mine who has never seen an incident of my bi-polar rage, got a dose of it over this last stressful year.

As we know stress produces a lot of fun chemicals in our bi-polar brains, yet we seem to like the stress, and are notorious for creating havoc. We like adrenaline it seems. We enjoy those miraculous chemicals that make us happy and joyous. We despise the depression. Resist at all costs. But really the depression is much easier to control than mania, especially mania that has no end or light at the end of the tunnel. It's a combo deal: mania and depression.

I have been battling it back for two months and I'm not sure when it will end or if I can make it back to home plate. For several years I've known different people and they were not witness to who and what I am. They know I tell them I'm bi-polar and I'm certainly garrulous enough to qualify, but it's the other stuff that is tough to analyze and understand. I've talked to so many non polars and they give the shit about, "it's just an excuse" "yes, you do have control" or "sorry you're damaged." None of the above are even close to actually living this kind of "self controlled" life.

What I mean is we have to be vigilent and honest about where we are in terms of our thinking which may lead to actions unwanted. On an average day I handle average stress without much ado. Then there are higher forms of stress and I know I'll be angry or upset so I prepare my reaction. Most of the worst reactions come from a few types of things such as physical pain, not getting enough sleep, and medication or drugs, the same but some are prescribed.

I note that most of the bi-polars I know, which are many, including family, have drinking or drug problems. I'm not one of them, but I do understand as I have drank my way through a few bad times. However this is not at all what you should do. A bi-polar has their own chemicals, you don't need drugs. Trust me on this one.

My friend took me to an appointment where they were going to gingerly put some cortisone or steroid in my back. The doctor said it would be fine, they would give me a pain killer, and that I would not feel anything. They forgot to give me the painkiller. The doctor ignored my communication as I gripped onto the bed, while he continued to insert things into my back. I was sweating by the time it was over, once I sat up, there was snap, crackle and pop, as my neck was so tense that it aggravated something and ended up with an instant migraine.

Now had I prepared and brought my own meds, the one's I know what the reaction will be, there probably woud have been no problems. But these doctors want nothing more than to fill your baggy up with pills and then you're fine. If you don't react well to the medication then you have a doctor with a mental issue, doctors need to feel they are doing something for you, even when they are not. Fragile people I've noticed become doctors.

After the procedure, not done exactly as described, the doctor could care less as I was ready to throw up on him, and I just wanted to leave, which I did. Sadly, I went crazy on my friend as she was the driver and I was the psycho freaking her out with my cussing and thrashing about.

She had a lesson to learn that day: this is what a bi-polar can do.

I learned that day that yes, I'm capable of things I don't even know about. We argued vehemently over my ability to "control it." She went on and on about how she had seen me control myself, and that if I would just listen to her all would be well in the world. I explained through clenched teeth from the back seat of the car that had I known there was a problem I may have been able to foresee the stress and control it, but now it was all past that point.

If you trigger a bi-polar, my recommendation from what I've seen and done, is run.

But she kept arguing with me. I told her she's the crazy one for arguing with someone in a crazy state, such as I was at the time.

Hint, if a bi-polar is angry and quiet, why ruin a good thing by arguing with them.

Finally miles down the road, I gave the warning not to fuck with me or argue with me anymore as I reached the point of no return and I would jump out of the car and walk home if I had to. I couldn't listen to a non-bi-polar telling me what I am or am not.

I suppose luckily she was slowing for a light on the busy street when I opened the door and jumped out. The shock of hitting the pavement gave me a moment of clarity: "did I just jump out of the car? I did, wow."

She was far more shocked as she came around to pick me up as I was brushing myself off and walking thru traffic.

I told her the only way I would get in that car is if she "shut the fuck up" and let me wade through my bi-polar disorder by myself. She had no other choice. Then as she let me vent and listened to my explanation, I could see and feel she now understood something she hadn't before. All the bi-polar talk and she had not seen a true episode and it took her by surprise. But after an hour of having to listen to me, she knew I know myself. I may not have control but I try to get it.

