bipolar – Page 6 – It’s All in Your Head

Emotion Sickness ~ Silverchair

So, if look up articles about what bipolar is all about, you get the standard definition of ‘cycles of depression and cycles of mania that the person transitions through, with periods of normalcy in-between (what ever the hell that is).’ OK. Got it. But, there’s more: anecdotal (yes, I had to look up that spelling) evidence suggests that people with bipolar are also ‘liars who exaggerate things and are manipulative, along with having a lack of self-awareness.’ Well, spank me hard…I should be locked up!! Of all of these “extras” that we can have, I think the idea of lying hits home for me the most.

We all lie, don’t we? Someone asks how they look in an outfit. You aren’t going to say, “Girl, that outfit is ass ugly!” You’re more likely to say, “Girl, you look fine!” The reason for the lie? You want to protect their feelings (which is what us empaths do). My grandma used to make ham loaf which had to be the grossest food on the face of the earth, except for pickled beets.

But, I would say, “Grandma, this is good!” as I was hiding bites in my napkin. She worked so hard on the dinner, how could I tell her it made me gag? White lies are often harmless, and aren’t used maliciously, but graciously.

But here’s the thing. When people know you have a mental illness, so much of what you say is questioned, examined, and often downplayed as just another wrong opinion, lie, exaggeration, or what-have-you since the person is ‘sick’. We’re often not taken seriously. And because of this, we, or at least I, get very emotional when trying to get the point across. Particularly when I’m accused of ‘lying’ when I’m not.

There’s a TV doc I used to love until last year when I watched an episode of their show that really upset me. A woman was on with her daughter who is with a guy 17 years older than her and they have a tot together. She also had her other daughter with her as well. The mom talked about signs of abuse in the couples home and also stated that her daughter told her the man said, “I’ll kill you if you ever try to leave.” OK. Sounds like abuse is going on to me, since this is a line most batterers use to keep their victim home. And we also know for women that once they do leave, the violence can escalate quickly. The other daughter confirmed that she saw signs of abuse too, and wouldn’t even invite the couple to her wedding because of the toxicity of their relationship. So, here’s what pissed me off: the doc was minimizing what the mom was saying and chuckled at her when she got emotional! He even asked the daughter: “Are you scared of him?” And guess what she said? No. What the fuck is she supposed to say? My God, all of us who have ever worked in DV or know anything about it realize that you NEVER ever question a victim in front of their abuser! The daughter went on to say to her mom (the woman who raised her, had a great relationship with her prior to her involvement with this ass, and did a lot together as adults…something else the other daughter confirmed), “I’m too good to be in your life.” She also said if her mom ever came on their property, she’d have her arrested for trespassing. Hello! Brainwashed much?

black crt tv showing gray screen — Photo by Burak K on Pexels.com

Doc believed the man and daughter in that she wasn’t being abused and berated the mom for getting so emotional about the situation. Are you serious? I don’t know about you, Grasshoppers, but if my young daughter was being abused by any guy, I’d be emotional too, particularly if I’m not being believed! Doc even said that if she was right about the abuse, she was handling it wrong, and if she was wrong about the abuse, she was handling it wrong! Wow. In other words, no matter what, she was in the wrong because she was being so emotional. Consequently, the abuse wasn’t addressed and the woman didn’t get the help for her daughter which was her intention. Oh, did I mention this boob was arrested for statutory rape (he copped a plea)? He was 19 and the girl was 15. The doc went on to say this wasn’t really a big deal because after all, you can’t tell a 15 year old from an 18 year old anymore. What the hell? He snickered when saying this. Hmmmmm.

I bring this situation up for a reason; when I’m confronted with something, I get emotional. Overly emotional because I’m bipolar and a very strong feeler to boot. But, emotions are often tied to lack of control, aren’t they? Think of what we tell little 2 year olds who are throwing a crying tantrum because they really don’t have any other way of expressing the strong emotions they’re feeling at that age: “Stop that right now and get control of yourself!” So next time I have a student in my office crying about a situation and getting emotional, I’ll say the same. Right?

There have been times in my life where I’ve been telling the truth about a serious situation and I wasn’t believed. Guess what I do? I get emotional. I just do. And the tears, red face, and escalated pitch of my voice stymie anything I’m trying to say. In other words, I can’t win. Once, I was being threatened by someone who sent the threats to me via texts which I still have. Despite the concrete evidence of these, I was reprimanded at my place of employment then, and also attacked by his lawyer during an emergency Order of Protection hearing (where the perp and lawyers aren’t usually allowed) where I was told once again, it was my fault he did this. I was so berated, scared, and dealing with other traumatic things in my life that were breaking me down that everything thrown at me made me cry. I was already an emotional mess and couldn’t ‘fight’ back against all of this like I could now. And guess what? My emotionality (is this a word?) convinced these people that I must the one in the wrong. I mean look at me: I’m a mentally ill woman, bawling, not able to get words out, and reacting so differently at that point than probably anyone else would that of course I’m guilty. Lying. Trying to manipulate the system. After all, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

shakes — Methinks this is the first time I’ve ever quoted Shakespeare. 🙂

Look, here’s what I’m saying: situations that bring up some emotion in other lives, bring up huge emotions in those of us with bipolar (and other mental illnesses as well). Hello! Emotion is so much a part of this freaking illness. It shouldn’t minimize what we’re saying or discredit it. We should still be listened too. Given time to explain. Understood in the context of our illness in that we’re often going to express a lot of feeling.

Maybe those extra characteristics of bipolars are true for some. Lying, exaggerating, etc. And maybe we do some of these during times of mania when we are so out of control, but those can also be an anomaly for us most of the time.

Trust me when I say this Grasshoppers: dealing with bipolar is tough enough. Real tough. And then not being taken seriously, being called a liar, and having your emotions used against you is even tougher.

So, how do we fight against this unfair treatment of us? This idea that our opinions, statements, and truths don’t really matter? I don’t know. Gee, it makes me too emotional to talk about, so anything I offer as a solution shouldn’t be taken seriously. Right?

