welcome to my blog...

I have had a plan to create a personalized Wellness Recovery Action Program (WRAP) to help me manage my disability: Bipolar Disorder. I decided to write down in a binder a Daily Page that outlined the things I did everyday, focusing on some basic information to help me track my recent habits. I am hoping to change these daily/semi-daily blogs so that they will help me form my personalized WRAP. I will also be adding links that I think are significant to Mental Illness and also a separate link list for WRAP interests.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Suicide Slip Slide Slowly Sinking...


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXFUCKYOUFUCKYOUXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I was at my brother's for two days and one night. I miss doing posters with him. I used to pretend that I really was a big help and he was very sweet to encourage me to think that way but I know better. It wasn't all about the posters for me anyway. I still really liked seeing P develop his ideas and designs. Talking to him and just being able to hang out with him even if it was just to help or do whatever I could was one of the biggest draws to me. I don't know what it is about P. He listens but he's also got some interesting opinions. I don't agree with everything he says but he doesn't seem to have a problem talking about the bad shit as well as the good things. And he can be funny as shit even when he's pissed off and throwing things.
 It's getting harder and harder (YOU FUCK I KNOW YOU'RE THERE DON'T EVEN THINK I DON'T KNOW YOU FUCK) to deal with talking or socializing with anyone. Hell it's getting harder and harder to deal with anyone else in this house. How long will it take before this is over? I had hope but after a year and no impetus I just don't care, even the unbridled anger has done nothing but burned a hole in my gut. 
C has gotten to the point where he feels that there's nothing to lose by talking to me. I hope it's not too late. I can not change any one but myself. Hence no passion in getting together with another living thing in this life time again. Trying to just put out fires that were created by others a long time ago. Damage control gone on and on...
K is talking to me, it feels like everything has seriously failed now to the point past return. Almost like when the failing is so far gone that you can't wait for the rotting body to drop to the ground in pieces. 
Still it makes my heart ache. Learning the ways of adulthood. The people older than you can't solve your problems and you have to find a way to come to terms with wicked life and the disappointments that come with making mistakes and realizing your imperfections. Not every battle is worth bringing to the fulfilled end. Cutting anchor and riding towards land is better than being sunk below a screaming ocean. 
Desertion of a failing project is not the worse thing that can happen. Being bled to death by a bad venture is not honorable, it's just stupid and being practical is not evil just a decision that can save you time, money and disappointment that may drag you under if you think that seeing a draining scheme gone bad all the way through.
So I am teetering on the edge of not caring myself. I know I will make myself survive past this so that Mom, Caryl and Kevin get through the challenges they've before them. I know that hell is around every corner anyway. I know that I could see worse. I know I've seen bad. I know like pregnancy once you see something on the other side of serious pain and you are responsible for it you will not be busy thinking of the suffering that it took to get to fruition.
Dying will come. It is guaranteed. That is why it is pointless to wish someone dead. It's an inevitability. Dummy.
Well do yourself a favor, play this song and sing along. Cause it's been the worst day since yesterday.

Dad is in the hospital with pneumonia. He's been there since Sunday morning when he fell down and couldn't get up. (see it's going down, he's going down,) He was fine until the ambulance brought him into the ER. It took from 10 am until 1 pm to get him into a room upstairs. The ER wasn't even busy. They put a Foley catheter in Sunday and then tried a Texas catheter on him. He's wearing a diaper now, at least that's what Mom says. Still on antibiotics, but now being walked around by nurses and getting Rehab so he can climb the stairs at home. 
The feeling is nothing. No apathy, no worry, no anxiety (still doesn't stop the panic attacks, what's with that?) no fumbling for the future and trying to prepare. I just don't seem aware, it's not that I don't care. I'm not anywhere. 
I stood in RiteAid and stupidly asked Mom: "What now? I don't know what I'm doing." And it really didn't matter. I didn't care if she made me walk home over the bridges or if we drove to California and rented a condo on the Pacific. Nothing's "normal" because normal is a feeling of familiarity. When all hopes and expectations go out the door normal has been scoured out and nothing is left. No expectations, no schedules for maintenance. All of life's arrangements are taken away and a clear clean nothing is placed before you. It's bewildering and breathtaking and like standing on top of a mountain right after you have sweated and hiked and grunted and cursed up the mountain's side. You look over an apex and you're above the crowd. The perception is so clear you don't know if you should run and jump just to see if you'll tumble down the side of the mountain or of you'll fly into the air. And it doesn't matter. Because you are out of the fray. You are clear of society. No one really matters because an end is coming clean. Something is going to become clear. No matter what you do you are not in control and you just have to experience it. If you're smart.
And that is why I am unsane. I can see the rent in the fabric of humanity. I am familiar with the chaos that rides roughly over all. It rests it's hand on my shoulder and points. It whispers that death comes to one comes to all, what's the hurry? It'll have me in the end. It may be ugly, it may be fast, it may be slow motion but when the switch is flicked off it is over. No one will remember me and it won't matter to me, I won't be here anymore. All my anxieties, all my wishes, all my contributions and dreams and desires will be washed away and worn in the sands of time. And no one will be the wiser. Even the people who made the history books are not really remembered. They are warped by the hopes of idolizers and propaganda of the temporarily powerful. No one is truly understood or represented honestly in the books. Human's just think that they are supreme. In all their self realizations they are blinder than the ignorant.



