... she's so self-conscious....

 

This blog is way over due.

So on  October 30th I checked into Heritage Oaks Hospital - which was ironically two blocks from my ex boyfriend. Checking in was suppose to be quick... I got there at 12:30pm with my Dad and Bonnie, but the wait was too long so they left me alone. I started getting anxious and started popping my Klonopin. I finally got checked in at 5:30, and they slammed a mandatory 72 hour hold because I took meds in the lobby. So then I basically slept for 3 days when they weren't checking vitals or getting me up for meals. When the 72 hours was up they gave me 5250 which says they can hold me up to 14 days. So I started going to group, etc. There was no individual therapy or anything helpful like that. So on my 7th day I discharged myself.

 

Since then my family is convinced that I am depressed and have some "serious issues". I'm not depressed. In fact I'm out with friends almost every night. The other day when I got home from an all nighter my brother Brian chewed me out

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? You're stressing dad out with your bullshit. If he dies it'll be your fault"

After that I went upstairs and just cried. Then he knocked and knocked and let himself in. Sitting on my bed trying to be comforting. But he just pissed me off. So I called my sister. Almost word for word Dad, Bonnie, my brother, and my sister lectured me and whatnot. So no one is any help. They're all against me.

 

Lately I've been hanging out with a high school friend named Peter. He and I do acid, smoke DMT and have sex. He's a really good friend. He listens to me and I listen to him. The second time I smoked DMT I turned into a cat. I had ears, claws, fur, and sounded like a cat. It was incredibly awesome.

 

I miss Shawn, haven't heard from him in a while, I miss him like crazy.

... or let me make my decisions....

 

Sooo.... things have sort of fallen completely apart.

 

a) fights with dad have gotten more frequent

 

b) I have no money

 

c) I am having emotional problems that are affecting everyone

 

d) I had to drop out of college

 

Solution: Right now I want to get level headed; I think the best option for me right now is to go inpatient to a mental facility.

I am going to speak candidly concerning my life and the past ten days.  This is to get this off of my chest and to show the funny side as well as the drama of what I have been through during both of those time frames.

 

Bipolar and me

 

I have had some untoward things happen in my life lately, and unfortunately, for the first time, I started having suicidal ideations and panic attacks.  I went to the Care Center hoping to just get a chill pill of some sort, but knowing I was not in a good way.  The minute she detected the birdie flying over with the message, "sleep forever" she took it very seriously and sent me off to the ER to make sure I was okay physically.  Then, after hours, I saw a man from Pennyroyal Mental Health Center, who decided it was a good idea to send me off against my wishes, in case my husband or I might try to discharge me early.  He said I was in dire need of rest and care, and to be away from home at present.  I totally agreed, although I was very afraid of it all. 

 

They bundled me into the cage at the back of a police car and off I went.... I had to close my eyes and pretend to sleep and breathe in a Lamaze fashion, in order for the panic not to return on that thirty-minute trip to Hopkinsville, Kentucky. 

 

They did the paperwork and let me take a shower, all the while observing me to make sure I was not going to try anything funny.  This total observation and shadowing thingy was to go on for 24 hours, until they were sure that I was not going to off myself while they were not looking.  I was not really serious about killing myself, but definitely wished to sleep and get away from it all; the intent, or desire of it all, was to take a handful of Phenegren, and just to sleep and hopefully not wake up.

 

But this was not to be, as I know I would have awakened in a place of greater torment than I had ever heretofore experienced.  God is gracious, loving and kind, and I have prayed so many times before, when I realized that I was on a self destructive path, that he would shut any doors that I walked thru, even if they were purposefully opened by me.  I knew all along that I was not the same as others around me, but somehow, just had to have the high that my off the wall personality afforded me...and the love and attention were the addict and the power I craved.

 

So, I was observed for the day...in sleep, in the shower.... geez!  Talk about an experience!  I was not even allowed to pee with the door closed.   I don't know what they thought I could have gotten up to in the toilet, (stick my head in and flush.... aw, why did I not think of it earlier...just kidding) but anyway, that was how it was.  I was not allowed to use a razor...for reasons I am sure you have already guessed...yip...so, needless to say, I had a few stray hairs!  I, with my very vain personality, had to live with them for that day. Thank God, I had just shaven, but STILL!  It made me think of my helpless state when I get old and have to live in a nursing facility.  OH, Lord, let your coming be swift and may I go with you, now that you have spared me until later!