Kristi xoxo

To Spank or Not to Spank

This title is catchy, huh? And, I’m wondering how many of you clicked on it assuming it’s going to be a naughty post? Hmmmmm… 🙂

So, a good friend and I were messaging back and forth this morning and had a discussion on whether or not bad acts in our life make us undeserving of happiness, or if bad things happen to us because we deserve the punishment. I’ve actually thought about this a lot over the years.

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First, I have a very hard time with guilt. You name it, and I feel guilty over it. Big things…little things, it doesn’t matter. With me, guilt is guilt. Now, I do come by this ‘naturally’ so to speak: when a bipolar is in a depressive state, we tend to ruminate on situations and feel a great amount of guilt for them (even if it wasn’t our fault), and some researchers are saying that women might do this more than men. I am also a STRONG feeler (I do put stock into the Myers Briggs Type Indicator) and those of us who are, feel lots of guilt for things “simply” because we personalize situations which forces us to take blame for them as well. Unfortunately, these tendencies lead people like me to apologize often for situations that are completely out of my control. Having a bad day…my fault, I’m sorry! Neighborhood dog bit you…I’m sorry! Work not going well…I’m sorry! And we aren’t just saying ‘I’m sorry’ to show sympathy for the situation, we actually feel a sense of responsibility in some shape or way. Trust me when I say this, Grasshoppers…it’s exhausting!

As we all have, I’ve done things in my life I’m not proud of at all. In other words, I’ve fucked up royally at times. Bad decisions, bad actions, bad thoughts. And even though I didn’t really think about these moments as being wicked at the time I did them, but the remorse I felt afterwards was overwhelming.

Now I’m not saying that we shouldn’t feel remorse or guilt; if we didn’t, we’d be psychopathic! But I am saying that an over abundance of these feelings that last for years and years is a tad too much.

During the breakdown I experienced a couple of summers ago, I told my mom over and over I deserved everything that was happening to me. I was being punished for my sins. Me having precancerous cells was my payback for not doing quite enough for friends and family who have had full blown cancer. The man who stalked and threatened me for a period of time? Of course I was blamed (which I was) because I must have egged it on. The abuse I experienced in a relationship was because of my own behavior. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

So, I was punished. I got what I deserved during that time. “You reap what you sow” right? All of my transgressions were saved up for this one big bout of retribution. Hmmm. Maybe my bipolar is a punishment too.

As illogical as this sounds (and I know it does), emotionally I can’t help feeling this way. Look at this quote from Warren Buffett. I GET what he’s saying, but I also KNOW how this isn’t fully possible for me. I can’t wish my emotions away. I can’t just turn off the ‘sensitive’ side of me (I hate that term because it’s used so negatively in our society…why is it a bad thing to be sensitive?) and click on the logical. It’s akin to asking Warren to change his eye color from green to brown.

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Maybe I feel like I’m punished for my misdeeds because I want the consequences. Do they relieve me of my guilt? Pay for things I did? Balance out my scales of good and bad? No.

When I’m depressed, I ruminate on my life and feel that guilt still. Things I did decades ago still haunt me, and I’m a sucker for saying to myself “What if.” What if I had been better to O’s dad?. Would we still be a family together? Or what if I would have stayed with O’s dad no matter what?. Would O have had a better life? (The guilt I feel over putting O through a divorce at such a confusing age anyway will haunt me forever). What if I absolutely accepted all aspects of Hubby 3’s outlaw motorcycle club? Maybe he wouldn’t have found someone who did. What if I had given J even more of myself? Maybe he would have stayed faithful to me. These questions swirl around in my mind.

So, I’ve learned to deal with that. I’m a Christian, and as such, I totally understand that Jesus has paid for my sins and I’ll reach heaven someday. But I also believe that justice can be meted out on earth too. How do I stop regretting the past, so I can move into the future with less burden to carry? Maybe that’s just something I’ll always have to deal with because of my lovely (sarcastically said) bouts of depression and tendency towards sensitivity. But maybe as I learn to love myself more, I’ll cut myself more slack, like I’d do for any other person I care about. Maybe this is just one more battle to fight in dealing with bipolar.

And if that’s the case, there’s going to be a brawl.

Kristi xoxo

I Never Promised you a Rose Garden.

So, I actually wrote another post for today, and was getting ready to edit it, when something inside of me needed to write this. Having this blog has given me an outlet for so much of what I feel. It really helps me to get my thoughts, feelings, struggles, ideas written down and out of my head. And to have you, my sweet grasshoppers, read it, is just icing on the cake. (Hmmm…cake. Maybe I should send my son to Kroger to get one…).

food plate chocolate dessert — Photo by Alexander Dummer on Pexels.com

I started seeing a guy not long ago. I’ve known him for over 20 years, and he’s one of those friends that you can go a while without seeing, but then when you do, it’s like no time has passed. It’s just always comfortable. We were on the same dating site (something I will never ever do again) and so I saw that he was wanting a relationship. He asked me to dinner a while back, and I cancelled on him. I didn’t know if I was ready to go out with anyone, and I didn’t want to send the wrong message.

Not long ago though I saw him, and after a friendly hug, I decided to ask him out. He’s a really kind man and I was compelled to see where this could go. I’m a very very firm believer that the best relationships begin as friendships. You won’t always have the passion and you won’t always feel a lot of love for the person during difficult times. But, if a friendship is the foundation of the relationship, you have a strong base to keep you together.

So, we went out a couple of times. I loved it. I felt so comfortable and we talked about everything out there; and because I’d known him for so long, we shared so much about our lives and ourselves right off the bat. We cuddled, held hands, smooched but that’s all. I wanted to take it slow.

After those first 2 dates, I didn’t hear from him much and finally I asked him if everything was OK. He told me he had never wanted a romantic relationship in the first place (ummm…you were on a dating site…see the irony?), and said he had told me that during our first date together. I don’t remember him doing that. I was too busy admiring the flowers he got me and the dinner he had prepared. Hmmm.

