thin skin

So, I have hit a major depressive episode.  I feel like doing nothing, saying nothing, seeing no one.  

Also, I just found out that my mother is sick.  This pushes her terminal status up a bit.  Hoping she's around next September.
 
Really don't want to write, but wanted to document everything.  All the feelings that come with this.  I started crashing about a week ago.  I suddenly started to cry over EVERYTHING.  Decisions, commercials, movies, the past, the future - all things that made me cry.
 
Then, I started sleeping more and for anyone who's paid any attention up till now, you know how weird that is.  
And then it happened.  The mania switched off like a fucking light switch.
 
I think the worst part is that I'm itching to do something, anything, that will make the depression go away.  I want to resort to back-ups I had in place.  Things I used to do.  I want to sleep till 3pm, eat something, fuck someone, cut somewhere, then sleep again. 

This is the worst feeling in the world.  Instead of feeling like I'm crawling out of my skin, I feel like my skin is too big for me.  Like it's weighing me down. 

I'm too thin for this skin.

measure of horrible

Had a horrible dream last night.  One of those dreams where you wake up swinging.  And crying.  One of those dreams where you want someone to hold you.  Although, I imagine that if someone were next to me when I had one of these dreams, they would think I was a mess.

Is it wrong that I immediately go to the "no one will ever love me" place when something like this happens?  Yes.  It is wrong.  I don't need you to tell me that.

Anyway, the dream involved an uncle that once did something very not right to me. So, in the dream he's trying to do it again and I keep trying to fight him off, but he is not relenting.

I'm screaming and my brother comes running in, but he doesn't react like I thought he would.  Instead he goes to get my mother. 

What help is she?  None.

She, like, doesn't believe me.  And even my brother's like, "well, I didn't SEE anything, I just heard her screaming". 

So, then I'm standing there defending myself and my uncle is saying nothing.  Nothing at all.  But he's still winning this fight.  And it's horrible. 

It's really a measure of horrible that I cannot even put into words.  It's a measure of horrible that causes you to wake up kicking an imaginary uncle in the face.  That causes you to cry for 20 minutes in the bathroom because your family is still asleep.  That causes you to wonder if anyone will ever love you once you tell them all the shit you've been through. 

For now, I will listen to Rob Thomas, because I totally am not kidding when I say that he changed my world.  Something about that man's voice changes my mood.  At least I have him.  And he can't hurt me and he'll never leave.

i wish i was a baller

Today I feel especially sick.  I'm crawling out of my skin.  All I want to do is cry.  I'm trying to think of the words to express it and I can't.

There's nothing incredibly good going on right now, but nothing incredibly bad either.  I'm stuck in a holding period and I DO NOT do well with holding periods.  I feel like I'm going crazy.  

I write, obviously, but since I don't feel I can string together coherent sentences, it is not in my best interest to write right now.  I listen to music, I paint, I cross-stitch, I scrapbook, and just none of that seems worth doing right now. 

You know what I wish.  I wish I had a basketball net right now.  I would go outside and shoot hoops.  I'm actually pretty good at it.  

Yeah, that's what I would do.  

Mental note: buy an over the door basketball net. 

As for right now, I think I'll go watch the Diary of Anne Frank or something so I can just cry myself out of this crazy.

still really nice

Sometimes I have issues with my mother.  Sometimes I have A LOT of issues with my mother.  But today, was not an issue day.

Today she went with me to an appoint I had for social services.  It went well.  Thank God.  Every now and then I have to get papers filled out saying that my neurotic, paranoid ass still can't hold a full-time job.  

Now all I have to do is get them filled out and I'm one step closer to taking care of my business.

But, because of the paranoia and the PTSD particularly, it's hard for me to go and handle these things by myself, so my mother came with me. 

It went well.  We even, dare I say, had a good time.  We shared my Ipod, listening to Rob Thomas and NIN.  My mother is a huge NIN fan.  Go figure.

Later on, probably because of the stress of the day, I had a small panic attack.  I started shaking and I got all dizzy.  I ended up taking a pill and then a nap.  When I woke up, it wasn't so bad anymore. 

Towards the end of the day though, I felt like thanking my mother for everything she'd done that day, so I crawled into bed with her.  

Does anyone else still do that?  Crawl into bed with their mother when they're 28 years old?  

I don't know if anyone does it, but it feel safe when I do.  And a little sad, since she's sick.  But we won't get into that now. 

For right now, my random thought is just that maybe we should all crawl into bed with our parents sometimes... or run around playing freeze tag... or play board games like Candyland.  I think we grow up to fast nowadays.  I know I did.

