An episode as it winds up or winds down, you decide. UGH!!! It seems that this last six month I've been heavy in the depressive area more than in manic mode. Yet, suddenly three things happened to change that, at least for this week. I recently added a widget to my blog and when seeing how it looked, I got sucked into reading what she wrote. She said that to that point she'd been describing it as a textbook would... and then I realized that though I've (in my mind and yes to whom I'm directing this to, I got your comment but there is everyone's different version of depression. My gma gets nasty with me and complains more when I know she's hitting it, and that's 95% of the time. My boyfriend just gets an upset stomach and spends the day w/indigestion...the symptoms described by you are the "accepted" characteristics, but not all people suffer that way. I was showing the characteristics of MY downward spiral) been keeping to the model of A bipolar, I wasn't showing you the inner mind of ME, the bipolar. Which, everyone thinks their unique but really are part of complex minor detailed profile of which all people fall into, however, on the stubborn need of myself to say, "I march to the beat of my own drum" I must say... I am not a typical bipolar.
I always knew there was something wrong with me, just in how I tried to interract with kids my age. I would say something, usually an observation I had into their driving wants and needs based on what they were expressing. Of course, I either got someone who was REALLY pissed off at my assessment, or looked at like I was the most disgusting THING under a microscope they were forced to look at. I began to recognize that look immediately and properly termed it, "THE LOOK" Of course adults loved me. Teachers used to try and get me to sit and talk with the students at lunchtime and not with them, but began to accept me there and talked to me as if I could comprehend even the most inner complexities of adulthood(which I never truly did til I became an adult) I was moved around from school to school so often that not only did I not learn the social skills to interact with others my age, but my schoolwork suffered a lot. This moving around was due to the fact that, I am a genetic Bipolar. I mean to say I inherited it from my mother, though she was never properly diagnosed, she had all the classic symptoms and used drugs and alcohol to self-medicate. This may sound awful but when you lived the life I did, you learn your ways to cope. So, my mother was not a very smart woman, nor strong in the mental sense. In other words, I was performing spell and grammar checks on my mothers letters to me when we were apart.(And if you see my fictional work, my grammar is the biggest criticism I get) She also had been raised in a bubble. Poor but happy parents that worked hard to give their daughters(yes, there was my Aunt, the oldest) the world so they never knew what it meant to go without. Or... that's how my Grandmother describes it to me...and we'll get more onto the subject of her later. TRUST ME... there is A LOT about my gma(short for grandma) that I know now that doesn't "vibe" with the story of my past and my mom's and aunt's childhood.
Anyways, I went off on a tangent here and now am back- My mother was a gifted singer, yes I inherited her talent but gave it up, well nevermind that... my mother(ACCORDING TO MY GMA) was studying to be an Opera Singer and met and married my father fresh out of H.S. and still dreaming her Donna Reed fantasy(this I know to be true, from what I saw of her decline)
My mother says she gave up Opera when she became pregnant with me(there's a lot of controversy on why/how I was conceived. Namely was it natural planning/or did my mom suspect my dad of distancing from her and got pregnant to further "trap" him. Something I am DEADLY OPPOSED TO) My Grandmother says my father "harassed" my mom into dropping Opera, it's this dream of singing for a living that further pushed her over the edge. My parents divorced two months after I was born, because... and don't ask how I got this info. but I have a sneaking suspicion my gma wanted to make me hate him... my father vehemently didn't want me. But the truth is my father is about a five second scene in the movie known as my life.
I remember him being weak, as I saw an argument he had with his mother when he was approx. 24(me, five, but don't quote me on it, I can't get a clear timeline of how things went in my life until I was 9-10) and she, A Hispanic woman who was the Matriarch of the family, told my grandfather(he'd been in a construction accident and was reduced to the mentality of Forest Gump, though I have no memory specific of him excepted for this situation I am describing now)
to whip him with the belt. I was definitely five, after that I was never in my father's care again. So I sat outside the door of the closed off room and listened to the sounds of an obvious whooping. Though later I do get that touching reunion with my father- over the phone- and ONLY after my mother died.
So!!! Back to the original story, my mother was the type of person who was used to praise, attention, and admiration being handed to her because of her beauty, easy social interractions, and of course her undeniable talent. We moved from city to city as my mom tried to get "noticed" for the big leagues. Okay, so just for a second let's take a look at the reality. I would have a steady job that gave me a flexible schedule to be able to make performances, I would put notice, in say the free magazine in Vegas that advertised bands looking for other people. Practice til we were insanely accurate. Then save up money for studio time, splurging on the exspensive producer and form of recording, choosing that kitchy song that made my voice sound perfect and would catch anyone's ear. You must agree that no matter what genre of music you listen to, there are those songs that are just...too good to keep you from saying, "I only listen to rap!"
