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Mom -living with a Manic Depressive

Who is this lady? She is elderly, yes. A grandma,a mother a sister, an aunt, a great grandmother. I don’t know. I have forgotten. Hang on a minute… Aaah yes there was this one time that I was sat in her house -plush, ‘propre’ , stylish and I couldn’t sleep. I kept on getting up to go to the cupboard on the far right of la cuisine that housed all the gigantic Cadbury’s chocolate. I ate and I ate and I ate some more. I always seemed to be able to eat more.

I didn’t it like it when she bought the dark kind. So bitter. So classy, so not me.

But back to la cuisine. Footsteps pander lightly behind me. I turn and look around and I look into the eyes of a lady with pure class-sans maquillage. This seems to counter my non- class evolved youthfulness.  The lady asks me a question ‘Ca Va?

I’m expected to answer with the same ‘ca va.’ but it is something like 3 am in the morning. Obviously ‘ca va’ is not appropriate for this setting.

I don’t know why I can’t sleep, I confess. I’ve shoved a load of pills down my throat in an effort to be like the one whom I shall refer to as the Manic depressive. The lady sits me down and makes me a Sleepytime tisane – . Good herbal shit. We sit at the kitchen table with our ‘Sleepytime’ tea, I can’t remember what we talked about.

I have a habit of forgetting things, you see. It is so frustrating. I go back to bed feeling cared about. Why didn’t I feel grateful then?

No regrets. Have no regrets. Okay. I try not too.  I wish I had paid more attention, then maybe I wouldn’t forget so much.

I can hear her laughter in that loud roomy part of my brain, it’s threatened me it will become a real auditory sound that knocks me sideways with fright turning me into a paranoid wreck.

I have to remember that laugh. She used to laugh at my jokes. She loved me. She told me she loved me all the time.

She also loved another – another woman-my mom. Angelic looking, graceful, naive and I don’t know – wonderful?  This lady helped me out with the angelic-looking lady. Yes, I remember, one poignant night, the angelic-looking manic depressive and I had a vicious fight. I took a braai fork to her neck. I was fucking going out to drink and get strung out on drugs and Miss Manic Depressive could mope in her stupid illness and fuck right off.

Well, she took that big FU literally. We had this stock of prescription pills that could take our local pharmacy out of business – bad joke- that’s why I rely on comedians for such amusements (Omid Djalili and  Gabriel Iglesias being two of my favourites ). Nothing like a next-day hangover and a shrill ringing phone to make me grab a handful of downers. I’m not ready for the sunshine just yet- maybe not ever. The lady on the other end of the phone wants to know if the manic depressive is okay. Of course, she is ok……

I turn over

…but she isn’t. She is one tunnel turn away from death. I need some Rohypnol and valium and I need that lady on the end of the phone.

She says she is going to get the next one hour flight from JHB airport to Durban and I need to get the manic depressive to a hospital. I don’t have health insurance. I’m 15 years old.

A cocky shit who obviously knows it all but nevertheless in my narked upstate I somehow manage to get the angelic Manic Depressive a space in a run-down public hospital in Africa  – in a- I kid you not – broom closet. Sick people were lying on the floors, covered in congealed blood, in the corridors of this hospital. So I count my blessings that we had some type of room and a bed.

The lady meets me at the hospital. It’s touch and go. We are rooting for survival on this one.  Black tar leaks down out through a tube from some part of the manic depressive’s body.

Hours pass.

She is okay- stable.

She is in a coma.

The Lady transfers her to a more upmarket private hospital. She has the master card. We spend the night next few days at the Oyster Box hotel – in a chalet. She takes on me and my two cats. Lilac and Mocha- and we all sleep in the same bed united by our love for the angelic manic depressive one.

We don’t know if she is ever going to walk again. I mean it was an overdose with powerful intent. No, pithy cry for help as some believes a suicide attempt is. The angelic manic depressive has a new name angelic, rapid cycler  Bipolar.lady in The other lady is my grandma- as you probably have figured out. We go and see her every week. She broke her hip back in Feb 2015 and can’t walk anymore.

Okay… so that happens with a lot of old people. Yeah, but this lady, my grandma has been stripped of her dignity, identity, memories, and she can’t remember she can’t walk. She is stuck on a loop – every few moments she tries to get up and screams in frustration when she can’t. This lady sitting in the middle is my relationship with someone I love who has Dementia and Alzheimer’s.

I know I’m not writing something fucking profound but she means something to me and her family. She is living a world with no faces, no colour and the world speaks another language to her. How is she meant to interpret all this shit?! People talking. Loudly?

Other elderly people not moving- crying, shouting, fondling themselves to remember that they too can feel.  My Chronic Anorexia 10 stone self could envy my grandma’s current weight. 5 stone if that. She forgets how to eat. Imagine that?

What type of existence is this?

This is where I get political. Let people die with dignity.

