Don't let it

I came to the conclusion as I was washing the dishes...I was always treated like dirt because I allowed myself to be treated like dirt...hell, I laid down on the floor begging to be walked on...Is my sweater furry enough like a red carpet? Am I too lumpy...ok, I'll suck in my gut so you won't trip when you are walking on me. Oh, the mud between your toes...let me just take care of that for you. It happened because I let it happen, I let it happen, I let it happen. With my old lovers, I expected to be abandoned so I said nothing when I was abandoned - at least I was right because I caused it. I let it happen every day when I can't make a request even if I was dying...even if I was hanging on the side of a cliff from a branch broken to the width of a twig - instead of screaming for help,I'd let go to tie someone's shoe, falling to the rocks below and maybe taking the poor passerby with me. I let it happen. I let it happen. I used to let it happen, but not anymore. I deserve to be considered special, unusually exciting, important, strong and feared. I deserve to be feared because I am stronger than I seem. I won't let it happen. I won't let it happen. I won't I won't I won't I won't I won't!

Too Much Pie (what bipolar is like)

It's been a very long time since I've visited this old site. What a thrill to write to the world again. Like slipping in an old, familiar pair of jeans - writing to this site is an outlet of comfort for me. I only miss it when I'm healthy, though.

Bipolar - the word was used multiple times by my doctor, my therapist...from before I even visited my doctor, I noticed my ups and downs seemed a little extreme, a little pathological...I knew it was there, but it was so hard to hear that what I feared was true.

As I read about bipolar mood disorder, I imagined it with a lesser intensity. Everyone gets depressed, talks about being depressed and depression seems so mainstream compared to (ooo...yikes!) bipolar, but it's very simple... there's UNIPOLAR depression and BIPOLAR...well, I'm the bipolar type (type II, if you want to be technical). But, when I'm well, I feel a sense of peace about it...as if I understand myself for the first time.

Of course, that's when I'm well. This medication - whew, it only seems to work sometimes and when it doesn't work I'm not well...not well at all. The mind - what a crazy labyrinth of emotion and thought. When I'm unwell, I lose my self control...as if I'm watching myself make mistakes from outside but can do nothing about it but curse myself after. When I'm unwell I think of myself as scum, grit, dirt, and any of a wide array of worthless, despised garbage. Last week, I could not send out the thought from my head "I am a waste of space"!!

The picture of the pie - this is what the "up" is like. It's from Thanksgiving - I couldn't decide on which piece of pie to try, so I had to have a slice of every one. Of course, afterward I felt the physical effects on the bowels of too much pie, and guilt from too many calories. That's exactly what bipolar type II is like - TOO MUCH PIE!!!!!

I'll just keep telling myself "jump tomorrow" - tomorrow everything will be different...and it always is!