Laughter Rising

Chicken or Egg

2006-11-19T14:09:00.000-08:00

Last night I managed to sleep from about 5:00am to 6:00am. Consequently nauseous when I got up. Fortunately the husband told me to stay home and rest today. In between the rather fitful bouts of sleep, I did some research on sleeplessness and bipolar. Although most researchers do link the two, there does not seem to be a consensus. Does the sleeplessness bring on the mood swings? Or is it the result of mood swings? As for me, I don't care which causes which at this point. I just want some normal sleeping patterns. I want to sleep the undrugged sleep of.... oh, of a cat for 8 hours a night.

It's Back

2006-11-19T12:43:00.000-08:00

It has been a remarkable run. Almost 11 months of feeling good and normal. As anyone who has suffered from a mood disorder knows, that kind of break from the cycle is a gift. And use the gift I did. I accomplished long postponed goals and tasks both personally and professionally. I reconnected with friends. I worked through some personal demons (kind of). But my period of grace is over. The cycle has started again. I knew it would intellectually, but emotionally I hoped that maybe this time it wouldn’t.

It started like it usually does, with an interruption in my normal sleep cycle. Starting about a month ago, I stopped sleeping the night through. I had “middle insomnia”. I wake between 2:00 and 3:30am with a start, suddenly and violently wide awake. It takes at least an hour, often more to fall back asleep. Sometimes, I just give up and get up. Amazingly enough I was able to continue this for a whole month before the inevitable swing began. Not that I didn’t fight and claw at the edge to stay stable.

I am proud to say that I didn’t self medicate with alcohol having (finally) learned that simply speeds the cycle. I did try O.T.C. remedies. Nyquil was a friend for a while. Then Vicodin. Then the standby and usually the best solution, marijuana. But, once on the slippery slope of Bipolar depression, I know I just have to ride it out and hope that I will make it though again without invoking the Final Solution.

I wish I could, like Bronze John, be helped by medication and the medical community. However, being in the States and self-employed, self-insured, this is not an option. In fact, my insurance company specifically excludes any mental health care, this despite the law in Washington State which requires insurance to cover mental illness. So I must hide my illness like the dirty little secret it is, or I risk losing the lousy coverage I do have. I know that at some point in the next 4 to 6 months, I will probably be in a place where I should be closely monitored. I know that despite my best intentions of telling my husband what is going on, I will begin to hide my feelings. I will begin to plan and calculate and make preparations. And since at that point I will really want to die, I won’t want anyone to know lest they stop me.

I am afraid. I am at the top of the rollercoaster looking down the long drop and my safety bar is not in place. I know what is going to happen and I am powerless to stop it. I hate being out of control. I hate knowing my doom and having time to anticipate the pain and despair. Some part of my wants to give up now. Some part of me is tired of the inevitable fight.

Sorry about the bitch session. I know it is useless to feel sorry for myself. But right now I am in mourning for that which I will lose. I really did hope that it was over after such a long break and the realization that I was deluding myself has been rather devastating.

Business And A Birthday

2006-02-07T17:37:00.000-08:00

So we finally decided to do it. Talked about it for a long, long time. Prepared for an equally extensive period. Now we are actually going to do it. Sugar Daddy and I are going to buy sad and depressed houses to fix up and sell. This is no Trading Spaces, slap a coat of paint and we are done, kind of venture. No, this is the gut the entire interior of a home and rebuild it. We have the experience. We even have the money. Now we just need the property.

I am hopeful on so many levels. First, this will give us the opportunity to bypass the customer. Not all customers are bad, but the women who spend 11 days agonizing over just the right shade of eggshell white paint drive me crazier. The men who look at laminate samples and begin to hyperventillate because there are too many choices make me sigh. People who want the start their remodel tomorrow but who cannot be bothered to chose materials for another 6 or 7 weeks drive me to drink. Ah, to bypass the customer. To look at Sugar Daddy and know that we can do what is impossible for so many, make a decision!

I also think this will be good for me mentally. When I need the time off because I just can't see the point in living and breathing at the moment, I will be able to take the mental health day, or week, or month.... When I am happy and full of energy, I can work 12 to 16 hour days, 7 days a week, without intruding on a customer's family time in the evenings and on weekends.

I can create. I love to create. I will build. I will mold spaces into functional and fun living areas.

We hope to purchase our first forclosure this Friday or next.

But first, a birthday on Saturday.

Breathing

2006-01-31T14:31:00.000-08:00

It has been a long time. So long that I imagine that any and all who where reading my blatherings have long since ceased. So I shall continue in the manner I started, talking to myself.