I signed up for the campaign years ago. Who is this lady? She is so much more than she looks. She has had a life people probably can’t even dream  up and a life where people would also be horrified how she survived such heartache, ( love is the answer here, folks) but for today we can’t go back into the past too much without forgetting. I don’t want to forget, not today. Those two memories I can hang and frame in the gallery of my mind. They are mine. No one can take them away from me but Alzheimer’s can. Dementia too. You know what really makes me sick about all this? When a person with these illnesses die, Alzheimer’s and Dementia don’t take the credit. The diagnosis of death is usually a secondary symptom. How twisted and messed up is that?

Does she remember her husband? Where does she go?

I should have been a Neuroscientist or something. I want to know what is going on in her head and fix it. All clichés but they are my clichés for today. Can you believe people are being diagnosed with these maladies at as young as 25 years of age?

I would rather choose to die than have everything taken from me. Would my Grandma say the same? I wish I had asked her.

Me: ‘So Gran, let’s talk about something so morbid as to how you would like to die.. ‘

I’m putting it out there. Me? I don’t want to suffer and I don’t want to feel pain and I don’t want to not be understood. That is not living that is stuck between two perverse worlds. I want my family to pay the ferryman and for him to take the money and take me along the river Styx to Elysium and let me die with dignity.

Information on the dying dignity campaign  http://www.dignityindying.org.uk

WRAP_ When things are at breaking point

Okay, so if you have been creating your WRAP  from week one. YAY! what a journey it has been, hasn’t it? And for those who haven’t you can always CLICK ON THIS LINK and see how you too can start your very own Wellness Recovery Action Plan (WRAP).

Here is a clip describing a bit of week 10 When things are breaking down

Week 10  -down. WOW! two weeks and my three-month’ gift’ is coming to an end. I will save my personal thoughts and other group members thoughts on WRAP in week 12. I just want to point out that I did not think I would get much out of this but I can promise you I have learned so much about myself, how I tick, what helps me, what doesn’t help me and loads of empowering self-help techniques. WRAP is free. It was given to me as a ‘gift’ and I give it to you as a ‘gift’. No extras. No-fuss!

This weeks session focused on when you have ignored or not seen the trigger or Early warning signs and you can feel yourself slipping into meltdown, the plan to get that job is not going as it should, there have been delays in moving to where you are moving too. Your relationship is at breaking point, you can find no relief for your chronic pain if you have MS or Cancer even, but there is still a chance that you can pull yourself back and re-own your yourself.

Here is my breakdown list of signs and symptoms I feel when I start to feel like everything has turned to jelly. The stability is just that little bit further out of reach.  My list is very focused on Eating disorders because this is where my mind is at but I am fighting to regain my control. It is my responsibility to stay well. I can do this with WRAP.

WHEN THINGS ARE BREAKING DOWN

  • weigh myself obsessively
  • take more photographs of myself to compare them to what I think I see in the mirror
  • My perception of my body is split and fractured. I am unable to focus on my body as a whole entity
  • Panic attacks
  • Don’t want to or I am feel unable to communicate
  • Seriously thinking or actively starting to cut down on fluids and food intake
  • I refuse to try on clothes that I didn’t wear when I was at a body weight I deemed acceptable
  •  I will push myself to go 24 hours 7 until I collapse
  • I don’t want to g out
  • I want to or stop taking my medication to get my Bipolar highs
  • withhold love and affection -I don’t feel worthy of the two.
  • Lose my sense of humour
  • all seems doom and gloom
  • feel that everyone hates me or has a problem with me
  • Using degrading language on myself eg. I’m fat, I’m stupid. -all un helpful thoughts and mantras
  • I feel I am an empty vessel -no personality a loss of identity
  • I’m selfish and refuse or can’t look at the world around me and what is happening outside of my illness
  • I think about escaping- or over dosing on my prescription medication or act on it
  • Short tempered
  • Angry at myself
  • Depressed
  • Anxious
  • It becomes harder to look after myself. It becomes harder to look after my daughter
  • Sleep for days at a time or not sleep for days at a time
  • buy exercise energy enhanced pills on line
  •  over exercise for over three hours with no breaks
  • Indecisive- small choices are hard to make
  • feel disconnected to reality. I can reinforce this buy not wearing my glasses or contact lenses.
  • Spend less time with my daughter. I don’t want her to pick up on my emotions and for her to see me in a ‘weak’ role

That is my list. It is a tough list to do but if you are thorough and honest with yourself then we can take all these symptoms and experiences and start an Action Plan. All is not lost but it feels pretty close to lost.

You need to start brainstorming what you can or will try to do to get you back on an even keel. 

Create an Action plan 

Mine is:

call my C.P.N.  or my psychiatrist

Speak to someone I can trust- use my circle of protection. I have a select group of people I have entrusted into my personal space to help me when I I feel like things are breaking down

I can  look at my maintenance tools from week two and three and try see if I can reign things in a bit

look at the different uniqueness I have learned eg. the art of moment therapy, mindfulness, take my thoughts to caught, wise mind 

( you can always add more to your list as and when something you think will help you stay away from completely  breaking down.

 

That’s it for this week.

Be kind to yourself .Give yourself an affirmation to say for the week, do something for you. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How can we help you?

How can we help you? You are loved.

My husband

I’m going to the source of my labelled diagnoses to find a way to answer this question.