She also was now the "medical contact" as she could explain me and my maladies. However, she didn't get the chance recently as I've had more great healthcare chemically induce a major mental episode which is not finished apparently.

With all the government thinking hey let's cut the benefits of people who rightfully should be given help to keep a balance in this country. How foolish, what idiots, the government contains to think we polars are ignorant fools, out of control. You will find most of us have above average IQ's and that we have little patience for stupidity.

The best option in dealing with our kind is simple kindness. Once triggered, an episode can last two minutes or two years or basically it's unknown. I'm trying to deal with a difficult situation which has me at a point of wondering "will I make it?" That sort of stress seems to propagate itself. And that is often countered with suicidal thoughts and basically a host of imagery of homicidal thoughts. This is where it gets dangerous and where you better know who you are dealing with and what to do. I honestly can say I don't know these current thoughts or myself at this point, thus keeping a balance is problematic even for me an old polar bear.

I believe I could say I'm experiencing other types of disorders, such as panic attacks when I recall a certain situation where I had pain to the point of dying. I'm also spacing out going back to the trauma, which I don't think is necessary and it is unpleasant.

How do I stop it? One of the main things to do is always question yourself if you feel you are out of control. Others as I described with my friend, may never have seen a true manic rage episode and they will not be prepared for it. She never expected me to jump out of the car and frankly neither did I. Every healthcare provider should be prepared for such episodes and friends and family need to create support to keep things from going from bad to much worse.

I have several to thank for my most recent challenge and this is where you have the most stress, is with people who will hinder from healing: mostly healthcare folks. They think they know fucking everything. The doctors in my town should start their own website called, "I'm so arrogant I think I know everything." They can tell us all about how great their own lives are with their ill fitted mates, their cheating on each other, their smoking and likely my most recent experience includes a doctor who was either on drugs or who is in need of an education.

If you can beleive it, I'm the "nice one" in the family. My brother and sister have actually stabbed people and shot guns at fleeing "former" friends or lovers. They have done things in their rage which I helped them work through the same as I do with my own mind. I talk them through it, now they don't know what the hell to do with me. My biological mother, she's the worst of it, she's like a biological warfare, one hour with her and your life falls apart. She's a bi-polar I should bring to this community where I live and then leave immediately because she would tear this place apart. She is diabolical and scares the shit out of me. My syblings are far more malable and resilient, whereas she's got the bad vodoo bi-polar.

When her life and mine collided as I stupidly tried to help her, I had the lesson of a lifetime. She didn't want help, whereas I do, but can't get help. No matter what type of issues you have always keep your friends informed, my whole brigade is on watch with me right now, but some are angry and some are hurt and some have no idea what roils in my head at this juncture. My torment is I can't let go of the torment and it is seeming out of my control. I'm a workaholic who can't do much but write about what? My torment.

Help is somewhere, I can't believe there are only people like I've seen here in the Killer Kern river valley, one of the worst places to live if you have health issues or children in school. I thought I was coming to a place for some quiet while I healed up. Instead I face my biggest challenges ever in my life and my health slid right down the mountain. In terms of trying to deal with people of supposed "intelligence" tell them ahead of time, always tell your doctor and do drop any doctor that makes any remarks or tells you that you are not okay and a redeemable, important person in this world. The more positive an environment, the more likely you'll successfully be a true blue bi-polar American. And the more likely the people will be more understanding with you.

I'm on edge, actually I am an edge that should not be rubbed up against right now as it's a cutting edge. I'm in a "time out" trying to deal with things in a way that the rage doesn't take control or taken out on the wrong people. There have been too many times in my life I've done things I regretted later.

That is your answer to the question: Just how bi-polar am I? Do I need on-going treatment or just here and there? All keys to being a successful bi-polar. And it's possible. I didn't need constant treatment until I had trauma and physical disorders and pain to go with it and then it becomes a multiple problem. Stick with it, there are always answers and I have my own to deal with, hopefully it won't involve CNN. That's for the next post... may there be one.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

The life of a bi-polar: Fighting only the good fight

I'm not sure where to start or even what the title of this post should be, but it's been a ride from hell in my world of late, and I have found that humanity is only sprinkled sparingly out there in other people, their behavior, their actions.