Life has been good, very good. Early winter was tough, but not as tough as it has been, certainly not with the severity of last year. No voices. No suicidally black depressions. Not too many crippling depressed days. Mostly I felt this strange feeling. Actually it was a lack of feeling. A huge weight gone from my heart and mind. I finally realized it was feeling good. I understand that some people feel like that all the time. That must be incredible. No wonder most people do not understand, and are not drawn to suicide. When I feel like this, I don't want to die. Very groovy.

So much to update on. I think I will update in bits and pieces.

Sugar Daddy (the man formally, and still, known as my husband) and I have been doing great. Lots of talking. Lots of affection and intimacy. Lots of all that other good stuff. Little to say because good news doesn't always make interesting news. We have started talking about the "B" word. This is unfair I know. When we got together I was completely against the idea of having any babies. But now, when I feel good, the idea has it's appeal. More later.

Lost a friend. This was sad, and I probably should have seen it coming, but I was blind. My next door neighbor, who had been such a rock and friend, got drunk and propositioned me. I, of course declined. Not only am I totally faithful to Sugar Daddy, but if I was going to stray, next door neighbor guy would never come close to making the list. I told Sugar Daddy and we decided to let it go. After all next door neighbor was drunk and had been a good friend. But next door neighbor decided he needed (his word) to pursue this feeling. Sugar Daddy and I finally had to tell his to buzz off and never return. Very sad. But a good lesson learned. Never trust single men to be friends. That should be obvious I know, but sometimes I can be so naive.

Gained an old friend back. This is fantastic. Best friend from high-school. We drifted apart and now have gotten back together. Assuredly more later.

Now, back to taxes. It can't all be fun and games.

Banishment, Now This Will Only Hurt A Little

2005-07-22T22:15:00.000-07:00

I sit in my office, the converted garage. The Boy is soon home from work, and I cannot be present. The Boy my husband are working on having a civil relationship. Mainly this means that The Boy pretends to be human and I disappear from the house during waking hours so that my husband can try to communicate the nuances of social niceties to him (so instead of grunting, try saying "Hi").

This results in banishment. My banishment. I am only slightly resentful.

But, the summer is beautiful, the hallucinations are few, the voices are gone. and life is OK if not good. And it really seems to be working. The Boy has become more human over the last week or so. Only 49 more weeks to go.....

Sorry that the posting has been few and far between. The more "normal" I feel, the less compulsion I have to whine to the world at large about my life. And god, does it ever feel good to feel good. I wish it would last more than a few weeks or months. Right now my only complaint is allergies and severe insomnia (still). I haven't slept the night through since October. Up between 2:00am and 3:30am for 1 to 3 hours. I feel too tired to do anything, but too awake to sleep. I hate taking narcotics or soporifics. See, there I go whining again....

Still Alive

2005-07-10T10:19:00.000-07:00

To any of those out there who are still checking my blog despite my long absence, I apologize for said long absence.

But it has been a relatively good thing. I have been feeling... normal. Lots of energy, clarity of thought, normal swing of emotions, objectivity (or a sort) about things going on around me as well as a marked decline in any interest in self-medicating with copious quantities of alcohol or Other. Consequently I have been trying to catch up on all the duties I have neglected for the past 8 months or so. Paperwork, here I come.

I have refinanced the house, prepared (mostly) the business tax return for last year (you know, the one due on March 15) and sorted and filed 15 months worth of personal receipts. Finishing paperwork always feels like a Herculean accomplishment after it has been neglected for so long.

The Boy has been visiting with his mother for the last week, and will be gone for another week. This has given me a much needed respite. I hope this time apart allows all the parties involved to gain a little perspective. I think we need to fundamentally change our methods of communication. I believe we have gotten into bad habits of talking. We are so on guard against what the other may say that even the friendly volleys we exchange are tense, and every phrase is over-examined for any meaning that may be derogatory. Thus it is easy for "Hi, how ya doing?" to be construed as an attack. Well, maybe not easy, but it certainly does not stop The Boy from seeing it as an attack.

I hope to change that when he returns home next week. I hope we can get things back to the way they were. He can be a charming teenager when he chooses, and the rest of the time he is a less than charming teen.

I have arranged with a girlfriend for lodging if things get bad. I told my husband that I would spend a few days with her if it looked like things weren't getting any better. I hope this allows the boys some time to interact one on one without the evil step-mom being in the way. I hope that this wide-angle, shotgun buckshot approach can work. More later.