Not to look for a reason to blame why I am like  I am, but so I can ask the right questions to help myself get better.

How can we help you?

Okay. The brain goes dead. How I help myself?

Set small goals for the bigger goals  I want to achieve?

What do I want to achieve?

  • A new carpet.

  • I want to clean the blinds,

  • I want to go through my drawers and  Bee’s drawers to organise our space better.

  • We need a new cupboard.

  • I want to get in the festive spirit.

  • Bring the big T.V.  downstairs.

  • I’m worried about Tatiana’s  ( my cat’s) cough.

  • I don’t want to be a FUCK UP!
  • I need to connect more with my mom and family.

 

All achievable unless its a “bad” day.

Write a list to Santa?  ( my inner Santa)

Being self-destructive is tough (sarcasm & truth).

Not as tough as being an 8-year-old child who doesn’t understand why her mother pushes her away. She is also scared to make her cry or hurt my feelings.

 Not as tough as having an endoscopy and no sedation. Having people talk about going for a pint after work while they look at your bowel.

Not as tough as being alone, having a panic attack & waking up in a hospital alone at 87.

I’m so quick to forget about the mermaids tail & a dog that can do anything ticking off Santa’s Christmas list.

I’m so quick to dismiss time.

Or is that just me looking up my own anus again?

Fluent in assholism

.

How can I save my relationships before its too late?

Am I going through the motions as my husband asked?

A firm NO  takes up all the room in my cognitive region.

Before I answer I think again about if I’m just going through the motions…

Today I am going to look up the definition of  ‘going through the motions

PHRASE

If you say that someone is going through the motions, you think they are only saying or doing something because it is expected of them without being interested, enthusiastic, or sympathetic.

Well, of course, I am going through the motions. That is part of the problem.

Get up, eat, clean, sleep, fill my day.

It’s not because I don’t care. I don’t think about the consequences or I forget the pain associated with the consequences.  Or I think about how to get away from feeling a failure in the now.

Note to self: Don’t do things that will make you feel shit about yourself

It’s not that hard to do, Is it?

Maybe I hesitated before answering my husband because I asked myself if the way I am and response makes me a narcissist.

Well, of course, I am. I have spent many years trying to look good, be the thinnest, the most pretty the cleverest etc…

I know I am not & will never be all the above-mentioned thoughts.

What did that mean for me as an adult with Chronic Anorexia?

I don’t take millions of pictures of myself and think I’m better than other people. When I have judged others I try to look at the shitty things I have done or said in my life to humble myself… I am demanding. I can be selfish. I don’t think I am the best. I want to be the best I can be.

Do I live in a fantasy world?

I have done. I do live in a world where I am the object of desire/ importance to get away from who I see in the mirror, who I feel I have become measured by what I have achieved psychically/emotionally/materially. I use sleep as a defence mechanism to not have to deal with the person I am today. My perception of me.

I know what is real and isn’t unless my thoughts about weight and shame invade my inner world.

I have to wake up from my slumber eventually.  Then I convince myself that the only thing that will make me good & empowered is by proving to people I have the money to buy shit that isn’t worth it.

I put a value on what I pay for & how I want it to be packaged.

I don’t feel I need constant praise from others to keep my ego in check. I do feel I need to give myself praise and try & love myself so that I can come across as a person with feelings, warmth & love.

I do struggle to show my emotions. Perhaps its the way my face moves, or because I don’t lie about how I feel or because I’m shit at pretending to be over the moon about something when I am feeling anything but amazing.

When I’m in a toxic phase I guess I do feel that the world should stop for me. It’s unrealistic to think that the world does. I have to check myself. I need to live more outside of my head than in it.

 

I don’t try to exploit people maliciously for my own gain without feeling shame nor the ability to empathise.  I know how manipulative I can be & I have to check myself a lot to try & not be too manipulative. I do sometimes forget how it must feel like to another person to be taken advantage of.

I don’t think I am a person who enjoys belittling others to prop up my own ego. I hate gossip, I can use patronising language & behaviour if I feel threatened. I don’t enjoy making others feel less than I feel.

I want people to be happy & I want people to know that I can be a source of happiness too.

Maybe I am going through the motions but we all do!

If I said: yes, I’m going through the motions

then that would mean that I am a narcissist!

And according to Google: Narcissists can’t love their own children!

What?

I already feel I lack traits that a normal mother gives her child.

Or because of my eating disorder, I have traits of a “vulnerable” narcissist.

If I look indifferent I am also afraid of being abandoned so I try to prepare myself for that moment.

Most of my relationships are unstable -with my mom. daughter partners etc… I can go from having a high opinion of myself to having zero worth in myself in a matter of hours.

I do need to work on my self-image & habits to self-harm.

I have many diagnoses -I need to use what I know about myself to make a positive change.

I want my daughter to love me in 20 years time.

I’m not a child any longer. I want to be better than I am now.

 

A semi colon saves the day

On the 11 of May 2020 I attempted my final suicide -or so I thought.
I had read the suicide manual.

I chose death by overdose this time. I crushed the tablets into a gooey mixture -(added small drops of liquid)-with a morsel and pestle.