Being bi-polar is a tough job, it's not something to be taken lightly, as you realize that people will use it against you if they can manage it, and they will also try and misconstrue your capability in a pinch.


It's called prejudice.

We think racism is the only form of prejudice, though it is and is one of the worst to tell another human being they are less than you based on their skin color, eye shape, their hair, culture, etc. There is also sexism, where women have been targeted to believe they are inferior or useful only in situations involving raising children or amusing male dominance.

If you look around you, you will find, I believe the strongest people in the world are African American women.

In fact, if I were to look for people who are willing to fight for their family, (our human family as well) and do it because it's the right thing to do: I would want to see a black woman. Now, when I say "black woman" I mean this distinction not to distinguish, but to simplify.

African American is a combination of culture and residence I guess, but not ALL people of color come from Africa, therefore, I've narrowed it down to "skin pigment and sex."

When I came to this rural valley in California almost 7 years ago, surrounding Lake Isabella, I could tell there was something different here, I couldn't quite put my finger on it at first. Then finally, a family in line in front of me at the store, gathering items to go camping and fishing, caught my attention. "That's whats missing, any other race than white."

I lived all my life in neighborhoods which were made up of different people: Asian, African, Phillipino, latino, and now I found myself in this almost exclusively "cracker town."

Then I found this place is a hot bed of racism as even the school district was known for scolding children for saying blasphemous things such as "Goddammit" but they were allowed to utter or even shout racial epithets. Wow, what a place to live.

Now, I should have known, (the next part of this is going to be easy,) that a bi-polar, white as a ghost, would now suffer the judgement, the degradation, the very same things associated with various forms of prejudice and discrimination.

It is my health that has suffered.

Being bi-polar is a full time job, you fail, you get back up, you fail again, and you often lose control, feel guilty, and gain a reputation, especially in a town with no conscience such as I found here in what we call the "Kern River Valley," no forgiveness or compassion.

I constantly have to "prove myself" or have my honesty challenged, and it's a burden to carry.

One of the burdens I carry is my heavy duty compassion for others. I know the feeling, the loss of self esteem, stolen by those who think by diminishing another they somehow make themselves rise. However, most of us of any intelligence know it's quite the opposite: you bring others down and you reap the reward which is the unsettling feeling that you are truly NOTHING.

My doctors have put me in a situation where I cannot get medical help. How could they do that? Well, they covered their mistakes, their judgements, as they cannot take responsibility or admit to their own shortcomings or wrongdoings. They harmed my ability to trust them, repeatedly.

The local newspaper made it worse. For a time I could not lay on my couch, eat half a chicken and a whole pie and lose weight anyway. My weight has also been of issue: you're too skinny, you must use drugs, you don't eat enough.

I tried to write for the paper, which I did until I realized they had no moral compass, only a calculator for their share of the advertising dollars. A true capitalist would have no problem with that, but a person of character would.

As i prefer to do even in public, even with the eye of the weak and wicked on me, is tell the truth as I see it: we had two suicides which may have been avoidable had the publisher and co-editor went after a certain school in the valley.

Please understand that I can't keep this in, it's been bothering me for months now, and it is simply the truth. This person who recently resigned from her position over children only to be placed in another position with money, was in my grasp four plus years ago. I had all I needed to remove her from power as well as her partner.

But the newspaper called off this dog. They said, in an email, I keep looking at, feeling sick to my stomach over each word, "...let it go."

Sometimes you don't let it go, it has meaning, and it can keep others from suffering. Yes, things are easy to let go, and say, hey it's not my problem, or somebody else will do something, then two young people die. They killed themselves. I had a serious emotional reaction. I knew in my mind I could have rid this town of this woman, but I allowed two people with the emotional equivalent of a cockroach, to sway me.