Sex

2005-06-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

I've been blessed with great sex for the past few days. Hooray for me! My husband has been acting the big stud, and I am quite convinced. Of course it helps that The Boy has been working and we have had some uninterrupted hours in which to play. Gotta love adult play time.

I did not get very into sex until I was with the man who is now my husband. We started our relationship kind of as a one night stand of exceptional and prolonged activity. Then I came back for more, and more. My first marriage was on the rocks after my ex's disclosure of pedophilia, so I never even felt guilty about carrying on an affair. So gentlepeople (and those not so gentle) it does go to show you that fantastic sex and extramarital affairs can lead to committed relationships.

Of course, after the initial explosion of constant, wanton sex, we did slow down. Once the kids moved in with us it got even more rare. But it was always good. For a while I was on Paxil for depression. This was before my pdoc figured out that I was bipolar. For those who are not familiar, treatment with SSRI anti-depressants and no mood stabilizer for someone with bipolar disorder can push said patient into rapid-cycling. Lucky me. So now, instead of a fairly predictable cycle of depression and mania, I have these very unpredictable and mixed episodes. So much fun. But back to the sex.....

On Paxil I was completely without sex drive. I remember breaking down and crying one day and explaining to my husband that I understood if he needed to pursue a sexual relationship outside of our marriage because I was completely incapable of fulfilling his needs. He just held me quietly for a moment before he kissed me tenderly and assured me that he had no problem waiting until I was ready. And eventually, after stopping the Paxil (and suffering a week of hellish withdrawal) we had a marathon weekend of sex, as my sex drive came back with a vengeance.

So sex has been on again, off again with us mostly because of my bipolar disorder. When I am down I have very little sex drive. But when I am manic I am insatiable, and crazy. But you can't have it all.

Right now, I am un-medicated and the sex has been fantastic. Well, not completely un-medicated. The Herb has been my friend, keeps the highs and the lows away much more effectively than lithium ever did. Lets me sleep too. Without any medication I lay awake, sometimes all night long. I have gone for months without sleeping the night through. I have gone for several weeks several time without any sleep. That is a very surreal experience. But I am getting off topic yet again...

But wait... so much writing.... not enough activity....

The Conversation

2005-06-24T10:37:00.000-07:00

Had a talk with My Friend And Neighbor Next Door (Foliwoman allow me to use your fantastic method of initializing people's names) MFANND. Over a couple of margaritas for me and rum and cokes for him, the discussion became animated. I do love a good debate.

He took the position that there is a life after this one, and that influences his decision to live a good life. Naturally, I had to take the opposite view that there is nothing after this life. I live a good life because I want to, because I choose to and because it makes me feel go to do so. As the discussion continued MFANND get agitated and even upset that I did not believe in any afterlife or god. He suddenly stopped and said "Now, I know why you want to die.... you have no hope."

Well, OK, maybe that is true. I suppose one reason that religion is so successful in all it's permeations is that it is intolerable for most of us to believe that this is all there is. We need a reason to do good. We need to believe that all of the evil in the world, children dying, rape, murder and injustice will somehow be atoned for in some glorious and happy afterlife where the good will be rewarded and evil punished. It is appealing. But just because we wish it to be so, does not make it so. Religion was created by man as a way to control other men. You will behave because the god(s) are watching. Even if you get away with evil in this world, god will get you in the next because god sees all. How appealing. How controlling. A perfect social engineering solution. Never to be proven, or more importantly, disproved.

But, does not believing in god and the afterlife cause one to have a surfeit of hope? Is that why I place such a small value on my life? Is that why suicide is constantly on my mind as an acceptable and normal solution? Hmmmmmmmm, something to think about.

One Week To Go

2005-06-24T10:23:00.000-07:00

I gave my husband a deadline a month an a half ago. If things do not improve with The Boy, I am moving out. Not in a separation prior to divorce moving out. No this was to be a refuge, a home away from home. I needed a place I could go when I just couldn't handle The Boy anymore.

I know, I know, it is a bad thing. I am weak. But in my defense, at the time I felt very unstable mentally. I have always struggled with my mental illness and had gotten to the point, yet again, where suicide was looking oh so inviting. I thought that maybe a place of refuge would help me avoid that particular low spot in my life. Needless to say, and yet I say it anyway, my husband was not in favor of the idea.

So it is one week to go. Things are looking up. The Boy is becoming more like a human being and less like an angry orc. He really is a fantastic human being when he chooses to be. I guess he is really a fine orc as well, if you like the orc thing. Me, I'm not really into the orc thing. I prefer cats. Much more cuddly.