But sometimes it's still really nice to feel young and protected.

something else

Been thinking about love lately.  The falling in and out of it.  Maybe because I haven't been in it in a while and it's kinda lonely.  Also, I haven't had a relationship since I was diagnosed and I'm thinking that with all the trouble I had before it's just bound to get worse.  Right?

It doesn't help that I have "interesting" taste to say the least.  My very first crush ever was on a guy who now hangs from hooks.  For fun.  Then there was my junior high crush.  He was actually my grandmother's neighbor.  He was the off-screen version of Jordan Catalano in every way.  That mysteriously silent, vulnerable seeming, bad boy.  He's still gorgeous actually.  If I see him, the heart flutters.  But he doesn't really know I exist.  Which is like, a running theme with me.  

It went really downhill after that.  I mean, I could talk about the abusing rapist or the guy who died of an overdose at 25, but what's the point right now?  They're not what this is about.  This is about me.  And my future.

Do you ever think that you're just so perfect for someone?  Someone you have or haven't met?  Like, "if he only knew me, really knew me, he would love me".  Do you ever put too much stock in a passing obsession?  

I use quotes a lot to express my own thoughts because honestly, if someone else has already said it better, I'm not going to try.  So here's one.  It comes from a little movie called "Sixteen Candles".  Molly Ringwald's father is talking to her about boys and if you've seen the movie, she has good reason to be upset.  Well he tells her, 

"That's why they call them crushes.  If they were easy, they'd call them something else."  

Truer words were never spoken.  Having a crush sucks.  Being in love is agony as well.  I mean, the only reason any of us laughing enter into relationships is because being alone sucks just the slightest bit more than trying to make a go of it with an awesome new guy.

I don't know how much of this post makes sense.  But these are my random bi-polar thoughts right?  I guess this is the most random thing I've written thus far.  

The point is, I've been through the relationship wringer.  I've loved and lost and I do agree that it is better to have lost than never to have loved.  But at 28, shouldn't I have some semblance of a romantic life?  Shouldn't I at least have a crush on an actual person?  

I think there's something wrong with me.

patience... not my virtue

5am my time and I'm not sleeping.  Haven't been sleeping... still.  Recently, I've started to get like 2 hours in somewhere between 12am and 3am.  But that's not enough.
  
It's probably because I'm not doing anything most of the day.  Pent up energy is not good for me.  I try to find things to do.  Cooking, cleaning, etc.  But nothing seems to be working.  Since I can't work outside the house right now, I don't know what my options are. 

Do you ever wish you could go back 10 years or so?  Looking back to old journals and stuff, I see symptoms as early as 19 years old.  Having been diagnosed only recently at the age of 27, means that there was an entire 8 years where I was suffering and being misdiagnosed.

I have spent years on anxiety meds, depression meds, sleeping meds.  I was told I had PTSD, severe depression, personality disorders.  I was in therapy for several issues (personal therapy, intensive out-patient therapy and in-patient therapy as well), but until I got the psychiatrist I have now, and love, no one ever said Bipolar Disorder.  

She is completely patient with me.  Patient with the medication changes and my reactions, or non-reactions, to them.  I'm just not as patient.  I want to be not manic NOW.  I want to sleep NOW.  I want to not feel bad NOW.

I want to not cry every time I think about what I've missed out on and what I continue to miss everyday that this disease isn't controlled.

nightmare aficionado

I think what I call paranoia is actually really just a paralyzing fear.  A fear of people.  A fear of the things that are there.  A fear of the things that aren't there. 

I never went out on Sunday.  I didn't want to.  My high school self, the self that I can remembering admiring the most, would have gone in high spirits.  She would have brought a friend or two.  She would have had fun.  Where is she now?  I wonder.  And where are those friends of hers?

Before I go into a lot of detail about my fears, I should mention that I am quite the horror movie aficionado.  I have attended horror movie conventions.  I have hobbed knobs with everyone from George Romero to Robert "Freddy Kreuger" Englund themselves.  I love having horror nights with my brother.  Lights down low, movie on, nothing to protect you, but your own blanket.  I love being scared.  I think haunted houses are like religious events.  It's like a drug to me and it has been since I was a little kid.

I get scared still, but that used to be half the fun.  Anymore, I don't know.  I have nightmares a lot lately.  When they aren't about clowns (one of my greater fears), they are about real life horrors.  The other night I dreamed about my ex.