I started crying after receiving that text. To be brutally honest with you, I thought he had really wanted to go out with ME. That he was the one that was really excited about it. That he saw me as a catch. In fact, my little brain thought he had had a crush on me for a while. Obviously, I was deluded! (Not the first time that’s happened…’nuff said.).

I called my mama and she was really taken aback by my reaction. She said: “You weren’t in love with him. Why are you taking this so hard?” I think I have an answer to that: because it’s another rejection. Another person saying, “You aren’t good enough.” Another man turning down all I have to offer.

white black and red person carrying heart illustration in brown envelope — Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

Maybe that’s the problem though. All I offer. Because I offer a hell of a lot. Not only because I’m such a feeler and giver (on our first date, I made a bracelet for his daughter and baby quilt for his new granddaughter), but because I can’t hide who I am. I can be a bit mouthy, a bit excitable, a bit…well, too ‘much’. But how can I not be who I am? It’s like when I was a kid and a teacher or my parents would tell me to calm down. I couldn’t! Literally couldn’t! Just like now, it was simply a part of who I am (bipolar) and there’s no switch to turn it off. I wish with all my might there was.

bipolar roller coaster

Now, I have a confession to make. It’s a toughie, but I need to say it. I asked my ex, J, if he would like to try our relationship again, with counseling to help us deal with our issues and understand how to manage each others mental illnesses. Listen to what I’m saying grasshoppers…I asked HIM to try again. I’m gonna say it again: I asked HIM…the guy who cheated on me (with someone that works at my vets…guess I’m gonna get a new one now since I’m sure everyone knows the drama). And his answer? To me asking HIM…giving him a chance…telling him we can get help? It was no. In fact, it took him a while to say that…I guess it’s quite the ordeal to tell me that I’m not wanted.

Another confession. I’ve never broken up with a guy before (including my hubbies). They have always dumped me. Rejected me. Damn.

Look, I know I’m different. I’ve known that since I was a very little girl. I know my mental illness was showing itself in childhood…we have proof of my depression and mania. Actually, now that I think about it, this guy didn’t lie to me about not wanting a romantic relationship until after I encouraged him to read this blog. After 20 years of friendship, I thought it would be OK. Hmmm.

This is what I wrote in the 3rd grade. I was already questioning why I was alive and how there was too much going on in my head to hear more than one thing at a time.

I know I’m not a bad person. At least I don’t think so. I think I have a lot of really positive qualities. I’m smart. I’m extremely loving. I’m loyal as hell. I’m forgiving. I can make a mean ass pot of chicken and noodles, and my bathroom is always clean.

For fucks sake (I had to get that word in for ma and sis), I know this rejection shouldn’t hurt so much. Shouldn’t make me question myself so much. Shouldn’t make me cry and wonder if I’ll ever find a partner again. I know I’m OK alone. But I don’t want to just be OK. I want someone to love me back. I need that connection. That partnership. That feeling of belongingness that is inherent to us all. And I’m not gonna lie: celibacy sucks.

So listen up, God. I’m 53 years old (I know you know that but I just wanted to emphasize it) and I am ready for my forever. If you want to send them along, I’ll toddle over and meet them halfway. I promise.

Kristi xoxo

World Bipolar Awareness Day!

world dayu

So, it’s not as exciting as Christmas or as fun as Halloween, but today is World Bipolar Awareness Day, and it’s something important to recognize!

You know, there are so many misconceptions out there in terms of what bipolar is, or is not, so let’s learn more about this brain disease with my infographic below!

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In terms of the mania, here’s what those of us who have bipolar can experience (Mayo Clinic) with my comments in the parenthesis:

ABNORMALLY upbeat, jumpy and wired (I can barely sit down when I’m manic)

Increased activity, energy, or agitation (last summer, I walked 8 miles every single morning and then more in the evening, painted the interior of my house in days, created dozens of pieces of artwork, painted all of my wood furniture, kept up with 3 online classes, did tons of yard work and the list goes on!)

Exaggerated sense of well-being and self-confidence (when I’m manic, I feel like I could rule the world! Literally!)

Decreased need for sleep (I have to take OTC meds to induce sleep)

Unusual talkativeness (my mom knows I’m getting depressed when I stop talking non-stop)

Racing thoughts (sometimes I cry because all of the thoughts are so ‘busy’ in my brain it scares me)

Being easily distracted (my mom will tell me something and I’ll be looking her in the eye, and then I say “What?” and she has to start all over. I’m distracted by my thoughts, sounds, what I’m seeing around me…all the while thinking how I could incorporate this into some kind of art)

Poor decision making (whooo-weeee…where the hell do I start with this one? How about spending $20,000 on motorcycles in one weekend? Or, allowing my ex to move back in with me days after he cheated on me?)

In terms of depression, we can experience these things:

Feelings of sadness, hopelessness, emptiness with lots of tears (I will cry over anything, everything or nothing. I literally feel like there’s a whole inside of me that will never get filled or healed again)

Marked loss of interest in activities (I can’t even think about painting or even coloring a page…I just don’t have the ‘will’ to create at all)

Significant weight loss or weight gain, or changes in eating habits (when I’m manic, I’m too busy to eat, and when I’m depressed, I’m too sad to eat. Also, eating disorders often go along with bipolar, and since I’m a recovering anorexic, this isn’t good for me at all)

Insomnia or sleeping too much (depression makes me want to nap during the day and it’s harder than hell to get myself up and face the night)

Restlessness or slowed behavior (everything feels like I’m doing it in slow motion)

Fatigue or loss of energy (oh yeah)

Feelings of worthlessness or excessive/inappropriate guilt (when I’m experiencing a depression, I apologize for things I did decades ago. I feel guilt over every wrong I’ve ever committed and feel I should be punished for them. When something bad happens to me, I feel like I deserve it as a payment for sins (even though I believe in Jesus). I also feel so worthless that the world would be better off without me.)