Solving The World's Problems

2005-06-19T08:54:00.000-07:00

Every one has been there. You are at a party, imbibing whatever social lubricant you enjoy. After an hour or two when everyone is relaxed and open, but people haven't gotten too stupid yet, it is time to Solve The World's Problems. Some topic comes up and people debate and express, emote and berate. Eventually this devolves into a shouting match with possible pushing and shoving, or people realize that indeed we cannot solve the world's problems. But it is so much fun to try.

So the topic the other night was prison reform. At least it started as prison reform, but I quickly got off the subject of cable TV for prisoners and onto social reasons that prison is used as a method of punishment. I believe that prison is not so much about justice as it is about retribution. Prison gives us a way of exacting revenge as a society while maintaining our superiority as enlightened individuals. After all, we do not chop off hands or feet in punishment of crime. We do not stone women who have had the audacity to be raped. We do not beat women who dare to show a little leg should they trip and fall on the way to the market. No, we send people to prison who smoke marijuana to relieve pain. We imprison those who have mental illnesses that leave them less capable of being responsible members of society. We imprison men who grew up suffering intolerable abuse and neglect and who later commit terrible crimes.

What to do, what to do. I have no idea. But I do know that desperately holding onto our illusions of justice is a bad thing. As a society we talk about rehabilitation in the same sentence in which we talk about meting punishment. Does anyone else see the problem here? You cannot rehabilitate and punish at the same time. The purpose of imprisonment, society's legal revenge option, is not to make the criminal into a better person. Imprisonment as a form of punishment is used to force the punishee to consider their actions and atone. They are to suffer for their sins. And yes, let us bring in the religious connotations because religion and imprisonment go hand in hand. Imprisoning criminals makes society feel better. It is a catharctic release. We temporarily remove a problem citizen and life is oh so much better. I hear people positively gloating as they imagine the conditions a prisoner will face. They want these men to suffer abuse and rape. They want pain and suffering to rain down on him as he rained suffering down on them.

Well, OK. I can see wanting violent criminals to suffer. Rape and abuse is over the line though. But what about non-violent criminals. What about people who had the misfortune to be born into bad circumstances? What about the mentally ill and those who grew up in abusive homes? What about those who are in prison for simple possession crimes? I think we should have two justice systems in place. One should be a rehabilitation system. Petty crooks, drug addicts, mentally ill, severely abused etc should be given an opportunity to recover and better themselves. We should do this, if for no other reason than to turn them into producers in society instead of consumers. Come on, my taxes are high enough, let them help.

And the big, bad meanies? Short of chopping off limbs..... prison is all we have. Or is it? Who has figured out the solution the this problem of the world? Come on, have a drink or two and respond.

Sunday Morning

2005-06-18T09:53:00.000-07:00

Everything seems possible on Sunday morning, especially when I don't have to work. So twice a month, the day stretches into an infinity of possibilities. And then life hits me upside the head and we get back to normal. But on those lazy Sunday mornings, about the 3rd or 4th cup of coffee when my thoughts really begin to race and I talk way too fast, I make the most grandiose plans for the upcoming day, week, month, lifetime, and sometimes next couple of lifetimes. I can be very productive on coffee.

I just realized that it is Saturday. Think I need more coffee.

Family Mottos

2005-06-15T18:36:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up my parents attempted to impress all of their knowledge and values into my tiny, developing mind. And although I do remember things like, "stove hot, don't touch", "never wipe with leaves that look like that", and "always hire the best, most unscrupulous lawyer you can for a criminal defense". I think what really sums up my parent' s important knowledge are the two family mottos I gleaned.

From my father's more bohemian youth, I learned "All Things To Excess!" I really like this one. I never do something half-assed. This works well in employment. I really work my ass off. It works less well with some forms of experimentation. Some things are best done in moderation. But over all, All Things To Excess has done well for me.

My mother on the other hand, was much more practical. "Never Pass Up An Opportunity To Pee" Words of wisdom indeed, especially when dealing with small children, or while on a pub crawl.

I live my life by these two mottos, and when they are not appropriate for the situation, well.... I have disappointed my parents before, they will eventually get used to it.

Little Old Ladies

2005-06-15T18:14:00.000-07:00

Note to self - don't post while intoxicated. Not only is it more difficult to say what I want, but I also sound like an idiot (well, more of an idiot than usual).