Measured a small dose of alcohal to 3/4’s apple juice then chugged the paste down without any hesitation.


Fear entered my brain a cloud saturated in grey -I let it sail past
Its size was irrelevant

I had to achieve death. One thing I was good at. Finding a way to cease to be

My other attempts were slow suicides. Sectioned multiple times -an inpatient stay -12 months at a time starving my body hadn’t worked
A suicidal coward -I couldn’t live with an ego wounded with a false hubris made shirt.

I waited until I was alone – my calculations of jumping off suicide bridge again seemed ill prepared for what I had in store.

Quetiapine -antipsychotic medication was a miscalculation too
The symptoms agitated my unconscious state


Stairs lead me to the front door
This is an account from my husband-yellow flowers in his hand
he found me regurgitating on my vomit on the kitchen floor.

In 2018 I ended up in ICU 9 hours -my mother prayed -I raged from her selfish wants.
She had no understanding of living day to day in a body half sawed from an asylum hijacked from myriad peacocks relentless
until I escaped -there sounds crawled up my spine
Lit upmy human barbaric side -quelled the blaze could not be subdued.

2020 -Inhaling my vomit
husband pushed open the back door with yellow roses to cheer me up
He knew I was running off the cliff – he thought let me cheer my missus up.

Many hours, days I was tortured by Aliens
Abducted. I pleaded for the fire to cease
for water to replenishes my thirst.
World War 2 Masks leering over me
cold showers
Christians say I was in purgatory.

Mother on her knees
The daughter wrote to me in my sleeping castle.
I fought against the tube pipe minutes from a trachae-I begged for freedom -a place filled with light.
Hell what would I know?
Aliens abducted me -I know that cold water
Sticks prodded

Probing up my nose

Mind tricks disregarded my pleas to change
let me leave
I knew no prayer or god would release me
A face painted up as my mother caught my eye –

my daughter couldn’t hold my attention.

Guilt fit to burst out tears .

Gassed for my lack of integrity

I found out how many days my dear mother prayed for me to come out of my coma.

The family started reconciling I was on a life support machine-close to brain damage, paralysed- death would be the prayer for my destiny.

Once again -her rosary beads anointed her
Happy birthday mum, where am I ?-

the aliens bid me farefill after a 5 day probing
An experiment not worthy of their intelligence
It was all for nothing


10 days later I was high on life.

A hug doesn’t help, nor did talking, self-medicating, reaching out to my tribe.
Suicide is not the answer unless you are sure you know why you want to say goodbye.
Do your research & even then you might not die.
Months go by
I’m still here -my body & thoughts to collude with troubles from 3months
Gone by– I thought I had dealt with my trauma by attempting to stage my greater suicide attempt.


Life toys with my perception -some days I laugh – other days I scream at the injustice of the helpful folk who saved my life without my consent
I’m present – I’m still here.
This is my journey. I’m seeking help. I hope to find peace before death shrouds all philosophical thought.

SUICIDE ATTEMPT 25?
I’m still alive
SURPRISE! -no mask

Oh, wait the mirror betrayed me when I stopped seeing myself without a glare.

https://www.samaritans.org/support-us/campaign/world-suicide-prevention-day/http://WORLD SUICIDE PREVENTION DAY

https://www.samaritans.org/support-us/campaign/world-suicide-prevention-day/http://WORLD SUICIDE PREVENTION DAY

Even Lunatics must break fast

The calm before the storm.

I break my fast musing over my odds of being crazier than the norm.

Muttering,

stuttering

— Brain sensory overload — the cranium structure is deceiving in its form.

The third eye lazily flickers in a state of REM.

an attempt to channel my inner chakra.

I’ve resorted to stick-on Googly eyes to play the part of spiritualist guru, sipping on high tea, to awaken my inner rapture.

Dear Goddess Kali, can you save me from the howling winds?

The mooing cows spinning around me

  moaning gutturally for their new fateful flight as fledgelings?

My Glasshouse shatters into a myriad of snow flaked, razor-sharp, jagged pieces.

broken,

unable to repair the damage.

Take a searing hot iron to my face to smooth out the grimace in my features.

Sacerdotal screams interrupt the night — another man stolen from his lullaby.

Sleepless ideas

patrol,

brazen in their efforts to destroy,

 my favourite playlist titled: sweet dreams.

behind the thousands of words, I’ve ploughed through with oars

Where will  I be?

Will I have sailed?

Will I capsize?

Will I have the ability to walk?

Will I  be a cripple, dragging myself by the elbows under a storm pelted bleached , grainy beach?

The Temptations won’t knock

They will saunter in.

Oh, it’s to be expected.

I refuse to fall to my knees

swearing  my allegiance to make another man’s family richer

Than see mine indicted.

I’d sooner sit on a floor, covered in colours of paint and corners lit with the smiles of my loves.

I’d sooner watch paint dry or read a screenplay loosely based on what I know about when life comes to rouse me with rough pushes or shoves.

Fire,

water,

earth,

and air

Elements balance my kinetic,

dynamic,

complex feelings of despair.