Decreased ability to think or concentrate or indecisiveness (I know I stumble over words, don’t remember lectures like I should, and really have to think harder at school when I’m depressed…I hate how it affects my teaching. This is the worst thing for me…knowing that I’m not able to give 100% to my students each and everyday.)

Thinking about, planning or attempting suicide (yep. Been there, done that. Nuff said.)

Now that you know about bipolar, maybe better than you did, this final question remains: What can YOU do with this info? Let’s see:

Try not to use the term bipolar as an adjective…it’s not! It’s not a substitute for crazy or nuts or someone acting out! It’s the diagnosis of a mental illness!
If you know someone you love or know is bipolar, try to remember the above! If they cancel plans on you at the last minute, refuse to join you in eating out, won’t speak to you except in short phrases, they are probably cycling through a depression and it’s not their fault! Also, if they are talking so fast that you can’t get a word in edgewise, won’t sit down and watch a movie with you, want to try everything out there right NOW, they are cycling through mania. Just try to be understanding that these things aren’t their fault.
Having said that, if you see signs that you feel are much exaggerated and/or dangerous, talk to their partner, parents, or trusted friend of theirs. They might need help!
Never ever be afraid to ask a bipolar (or anyone!) if they are considering suicide if you see signs of it (talking about it, giving away things, saying ‘goodbyes’, seeing helpless and despair in them, etc. For a full list of warning signs and more info, visit The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.) Talking, directing them to call the National Suicide Prevention Lifetline at 1-800-273-8255, discussing what you see with their parents/partner/friends, or taking them to your local Emergency Room can help save their life.
When you hear someone talking about bipolar in an inappropriate way, or you see something in the media that minimizes or portrays bipolar wrongly, speak up! Use it as a teaching moment for others to learn from!

There are so many other mental illnesses out there as well, and learning about them, talking about them, and understanding them can help reduce the stigma that the mentally ill face. The World Mental Health Day is celebrated on Oct. 10th every year, and the Mental Health Awareness Week is the first full week of October. Be vocal these days on social media and show your support for all that suffer from mental illness. We need you!

Finally, thank you all for supporting me. There are so many of you that read my blog who e-mail me with support while sharing your own stories. I love the connection with all of you!

I know it’s not easy to be my parent, son, sister, and friend. I know that it really sucks balls sometimes, and I’m so so sorry for what I’ve put my mom and son through especially. If I hadn’t had, or didn’t have, their support, I know I wouldn’t be typing this right now. The support you give someone who is suffering from a mental illness is truly life changing or life saving. We need you…and we know how special you are to be there for us.

Kristi xoxo

Invasion of the Monster.

So, a friend and I were yacking yesterday, and we were talking about what being bipolar is like. He truly wanted to know what went on in my head and how it felt to be me. Very few people have ever asked me this, so it felt really good for someone to be so interested that they asked me for my personal experience with it, as opposed to textbook definitions.

Here’s what I told him: “When I’m manic, it’s like a blender with ice, fruit, and juice, on high, with no lid…just spraying around the kitchen.” But really, in this scenario, the juice has an outlet…it’s escaping the blender. I can’t escape my blender…the ingredients (thoughts & emotions) just keep coming back and getting spewed out again and again.

Then I said this about depression: “It’s like there’s a monster with heavy metal chains that grabs my mood, reels it in, and makes me sink so low during this process that I can’t escape.”

black chain — Photo by lalesh aldarwish on Pexels.com

After listening to this, he said it helped him understand it more, but he had something to confess (Ought oh…I’ve heard that phrase before). His ex-wife had depression and would spend days in their bed, refusing to even get up to eat dinner or walk around. He said it would tick him off, that he just wanted her to GET UP and try. He said he feels guilty now, that after learning more about depression, he was so hard on her when she was down.

First, I can understand him feeling guilty. As much as I want people to understand bipolar and take that into consideration, I don’t always reciprocate well. Ex-partner has a personality disorder: I thought for a long while it was Narcissistic Personality Disorder since his treatment of me mimicked narcissistic relationships in terms of idealize, devalue, and discard (he repeated this cycle multiple times). A couple of months ago, he got formally diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder which actually does make more sense while considering other issues in his life. Anyhoot, I knew he had a personality disorder along with the PTSD from his military tours. But here’s the thing, I would get impatient with him. I’d try to change what I was seeing by getting angry with him and telling him what he should be doing instead. I’d respond to his irrational behavior by yelling at him and holding grudges. (On the flip side, he’d do the same: get mad at me when I was ‘too emotional’…get frustrated when I was bouncing off the walls).

So why did I do this in response to his behavior? Like my counselor has said to me before: “He’s Borderline…what did you expect from him?” Yikes. She’s right. Right as rain. Just like I’m bipolar, what the hell do you expect from me? I’m gonna be up and I’m gonna be down. BUT the behavior that results from mental illness can be frustrating, hurtful, embarrassing, anger provoking, etc. to others in our lives. It’s hard to deal with people like us! It’s hard for others to understand us when we can’t always understand ourselves. I get angry at me. I get frustrated by me.

Back let’s go back to my monster and depression. I do believe my monster is very very strong. However, I can’t lay down and always let him win; it’s time I started fighting back. You know, there’s not many times in my life where I’ve been a fighter against people who were hurting me. When I was being bullied in grade school, my sister always protected me so I never had to fight back. When the psychologist I was seeing at 16 sexually abused me for 2 years, I didn’t fight back out of fear and a misplaced sense of loyalty. When I was bullied my Jr. and Senior years in high school, I just tried to look away and make myself as inconspicuous as possible. When ex was cheating on me, I apologized for my role in it.

