It's been quite a while. Frankly, I just stumbled across this blog.  I have a few floating around out there.  That doesn't sound very bipolar at all, does it? A lot of projects started, but never completed or followed through on.

I don't know where I'm at on the spectrum right now. I don't even know what to say right now.

I was supposed to go visit a friend who was staying with her Mom who was dying. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I could not leave the house.  I feel like such a disappointment and shitty person who can't be counted on to be there for someone when they are hurting.

Just like the CoAd get-together.  Couldn't bring myself to leave the house.

Why am I like this?  I want to spend time with people. But when it comes to following through and actually doing it, I get scared and don't go.  I don't know what I'm afraid of.  Saying something stupid. Having nothing worthwhile to contribute to a conversation.  Awkward silences.  Can I keep my mouth shut and not talk about myself for a change?  Yeah, that's asking a lot, isn't it?

Next month is our company yearly conference.  Every year I chicken out and don't go to the evening events (except Awards Night - that's required, but even then I leave the minute it is over).

I feel so awkward. Alone even though I'm in a large group of people - or even when I'm with only a few.  I feel like an alien in human skin who doesn't know how to fake being a "normal" human.

I thought of the tiny dancers. I wanted to fantasize about them, but I'm afraid that would be a *TRIGGER WARNING* moment that I shouldn't encourage.  Although they are there, on the very, very edge of my vision. Twirling, spinning about. Enticing me to follow them.

Yet, I turn away.  Grudgingly so, but I do.

I try so hard to remain positive. Buried deep inside is a despair and hopelessness which could become consuming if I even allow a little glimpse into that abyss.  Things I can't change, I don't have the courage to change, or lack the wisdom to know the difference.

Acceptance. What a big little word. Comfortable in one's skin.  Alien. Not foreign, foreign implies coming from somewhere acknowledged.  Alien is from somewhere people don't like to acknowledge or pretend doesn't exist.

Some pressure is off at work. It's a very brief lull. I'm trying very hard to stay focused and productive.

Do I make excuses because of my illness or does my illness result in explanations?  I'd like to think I try hard to keep up with the rest of the world. But I also admit, I'm getting older. I can feel myself slowing down, finding it harder to keep up with the rest of the herd. It's harder for things to sink in. I'm afraid of losing my job.

--freeflow 6/25/2018

Friends Forever

A recent post on friendships and bipolar disorder has had me thinking of my friendships ... both current and past.

Throughout school I would have a "best" friend, but they always semmed to drift away.  No one ever really stuck around for long.  I began to accept there was something flawed in me that, the more people got to know me they discovered that flaw and didn't want to be my friend anymore.

I found drugs and alcohol, they were good and reliable friends.  They had seen me at my worst : my angriest, my stupid - yet funny, and vile behaviors. But they always were up for a visit.

I grew up, became a wife and floated into a different social circle.  The women in the group were close friends from childhood and I always felt shy and backwards around them.  Although we became friends, I always felt like that "third wheel" in the friendship.

I became a mother. Once again the social circle shifted. I worked long hours at my job. Between work and responsibilities as a parent, friendships had no space on my dance card.

My only child grew up and now I could develop friendships. I had time! I joined a different circle.  The metaphysical community.  I found love, peace and acceptance there.  With them, we were all focused on similar goals with similar, yet distinct journeys.  It was about looking within to see without.

We became active in the community and I developed many, many friends.  People I shared secrets with, who had bled from the same wounds as I, the Survivors.  I learned from them and they learned from me.  An endless circle of giving and receiving.

I met a kindred soul at work.  Someone I felt was a soul brother, a connection.  He had heard my secrets, but didn't run away.  He saw my manic, he listened to me depressed.  If ever I came close to a best friend, it was him.

Then I took another job.  Friendships faded away and some the realization work was your only common connection.  I allowed my job to consume my life.  Slowly, I withdrew from the strong circle of friends I could rely on before.

But, the worst, the one I most regret, is the one I destroyed.  My soul brother.  I felt justified at the time when the words left my mouth.  But...I...didn't...think...  I was manic.  I was riding a wave on the bipolar surfboard and had no idea who I was.  I almost walked away from my job, began to crumble at the seams, I was ready to explode.  I was angry. That one and only person I could count on became involved in another circle. One I wasn't a part of.  He was drifting away and he was one of the only pieces that kept me together when I was falling apart.  He got me.

But friends can only take so much.  I took care of that.  Since then, I've had a smattering of friendships here and there.  But each time it gets close to being "the real thing", I become frightened and paranoid again.  Have they seen the ugly?  Will they like the ugly?  

Even worse...what the hell am I going to one day say that will, once again, drive away another friend?  So, should I even try?  Should I waste their and my time?  I'm tired of hurting people or saying things I regret.  Perhaps, I'm only meant to look through the window at a world of friendships.

Or...maybe the word "friendship" is an illusion altogether.  Foreign.  No comprehension.  Perhaps I long for something that doesn't really exist?  My expectations? My flaws?  My illness?  Excuses?  Or is it just surrender?

Perhaps a life with one best friend, my husband, is better than a life with no friends at all?

Not all diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder are the same ...

At my last doctor visit I finally surrendered and agreed to adding a new medication.  It frightened me to add a new medication.  First of all, side effects.  Side effects are the worst part because it is a waiting game to see if it will work - or if the side effects will outweigh the benefits.

The new medication, Latuda, has been very successful, thus far.  I am at the one month mark which is usually when side effects subside and I learn if it is working for me.  Latuda is used to treat bipolar depression, the down-side of Bipolar Disorder.

Like all mental illnesses, it is a challenge and struggle to get through a day.  The forgotten ones are those who are Caregivers.  Those who love them.  Those who don't understand.

Caregivers are drained.  All Caregivers have their own lives and their own challenges, much less living with the strains of someone who can reach very deep lows and dangerous highs.  When someone you love and care about is struggling with staying alive and the will to live, is hard to watch.  Especially when you cannot do a single thing to prevent it.  You must watch the downward spiral and try to be there.  But, even being there can be challenging.  Especially when their own challenges rear their ugly little heads.

Our loved ones are baffled, they know who you are when you reach those precarious balances.  But our friends are at a loss.  Few know and even fewer understand.

Many friendships to go the side. Loved ones fade.

I am one of the lucky ones.  I have a Caregiver who has dedicated his life to caring for me, supporting me.  Very few are as blessed as I.

Coming next ... The Rollercoaster ...