Change comes with a promise.

Fear comes with very little solace.

Motion to a new position –

don’t cower from success

It might even suit your current attire and inner prowess.

 

My time to deliver.

Get my due.

Affection,

laughter,

love,

and living

For me and my few.

 

My kind words are still here and my support?

I have some to spare.

I won’t waste it on those who don’t reciprocate

The err is but their own.

Chosen to remain frozen-staring down a hall of, pale, mirrored self-reflection.

unable to see

they are not the only ones

in need of encouragement or care.

I swill down the remnants of this blessed day with a bitter tea.

 

I clamour to suppress my applause.

I  catch out the dawn  rising with a yawn  unashamed ,gloriously

naked.

I’m no longer afraid to be the lunatic.

I’ve seen the powers of nature.

Forces of rage.

still, waters run deep.

 This insanity is something I hold dear to me-

The great mother gave it to me-

I will set with the  sun

It’s my duty to consummate all that is sacred.

Revised stream of consciousness — borderline poetry.

The text that came back to haunt me

What do you do when the past comes back to haunt you?

It’s the kind of haunting you tell to sit down.

It comes in the form of a young man, not even 19 years old. Hair blonde and curly -blue eyes and a face as bright as Apollo.

5 months of crazy sex. Talking and Listening to a mind so intriguing and brilliant that you never want him to shut up. We spoke with music – who could find the best song that summed up our feelings.

Yes, the arrogance is there all right Yet, he unfolds it with such charm you can’t help but see more good than bad in it. That smile disarms all previous arrogant displays.

Since seeing him again, I haven’t been able to get him out of mind. I’ve tried going to sleep early, taking my sleeping meds.  I can’t seem to not want to read his texts. His thoughts on how he really feels and felt about me.

My suspicious nature knows he is down and out. Not in a good place.  I think he quite possibly is using me as a diversion for the state of his life now. The one he wishes to re-build. The one I want him to rebuild.

I love hearing how much he actually liked me. The things he remembers. The things he wants to do to me/with me. Back then, I didn’t think he thought of me as anything than a fuck of mind and body. Apparently, he always wanted me one way or the other. He apologizes for having unresolved feelings for me.

He dominated me. I could not say no. I was drunk too. I didn’t want to say no I wanted to submit.  I loved fucking him on the kitchen counter. We couldn’t make time to reach it to the bedroom. It turned me on. It was wild, animistic, raw. Euphoric.  It was drunk sex.

Hundreds of texts have been going back and forth. I pushed him away all those years ago. I thought he was taking the piss. Using me. He did It didn’t end well. He was genuinely hurt. I felt bad but I was too stubborn to run after him and ask him what he felt..

At that time I don’t think I wanted to hear what he thought. If I knew it was going to be what he tells me today, life could have ended up very different for us.

Like attracts like. A lesson I seem to see over and over again. This has happened before with another one I let go of.

We are all so similar we three have the same traits. Impulsive, wild, hedonistic.

Craving for the good times to roll and roll and roll. One of us will make sure we always keep it rolling.

I want him. I do. I shake my head. Try and scream at him in my mind to go. He won’t go. 4/5 years later he is a man with scars. I too am a woman with many scars. I’ve come out on top. I have the perfect family. I’m getting married in 2016. We may not have a lot of money but we are a family- a happy one.

My partner is one of the good guys. He is loved by everyone. He is gentle and kind. He looks after my daughter better than I could. He tells me he loves me multiple times a day. He doesn’t really dominate. He treats the sexual part of our life and me with kid gloves. I know I should be an adult and sit down and tell him.

I don’t.

Instead, I find others like me. I don’t need to explain to them. They already know instinctively what they want and crave and they take and I take. My partner gives- and gives and gives. We go for months with no sex. I know he wants more but I don’t tell him I want more. Isn’t that messed up?

How can I ever tell him I have let him down once and considering a second time.

What is wrong with me?

My life is finally heading in the right direction -jobs and opportunities are opening that involve everything I want to be a part of. I want to work with people with addictions and mental health issues and homelessness. I feel I have a lot of skills to offer. I’m slowly doing the training to get my skills.

I’ve been headhunted for a potential job post that I couldn’t even dream up in my mind. It involves everything I want to do.

I sit here typing, smoking- I can’t see the words I have typed for all the smoke – creating a fog.  Anxious pulls on my E vape- more fog. I was so very wild then. I miss some of that part of me.

I can’t go backwards. Well, I can. That would be true madness. I could lose everything – my daughter my partner. Yet, the one that got away won’t leave my mind. I got to bed early and wake up pulling the pillow over my head.

Why now? Why not then?

Is it all mind games? My partner trusts me to go out with my past on new years eve. He never questions me. He trusts me as much as I trust him.

I wish I could reach out to him. Tell him what is going on in my head. Work through this muddle together. I find it easier to crawl back into my safe shell. The one that could potentially detonate like a  giant suicide snail terrorist bomber. I feel the slime of guilt weeping out of every orifice.

I can’t get back to sleep. I had to write. Writing is the only way I know to let out the shit flying around my mind.

