I was at the grocery store this morning. Somehow I ended up with something in my cart that I don't remember putting there.
I clearly remember looking at a jar of jalapenos. I think I debated for a full minute over whether or not I needed more. I also clearly remember thinking "we're good, I don't need it this week." And I walked away. 5 steps later, I looked into my cart, and the jar of jalapenos was in it! Did I put that there? Did I decide I needed it after all? I don't remember.
I decided to brush it off and rush to finish my shopping, as I can't stand it. My anxiety was low today while shopping, but maybe it's because I was in a trance. I started to worry that I'd get home and forget the entire trip!
Once home, I started cutting up chicken to marinate for dinner. Half way through cutting it into cubes, I remembered that it wasn't supposed to be cubed for this recipe. What is wrong with me?
It's only 1 in the afternoon and I'm wondering what else I will do wrong or forget...
Monday, February 17, 2014
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
I want to hear from you
I've been doing plenty of sharing myself. Here's your turn. Feel free to email me your story kedralynn.amber@gmail.com. Subject it "my story" so it doesn't get lost in a sea of spam. I'd love to share your stories on this blog too. So if you'd me to post it, let me know. It can bear your name or be anonymous. I just want us to start removing the stigma from suffering from mental illness. Let us band together and be each other's strength :)
Sunday, February 9, 2014
I am not a whole person tonight. Tonight, I am the remains of a person. The shell left after the will to fight has taken off. I am the same broken girl I was all those years ago when I first cut myself. I have fallen to my knees so many times, I lost count. Broken for years and years. Shattered heart and heavy limbs. I don't want to stand up again. I'm begging for a hand to reach out. But the only hand I have is rejecting me. Maybe because I've rejected myself. I hate what I am. I hate what I have. I hate how the bipolar disorder defines me. Hate how it breaks me. Hate how it enrages me.
"I've never been the praying kind
But lately I've been down upon my knees
Not looking for a miracle
Just a reason to believe."
Savage Garden - Hold Me
"I've never been the praying kind
But lately I've been down upon my knees
Not looking for a miracle
Just a reason to believe."
Savage Garden - Hold Me
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Tonight
Let's just say it's not a good night for me. I'm angry, upset, moody, and anxious. I'm short on my Xanax again and have to wait 5 days to get more. So I went to the local gas station/convenient store to get coke to go with my Jack Daniels. Yes I know, don't mix your pills with alcohol! Let me just say that sometimes you have to do some dark and not so safe things to get through the now. And you worry about the ramifications later.
The drive was ok. But when I got out of my car, in a not so safe neighborhood mind you, at night, I had to struggle with each step. I had to remind myself to breathe. To not shake. To not look so vacant in the eyes. I don't want to get mistaken for a junkie in that neighborhood! I made it in and out pretty quickly and back to my car, where I had to calm my breathing. I just sat there, thinking, how did I come to this? After all the years of hard work I put into trying to manage this thing, how can it still have power over me?
How can it turn me into a shaking, raging, maniac of a person. Someone who doesn't know if she wants to scream, cry, cut, or break something? How can it still control my life?
The drive was ok. But when I got out of my car, in a not so safe neighborhood mind you, at night, I had to struggle with each step. I had to remind myself to breathe. To not shake. To not look so vacant in the eyes. I don't want to get mistaken for a junkie in that neighborhood! I made it in and out pretty quickly and back to my car, where I had to calm my breathing. I just sat there, thinking, how did I come to this? After all the years of hard work I put into trying to manage this thing, how can it still have power over me?
How can it turn me into a shaking, raging, maniac of a person. Someone who doesn't know if she wants to scream, cry, cut, or break something? How can it still control my life?
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
No money, no help
We have found ourselves in a bit of a bind. Some unexpected financial problems. And since I'm still trying to cut through the crazy road map to free healthcare, I can't afford to see my psychiatrist for a while. $150 a month just so she can give me more pills. Pills that I don't even like, but they do help.
Thankfully, my therapist gave me a HUGE discount to see her, so I'll continue those sessions. But I'm not sure if my psychiatrist will refill my pills if I can't afford to see her. It seems silly to pay that much money to talk to her for 5 minutes and then get prescriptions that cost as much as it did to see her.
My fiance is beyond worried about money right now. And I feel so much guilt. I wish I could help. I wish I could say "ok, I'll go back to work and we'll be fine." But I can't say that. We both know that I'd never be able to get a job like this. Let alone keep one. I feel like I should be able to help more. I wish I was better.