The moment I heard I wanted to help, then the reputation as the "hospital hunter" had mauled my ability to go forth with ideas I had for the "lost children" of this community.

In fact, I had decided my services were not doing anything, as I prayed to God to show me why this had happened, I wanted to kill myself. Not only that, I knew exactly how to do it. In a moment of destiny, my brother showed up, and we had words.

My Brother...

He had been drinking his life away for three years, and had constantly threatened all the people who loved him that he was going to kill himself. I never believed he would, and I challenged him.

He came into my room, I wielded a stick at him warning him off. He said as if he had control and not a beer or two in his bladder, that we should "do it together." He was not prepared for my reaction: "yes, let's do it, I have it all here and now, are you ready? You've been saying it for three years ARE YOU READY?"

Unstable, and not understanding that I was feeling sick from a variety of health issues, as well as emotionally shot down after the kids killed themselves here, I challenged him.

There was fear in his eyes as my voice changed, overpowering him, and he backed up. Three days later he hit rock bottom and has been sober for over a month. We don't talk right now, as he has his new and improved vision of the world, outside a beer can, and I have to conquer my own demons.

Healthcare hazards...

I'll be talking about what happened to me here in the KRV since I came here in 2003, a bi-polar, who had been previously damaged by a doctor and an antibiotic, called Gentamicin. Not many healthcare providers even know what sort of damage there own drugs can do to people, and I am one of them.

Not only have I been discriminated against, but I was literally tortured due to the misunderstanding of my bi-polar. I never like to go off on people, my preference is to talk it out, but others seem to think we of the chemically challenged are inferior.

My mind was played with, my emotions disturbed, my heart ached as my friends and family believed a nurse who should be an engineer and not working with people who are sick, or as one of my family called her, "Tokyo Rose." She actually tried to tell me I was hallucinating, and began a show for her co-workers, the doctors, as she knew NOTHING and apparently learned little, but will soon learn more.

This inferior mind apparently got to everyone. How then could it be that I made them so uncomfortable that they attempted in every way to demean and diminish me? That shows their own weakness and really has nothing to do with me or you.

But they succeeded in making me cognizant that this issue cannot be dropped and let go, as it was not a mistake, it was a complete loss of control. I could count the people on one hand who had intelligence enough to reason beyond their own prejudice. And those people do COUNT, they are the ones who make this world tolerable for all of us.

They are strong of mind, not weak of character and heart. I care what they think, I don't care what the weak and powerless, or the angry mob I'll call them, think because it could be of no use. They were like single cell life forms, reacting, but not acting.

One young nurse, told the mob, "why don't you just relax?" Yes, that was the question, but it's their question to themselves.

It's not just them, it's an administration at a hospital, the Kern Valley Healthcare District, that is the biggest disappointment along with its board member, hospitalist's, clinic Sienna Wellness Institute. But we shall not forget the Rural health Clinic, a monster, the catalyst for such things as ignoring warnings of abuse in their patients, which almost lead to the death of one only two months ago.

One arrogant doctor said he was here to fulfill his obligation to pay back student loans. (Hope we could help.)

What motivates people is what attracts you to these people. The CEO and CFO of KVHD hospital earn more than most administrators in Bakersfield and beyond. Why?

Sadly the answer to why is the people of this valley haven't enough self worth to actually stand up and say, "enough."

Now, it begins, the real battle. After preachers, teachers, psychologists have failed our children, they argue now amongst themselves, instead of taking action to help.

I'm going to post a poem from one of the children who was abused, teased, slandered at our school. She's amazing, real, and the poems speak for themselves. This child could one day be in charge of you...let's give them our all, and quit the ridiculous nonsense of who is right and wrong, and begin the work, the service, we can provide this world.

To those who have diminished me to a point they HIPPA violated (a healthcare term) me when my own doctor said, "does she have a gun?" Then made reference to me shooting people.