So what did my mom do? Moved around the coast of Cali. getting waitressing jobs and trying out for lounge acts, or doing karaoke. At the same time, my mom had been introduced to Cocaine, Pot, Alcohol(in excess, I mean) and later the list of drugs grew and grew which I only know from educational classes and because I fell into the trap when I was a twenty-something(I still AM a twenty-something but haven't had anything since I was 25, just caffeine and cigarettes)
We moved to Las Vegas and she got a job as a bellhop at Caesar's Palace cuz she thought it would have her closer to what she vyed after. Which was the lounge act in the premier club in Caesar's back then(don't ask me what it was, I doubt it's still there or not significant enough to have been burned in my brain) but all that ended up happening was her doing coke to wake up and handle the day shift, and a toke or two and me giving her a back and foot massage(almost led me into that industry I became so good...only 65 yr.old men w/backacne and a hardon for me stopped that right quick) where'd she pass out on the couch and I go to bed setting an alarm to not only wake myself up for school, but to make sure mom was ready to go to work.
As my mother did more drugs she became less connected with reality, and when there were no drugs...she drank massive amounts of alcohol. I have had severe control over my life since I was ten because of her(when I was ten my life became stable as I lived in one household and travelled minimally) When she drank she went one of two ways- Crying...no not just the gentle sobs of the oppressed or depressed... DRUNK CRYING- snot coming outta your nose, puffy, bloodshot eyes that were hardly open, slurred speech that had spittle flying out dangerously close to your face and of course... THE SOBS. I FUCKING CAN'T STAND A DRUNK, CRYING PERSON TO THIS DAY... and unfortunately since moving back in with gma to help out, I heard it A LOT. Present situation assessment- I tried to tell her she was what was called an "Evening Alcoholic" and although I had read about that in a program during a seminar I attended intending to help you diagnose a drug user/abuser/and addict- but since I can't find the program(naturally) and any books or notes and EVEN THE AA WEBSITE, has NO LISTING for an Evening Alcoholic... but Grandma IS NEVER WRONG!!! I learned she will outright lie, to protect that SHE is RIGHT AND I AM NOT. Then turns on me and says I have to always be right. Usually at this point I am just saying "Whatever" anyways, *STOP*
FUCK! THis was to originally show that I am in manic mode today and have been for the last few days as I've put my computer literally back together...today is the first day it's been operational and I have had no one to unload on so of course the diaharrea flows from my mouth(high school nickname from one teacher...ok three)
Back. Just went in and against my schedule, took the mood stabalizer I take at night to do a super calmdown when I combine it with my sleep meds. But I went against the doctors prescription and took ANOTHER dosage of my anti-depressants that I usually only take two of once in the morning. But here's the thing. I have this internal clock that everything ticks off when is the best to do this and worse to do that. I am incredibly intune with my body(Oh and it's not a biological clock, it's called Circadian rhythm and everyone has one, you can predict your daily shits if you get this rhythm right) And most STABLE times in my life, I am right in rhythm. But, as my whole post was to start the point on was in one week three- well okay four because that's what sent me to the anger side of manic, so- four things happened.
1. My cellphone that I had become attached to began to no longer function properly. I suspect it got the same virus my computer did because almost in the same day they both ceased to function!!
Well I have insurance on my phone and called to get a replacement. They tried to tell me that they give only refurbished replacements. Okay so why would I buy a hard drive that had been used before...EVEN IF it had been formatted!!! NO WAY! So the Professional Ball Buster who never takes No(a cross between my gma's determination, my Aunt's ability to diplomatically sound bitchy, and my Uncles know how of charmingly argue your point) came out in me, and I told him that since Verizon(my previous cell carrier) charged the same monthly premium, the same deductible, and gave me a NEW PHONE. He quickly turned around and started looking for specifically MY new phone! I didn't want to admit to the girl in me, so first when given the array of colors I asked for blue- but the next blue one right off the press was a refurbished. He said I could wait til one came in but that never is my strong point(except w/children, mentally challenged, and computers-well ALL mechanical devices) so I said what colors had the new ones in. Fire red?? No way that says too much about me. I may talk LOUD, and A LOT, but my true self is quite safely disguised til I feel I have the upper hand. A quote my grandmother said my birth grandpa(mom's side) always said was, "Walk softly, and carry a big stick." So I decided any accessory that was going to be a "tell" in my poker face, was going to tell ONLY what I wanted to...and I chose PINK... the damn phone is the newest version of the style I chose, which would've been cool, only now I have a WHOLE NEW set of "thingies" to figure out.
My computer...well she was at the do or die stage. I couldn't live without it, literally.
I have to have something that connects me to the outside world and away from my grandma's poisoned path to ensure an early and painful death. IF I didn't have this computer... well, I am strong, mentally and emotionally. I HAVE admittedly(not to give me negative attention but on a comparison level of what I've heard from other trauma survivors. In fact there was only one guy who out traumatize survived than me, a legless man from Vietnam (not Lt.Dan, this guy was...not so cool) war time era. He and I had an easy friendship as long as I ignored his sexual advances) survived A LOT... or to date at least my fair share of life's - Alright STOP again. I stepped away, took a heavy stabilizer, waited awhile and came back.
Now you can see what happens in manic mode, or at least I can. Just random tangents of whatever my mind decides to obsess on. Anyways, I am calmer now and less willing to show more of crazed demon that I call my "dark side"
So...to all who are on the outside looking in,
I may not be every bipolar,
not even close to the one you know,
but the sad, stupid reality is that every response, action, reaction, and moods therein; at least true to me, is made up of random synapses misfiring or chemicals levels too low or too high.
AND I HATE THAT THAT IS THE TRUTH!!
Ugh.
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