For now I wait for a text from my past. One that allows me to bathe in my ego or I fight these thoughts, fight the past and leave it well alone.

I have responsibilities these days. I’m nearly 10 years older than my past haunting. I also have an ego that can’t help but be flattered. Maybe if my past and my present were on even ground then my choices would be easier.

Is text flirting cheating? I feel the guilt so it must be -yet I crave more and more… Forever an addict to the dizzy heights of euphoria.

 

 

Thoughts about what recovery means to me

Morning all,

I have just opened up my emails and came across this blog talking about what recovery means to them. I have been thinking about this for quite some time. The thing is I am not horrifically underweight anymore. My skin is glowing and my body is a normal size. I am on medication for both my Chronic Anorexia and my Bipolar and yes this medication does keep me well most of the time; I can go through months of being mostly well with the odd fluctuating mood. I can eat food these days without feeling too much guilt.

I agree that recovery is a word that is misleading. It kind of hints that a person is miraculously well and cured of all maladies. This is not the case. There is not a day that goes by when I don’t wake up thinking about my weight or going to sleep thinking about my weight. I manage my illness differently to how I have in the past. I do more of the things that keep me well. Tools that I am going to pass on to others with WRAP and other workshops and groups that I go to, arming myself with knowledge and the correct jargon to use and a set of principles and actions that have been proven to work to help people manage their illness.

With my Bipolar I tend to get very elevated in mood rather quickly. I’m like a whirlwind. I’m pressurised to doing things. LOTS OF THINGS NOW!  I  am impulsive and not usually able to see warning signs I usually do. I can just as quickly go down in mood as quickly as the proverbial ‘hot air balloon’. I usually go through longer periods of the depressive side of Bipolar. It is like being in Antarctica- colourless, cold and isolated. I can go for months sleeping my days away. Sometimes medication -like antidepressants or antipsychotics( mood-stabilizing drugs) and anti-anxiety tablets don’t work. They may be able to take the edge off but the illness can become ever so consuming and slap me with such a force I wonder if I dreamt my better moments. My recovery.

I have been suffering more than a usual lot with my illnesses since June 2015. I have been using the tools I learned to use when my daughter was in care.  have been keeping busy. Trying not to weigh myself as many times as I would have in the past. I have cut out on foods but I eat healthily, I exercise -a huge stress release for me. I talk to my family and medical professionals in my life. Instead of starving myself and taking overdoses and getting into fucked up relationships – platonic or not. I now channel my energies by volunteering with people who are focused on being well. I blog. I challenge myself – an example is I have signed up for a writing challenge called NANOWRIMO. My partner cooks for me and my daughter because I don’t feel comfortable cooking in a kitchen. This might sound crazy but it is a way around so I do eat. I take extra medication or PRN.  I  take this extra medication when I need to bring myself to a safer level in mood.

I agree with moodscapes blog that the best way to manage an illness is to power up and educate yourself about yourself and your illness. Learning never stops unless you stop. I look like any other person in this world. I cope differently but I am not immune to relapsing. I am after all only human. If I could be more than human I would strive to be more. I’ve in more contact with professionals lately and yes, I will have to go and have a chat with my psychiatrist and inform him what is going on so he has a clearer picture of how my mental health affects me and if the pattern has stayed the same or veered off on another course. I have a lot of support around me that I access and I am so grateful to have them in my life. Recovery implies ‘fixed and repaired’ to me. Recovery is a process-maybe even a lifetime process. I have been weighed down with terror and panic at all the worms that have started to slither their way out of every orifice they can find, to escape. Fighting them to go back and mutate into something more constructive for my mental health has been an ongoing struggle.  When I found out I had Chronic anorexia I thought it meant me and revolving doors and hospitals. It was like that for many years but I understand that chronic can build up and up. I may shrug off the thoughts or try to take my meds. I do positive things with my life but chronic can mean debilitating to me. It is a chronic struggle. Some days worse are than others. I could easily hide away from the world and live life as a recluse but I choose not too. I fought every enemy to keep my child and that was when I decided to get in the race of life. I got her back. I still had times when I broke down but I got her back. Stress and threats to my life ie. financial stress, family issues, weight fluctuations, wedding planning, being a Mom being an engaging partner can wrestle havoc in my mind and my ability to get to the point where I am managing better again.

There are no quick fixes in life. My illness, labels and how I experience them and how they affect me are not textbook. Nobody’s is. I liken myself to a house; I have built firm solid foundations so that if the roof blows away or the house gets damp or needs repair,, that solid framework -the skeleton of the house is still there to rebuild. I know that people may think that some of the courses I go on and share on my blog seem elementary but they are not. There is so much power in getting thoughts out of your head – it could be writing things down, painting knitting, writing a mini stage play, going for a run. Writing and keeping busy help me. This morning at 6 a.m. I feel the weight pulling me down, the anxiety clawing its way around my gut. I’m going to take my meds, make sure my daughter gets to school and get myself to the ‘parenting and mental health’ conference that I have been so excited about it, since I found I got a place to go to it. One moment at a time. One day at a time..  Thank you to Moodscope for helping me find my voice to write about something I have been struggling with. Check out their blog post on the blue link.MOODSCOPE BLOG

Rapid cycler

I’ve been bummed out for three days. I keep going onto my WordPress site and wondering what the hell to write about. This conjures up negative and totally unhelpful thoughts about my ability to be creative. What is that quote ‘Your thoughts manifest your reality’ or something like that? I guess I can see a whole lot of truth in that. So what has been going on with moi?