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I never really fought. But guess what? No more. Let’s all say it together: “NO MORE!” I fight that fucking monster, my biggest adversary, with as much as I can muster. When he’s dragging me down so far I can barely see any light, I grab that chain and pull up with all I have. Link. By link. By link. And then, magically, my feet the floor in the morning. Then Edward comes running to me to let him and Dottie out; so I hug my pooches and let them out to pee in the backyard (and eat poop). Then I have to let them back in and that propels me for a walk to the bathroom where I hop into the shower. Get it? I’m tugging back on that depression monster little by little. And, those little tugs are making me function. Making me ‘do’. Making me feel not so much at the mercy of him showing me only darkness. I have vowed that he will NOT keep me so down ever again that I stand in the middle of my floor for hours, not knowing what to do with all that’s in my mind.

Look, bipolar is a brain issue. My brain is different. I can’t help the roller coaster this brain has set me on; just like someone with a migraine isn’t to blame.

black and white roller coaster — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

It’s not that I’m going to suddenly ‘cheer’ up and be happy. But yes, I can push myself little step by little step and show that monster Kristi is still here. Me. And that I’m going to take as much control as I possibly can; count my small victories and celebrate them. Just knowing that I’m fighting back makes me feel stronger, which makes me feel ‘better’ in the midst of this depression.

I’ve had enough ‘monsters’ in my life that I haven’t fought against and I’ve decided I’m not ever going to bow down to anyone (or anything) again. I’m going to fight. I’m going to do all I can with all I have to get wins in these battles. And at the same time, I’m going to get a little piece of myself off of that fucking roller coaster. That son-of-a-bitch monster has led me on this ride for too long. It’s time for me to start taking over at least a few of the controls.

Kristi xoxo

Don’t Fence me In.

green leaf on gray wooden fence — Photo by Jaymantri on Pexels.com

So, my counselor and I had an excellent conversation today, and I really look forward to seeing her every week! Yea!

Anyhoo…we are talking about relationships, because as you know from my last post, me and relationships just don’t get along too well. Let’s put it this way: I have a 100% fail rate for them! ‘Nuff said.

As we were talking about the ‘why’ behind all of my relationships ending, I began to see so many of my problems lie in the fact that my boundaries are pretty poor. In fact, if my boundaries were a fence, even a chihuahua could escape. Easily. Having bad boundaries makes it very easy for people to get in. And for me to get out.

One of the many ‘wonderful’ characteristics of being bipolar is impulsiveness. And I’m not talking impulsive as in buying a new shirt I don’t really need. I’m talking about impulsiveness throughout every area of my life, including relationships.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve never done things half way. I do them the entire way, and then some, or I don’t do them at all. When I was 30-something, I was still carrying around baby weight (from a 65 pound gain…I couldn’t eat just one Oreo when I was preggers, I had to eat the whole damn sleeve) and wanted to lose it. I called my dad who had been a runner since I could remember, and we met at a track. I couldn’t finish an 1/8th of a mile, so I did what any rational person would do. I signed up for a marathon. When I started acrylic pour painting, it wasn’t enough to create a canvas or 2. I had to buy every painting supply known to man…fix up a studio in my basement…and make so many canvases that I’ll be giving them out as Christmas gifts long after I’m in a nursing home. See what I mean?

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I do the same thing in relationships. I jump in…without looking…without thinking…without considering the consequences of what that jump could do to me. Once I’m in, I’m in. I fall too quickly. I love too hard. I give too much. I want even more. And the problem is this: once I get outside that boundary which should be in place to protect me, I’m VERY hesitant to get back behind the little fence there is. After all, freedom is better! Take my Edward. He’s such a good dog, but if I’m taking out the trash, and leave the gate open, he’ll take off and never look back. I can tempt him with every known treat, and he’ll still value that freedom more than the safety of home. Even though it’s dangerous! Even though it’s unknown! Even though something could happen to him that could cause great injury! For some reason, being outside of a gate is so much more fun than being inside it.

Like Eddie, I want that gate open, especially in relationships! The simple fact is, I love love. I hope you read that correctly…let me try it again: I LOVE love. 🙂 I love falling in lust…building up love…getting to know someone…unlocking the secrets of someone…cuddling with someone…knowing I have someone in this world just for me. Little old me. OK, little OLD me.

It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? That first tug of the heart. The first kiss you share when your heart is beating so hard you wonder if it will ever be the same again. But like anything intoxicating, it can be so dangerous too. 1ce81319ae2fb2a691e22822a6618feb

We learn to ‘feed’ off the impulsiveness. It becomes almost addicting. It becomes something to us that puts us in a tunnel. And then all we can see is that tunnel and the person in it with us. We can’t see the dangers associated with it, just like a drug addict might not see the consequences of their use. Our rational mind has been blinded, and our impulsive, emotional side has taken control; face it, it’s MUCH more exciting to listen to our hearts than to our heads.

Hence, people like me put up with a lot of things they shouldn’t. After all, we slid ourselves into this tunnel, we’d better learn to like it; we ran outside the gate, we’d better take advantage of it. So we’ll let people say horrible things to us without calling them on it. We’ll let them use us: financially, emotionally, and sexually, because saying no to them, trying to build up another fence while we’re out wandering around, is just too damn hard to do. And anyway, whose got the time or tools for that? We’ll let them cheat on us, with no consequence other than making them ‘promise’ they’ll never do it again. We’ll let them put their hands on us, when we swore to ourselves that would never ever ever happen.

But after a while, you do get tired of this. Tired of being in such a dark place. Tired of exhausting yourself justifying to others your objection to leaving. Tired of having a hollowness inside of you that nothing outside the safety of a fence will quench now. Tired of looking in the mirror…and then looking away…because you don’t want to see, or acknowledge, the pain you can no longer hide in your eyes. Tired of feeling less than. Tired of feeling like a thing, instead of a person. Tired of not being ‘you’ anymore. You are just so fucking tired.

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Since my last relationship ended, I have come to understand that the safety of a fence is actually so much more comfortable and satisfying than running around without a leash. I finally have gathered some tools now. I finally have time now. I have the know-how to build my fences, and keep them in repair. I have the want to protect this person I’m getting to know better and better each day. A person I’m actually starting to like. Maybe loving myself is right around the corner. Maybe I’m the ‘one’ I’ve been waiting for all my life.

