To Escape My Own Mind

I am up and pretending to function, doing the bare minimum with the false smile the world demands yet I know it’s false and it’s disturbing. I want to escape my own mind because face it, that is the problem. The professionals can spew all they want about personality disorders and negative attitudes and holding onto the past…None of it is relevant unless your mind is perceiving it correctly and the chemicals responding correctly. For whatever reasons,in spite of the punch bowl full of meds, my mind keeps telling me life is pointless, a ball and chain I have to drag around at all times, is it any wonder I am exhausted by the smallest things. Just taking my kid to school, surviving the parking lot they call a drive thru at McDonald’s for a sweet tea, hitting two yard sales and a stop at the smoke shop…And I am ready to collapse. The heat doesn’t help but it’s this oppressive darkness in my mind that’s the real culprit.

I didn’t even want to go to yard sales. Not like I have more than a wallet full of coins, anyway. But I am forcing myself to do the things I used to enjoy, because the professionals say it’s healthy. But it was less enjoyment and more chore. When the things you once relished become the same as doing dishes or scooping a cat box- one more chore to get through…You gotta wonder if there’s any end to it.

That shrink told me four months ago I’d be up and happy again and it has yet to happen. I’ve been in this darkness for almost 11 months now. Most people would have cracked.

I think this is a big misconception about bipolar. People perceive it all as extremes and yet a lot of time I hover and go up then down and all around. Only the winter depressions usually last a long time. It’s not like I don’t have a decent or at least not awful day here and there. It’s just the overall length of this current mind set that has me beating my head against the wall.


Of this mind space, of my own mind.

In all fairness, though, I’ve been dealt some blows lately that would bring anyone down a notch or two. A manic depressive, the fall is a hundred notches.

Orchid (can’t believe they had a cat five months and didn’t even give it a name) is adapting well to our home and other cats. He’s very loving. Except for last night when he met the smotherer named Spook and hid under the bed so she’d leave him be. It’s unfathomable to me that no one in that whole clan wanted this cat and said to dump him. Nine cats die and you’re tossing this one aside why…He’s fine personality wise. I don’t get that faction of my family. Hell, I don’t get any faction of my family.

Frankly, I don’t get people at all, period. The counselors have always said this is because I operate on a different wavelength than most. I feel things more deeply because I am more self aware. Whereas most just coast through life with this Teflon coating so nothing quite sticks. I have no Teflon so everything sticks to me. Well, except for joy, that doesn’t stick at all and I am really sick to death of it being turned into some “you don’t want to be happy” thing. I don’t want to be depressed, either. Is wanting a happy medium so unreasonable?

I think I am just people’d the fuck out. Least as far as family and this town go. I enjoy interacting on line with the mental health bloggers cos you guys get it and even if you don’t, you respect that it’s real for me and I appreciate that. Daily invalidation, though, takes a toll.I need to drop out for awhile but with my kid’s school routine and her not being eligible for the bus, I am thrust into the petri dish five days a week and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Once, I found it healthy to get out daily. Now that the daily pick ups are so torturous…I don’t think it’s healthy at all. It’s stressful. I can’t breathe until weekends.

I still fail to see the therapeutic point in doing shit that stresses you out and throws everything off kilter even more. Especially for a rebellious person like me who prefers to do things in her own time. Exposing me to the things that make me panic (as they did in therapy once) simply set me back ten steps. State of mind is important in developing coping skills. If I am depressed, panicking, and not thinking clearly…It’s counterproductive. If you don’t “force” yourself to face the triggers even when you’re out of sorts, then you’re somehow a malingerer who doesn’t want to get well.

Oddly, if you had a broken leg and were supposed to run a marathon, not a soul would have a problem with you waiting til your leg healed before doing it.

The vast differences in the way mental versus physical illness are treated infuriates me. But then I better stop being infuriated because feelings are bad. Feeling anything negative is wrong.

The ludicrousness of living in a society where denial is actually promoted…

Okay. Think I will stare off into space until I’m hit with the urge to do something. Once I fetch her from school and know I have two days without that nightmare…I think I will calm down and maybe be productive in some fashion. Until then…I feel like I am in this invisible bondage and my churning pretzel gut proves, it’s not some affectation. This is a big issue for me.

And it’s kicking my ass.


7 Responses to “To Escape My Own Mind”

  1. Some of the stuff that you are sharing that your doctors have said to you is blowing my fucking mind. Where the fuck did they go to school? They don’t know shit about shinola. You have to be able to chill to find a way around your triggers and if you never chill enough then it stands to reason that you’re gonna have a rough time. mmmkay? I’m sorry to be a bitch but I’m wicked pissed on your behalf.

  2. “It’s a bad day in hell, there’s a deal on the table and the Devil is pouring drinks, the damned doing a line dance in the background
    If the noose fits, what the hell, it’s better than the other guys offer!”

    Wrote this earlier because my week has been derailed by events, my cars not my own since I have to cargo all everyone else’s crap and re-organise every five minutes, my chill out time is cut up my others demands, productivity time dictated and sabotaged by things outside of my control…. Not my week
    And now I have to sucicide watch YOU for a change!!

    If it’s going all to hell, say “FUCK YOU” and have some me time with a manipulative ball of fur, TV or a pack of cookies, blame it on a bad mood and everyone will steer clear… Works for my mum and my dad’s logic of watching football or a western don’t seem like an idea that suites you

    And without you who’s going to sucicide watch me!

  3. I agree with Leslie. Your docs know shit. Or maybe they do know a lot and just went to the University of Sadistic Mental Health Therapy. Not. cool. At all. You gotta heal a bit before you can face your demons.

    On a practical note, do you wear sunglasses? I wear them almost all the time I’m outside, rain or shine. It adds a layer of visual protection for me. If people can’t see my eyes, they can’t read me that well. I feel I can hide a little better. Maybe something like that would be enough when you gotta pick Spook up from school.

    Hope you find some time for you this weekend. Hugs.

  4. You explain the foul fucking reality of bipolar so well.

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