Feeling better today. Honestly, sometimes the Herb works better than anything else. Either that or I am cycling back out to some kind of normalcy. Worked a long day for a Little Old Lady. If I can feel normal after a full day of dealing with a LOL, then things must be better.

Not much to say. Waiting to see if this cycle is really leveling out or if I am in for a roller coaster ride. Wish there was a way to know for sure. Come on all you doctors out there, there has got to be something better. There has to be a way to treat this disease in such a way that the cure leaves one fundamentally altered. Every medication I have tried has had such pronounced side effects that the "uncured: state is often preferable to the "stable" one. Well, preferable to me. I know my family prefers me to be medicated. With all the money being spent to improve erectile quality, length, girth and lasting power.... how about a pittance more to allow some of us to be full time productive members of society.

Rant complete. For now.

Self-Medicating... Self-Abuse

2005-06-12T16:37:00.000-07:00

So after all that happiness and light....

Still off all medications. Not quite stable. But I am still committed to giving this lithium free life a shot. I still see this as a temporary thing. I don't think I can last like this. I don't think I can fake it forever. At some point I have to commit to living or dying. I am however, on the fence right now.

I think of suicide like dating. When one first starts to "date" as a teen, one starts with holding hands and other fairly innocuous stuff. It may take months or even years to progress to that stage with the first boyfriend (or girlfriend). Then one gets a new Significant Other and one progresses down the physical relationship path much faster. One gets to 2nd and 3rd base much faster. Where exactly are 2nd and 3rd or 1st for that matter? I am pretty sure I have a handle on a home run, but the rest of the baseball analogies escape me. By the time we reach late adolescence and young adulthood, it is not unusual to get heavily physical very quickly. Each relationship moves us down the path much faster than the one before. We start at a more advanced stage and more readily move forward.

That is my relationship with suicide. At first I just flirted. Coy looks and dark thoughts preoccupied my days and nights, but that was about all. Then more serious, talking with others and planning were hallmarks of my path. Now after a couple of "failed" attempts, I feel close, naked in bed, with death. I may not actively want to die on Monday, but I know that I can be carnally attached by Wednesday. From what I understand, most normal people don't feel like this. Most of them don't even want to die most of the time. Must be something...... wanting to live. Wow.

So I have been "self-medicating". Although, lets be honest. I have been drinking and using "performance enhancing" herbs. Self-medicating? No. Simple escape. I recognize that, but it does not change my habits. No, my self-medicating involves a razor blade or scalpel dragged across my skin. The pain is a better anti-depressant than anything else I have ever tried. But of concern to me is the depth I have been cutting and wanting to cut recently. Before a simple line of blood was enough, now I need to have a crimson wash down my arm. Maybe it is simply another step in my dance with suicide. Maybe I am that much closer to being ready. I hope so.

Anyway, a link for those who believe that substance abuse is bad for the mentally ill. To add to the hundreds of sources that say it is bad, I have one that says it may not be so bad. What a ringing endorsement.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/4606475.stm

When our own words fail us we turn to the poets, and so as Langston Hughes wrote in a poem entitled Advice

Folks I am telling you
birthing is hard
and dying is mean
so get yourself
a little loving
in between.

Indeed...

Stupid People Tricks

2005-06-12T16:11:00.000-07:00

I am a contractor by trade. Not a lot of women in my field of work, but I kind of like it that way. I like being a barrier breaker for womankind. I like it even more when I see some of the stupid things some homeowners and landlords do to their properties. Really the only amazing part is that more homes don't fall on people's heads or burn to the ground.

One of my favorite calls was from a man who said he needed work done on his roof. I went to take a look, and sure enough his roof was not in good shape. It was bowed in the middle, at least a foot and a half lower than at either end. He informed me that this had "just happened" and he had "no idea what could have caused it". At this point the man's wife comes out to talk to me. She informs me that her husband and his friends got drunk the night before and took a chainsaw and interior wall to enlarge the family room. At this point the husband gets a guilty look on his face and disappears. The wife and I go inside to look at the damage. Sure enough, her lovable spouse has removed about 10 fee of load bearing interior wall. Not only that, but as he indiscriminately cut through the wall, he cut though electrical wire feeding power to about a third of the house. Apparently, the only thing that stopped the boys from cutting more was the arrival of the wife home from her swing shift at the hospital. Unfortunately, she did not arrive soon enough. I took the job and permitted it. An inspector showed up and declared the house uninhabitable until the work was complete.