I guess I’ve just come to the realization that I’m worth taking care of. And if that’s not motivation to get busy nailing these boards together, I don’t know what is.

Kristi xoxo

It’s Ironic…Ain’t It?

So, my Master’s degree is in Family Development and Education. I’ve taught hundreds of classes and workshops on marriage and family, and I even have a book through amazon on how to have a happy marriage. And then I get this question from one of my Facebookers:

“I hate to ask this but are you embarassed (sic) to have been married 3 times since you teach about this stuff?”

Well, Grasshopper, let me give you an easy answer: yep.

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I guess I could end there, but we all know how I love to hear myself talk (even if it is in my head) so let’s continue.

With Hubby #1, we were both so freaking young!! I truly believed, with all of my heart and soul, that I was an adult at 20. I also thought that we could live on ‘LOVE’ (you need to say that in a way that the word is stretched out a bit like I do in class). I was finishing up my senior year in university and had to student teach during the entire spring semester, which meant no money was coming in on my end. Hubby was working at the customer service counter of TJ Maxx. Yep. That was all we thought we needed to get by. Minimum wage job with less than 40 hours a week…and love. Guess what? Reality set in quick! So why did this marriage end? Because we had no idea what we wanted! We were still kids! Neither one of us had any idea what we were doing, and to top that off, I know my untreated bipolar caused a LOT of problems. We lasted 4 years…and bless his heart for having the courage to understand we were never going to work. The divorce broke my heart, but it was the right thing to do.

Then Hubby #2 came along. I grew up with him and we went through school together from 3rd grade to community college. He was newly divorced. I was newly divorced. And our loneliness brought us 2 friends together. We had a happy marriage! I really loved the years we were together, raising our son, and creating the little family we had. I think our problem was complacency.

Thinking this is never going to end, so why put more into it than you have too. I’ve learned, the hard way, that complacency kills. It makes you not acknowledge what needs to be worked on. It makes you close your eyes to problems that are springing up.

Hubby #3 was an enigma. He was a big, tough, motorcycle riding, muscled guy with skull tattoos who belonged to an outlaw motorcycle club. People were shocked that we were together because we’re so different! But hubby had such a sweet, funny, smart side and he could make me laugh so hard! This big old tough guy bought me a finger puppet the first year we were married. He was ‘Cookie’ and we took this puppet everywhere we went! I even have pictures of ‘Cookie’ in front of some Van Goghs’ at the Chicago Art Institute (our favorite place to go).

20150405_115115 — Damn…my hair looks great in this! 😉

He decoupaged with me…painted with me…was so so proud of everything I made and all of the accomplishments I worked for. But hubby came from a very bad background…his parents were horribly abusive and negligent and it was hard for him to just be my hubby. The motorcycle club was a brotherhood to him. Was a family. The kind of the family he never had as a kid. So it became more of his life than I was. He knew it and I knew it. We were living in different worlds after 10 years, and when we divorced, it hurt both of us so much. We stood in front of the judge together, holding each other. The Judge asked if we really wanted the divorce…hubby had to answer because I was too choked up. But, we’re friends and we talk everyday. I’ll always be a part of his life, and I know he’ll always be my best friend.

So, it does sound bad that I’m a 3x divorcee. But you know what? When I think back on my marriages (why do I suddenly feel like Elizabeth Taylor?), I am so appreciative of each one of them. Hubby #1 helped me grow up. Helped me to understand my actions have consequences. Helped me to see that marriages take more than just love…they take work and effort and understanding and humility and forgiving and asking to be forgiven and on and on and on.

Hubby #2 gave me the greatest gift I could ever have gotten on this earth. My boy. Those 13 years we had together as a family are the happiest years in my life. I loved being a mommy and a wife. I reveled in it. I wanted some of the moments we shared to last forever and ever and ever. But the thing is, neither one of us put in the effort to make that possible.

And Hubby#3? He gave me passion! He awakened in me things I didn’t know were there! As much as I loved my first 2 hubbies, this guy took my breath away. I thought I’d die if I couldn’t see him everyday, and when we were together, I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. He is the one man in my life that made me feel like a sexy gal!! OooooWeee!

Of course I’m sorry that my marriages ended. And I take a lot of responsibility for this. I was an untreated bipolar going through manic phases (did you know you can plant a half acre garden in a couple of hours??!) and depressive episodes (where I would force myself to make dinner and then sit at the table and smile). I didn’t want to admit what was happening in my brain. By the time of Hubby 3, I just wanted a relationship to work so bad, the things in my head were pushed to the side as much as possible. Would any of these marriages have lasted if I had been treated? Hmmmm. Maybe so. But maybe not. Marriages take 2 people. Both working. Both trying. Both putting in all they can. These divorces weren’t their fault. Or my fault. Each one was our fault. df2c21640f561869bb1990053494eb19

So, grasshopper…I’m not embarrassed. I’m lucky to have had 3 men in my life that gave to me, taught me, loved me, and awakened me. Will there be a #4? Not if my mom has any say in it. And I doubt it. I would have married my ex-partner. I really would have. But maybe marriage just isn’t for me! Kinda like milk. I drink it…I get sick. I get married…I get divorced. However, that doesn’t mean they weren’t good while they lasted.

Kristi xoxo

What the Hell?

So, I teach Sociology at our local community college, and now that the nation is practicing social isolation, I am working hard to get all of my on-campus classes switched to online learning. This isn’t necessarily a big deal for me, since I’ve taught online classes forever, but as I’m working on lectures and content for my Sociology of Deviance class, I am getting a bit angry…perplexed…wondering about what we consider to be deviant in our culture.