 

The admitting doc did say that I was the happiest looking suicide he had ever seen and asked me if I REALLY, REALLY wished to die.  I said no, but that I definitely had to have help...this was because now I was in my element; I had an audience...the admitting lady and a doctor...therefore, I WAS HAPPY.... and showed off for them in my very unique manner.... and this was to be the case the whole time, five days, that I was in there. 

 

 

I was able to tell my tale of woe (of my whole life and that of living with my husband, the church's dogmas, and the whole nine yards) over and over again without ridicule or rancor.  And of course, my over zestful, bubbliness kept overflowing, as to entertain and be loved for it is and always has been the greatest love of my life.

 

I met wonderful people, in nurses, aides, as well as patients and the professional team, which consisted of psychiatrist, psychologist, social workers, nutritionist for my diabetes and many more.  They all listened to me as though I were the center of attraction, but all the while were observing my action and interactions very closely.

 

And, lo and behold, what a surprise, they decided that I am extremely manic, and of course, of late especially, depressive.... Bipolar in all my glory!  And to think I had just thought that it was just my Bonnie lassie personality shinin' for the world to see.... wouldja have guessed? 

 

Yes, I am joking about it, but I have said over and over again to friends and family alike that I am Bipolar and they all said, no, that my depression was not low enough, etc, and that I do not need to seek ungodly counsel.  Lord have mercy, but I am sure that the Lord himself came down and gave wisdom to people in order for them to ascertain and treat these things and chemical imbalances in the brain.  But apparently he did not tell the Pentecostals this, for I was told by my father first, then my husband, not to go to psychiatrists as God is the only one who heals, saves and satisfies. 

 

I HAVE LIVED WITH THIS MY WHOLE LIFE, FOLKS, AND DESTROYED MANY A GOOD SITUATION BECAUSE I TRIED TO RATIONALIZE THINGS AWAY AND STRAIGHTEN MYSELF OUT, BUT AT THE END OF IT, THE DEED WAS ALREADY DONE.... KIND OF WITH ME OBSERVING.  I felt this so often, and felt as though I was just treading water, barely, but it always felt as though no one were hearing me...much less heeding my cry for help.  So, I did the only thing I knew, and that was to keep the circle going, in my need for love and attention.  I would have a manic episode, shooting my mouth off in an inappropriate, or disrespectful manner, then in the aftermath of that episode, I would sink into the depths of despond, feeling the guilt of my actions.  And my poor self-esteem would just plunge even further into the slough of despair.

 

So, to make this long, long, sad, yet happy story short, I am now trying out the meds they have prescribed for me and we will see how the treatment goes.  I already detect a change and an ability to think for longer periods of time, in order to come to a conclusion before actually making decisions. 

 

At the beginning of this ordeal, I was again bound and determined to leave my husband of 27 years, and by the end of about nine days on meds, I am able to see what has been before my eyes all along.  He loves me or would not be here.  He has been by me thru all of my cavorting, wildness and sin.  I am not making excuses for my bad choices.  I know that they were made by me, and that I have to suffer the consequences for them...but at least I know that there may be hope from this juncture on. 

 

My doctor has advised me not to be hard on myself, however, and that a lot of it WAS due to my illness and that I will see a marked change, now that I will be able to settle down and yet stay who I am and true to my personality.  I just have to hone it down and channel all of my wonderful talents and abilities into avenues that will benefit instead of destroy me.

 

I spent five nights in the hospital, and five nights in a crisis center, as I was not sick enough to keep spending good money at the hospital, but not yet ready to make the move back home, as I had not yet come to the decision to stay at home. 

 

God is great and greatly to be praised and I just wish to give him glory that he is alive and well in me.  I am making changes though, and one of them is not to go back to the Pentecostal church I was attending.  They truly have only given me grief and never compassion, except for a very few, to give them their due.  I am choosing to go to a wonderful Charismatic setting, where the word of God is preached but where there is more love and less judgment.  As some of you know, this has been one of my biggest struggles over the years. 

 

Another change is that Lawrence is not going to be allowed to control my life.  He will hear in no uncertain terms how I feel at every turn so that we can work out at least a happy medium and come to an agreement on things that are important to both of us. 

 

I am going to continue in therapy, and have a crisis team as well, which I can call upon at any time I feel the panic growing in me or for any other reason I feel is an emergency. 

 

I am hoping that Lawrence will go to therapy and talk out his feelings as well, but do not yet know if this will be the case.  That is up to him.