Thankfully, my therapist gave me a HUGE discount to see her, so I'll continue those sessions. But I'm not sure if my psychiatrist will refill my pills if I can't afford to see her. It seems silly to pay that much money to talk to her for 5 minutes and then get prescriptions that cost as much as it did to see her.
My fiance is beyond worried about money right now. And I feel so much guilt. I wish I could help. I wish I could say "ok, I'll go back to work and we'll be fine." But I can't say that. We both know that I'd never be able to get a job like this. Let alone keep one. I feel like I should be able to help more. I wish I was better.
Monday, February 3, 2014
The way things are
I get so tired sometimes of not being "normal." Of the limitations I have.
Just last night, my fiance and I went out for a late night snack. We realized we hadn't eaten in a long time and I'd say it was maybe 10:30 at night when we headed out. Our options were pretty much junk food and more junk food. So we drove around rather aimlessly trying to decide where to go.
I already wasn't feeling well. Kind of anxious and nauseous. I stopped being able to say more than "uh huh" in the car. Well it came out more like just a grunt.
We started getting farther away from home. The farther we got, the more anxious I got. I had to roll down the window to let the cold night air in. I pulled my knees up to my chest in my car seat. I started touching my face a lot. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want him to think me pathetic for freaking out because we were a whole 10 minutes away from home.
Finally, he turned back towards home and I let out a "thank god!" I admitted that I was freaking out. He asked why. "I'm with you, you're safe, why are you panicking?" How do I explain? How do that I say that I have this irrational fear? That if I do throw up or pass or have a full blown panic attack, that I want to be home. I just wanted to be home. Home is safe.
The rest of the ride was quiet. I started thinking how unfair this is to my fiance. He didn't sign up for this. I was mostly functioning ok when we met. He didn't see the full extent of my disorders until the past couple of years. I wonder sometimes if he resents me. Or at least resents my illness just as I do. I started thinking maybe we need to talk. Maybe I should give him an out. A chance to pack up and leave rather than stay with a woman who panics when she leaves the house.
I feel like only part of a person. And just a fraction of what I could be if I were "normal." But this is the way things are. And even with the meds and techniques my therapist suggested for those with PTSD, my bipolar disorder and all it's ailments that come with it, is a life long condition. There are no cures. Just ways to try to cope. And there will always be cycles where I'm fine and then worse and then fine again. Does he want to deal with that for the next 40 years? I don't even want to deal with it that long. But I have no choice. This is my life.
Just last night, my fiance and I went out for a late night snack. We realized we hadn't eaten in a long time and I'd say it was maybe 10:30 at night when we headed out. Our options were pretty much junk food and more junk food. So we drove around rather aimlessly trying to decide where to go.
I already wasn't feeling well. Kind of anxious and nauseous. I stopped being able to say more than "uh huh" in the car. Well it came out more like just a grunt.
We started getting farther away from home. The farther we got, the more anxious I got. I had to roll down the window to let the cold night air in. I pulled my knees up to my chest in my car seat. I started touching my face a lot. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want him to think me pathetic for freaking out because we were a whole 10 minutes away from home.
Finally, he turned back towards home and I let out a "thank god!" I admitted that I was freaking out. He asked why. "I'm with you, you're safe, why are you panicking?" How do I explain? How do that I say that I have this irrational fear? That if I do throw up or pass or have a full blown panic attack, that I want to be home. I just wanted to be home. Home is safe.
The rest of the ride was quiet. I started thinking how unfair this is to my fiance. He didn't sign up for this. I was mostly functioning ok when we met. He didn't see the full extent of my disorders until the past couple of years. I wonder sometimes if he resents me. Or at least resents my illness just as I do. I started thinking maybe we need to talk. Maybe I should give him an out. A chance to pack up and leave rather than stay with a woman who panics when she leaves the house.
I feel like only part of a person. And just a fraction of what I could be if I were "normal." But this is the way things are. And even with the meds and techniques my therapist suggested for those with PTSD, my bipolar disorder and all it's ailments that come with it, is a life long condition. There are no cures. Just ways to try to cope. And there will always be cycles where I'm fine and then worse and then fine again. Does he want to deal with that for the next 40 years? I don't even want to deal with it that long. But I have no choice. This is my life.
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