People think that home repair is easy and that all projects are DIY. I blame it on The Home Depot, Lowes and all the so-called Home Improvement stores. Not everything is DIY. One should avoid taking out load bearing walls in one does not know what one is doing. Playing with live 220 wire is not a good idea either. Plumbing should not be done by people who think that water should flow uphill because they want it too. Decks should not be built by people who do not understand basic engineering principles. Are these things complicated? Of course not, but just as I would not perform "routine" surgery, there are some "routine" repairs that should not be done by an unqualified person.

Sorry for the rant. There have been a lot of stupid people calls this week.

On Fencing and Tennis Balls

2005-06-12T10:03:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lack of posts this last week. I haven't felt up to it. And I didn't want to spend all my time blogging ranting and crying and wanting to die. Because, let's face it, that is just a drag. Hopefully this current cycle of rapid-cycling is tapering off.

But what I really wanted to talk about today is the prevalence of fencing in our society. This sport can be found on any street one walks down. Many times evidence of extensive fencing is plainly visible. This teasing, potentially violent sport is indulged in by young and old, male and female alike. I admit that even in my own household, fencing occurs with a rabid, frenzied violence that I would find highly disturbing anywhere else. As it is, I find fencing highly amusing. In fact, I love sitting on my front porch after a long day at work ale in hand, watching my dog fence with my neighbor's puppy. My normally quiescent dog gets a positively wild look in her eyes as she bounds up and down my neighbor's fence trying to get another dog to bark. After a while, I let my neighbor's dog out and the two of them run around my front yard drooling on each other (it is important to have a large bucket of water for this phase to encourage good drool and slobber production). After a while one of the dogs will find a Tennis Ball. Normally, neither cares a whit about tennis balls, but if another dog has one, the Tennis Ball becomes all important. They will run each other ragged stealing the Sacred Tennis Ball from each other. And I, I just sit sipping my ale, knowing that today I do not have to take her for a walk.

So, there is my silliness for the day. For later, some stories about gratuitous stupidity, and the (mostly) men who do them.

History

2005-06-01T21:53:00.000-07:00

I read the news this morning and saw one of the almost inevitable columns about a sex offender who preys on children. Automatically I looked to see if it was my ex-husband.

I married, for the first time, when I was a naive 18 year old. I divorced 3-1/2 years later, after I discovered that my husband..... how to put this delicately.... Preferred his women to be prepubescent. He had 12 (yes twelve) felony convictions to his name. Convicted at age 17, his records were sealed and he did not have to register as a sex offender. What genius judge thought this was a good idea.... And how could I have not known. Thank God we never had children. I still feel violated, knowing I had sex with and loved a convicted pedophile.

Last I heard, he was trying to become a police officer. It frightens me. It should probably frighten many. He probably is a cop now. I wouldn't be surprised if he uses his position to abuse kids. I really don't want to know. I am still afraid of him.

Suicide

2005-06-01T15:24:00.000-07:00

I don't know that I will ever be able to go through with the act. I think too much about it. I think about how it would affect my husband. I don't know that it would really affect anyone else. My family already believes I am bound for Hell. I am, after all, a lapsed Catholic in a family of extremely conservative Catholics. I lived with a man for several years before I married him. I will never have children. I do not attend church. And although I have the deepest respect for the Catholic faith, I do not believe.

So suicide would merely confirm what my parents and siblings have always known. Suicide would definitely end the pain for me. I would cause some concern for my friends. But people move on. In a year, no one would remember me. My husband would be devastated. But his kids would take it in stride, maybe even be relieved.

So why can't I do it? God knows I've tried. But I will have to do better than the half-hearted attempts. All I have had are failures. And why is it that a suicide where one kills oneself is "successful", while an attempt that does not result in death is a "failure"? Now I have never had any attempts that ended in hospital. The closest I ever came was with a misfiring bullet. Dragging a razor up my arm has resulted in lovely scars, but I never seem able to cut deep enough. Attempted overdoses result in staring at the bottle in disgust with myself, and never taking the damn pills. Over the years, I have come to realize that I will always be a failure when it comes to suicide. And I know that my desire to suicide is not actually a desire to die, but a need to make the pain stop. I would be quite happy to make it stop any other way.

OK. This is quite rambling. I don't know why I am even talking about this now. I am trying to make a go of it without the meds. The last thing I need is to dwell on suicide. But it is always on my mind. Is that normal? Do normal people think of suicide every day? Do they want to die all the time? Something makes me this way, and I keep thinking that if I can just put my finger on it, those thoughts will disappear.