I spent a bittersweet day with my three uncles who swept in from France and Miami, my cuz, my Nan to celebrate my Gran’s 81st birthday. I was blown away by how on the form she was. She toasted my mind when she looked at my Nan’s (Dad’s side)  handbag and uttered these words ‘tres jolie’

Hello! She hasn’t said a proper word in over a year. Then she came out with ‘J’taime’. Amazing shit.  She even laughed when my uncles joked about. She was soaking up the family vibes like a paper saturated LSD sheet, that after a couple of hours non stop twittering, she couldn’t keep up with everything that was going on and so we left her to chill and repose.

We all went to the place I am getting married on 22/06/2016

to have English tea and other fancies. I felt a slight tinkle of pity for the waiter then thought to fuck it, he is getting paid for this.. We all just rocked up demanding High tea.  Not just any cup of chaar know. He had other demanding tables to wait on and he had to get out all the fine china out and set a table for nine. The two non- tea drinkers of the day demanding a drink. Waiter becomes barman. Should he maybe get a superhero hashtag?   It took so long far too long to receive my drink so  I thought I might as well order two.  Seriously over half an hour to shake up a cocktail and pull a fine draught of ale? The thought did cross my mind to ask if we had decided to downgrade and have ‘low tea’ as opposed to high tea, would that hurry the waiter/barman up/china crackpot to point us to our table. 

We had a flip flapping time. Crumbs of Easy conversation and catching up. Lashings of Laughter, the clinking of inhouse family jokes peppered along with scones, clotted cream, creme brulee. tarts, crust free sandwiches and watches. Sounds like I’m straying into Lewis Carroll’s mad hatter party territory. Let me enlighten thee, My twin uncles decided to buy everyone a watch. I’m no-name brand dropper but it’s a good one. It tick-tocks. Hahaha. They left on Saturday and I didn’t want to see them go.  I didn’t want to say goodbye. I left our Rendez -Vous on a high.

Other news from the languished fields of Grasse. Imagine a delicate fleur’s petals being pressed into an uncompromising position and so decides to use its fragrance like a weapon. I too have been put into many -ahem… positions this afternoon. Ha, don’t be so dirty-minded. Or is that moi?

THE BEASTER has

totally beasted me.   I do genuinely feel like puking every time I finish her workouts.

Aaaaaaw I’ve been so spoilt. Earlier today my Ma and my other uncle stopped by for a natter-he bought a beautiful gift for all of us. A gold cross for my daughter, an Italian dog tag for the hubby to be and a  gorgeous Senegalese necklace for me. It is meant to bring good luck.

I have been so touched by the love and gestures of my uncles. My aunt was missed but ultimately we have to move on. Reminds me of another saying

‘If you are depressed you are living in the past and if you are anxious you are living in the future and if you are at peace you are living in the now’

I’ve been so low and anxious lately. I’ve had supercharged extremities in mood changes- rapid cycling – is the term most in the know use. I think I would rather do a 3-day spinning class than go through these mood changes. I am the proverbial ‘ mood ring’.  Is the mood ring a proverbial phrase?  Whatever it’s been done.  I always get through it but it is iffy dogs bollocks. Yesterday, I thought- shall I get tanked up on alcohol? and then I thought I can’t be bothered. I can see no benefit to it other than a little merriment. When did I get so sensible, so not L’Enfant terrible’?

Perhaps, my now not-so-new coping skills have changed the dynamics of my crisscrossed, disjointed and colourful patterns in my brain of some my old behaviours. The grooves may or may not have got ‘groovier’ Depends on who you talk to on the subject of grooviness.  This leads me to the  ‘WRAP’ (up)course I’m doing. I’m so new to blogging and WordPress.  I am trying to add a  WRAP page with subcategories for all the different topics I will cover in the group so I can share it. So far so not succeeding on the website works.

I did it.  Got a blog posted. FUCK that was hard. It might not win me an  ‘awesome blog post’ award but I did it. mmmmmmmmmmmmh that reminds me of a wedding cake update I need to do…………

This is what it feels like

This is most probably going to sound manic. THE AIM: is to work through the going -on’s in my mind by bleeding it out.

This is what it feels like. THIS THING. IT. I haven’t eaten all day and I am buzzing. I’ve had 100 things reeling around my mind like an old fashioned movie projector.