Flogging Molly - The Worst Day Since Yesterday

From Swagger - (Lyrics) Well I know, I miss more than hit
With a face that was launched to sink
An I seldom feel, the bright relief
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

If theres one thing I have said
Is that the dreams I once had, now lay in bed
As the four winds blow, my wits through the door
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

Fallin down to you sweet ground
Where the flowers they bloom
Its there Ill be found
Hurry back to me, my wild calling
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

Though these wounds have seen no wars
Except for the scars I have ignored
And this endless crutch, well its never enough
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

Hell says hello, well its time to I should go
To pastures green, that Ive yet to see
Hurry back to me, my wild calling
Its been the Worst Day Since Yesterday



Saturday, January 14, 2012

Beneath Deep Waters Hides A Demon

There's something that I don't want to admit. Whenever something wonderful happens to a friend or family member it makes me angry. I want to fucking punch them in the face. A rage so full and complete overtakes me and I want to kill them or ruin their happiness.
I don't know how to deal with this. I assume it's because of the many horrid things that happened to me. The many "typical" events in my life that were kind of stained by shame or ugliness. My marriage, my pregnancies, the insignificant significant others in my life, the graduations that kind of happened, no sweet sixteen, no protecting role models, all the guideposts in life were warped and dingy, twisted parodies of the American Dream. See I can't complain because the poor children in Uganda didn't have complete families so my completely dysfunctional family was more than what they have. I wasn't born bereft so I have no rights to be angry.
The awesome thing is that I am. I don't give a shit about all the homeless waifs in China. I don't care about the starving Lithuanians. They are not my problem. I am my problem and this angry demon that lies in wait underneath my calm brain stirs the waters of sanity.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Spiderwebs

I realize that I am caught in the spider webs of dysfunction. In a different life where lies and denial were not used to avoid the unsavory aspects of a past that was foisted on me, I would have been able to overcome many harsh realities and maintained a healthy self-esteem. I am who I am because of what was done to me early on. Not just by molesters and abusers and bullies but also by "innocent bystanders". People who didn't want to hear about it because it was negative. People who weren't affected by it but could have made a difference but couldn't be bothered by it because it wasn't their problem.
It's not a wonder that I question everything I do and that I believe it is meant to be when I have a nasty twist of fate. It's no wonder that the messages in my brain are negative and I avoid most things for fear of something horrible happening. It's not a surprise that I never expected any support or help from my family. Where would I turn for help if the people who should have helped me ignored that I was alive?
Reversing 40+ years of neglect combined with sexual abuse, bullying and emotional abuse as well as physical abuse is a daunting task to take on. I need to be more patient with myself. I'm lucky I am not dead or homeless or in a different abusive situation. No I am here, back were I started. And the family's never changed. Denial, emotional abuse, neglect and disregard are all present and accounted for. Nothing has changed except the year and the state of my parents' health.

I ask myself this every now and again and it is accompanied by the feeling that everyone's opinion of me is one of disgust. I know that I a suppose to be strong and just go on and not care what everyone thinks and how they treat me. But that is the role of a saint or pariah. Someone who is closer to crazy but untouchable because their destiny is tied to God. I am not a saint nor a pariah. I feel like a nonperson. Unconsidered who has no rights. The kind of person no one wants to deal with and who feels when something awful happens to them that they deserve it no matter what.

I'm feeling closer to and comfortable with suicide.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Interrupted

I've not written in the "WRAP" book. Honestly I don't really care. I think it did help but without guidance it makes little difference except in having a certain goal for each day to write things down and to have some kind of activity to record. In a way it helped the guilt blossom a bit if I had an off day but all in all it was positive. I think it would be better to attend a group where certain goals were worked toward like behavioral issues or recovery from certain symptoms like sleep habits or anger issues that were being worked toward resolving. I would still like to find a way to do that maybe make my own group here in southern Rhode Island since there is none.
I've been suicidal lately. I'm holding off planning it but know that I have the means to complete a suicide. A year of no medication was not a great idea but did help to resolve why I am angry about my situation. A mix of self perception, the environment here at the house I grew up in, my family's dysfunctionality and my own long list of issues that haven't been resolved along with a shortage of good mental health help makes my life a living hell. At the moment I rely on my Mother to keep me company to get anything done. My anxiety hinders me at making decisions, meeting people and going anywhere outside of the house. As it is now it took me a full year to get a working printer but I can't hook it up through indecision and belief that it won't work. It takes me a three days to a week to call someone, sometimes longer. To have the thought then decide whether or not I should call to deciding if they hate me or want to hear my voice into deciding I must do it for whatever reason I have to call then to prepare myself mentally so that I don't roam off topic or dwell on angry or depressive thoughts or subjects makes the whole task unappealing. I can text. That is limited to only a few people since my brain is convinced that people hate me. I am a pariah now and the thought of me disgusts people or they think I am useless.
I am listening to Blur right now. The things in my head tell me, repeat ugly negative things to me. I am attempting to drown them out. Usually I curse at them and tell them ugly things to get them off my back. Lately they are driving me to distraction. I can't have a good day with things whispering to me about my every move, my every mistake, every stupid thing said, every suggestion that someone has discovered how stupid I am, the small misconceptions, little possibilities that someone has discovered I am a fraud.