So I will continue to do the only thing I know. I will act like everything is fine. Try to hide depression and psychosis from all around me. And hope that by living a life that appears sane and normal, I will become sane and normal. Nothing to lose. The worst that will happen is that I will jump off that bridge. And really, that's not so bad.

Prowler

2005-05-30T11:54:00.000-07:00

My dog woke me up at 2:00am the other night. She barked. Several times in a row. This is quite unusual for her. She is not a barker, she is more of a snorer. And this was not the "my god there is a strange cat (or not so strange cat) on the back porch that wants to play chase" bark. No, this was a very concerned "people are doing bad things" bark. OK. Enough about the dog.

So I woke my husband up, because although I have no problem shouldering my 50% of the household duties, when the dog barks like that at 2:00am, hubby gets to investigate. He peeks out the window and lo and behold, there is his son and a friend, trying to break into what they thought was our empty house. I don't need this at two o'clock in the morning. It turns out that although he was supposed to be at his mother's house, he went to spend the night at a friend's house. They then skipped out and went to a party. Cops showed up at said party and told all to disperse. Stepson and friend wandered the streets for 2 hours and then tried to break into our house.

What to do, what to do.

Aside from not sleeping the rest of the night, I accomplished little. There is no immediate answer. There is no immediate cure and remedy. Any action and solution will have to occur over time. Time. At times I am ready for this. But when the paranoia starts again in earnest; when the depression begins; when all I see in my minds eye are ways of committing violence on myself, I will not be up for it. Right now, in this slightly hypomanic state I have the energy, ideas and quick, razor sharp thinking that I love so much. The biting, acerbic voices telling me how I am evil, stupid, wrongheaded etc., serve to keep me in check, like an overdeveloped internal monologue stuck on the self-destructive channel. Next at 11:00, you are an idiot and should die!

The upshot of all this rambling is... well a description of flailing. We are muddling our way through, trying to be good parents. We are trying to communicate with the ex and her new husband. We are trying to communicate with the boy. All sorts of trying going on, but not much accomplishing when it comes down to the important job of helping this young hooligan become the fine man I know he can be.

Damn and double damn.

Answering Questions

2005-05-29T10:40:00.000-07:00

First, an apology. As a blogging neophyte, I am not sure of how to answer comments or questions posed. So forgive me if this is not the acceptable method. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

I am bipolar, or schizophrenic, or schizoaffective or just plain nuts. It depends on the mental health professional one talks to. My most recent diagnosis was as bipolar. This diagnosis was made by a psychiatrist after about 45 minutes of discussion of a lifetime of symptoms. It may or may not be accurate.

No matter what the diagnosis, I am usually high-functioning. It helps to be highly driven and organized. And the constant invective inside my head keeps me motivated to be.... well, perfect. That is one thing that voices in one's head are good for, a constant stream of analysis and criticism.

My psychiatrist does know that I have stopped medication. He is not pleased. When I started medication under his supervision, he believed that medication would be the only way I would avoid suiciding within the next 12 months. My husband is also aware of my decision to cease medication. He is also not pleased. However, me has "veto" power over my decision. I have told him that should I become unstable and dangerous to myself, he has the authority to, in effect, order me back onto medication. I have tried to make this unmedicated trial as "safe" as possible. The weakest part of the chain however, is me, as always. I will not always share with him or with friends how I am feeling. I hate to impose on family and friends in such a burdensome way when the demons are on me.

This blog helps. An anonymous and catharctic vent, it seems to help focus and calm my thoughts. When my mind is racing or feeling profoundly depressed, or both at the same time, it is good to know I can say what I think, and not worry about an involuntary 72 "observation" at the local locked ward.

So some, not all, questions addressed. I will try to be more thorough later. And please feel free to tell me if I have violated blogging etiquette.

Peace and Disquiet

2005-05-23T09:16:00.000-07:00

It is difficult living in a split household. As the new spouse I see the children behave in a very different way with each parental member of their mother's and father's households. The most striking and damaging concept is that of a lack of rules/stability/consistency... call it what you will. The effect of this is that the children learn there are different rules in the different households. Almost immediately they learn to manipulate their parents.

Now all children manipulate their parents. It is a normal course of nature. However, usually mom and dad talk about what their children are doing and are able to rein in their children in a firm but loving way. This allows the child to ever push the boundaries, without free-falling into an anarchy filled void of misinformation and chaos.

In a split household there are additional difficulties. In the best case scenario, mom and dad still communicate and make an attempt to be civil. However, there are still the little digs. There are still the attempts to slightly put down the other parent and raise oneself to a higher level of popularity and love with ones children. Yes, popularity. That is the sad fact. We compete for our children's love.

