Me writing a book, what a foolish thought. I can give many reasons. I am not at all creative or for that matter I have the attention span as a kid seeing the ice cream truck while (what’s her name) my mom is calling me. You see I forgot already. I have muttered around with trying to write this journal, dairy, and hopeful a book for some time. The real problem is my attention span has not recovered. Yes that is me , I am a crazy minded person that is always talking about recovering or in the middle of recovering .As a reader I ask that you have a little faith in me , I really do have something to share . www.brokenopenscars.com
I am big fan of reading anything and everything that has to do with addiction and bipolar. So I spend a lot of time with my very best friend friend , my computer. I read , I relate, I sometimes cry and many times I am blessed with a stroke of reality. That is what happened last night , after downloading more ebooks that one person will ever read. I came across a site that allows its readers to post chapters or journals of their writings . I happened to mention this to my on and off again boyfriend , I think that we are on now . He has always been somewhat impressed by my writings which I started in the form of a blog . This blog started with a lot of vodka , and a sprinkle of speed ( you know to get the creative juices going ). I am bipolar. There I have said it . I am also facing what might as well the end of me , midlife and addiction.
So you may want to understand me a bit before trying read this , or you just won’t get it at all.
I am my own midlife crisis
I am not alone but the loneliness is killing me
I talk alot
I overdo everything, eating, sharing, drinking , there I said it. Need I say more, you get the idea.
Depression strikes often , a song can drive me to call the nearest hotline
I am bipolar
Somedays, I think I am not bipolar, these days I am manic
I hate being alone
I am alone
I have been deported from the country where all my family lives
I suck at commitments
I hate being sober, it causes pain
I love being sober,I get honest
It might start the evening with beer or wine, but it was vodka that I poured for myself over and over. I kept it in the refrigerator so that I never needed to add ice, which just took up room in the glass that could be better occupied by vodka.
I drank for one simple reason: to numb the pain. It never worked. Not once. The alcohol would warm my blood and muddle my brain, but I was still miserable even drunk. I still loathed my self, my mediocrity, my looks, my job, my lying, my relationships. And I woke up every morning for years wanting to die. The first thought that would enter my head before I opened my eyes would be that I wished to be dead. I don’t know how many years it lasted, but it was easily decades. Some time in that last 10 years of my drinking, I grew aware that there was a sound underneath all my thoughts. It was a crying, a low heaving as happens when you gasp for air as you cry continuously. The sound was present always. My self-loathing grew exponentially, and my alcohol consumption grew, too. Nothing worked. The drinking was daily. I felt a hand reach into my head and begin to squeeze. I gripped the handrail to keep from falling. It felt like the hand of some God had decided that I no longer needed my brain and was trying to extract it. I can’t say that it was exactly painful. I believe it would be better described as immense pressure.
The shock was tremendous. I remember when I was diagnosed with bipolar, I felt betrayed by my brain. I’d had delusions in the intervening years, but now I knew that my brain wanted something completely foreign to what I’d ever imagined. It wanted out. I knew then that no amount of vodka would numb this… I was looking at the demon and I was sharing his cup, his shoes, his everything. Hang on before you suddenly say to yourself” more higher power shit “ nope , I have done that and while it did work for me many years ago with “coke” this was a whole new playing field… This was fu*king bipolar…. This is me tonight :
I can’t watch. I have it on, but it’s playing in the background.
I’m pacing. I can’t sit. I can’t listen. I can’t concentrate. It makes me want to cry.
When I sit in front of the TV, I can only stay there for a short time. It might be one or two minutes.
I’ve had my meds for today. I could take more clonazepam, but that would just make me sleepy.
I feel damaged.
What is there inside my brain that disallows me from simple pleasures? Why can’t I sit and watch TV? Why can’t I have vodka, hell, beer would do just fine … but inside I fight with myself… today , ( tomorrow is way to far to deal with) I have to deal with this as any other druggie… whatever!!
I am fu*cking mad.. Why me !! Boo Hoo!!! Ok I am coming back to normal, give me a sec….
I fell asleep , I must ask myself “ was it some form of Higher Power watching me ….
I couldn’t watch television, and I felt awful. But this isn’t about winning friends, so what did I do to make myself feel better?
I wish I could say I was perfect and turned around my thinking before I went to bed, but I can’t lie. I went to bed without brushing my teeth and feeling like crap. I’ve learned over the years that I can best judge my mental state by my level of self-care. When I don’t brush my teeth, something is seriously wrong.
But I did one thing right last night, I lifted my hands upward and gave thanks for my life and said that I believed I would wake up feeling totally new. Did I? Not exactly. went for my powerwalk around a beautiful park. I went to a noon A.A. Meeting. This in a way isn’t honest because I keep the 12 steps to myself.. no sponsor as of yet . When my brain was spinning out of control, I need to stop and pray for relief. When I am overly worried about some problem, I need to stop and think about how much I can really control and what is simply out of my hands. I need to let go of this thinking .. It scares me …
I slept and guess what happened? Yep.. you are no dummy !! Depression!
I am not ashamed to say that I spent today in bed. I’m depressed.
I tried my little releasing ritual, but there was no magic bullet there. Still, if there’s one thing I’ve learned this disease, it is that this too shall pass. I will feel better. Who knows maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up right as rain.
I feel alone. I feel worthless. I feel ashamed of my selfishness concerning my kids, and this after years of telling myself I did the right thing … how could leaving not 1 but a few kids not leave a person with shame … if you don’t think so.. drop that crack pipe and think again.. it is the hardest thing that I deal with
I’m tired. I’m sick of fighting. I’ve got layers of internalized self-loathing that are only beginning to surface.
I’ve stopped walking. I’ve stopped meditating. I say only the most rudimentary prayers.
Ugh. I can feel myself sliding into the pit, and I refuse to go easily. If I’m going to be depressed, then people are going to know about it…. And what I want people to know is I am a fighter … I will be heard !!! I can fight , I can listen, I can give, I can love , I can hurt , I can cry. I can forgive …
I can be forgiven
Not J. K. Rowling , and this is not a Harry Potter fantasy collection. But one can dream .