I dreamed that he was in my life again.  That I picked him up while he was walking down the street.  That he tried to get into my pants.  That I seriously considered letting him.  To the casual observer who knows nothing about J.R., this wouldn't seem so bad.  Maybe a little strange, but not bad.  To anyone who knows the history though, it's beyond bad.  J.R. was the death of a part of me.  After years of abuse (mental and physical), the relationship ended when he raped me in my own bed.  

Then last night, I had another nightmare.  A nightmare that caused me to wake up extremely early and extremely tense.  I had a dream that my mother was sending my brother and I off to a concentration camp.  In the heat of the moment, I stabbed her with a pen repeatedly.  Then I started packing the strangest things in my bag: barbies, books and my prized dream journal.  

What's funny about this is that I am also big into World War II events.  I know more about Hitler than the average person.  I LOVE watching anything about Anne Frank.  I mean, I have 2 different versions of her story on DVD and I want a 3rd that I recently saw.  The thought of a concentration camp kills me.  If I had been around at the time, I would've been the "Miep" of the whole thing and hid Anne and her family in my attic.  

Now, when I am awake I am in a constant state of fear.  I can't sit with my back to doors.  I feel like someone, real or zombie will be creeping up behind me, waiting to scare me, eat me, kill me.  And how do I stop it? 

Should I stop watching the horror movies that at one time made me who I am?  Will that really work when I'm having other sorts of nightmares as well?  Should I stop watching WWII documentaries?  Should I stop reading Anne Frank once a year?  Will that help?  

And what of J.R.?  I haven't been with him since I was 21 and yet his presence in my life is still so immediate that I dream of him regularly.  If it were only that easy to erase the past memories.  

I don't know what to do.  As I write this, I am in a well lit room, with windows open and the sun is up.  Yet, I'm still scared of what's behind me.  

I just want it to stop. 

this house is clean

Today I'm cleaning.  Hopefully clean house, clean mind.  No?  Maybe.  Please God.  

Starting with the bathroom.  Not sure why.  Probably cause it's the quietest room in my house since I don't live alone.  Sometimes I spend an unreasonable amount of time in there just thinking about stuff.  About the past, the future, and every minute detail in between.  It's too much thinking really.  Maybe I should just keep it messy in there so I don't want to stay.  

Shit!  Why do I think like this?

Point is, I'm cleaning.  House then mind.  

Oh, and I'm writing again.  That's really good.  It feels really good.  I'm glad to be doing it.  

And also, on an unrelated, but important note, I'm supposed to be going out tomorrow.  Yeah, like leaving my house.  For hours.  Looking like I do.  Feeling like I do.  Oh God, I can't breathe just thinking about it. 

There's so many things going out entails.  I will have to get dressed.  Find something that fits since I gained weight.  Worry about how many people will notice the scars on my arm from cutting myself that I cannot hide in the summer.  (I learned quickly not to cut where everyday people can see.  I learned even better not to cut at all, but let's face it, that's a constant battle.)

Oh... I'm not thinking about it anymore.  We will see how I feel when I wake up tomorrow.

routine schmutine

Why am I always doing 10,000 things at once?  

Literally, I cannot finish one project before starting another.  And there's things that I invest myself in that really don't have an end date.  I need to figure out how to de-clutter my routine.   

My room is cluttered.  My thoughts are cluttered.  But my routine is what really needs to change.  I think it negatively affects my sleep too.  At 1am I'm always thinking, "There's so much I could be doing right now instead of sleeping".  So I stay up till 6, 7, 8am, working on projects, until I become so exhausted that I can't hold my eyes open anymore.  

I think I'm going to re-evaluate my routine.  This should be fun. 

the good life

Just watched a movie called "The Good Life" with Mark Webber and Zooey Deschanel.  Thought it was going to suck.

I was wrong.  Boy, was I wrong.

I only thought it would suck because I was convinced I would hate the ending.  Not so... as it turns out.

But now, I'd like to share a quote with you.  For the bipolar mind or otherwise, I think it could put some things into perspective.

Before you read it, you should know that the main character has just been told that life is pain.  He responds like this:

"But it's not pain.

It's laughing with your friend at a time when you shouldn't.

It's the sweat in your palms wanting to know someone you see.  And the pit in your stomach when they actually see you.

It's being touched by hands that aren't your own.

It's the thrill of an escape that almost wasn't.

It's the embarrassment you feel, naked for the first time.

It's helping a friend find something they lost.

It's a smile, a joke, a song.

It's what someone does that they like doing.

It's what someone does that they like remembering.

It's the thinking of things you may never do and the doing of things you may never have thought.

It's the road ahead and the road behind.

It's the first step and the last and every one in between, because they all make up the good life."