Why? You all know why, because I'm bi-polar. Well, i don't need a gun to take down the weak, maybe a fly swatter? Or a rolled up newspaper for their noses? Or how about a cotton ball...that would hurt. I think they are afraid of themselves, as they keep showing fear, not strength and compassion.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Can we? Will we? Should we?...Stay alive

I can hear the cracking in my brain, the rattling of old thoughts from the past, and I know now is the time to begin again.

After writing the post to the teens of the KRV and everywhere, I found myself uncomfortable with the subject of suicide.

I just reread what I wrote to the kids, and it sounded good, and had meaningful intention, but it didn't quite foretell what would happen to me two weeks ago. And my brother, swinging from his string, strung out on alcohol, is there too.

In a moment of pain and confusion, both physical and emotional, I convinced myself that my only option was to kill myself. Honestly, it is not the first time I've tried, and I knew the whole issue of the teens from the Kern Valley High School who committed suicide recently, was bothering me in a way I couldn't understand.

Listening to conversations amongst the kids about the suicides brought up my own fears and anxiety. I hadn't any idea how to talk about it with them, since I have never resolved my own issues.

In fact, I was so uncomfortable, becoming miserable even, because I have not rooted out the problems that still to this day make me a potential suicide.

At 11, I ate up a bottle of aspirin. My parents had divorced, and my new situation was far worse than the previous one, and I didn't have much in the way of desire to continue the farce that we were a family and this was simply how everyone lived.

I wasn't stupid enough not to look at other families and other people and realize that something was very wrong.

These issues still exist, I can't escape them, I can only face them. They are not mine really, they are the secrets of others. The ones I feel I can't even address in my own mind let alone a public blog.

But it's time.

Basically, I'll go through the list of things that got in my way that tormented me, that made me feel worthless, scared, out of touch, afraid to communicate my feelings, and finally, so full of angst I sought relief from attempting to kill it all, I guess. I wanted it all gone.

Sexual abuse: chronic feeling of shame that I couldn't stop it or stop it earlier; confusion of love and sex; feeling like I had no ability or right to have boundaries for myself; a need to hurt myself began early on, but unlike suicide, this was a self punishment type of thing, whereas suicide is an escape.

Physical abuse: post traumatic stress syndrome meaning I haven't and probably won't forget the fights. I already had so many issues with the sexual abuse, next came the new feelings of being hit, bruised and bleeding. But there was also the new me, who began to fight back. I had forged a fire in my soul by this time, and no one was going to beat on me without a response. Yeah, I responded all right, and the fights were over the top, as I was angry with me, with the world, and I hated alcoholics. I was just telling a friend, that I used to drink to get along with the drunks, that I never really liked to drink, it was a defensive mechanism.

Emotional abuse: I think of all that happened it was the emotional abuse that did the most damage. A fist can cause a black eye, but consistently telling a child they are worthless, will cause blindness. I am blind to my own worth. The messages were confusing, and I was confused as to why I was under attack. It was much later in life that I was even able to understand that the people who did this, were and still are, very much insecure and intimidated even by a child.

I wasn't an average child, I am and was bi-polar. My chemistry changed early, I could give a crap what all the experts say, it came right along with all the strain of living a life of pain and confusion.

Built to fight

It became apparent the world was not a safe or honest place, and it is still not. There are liars and bullies everywhere, and they still bother me, and I still fight back.

I'm becoming tired of seeing a world of deluded people who have nothing to give, only a sense of false hope.

I have hope, I believe in the unbelievable, mostly because I lived it. I tried at least six times to seriously escape this mess we call life. Each time something happened which kept me alive another day. The rope broke. My mother kept me awake and made me eat, not knowing I had taken all my grandmothers sleeping pills and was hallucinating wildly. The gun jammed. My brother and sister drove six hours to find me after I was attacked, packed with pills and alcohol.

Why I'm alive is really a big question.

Now, my brother, on the edge for years and years, does not want to die, he just refuses to live. He is afraid.