  • Paint for the house
  • Look after Isabella
  • Book Isabella birthday
  • Hair appointment
  • Ballet  and tap
  • Sort out photos on the laptop
  • Book restaurant for my graduation and my birthday in Manchester.
  • Do family scrapbook dating back to great great great grandparents -not because I’ve been asked by Bella Bees school to do this but because she needs to know her roots.
  • Go and see my Gran at her care home
  • Juggle the bills
  • Act normal even when I’m fizzing and popping like candy on the inside
  • Make sure Tatiana has not pissed on the floor
  • Wedding. All thing wedding-y
  • Budgeting
  • Must do exercise every day or else something bad will happen
  • clean house every day and night or I will have failed to accomplish all the goals I set myself
  • Play and chat with family and friends who are going through hard times
  • Smile
  • Avoid Haribos and cocktails
  • Don’t forget how to write
  • Am I frigid?
  • Am I fat/chubby/healthy
  • My teeth make me want to cry

So many things to do think about. All at once.  When I am doing things I am not eating. This sets off the Bipolar and I get impulsive. Okay, today  I forgot the password on my Mobile and all of a sudden  I started thinking about getting a new phone. I  can pay £300 for the phone. How? I don’t fucken know. I will go into my overdraft -take out the wedding money. My partner and Mom calmed me down. I need to wait. Be patient. Use those tools.

AAAAAAAARGH ! I’m in a  boo. Finally, I  get the phone unlocked. My insides are like ribbons being wound around by a bunch of kids on a maypole – round and round and square and then,  feathers lightly tickle my insides.  The anxiety. My Amygdala is firing up the dopamine minions. I feel invincible.

I don’t need to eat because I can do so much more in this state. For once I’m going to beast this demon. A live show- get your tickets now. I’m gonna show him I can beat him. (I’m sound like such a fucking old school feminist) how will I defeat my nemesis? I will use a scale and numbers to prove who is winning.

FUCK!

101 things to do

  • invite friends to Isabella’s party plus all the other things I need to do.
  • I need to understand blogging – I need to know all of it now.
  • I need to be the best volunteer. I want to change the community.

when I am high like this I can achieve these results because I am on working on a higher frequency. I get results. People feel the glow. The charisma. Confidence. They too want a bit.

What’s that teeny tiny voice of thought trying to say? shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….  oh fuck. you again.

Introducing tweedle Reasonable and twaddle rational. I actually do have the tools to stop this getting way out of hand.  I’ve been known to disappear and take a walk on the wild side – do doo de doo

I miss my highs so much……

but are they worth it.? I’m gonna take my PRN and wait for it to bring me down and then I’m gonna go back to doing things at a pace of a(scream it) dead woman walking.

Oh, shit the wedding. Practice mindfulness. How can I focus with so much going on. Everything has to be done today and it has to be perfect. Am I a bad Mom?  Really? I   do not need these kinds of thought’s right now. Do you know that  I have a bunch of courses I have started on-line? I haven’t done them for over a week. I have a DBT course to yet to start. Papers everywhere, the printer is jammed, I can’t remember which file goes where. I’ve got people who need me. I can’t let the people I know and have yet to know down. Shit, I bumped into my god-daughter today. I missed her birthday. I missed it. I see her walking towards me in town and she tries to dodge me -she is shy that way or maybe she sees the freaky deeky inside me. I stop her and reach into my purse. Force her to take the money. I feel good. I feel hungry. I can override that hunger by doing good. Be a good person.

Glug Glug .. washing down my PRN (prescription as needed)  meds with Evian water. I know I need to eat and balance out my mind.  One part of my brain says I haven’t done enough exercise. The other part says that I have been on the go all day and I’ve worked out really hard. I can’t afford to get obsessed about it because the tower deck of cards will tipple. Floored and flawed again and again.

I want to write better than average. This is an insane post. I am not insane. I know how to take back control. I will write a list of the things in my head that I need to do, hit print and pin it up.   mmmmmmmmmmmh What song should we have for our first dance? I love Billie holiday.

mindful blogging. I’m onto something here. Copy righted it already. ( haha)  Okay, let’s work on it. Tap tap tap. Stop tapping the keyboard. I look around. I can vape. I need to vape.  5 clicks and I’m sucking and puffing.. la la la la la the hilly mounds in my head reverberate music round my mind. Remember this one?

My aunt used to sing ‘ puff the magic dragon’ to me when I was little. She ( wherever she is) used to say no wonder I became a drug addict. She also let my teeth on her Marlboro lights cig packet When she told the story it sounded funnier. My phone is unlocked. YAY! I have hardly acknowledged my partner. Did I even thank him for dashing into town to get my phone?  I need to check that one over with him.

Why can’t I write about the care home?  Gran’s care home. Nothing tonight/ this morning will I ever be able to describe in words what it is like to be in a care home and look around at all the people lost in the past and not untouched. No stimulation. I  decided to jazz it up today put on a bit of ‘el divo’ today. Music stirs the soul indeed. These wonderful people came back to life for a few moments.

I have so many other posts I want to post at the same time as this one. I can’t. I can’t. I must eat. I have to eat. I have to come down a bit. My heart rate is coming down This is what goes on in my mind when I feel high. At least I bought my mommy some sunflowers.  I’m not a bad person. My heart is in the right place. I am a good person  I’m just a bit peculiar.

WOW, what a long post. I shall sign off with a quote  ‘If it is not then it shall be’ Janet Lorraine a friend and resident in Long Grange care home.