First, deviance is an act or behavior that goes against societal norms (rules) we have in place; and it isn’t always an easy thing to recognize since it’s dependent on so many variables like culture, context, place, etc. Also, a behavior/act isn’t necessarily considered deviant even if it goes strictly against a societal norm; instead, we take into consideration the ‘label’ society has placed on it; for example, does this behavior cause anger in people? Scorn? Disgust? And finally, sometimes you don’t even have to ‘do’ anything to be labeled a deviant. You simply ‘are.’ People with physical or mental disabilities are often considered deviant. Labeling people like this as deviant stigmatizes them. It connects them to negative stereotypes which can cause them to be ostracized ; looked down on as outcasts.

Now, think about this. SOCIETY can ‘say’ a person is deviant simply because the person is ‘different’. Or simply because the person ‘is’. Because they exist. Because they are them. “Holy crap, Batman…what the hell is this?”

“Let me tell you, Robin.” This means that ANYONE can be labeled deviant…have a stigma put on their head…and be treated as such at anytime in their lives. Right? First, let’s take a look at age, simply because (God willing) we will all experience this eventually in our lives.

Oh, Lord…I hate talking about age. As a woman who is (cough cough) 53 (I know…that’s a really BIG number!), I have seen the way I’ve been looked at over the last 10 years or so, and can’t believe the difference! When I turned 40, it was a celebration! “Girl…you are in the prime of your life!! 40 is the new 30!” Actually, it isn’t. 40 is 40. 30 is 30. And so on…you get my point. But when I turned 50? I was almost ashamed! What do you say to a 50 year old? “Ummm…you look great FOR 50!” That’s about it! And what a horrible sentence to hear!! Let me translate it for you: “Kristi…I don’t know what else to say, so I’m going to tell you that you look OK for being 50…but if you were 40, you’d look like hell!” Hmmmm…what a compliment.

Look in ANY women’s magazine. Know what you see? Products that work from the ground up to make sure nothing on you looks old. Nothing. We’re talking younger looking feet (which I rarely show off) to younger looking hair. And face creams? If I tried everyone that was advertised AND that promised to wipe away my years, I’d go broke. Quickly.

Best-Anti-Aging-Products

But why would I want to ‘wipe away’ my years? Why is it deviant to get old? Why does society tell us our worth is less as we grow up more? Why is a natural aging process a bad thing? And why, because of these messages, should us older people (more so for women than men in our society…much more so) feel guilty if we have wrinkles? I don’t get it.

Mental illness is considered deviant too. Because face it, being mentally ill makes others feel uncomfortable. We’ve all heard the words. At least I have. People use crazy or nuts as a synonym for bipolar all of the time. Even Katy Perry, in her song Hot and Cold, says “…love bipolar” for a crazy type of unhealthy/game playing love. So, I’m deviant because I’m mentally ill too? Because I have a brain disease I did absolutely nothing to get? Because I might cry? Or be angry? Or be depressed? Or be manic? These make people uncomfortable? Scornful? So I’m LABELED deviant. LABELED.

Guess what labels do? Labels make us see ourselves through that mirror. Like sociologist Charles Cooley described in his “Looking Glass Self” theory, we see how we appear to others, and reflect back what we’ve perceived. Don’t believe me? Then why are so many people ‘ashamed’ to talk about their mental illness? Reluctant to let their friends know how much they are suffering on the inside? Hesitant to tell people they’ve dated for a while because they fear it will negatively affect their relationship? Afraid they will be treated differently by colleagues? Worried they might be passed over for promotions? Embarrassed to say their Dr.’s appointment is with their psychologist? Humiliated when words like ‘psycho’ are used to describe behavior tied to their own mental illness?

And for people who have cut…have attempted suicide (2 other groups I fall into)? Wow. The stigma is fierce! How dare I have been in so much psychological pain, that I felt the only relief came from using a razor blade on my legs. How could I have hurt myself, even though the physical hurt took away some of my mental hurt? AND, what an awful person I am that I was in so much pain and so much anguish, that I truly felt, at that time, being with my grandma and grandpa in heaven was better than my life on earth.

These labels…this stigma…is something we have to endure. Not because of what we have. But because of how we’re seen through the attitudes people have. Opinions. Reactions.

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Dammit. I don’t know about you and what you might endure in terms of stigmas, but I’m tired of feeling ‘less than’ over issues I can’t help. Yes, I’m old. Yes, I’m mentally ill. And that’s just to name 2, or this blog post would be so long, I’d have carpal tunnel after all the writing (and probably be stigmatized for that as well). And NO. I will NOT be made to feel demeaned because of these things. I refuse too. I will continue to talk about being bipolar. About why I used to cut. About why I took a handful of pills. About all of my struggles, and all of my successes. I will do this again and again, because until we all speak out against stigmas (and in my case, mental illness stigmas), we will never see them gone. Until we all learn to accept everyone for who they are…what they might have…how they might be ‘different’, we’ll never see the change I think we need to see most in this world.

Acceptance.

Kristi xoxo

Living with Me.

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So, my son lives with now. He’s 26 years old and is a professional photographer (who, by the way, is freaking amazing!) and needs to put his money into his equipment which means living on his own isn’t possible right now. Previously, he lived in Texas for 3 years, and even though I went down to see him a few times a year, it wasn’t the same as having him close by. Having him here right now is special to me…it’s like we’re catching up on lost time.

But. And there’s always a ‘but’, isn’t there? We are 2 adults, with very different personalities, who are sharing a house, kitchen, shower, food, etc. and there’s bound to be difficulties.

I know I’m not easy to live with. Sometimes I hate living with myself! Having bipolar means I’m very unpredictable. I don’t care how ‘stable’ one is with this illness, there is still ups and downs, and I’m sure it’s very hard for my son to know what ‘ma’ he’s dealing with day to day. There are days I’m laughing. There are days I’m crying. There are days when I’m so tired or crazed or impulsive that figuring me out is probably next to impossible. I get that. I really do. And I admire him for being able to adapt to what woman I happen to be that day.