 

So, sorry it has been so long, but I am sure you wished to know this if you in any way care for me.  We are still planning to go to Utah in the New Year, and to leave the children behind, which was another of my anxious concerns, but I know the Lord will help us all thru it.  He is in control and will not fail; he never has.

 

I just thank Jesus Christ again for the long journey through a very wild ride of life, just to bring me full circle into his loving arms.  I do trust you do not think me boring or undesirable as a person because I have calmed down, but I am sure this will not be the case.  So many people have actually been embarrassed or flustered, or even flat out shocked by this mouth of mine, so it is all things that have worked together for my good that it has come to this.

 

Please comment if you have read this; I can still use all the prayers and encouragement I can get.  You are a part of my family, and one I can share all of this with, and I appreciate each one of you more than you will know.

 

 

I can't understand why some people choose to cut their wrists or thighs with blades. I know the same pain, but tend to hold it all inside until it get's filed way and forgotten in my brain's database. Although I do think I have self-destructive tendencies....

 

Whenever I get nervous or anxious I usually pick at the skin at the outside corners of my thumbs. I think I will show you a picture if this sounds too confusing.

I just start picking at the skin grows in the corner by the nail and then I rip it out until it bleeds. The saddest part is that I have scar tissue in that area from so many years of doing this unconciously that I don't even feel it when it's bleeding. I have to be careful that I'm not bleeding all over my thumb...

 

I also tend to chew on the inside of my cheeks. I dont' know why, but I catch myself doing it all the time. I'm always so afraid when I go for a teeth cleaning or something that they will say something about it. I looked inside my mouth once and saw that I am really chewing my own flesh on the inside of my mouth, sometimes it bleeds other times it's just sore for a couple days. My mother always used to yell at me to stop when I was younger, as far as she knows I don't do it anymore....

 

I guess this is my method of dealing with the stress...usually I smoke or take some drugs. I do also have an addiction to sleeping pills. Usually I buy them in bulk or the 240 count bottles. That's the only time I really feel happy is when I'm dreaming. I haven't had a dream without the sleeping pills for about 8 years. So I just keep taking them night after night. I also use Ambiens and Endocets, sometimes Benadryl pills if I have them...I've also been known to take some rum with the sleeping pills if it's a really really bad day.

 

Believe you me I'm not proud of this. Everyone has their own ways to deal with it all, mine is incredibly destructive but I've been doing it for so long It just seems the norm.

 

As sad as this will sound I also need to confess this. When was only 13 and found out the cause of all my problems I envisioned myself as an adult eventually going into rehab or needing psychiatric care. And here I am an adult and I've already had to see a psychiatrist. Although I lied to her about everything as stated in my previous posts, I can see myself eventually having the crash of all crashes and needed to check myself in to a rehab center. I'm also crying as I post this.

 

This is my life everyday. These thoughts haunt me every moment, every thought of the day. 

Hello and welcome to my blog!

 

     I started this blog to chronicle my struggles with physical and mental health so let's start with the physical info. I am in my early 40s, 6'3"inches tall. I weigh 260 lbs and have a 44 inch waist. I experience intense cravings for sugar and caffeine. While I am not yet diabetic, I'm headed there. Both my parents have diabetes and my father has had heart problems. My grandfather died of a heart attack when he was about my age.

     In High School, I couldn't gain weight if I wanted to. When I graduated I was near my current height and had a 32 inch waist. I was a weight lifter and runner.

     At about 25 years of age the weight started piling on and at my heaviest I reached 286 pounds. I now weigh 260 pounds and have quit losing wieght and started gaining again. Last summer I reached 247.

    Regarding mental health, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder 3 years ago after experiencing a traumatic event, that was associated with the religion I was raised in. I have probably had the disorder my entire life but it was only after a traumatic event that it became obvious to me and others that psychiatric intervention was needed.

     After 3 years of treatment, I have my symptoms under control to the point that I can function well at my job as a teacher and at home with my family. Still, I have days that are rougher than others and have learned that poor nutrition, especially consumption of sugar and caffeine, along with lack of exercise, can aggravate the symptoms of bipolar disorder and limit the effectiveness of medication.

     I have been procrastinating this but as I was eating two brownies for breakfast this morning, I decided it's time to do it. So here goes.

Goals: Give up sugar and processed flour.

           Exercise daily.

           Develop a reasonable sense of spirituality.

     So, here we come to the purpose of this journal. I want to create a healthier me.