These problems build. A recognition that there are no set rules (because mom's rules are different than dad's, and neither enforces the others) will build into a contempt for the rules at home. This leads to a contempt for school rules and eventually a contempt for the law. The child decides that if they do not like, believe in, or want to follow the rule or law, they are not obligated to do so. When caught, the child does not act with remorse and an effort to change, but with belligerence and a belief that they are being persecuted unjustly.

Once life has proceeded this far, and the child is 16 or 17 years old, what can be done?

Obviously the child's parents must intervene, but how? Do the stepparents (who at this point have been threatened and told off in their own homes) try to be involved in this process? When the children become violent, does one summon the police?

I do not have the answer. I wish I did. Because all in all, this is a good kid. He deserves a future that is happy and bright.

Kids - Why?

2005-05-12T09:16:00.000-07:00

I am a step-parent. Not an evil stepmother (although my kids might disagree). I am involved in their lives. Sacrifice time, money and heartache for them. But even more so than birth parents, I am the target of their ire. After all, it is much safer to tell ones step parent to shove it than ones mother or father.

My relationship with my husband is such that I have been the main enforcer of discipline and schedule in the house as it pertains to the children. I have been willing to assume this role for years. Now however, things must change.

The youngest (age 16 - male) is becoming aggressive, difficult and I fear, violent. I am done with dealing with him. So now my husband and I are trying to develop a new dynamic in the household. He is taking on more and more responsibilities with his son, and I am trying to back away. It is hard on all three of us.

I hope things get better. I am tired of feeling unsafe and vulnerable in my own home.

Now, to work.

So Far, No Voices

2005-05-09T21:47:00.000-07:00

I've been off medication for less than a week.

I had been on Lithium (600mg 2x/day) for only 7 weeks. It seemed to be working well. My pdoc added Topomax at the relatively small dosage of 50mg/day each am. I was also taking 5mg of Ambien each night to sleep, because apparently it is not normal to sleep only 3 hours a night.

Immediately upon starting the Topomax, the hallucinations began. Now these were not vague, benign hallucinations out of the corner of ones eye. Oh no, these were full blown, acid tripping, people appearing and disappearing, colors, tracers, and the most bizarre of thought processes. I did this for 5 days. Then I stopped all medication.

I know this is a mistake. I know I should keep taking my Lithium. I know that if I don't, I have a very good chance of successfully suiciding in the near future. Right now I don't care. Right now I am enjoying this little hypomanic spell. Later I will worry about jumping off the bridge. Later I will worry about the gun. Later I will worry about the overdose. Right now, I just want to feel good, almost normal, not depressed.

Just for a few days.

Then it will stop.

Sick

2005-05-09T14:34:00.000-07:00

Anticipated a lovely weekend. The boy to return to his mother's, and my husband and I to have some quiet time with the shades drawn. Ah how life enjoys her little ironies.

Sometime Friday afternoon it started with a sore throat. It proceeded to a mild cough and general aching. It got worse as the weekend progressed. Here I sit, Monday afternoon. Home, sick.

I hate that.

A Little Background

2005-05-08T12:31:00.000-07:00

I know that in all probability no one will ever read this blog. We are millions, billions of anonymous ants pouring out what is left of our souls into cyberspace in the vain hope that someone, anyone, will care. OK, no one cares.

I wanted, needed to vent. After all, it is so unfair. We all want life to be fair. We all feel at least a little betrayed when life is not fair. But we also know that life really is not fair. But damnit all anyway...

I hit the averages just right. The "episodes" started in the mid teen years. I wasn't diagnosed until 28. Fortunately, I have kept myself out of hospitals. Got medicated. Got unmedicated. Contemplated suicide (always contemplating suicide). Never successful. I suppose I will go through all the normal steps someone who is facing a chronic, lifelong illness will go through. Right now, deep in denial. I don't want it to be real. Therefore, despite knowing that going off medication will probably have serious, perhaps fatal consequences, I have done it anyway.

It is hard to reconcile the intellectual awareness of my disease with the emotional irrationality of my coping with the disease. I feel like two people. One is calm, cool, calculating. This one recognizes dangers and percentages. The other is kicking and screaming and listening to the voices in my head. But on the outside, all anyone ever sees is the stoic me. Never let them know you are ready to jump, or that you think you can fly. Apparently both those things are bad.

Enough for now. More later.

Beginning

2005-05-08T12:22:00.000-07:00

Just a test for now.