Yet sometimes my son isn’t easy to live with either. He’s a 26 year old young man, who has lived on his own since he was 18. He’s used to his independence and being able to have his home his particular way. He’s also starting a business that requires so much marketing, web site work, along with mastering the use lighting, film development, and editing. In addition to all of this, he’s scared. Scared of taking this chance and making this work. So much is riding on making this business a success.

I’m so proud of him for doing this though! Taking this risk and putting everything he has in it – money, time, energy – is stressful, and I tend to forget that. I forget that this stress affects him, which can make his mood unpredictable as well. Like me, he has great days when things seem to be in place, and hard days when he questions his work and wonders if he’s made the right decision.

Together, we can be awesome! There’s no one I’d rather spend time with and his sense of humor, his ideas, the way we can joke about things is so fun! On the flip side though, we can also be volatile! Two different adults, with different ways of communicating, different ways of dealing with conflict, different ways of seeing the world. When this happens, there are hurtful words exchanged with feelings damaged and tears flowing.

But you know. That’s OK. We can’t grow as adults without resolving these issues. Without using conflict as a way to move forward in our relationship as grown ups. With our contrasting personalities, and my mental illness, conflict is inevitable. But it doesn’t have to pull us apart. Conflict can aid in more understanding of one another, more compassion towards one another’s needs, more depth in our connection. Something I think we both want. And need.

All I know is this: my son is my heart. Truly. Having this time with him, watching him build something that’s uniquely his using a talent I could see in him when he was only a few years old, and experiencing his growth as a man is worth any arguments we might encounter along the way.

Kristi xoxo

The Battles We Fight.

So…!

Wait. I need to stop here first and admit something: I’ve always hated it when people begin paragraphs with so, and I get on my students all the time about this! And, I just read an article about how using the word SO undermines how people see you. BUT, it just seems SO handy and such a good intro, that it’s now going to be my signature move! 🙂

SO, I went to a new psychiatrist this week; he is the over-seer of my counselor and she wanted me to have a ‘med check’ since this f%^&ing depression isn’t lessening at all, despite better personal circumstances AND being on my meds. I liked him right off; he was much more thorough with me than another I had seen, and really took his time explaining my options. First, he told me that the anti-depressant I’m on now isn’t well indicated for bipolar. I was put on this since Effexor is indicated for fibromyalgia (which I also have…go figure), but since that’s not as serious as the bipolar, he wants to change it in 3 weeks. He did put me on a mood stabilizer which I am a bit nervous about. I’ve been on Depakote and Lithium at times, and both gave me thoughts of suicide and self-harm. I was too scared to try another, but he put me on Lamotragine which doesn’t have that particular effect. He believes that getting on a stabilizer, as well as a new anti-depressant, will really help me with both my cycles and the depression. He said I’ve basically been fighting this depression by myself…with no real ‘help’ at all in terms of my meds. I can’t wait until I start feeling the benefits of the Lamotragine and once it’s had a chance to build up a bit, that’s when the other will be switched. I’m optimistic!

You know, using the term ‘battle’ is an interesting choice of word, and one that fits for all of us at so many different times in our lives. For some, the battle can be won and for others, it’s never over. But we all fight them, and sometimes we forget that.

As much as I hate having bipolar, I also know how very lucky I am. Things could be so much worse for me. My mom’s bestie has Primary Lateral Sclerosis, a diagnosis that came after much testing at the Mayo clinic. Prior to this, docs believed her to have Parkinsons. This poor woman has suffered, and is suffering so much. Her speech, her ability to eat, her physical dexterity and abilities, her pain, her weakening…everyday she faces challenges. Here’s the thing though: she is the most optimistic, positive woman when it comes to this disease, and she sends me messages all of the time offering ME support! How does she do this? How can she be fighting such a battle, and still be concerned with someone else?

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I think I know. Because giving support is just as important in receiving it, no matter what you are facing. After I post things on Facebook regarding issues I might be having, I get a ton of support, which boosts me and makes me feel better and less alone in whatever it is I’m going through. Then, I get dozens of private messages from people who share their own struggles and issues with me, and I talk to them and help them the best I can. Even if it’s just being a listening ear or validating their experience, or making them feel less alone. More cared about. Loved. Important. And the best thing is this: doing this makes me feel better as well. Not that that’s the purpose of me helping them, but it’s a nice extra consequence of doing so. It reminds me how much we all deal with, whether it’s known or not. That we are never alone. There is always someone else out there struggling.

Sometimes I don’t know what to say, beyond “I care and I’m here.” And I used to think this wasn’t enough. I wanted to have answers for everyone! I wanted to fix them! I wanted to wave a magic wand and POOF, their lives would suddenly be OK! But I realized that all I want when I’m needing support is hearing those words of care and concern myself. I know my mental illness, or issues I might be dealing with won’t be fixed with some words. But those words are still comforting to me. Are still important to hear. For all of us, at anytime.

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A drawback to recognizing and supporting others who are struggling is this: guilt. How can I talk about depression or being bipolar, when others are looking at painful, progressive, and potentially deadly diseases? How can I lament my loneliness at not having a partner, and the grief I still feel at losing him, when others are embroiled in contentious divorces in which they could lose their children? How can I cry over things in my life, when there are those being beaten regularly. Raped? Are homeless? It makes me feel so small to think I make my problems sound important next to these.

But does another person’s suffering mean ours isn’t valid? Who defines what constitutes suffering and what doesn’t? Should I feel bad…for feeling bad? Well, I do. Then, that guilt and feelings of selfishness make me feel even worse about myself. Talk about a circular pattern to get into.

But ultimately, a battle you fight is your battle. It’s your pain. It’s your life. And that pain is valid. Always. It may not be as severe a pain as others feel. But it’s still pain. Your pain. And it’s OK to acknowledge it. OK to ask for support with it. OK to reach out. Just remember the others in the war as well. They too need all we do. Support, guidance, validation, love, help. And by giving those, we help to get more to fight our own battles with; and we become more compassionate, more understanding, more open. Things that help us all.

Kristi xoxo