#but also i think ive been overbooking myself a bit

[smoov-criminal]

local cripple shocked to discover getting a wheelchair does not in fact make it able bodied and it still has limitations and needs incredible amounts of rest. more at 11

[crypticquantumentanglement]

After an incredible amount of indecision, questioning, doubt, and fear, I have decided to go back on my bipolar medication. After 12 years, I've finally reached a point where I just couldnt live with myself any longer.

I was always rather stubborn when it came to taking my meds before. I never wanted to. I didnt like how they made me feel. Looking back, however, I don't think it was so much of how they made me feel but what they made me feel. They made me capable of actually being leveled enough to process my problems or various situations. They gave me the potential to allow myself to have peace in my life and I just wasnt ready to be at peace.

I reveled in anguish, negativity, and pain. There is a part of me that is always trying to be like that. Finding a problem when everything is perfect. Creating one if one can't be found. Punishing myself because I tell myself im worth nothing. Pushing people out of my life because i feel like i dont deserve them. Chasing them out and cutting them off if they wouldnt let me push them out. Not doing things I love because what right do I have to be any kind of special. Disinterested in everything because whats the point in having enjoyment when everything is so intolerable. Refusing to eat because I feel sick to my stomach from the anxiety. Unable to sleep well from the nightmares feeding my exhaustion. Bringing myself to the brink of utter emotional and physical destruction.

The flip side to this is worse in a way. Feeling completely unstoppable. On top of the world. Doing and saying things that are completely out of character for me. Being someone that i dont recognize. Spending money I dont have to spend. Overbooking myself with appointments trying to get everything done at once because im so far behind in life already. Pushing myself too hard to do too much. Suddenly being interested in things Ive never cared about before. Feeling "okay" and wanting the company of the people that i had pushed away. Still unable to eat because I've pushed myself too hard and waited too long and i feel sick. Unable to sleep at all, and what little bit I manage is usually only 2-3hrs. Being aware on some level that everything I'm feeling is superficial and wont last because the next round is coming to smack me back into my hole. Fighting against it trying to hold on to the notion that Im being productive and active, therefore i must be okay.

For a long time, I had myself convinced that I was in control. I knew what I was doing and I could handle myself. All that did was enable me to continue cutting myself off from the world and hiding inside my illness. It allowed me to become comfortable in a vicious cycle of emotional distress and poor choices, and at a heavy cost. The biggest highlights being 3 failed suicide attempts with accompanying hospital/psychiatric care stays, a failed marriage, poor parenting to my 2 beautiful children, and telling the love of my life that I couldn't be with him because I was bipolar and I didn't want him to have to go through that with me.

I stayed in horribly abusive relationships. Had the ever loving shit beat out of me. Bones broken, cuts, choked, slammed, drowned, dragged by my hair, locked in a closet, raped, dog killed before my eyes, burned, screamed at, drugged, demeaned, disrespected, disgraced and belittled all at the hands of people I had claimed to love and i stayed anyways. Something I'm having to face now is that isnt love. But it is what i was looking for. Not that I feel at fault for anything that another person chose to do to me, but i got exactly what I was looking for. I was looking for conflict. That part of me that is always looking for something to be upset and distraught over. That was my choice. And i used it to push others out of my life. I used it to fuel my self hatred without directly placing myself in the center of the fire. It gave my negative feelings validation and disallowed me from moving forward.

Staying in these horrible relationship, despite all of the transgressions, allowed for the roller coaster of emotions to be on a continual loop. After every horribe happening, there comes a period of mania. It throws all logical reasoning out the window, and all of a sudden, I'm on top of the world again. Busy, busy, busy. Go, go ,go. Its impossible to process anything in that state of mind. So all the hurt, all the pain, all the trauma just lies in wait. The mania makes it appear tolerable because I cant slow down enough to feel it. And when the mania subsides and makes way for the depressive state, that abuse is what I felt I deserved.

The pitiful state I was letting myself stay in. I dont have words that describe the shame I feel when I think about it. I chose to live like that, and in doing so, I failed to see what i was becoming. I was scared all the time. Skiddish and timid and nervous. Not exactly what one imagines when you think about living life on the edge. Im still that way now and its been 3 years since the last relationship ended. I jump clean out of my skin if someone moves too abruptly in my vicinity. I have flashbacks that make me burst out crying from nowhere. The hyper realistic nightmares wake me up every other hour and make me not want to go back to sleep. But while I was living it, that was what love was to me. Fighting on that level, begging and pleading with the other, crying until my eyes were swollen shut. All for the chance to cuddle in silence until I fell asleep. In my mind, despite the abuse, I was the crazy one, so if they could still want me in the end, then that was love, but it really wasnt.

My children have also fallen victim to my illness. My moods know no bounds when they decide to surface. At times, when I'm manic, I seem like supermom. We do all kinds of things; go all kinds of places. I'm very crafty by nature and being manic gives me the energy to not only do projects with my children, but to actually finish them too. I'll buy them things and spoil them, which is wonderful unless I'm spending when I shouldnt be spending. My children love me like this, and thats a big concern of mine too. They are children, 10 and 5, and have no way of knowing that my overly excited behavior is Mom being ill. They also have no way of knowing that my increasingly aggitated, over tired, angry, disinterested behaviors on the other side of that scale are also a sign of illness. They have been yelled at for senseless stuff, like talking amd laughing. Been made to go to bed early because i was about to pass out from exhaustion myself and i didnt want them up unattended. Had their ever action scrutinized in the most negative fashion. Neglected their homework, neglected their laundry, neglected cooking them hot meals and replaced them with sandwiches or anything my son was able to prepare for himself and his sister so that i didnt have to move. This list could go on forever.

But I have finally had enough. I'm done abusing myself over my mindset. Im done tormenting my children with inconsistent parenting. Im done making myself feel like I'm nothing and pushing everything away. Im done. I'm a singer, I'm an artist, I'm a guitarist, I'm a mother and I'm a friend. I'm a person, not an illness, and I don't want to continue defining myself by it. I will win this. I will take my life back. I will be someone worthy of love and respect. Someone worthy of my children's hearts. I am someone. I am not my illness.