Embarrassingly, I made an attempt two weeks ago, when I was spun around by hopelessness, and found myself staring my brother in the eyes. I told him, let's do it together. I let him know his drinking himself to death is no different.

In that moment, I saw his fear, and he saw my intention to die. It scared us both.

I knew he would go off the deep end, but then he needed to. Now, after two crazy bi-polar nights, he is going to a doctor.

Hold on...that subject is on its way, but there is a reason we are doing this.

There is NO place for someone without money to DETOX. Yes, Governor Brown, you can cut that budget for mental health even more, as you spend twice as much on people who have no outlet for help...from alcohol.

Legal and advertised, booze, parties, yes, it's all right until it ruins your whole life and health. Add some tweek or crack, and you've got a person who is costing more than a DETOX bed.

But we have discussed that we will detox him at home, or a daily ER visit, then use another drug called "antibuse." Apparently, this drug will make my brother very sick if he tries to drink again. His will power is gone, like many these days, and he decided this would be the route that might be successful.

We're on our way to be judged and then drugged.

But we must talk now, all of us, the order of the bi-polar disorder, as mental health budgets are missing all around the country. People are killing themselves and others and its time to find a way to deal with all of this.

I'll be back with the rest of the story, as there is a lot to tell.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

"Unforgettable, that's what you are..." The first time

There has been much said about how the age of onset in bi-polars, as the old school claimed a range in the late teens for many years, and didn't consider really how young it can start.

I endured a lot of stress early in life, and began to exhibit symptoms of both mania and depression before ten years old. An overwhelming amount of stress can be the very thing that causes the onset.

Stress can be both internal and external. Illness, hormonal imbalances, and other physical problems can cause stress within the body and thus begins the chemical reaction called bi-polar.

Depression being one of the worst mindsets tends to last for long periods of time. And sometimes leads to suicidal thoughts or even suicide attempts.

I remember an incident when I was maybe six or seven which was another part of the variety of dark emotions: out of control rage. It tended to be associated with bouts of depression.

My parents, who were my adopted parents didn't carry the genetics I had, nor did they understand it. So, when I tried to tell them I couldn't stop wanting to rip, shred, throw, break, something, they had no real perspective of what to do.

They were as helpless as me. With no information out there, no internet, no talk of ADD, teenage depression, and, at the time it was called, "manic/depression," which is misleading.

That term or even bi-polar doesn't even begin to describe the varying moods and degrees of emotions, one experiences.

A lot of my earliest experiences were of very negative emotions, powerlessness, confusion, anger, and a lot of fear.

I was interestingly both shy and outgoing, two extremes of course.

But when I met with the chemical reaction that I'm sure drug addicts seek, which is a euphoric mania, it would be something I wouldn't understand for years to come.

You tend to like it and not notice that its bothering everyone else. What bothers them is the idea that someone could feel so free and happy without any concern for the feelings of others. It's strange how people react to it.

But when I was ten, I remember it so well, vividly, I had my first full fledged manic episode.

The stress at my house was overwhelming and I had no outlet to deal with the problems. My parents were getting a divorce and I would have to live with my mother, who was part of my stress.

That morning I woke up laughing at everything. Everything seemed bright, the colors, the sky, and all the noises which before seemed cacophonous, were separate and understandable, sublime.

I went to school that day, in that condition which wasn't at all bad at that point, and found myself under attack.

Speaking out in class was nothing unusual for me, but this I guess went too far. I had the giggles and really thought everything was funny.

The teacher thought I was drunk, he told me that at recess while I was eating an orange. I retorted back, well maybe someone spiked my orange. (I really said that, my sarcastic nature started early)

To the "principles" office and home.

I was far too happy for the world that day, I guess. I remember it well. It was unforgettable.

But there is a price to pay with this kind of feeling; it's depression that follows when mania is allowed to go on unchecked.

It took a long time to discover this unfortunate truth, but mania isn't all it's "cracked up" to be. It's definitely better than crack, but not that much different.