Monthly Archives: December 2015

Pictures (New Jewelry & Dutch)



The photography isn’t my best but I was in the mood to do something and had limited resources. The jewelry is made with Swarovski Crystals and designed by me all of it is hand linked and looped. Which is harder than it looks. lol Dutch is my Puppy who is a huge pain but is at the age where he is ready to be neutered. I want a DNA test done on him because he is unlike any Chihuahua I’ve ever known! I wish there was a younger dog for him to play with. The senior dogs are annoyed by him and it isn’t fair to them that they have to live out their last years being tortured by him. But we are working on it. Keeping him more occupied with toys and exercise and away from them. I just have to breathe and try my best.

Getting Off The Crazy Train

Recent posts have been erratic and have shown my petty, angry, jealous, spiteful, side. These personality traits usually only appeared when I was drinking and manic. I am sad to see them and hear them in myself now. I don’t enjoy feeling like this. I don’t know which is worse, the pity party and crying constantly or this itching rage of manicness. I’m making up words now. I have lost all patience for everything. There isn’t a thing to be done about it. So I’ll keep it to a minimum if I can.

Grieving (The Loss Of Lemmy)

When I found out this morning that Lemmy Kilmister had passed away I cried. My father was in the room with me. He was aggravated that I was emotional about a man I didn’t know who was 70 years old and dead from cancer.

What my father couldn’t and wouldn’t understand was that Lemmy’s music and voice represented a time in my youth where things were good. I laughed, I left the house, I went to concerts, I had friends, and I did a good impression of The Ace of Spades that would make my best friend laugh until she almost wet her pants. It was that time I was grieving and the man.

I was also remembering my vacation to L.A. where we went to The Rainbow. A favorite spot of Lemmy’s. He wasn’t there but his motorcycle helmet was. My friend borrowed it for our ride back to our Hotel. It was the best vacation I’ve ever had. I will probably never have another one.

To be reprimanded for how you feel on a daily basis is tiring. I am constantly told I am too emotional. You try walking around like you don’t have a layer of skin protecting all of your nerve endings. Everything I see and everything I hear effects me. I can’t shut it off.

I know my medications are not working. I know I am not acting rationally. How many times do I have to explain I’m in kidney failure and not absorbing my medications? I’ve been manic for a week now. I want to hit myself in the head with hammer just to sleep. The pain on my right side where my kidney is only working at 20% is immense. I can’t take any pain killers. You try living like this. Sometimes I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.

I still have not talked to my sister. Actually not many people talk to me at all. I’ve been forgotten. Everyone is making plans for New Year’s Eve. They do not include me. I’m used to this but it still hurts. I’m not allowed to show it.

When will I be allowed to be me?

Donating Impossible



I do not have much money. What I do have is a butt load of handmade jewelry. I like my jewelry, other people say they like my jewelry, strangers like my jewelry. I can’t be that delusional can I ? That was rhetorical. Please do not answer.

I made this aged bronze snake necklace. It had 1 Peridot Stone in the eye. I love how the computer is trying to tell me I’m spelling Peridot wrong when I worked for and with Swarovski Crystals for over 25 years. Also my father is telling me Peridot is made up by the Company. Of course I have to show him he’s wrong and get sidetracked for 2 hours. I’m right it’s actually a gem stone. I’m also possibly manic.

So my sister was going to donate my jewelry to my nephew’s school for some sale they were having. A big jewelry company related to one of the faculty members donated instead. My sister didn’t want my feelings hurt if no one bought my stuff and everyone bought the other company’s instead. She never told me any of this and just pretended she never asked me. I had already packaged my stuff so it looked pretty and went all out. I never said anything to her either.

My friend said “Not everyone likes that kind of jewelry. It all looks the same. Every single thing they do is the same. Your jewelry is all different one of a kind pieces that are hand made. You do your own beading, linking, looping, packaging, and design. You need to have more confidence in your work”. She’s right but I’ll always have in the back of my mind a little voice saying “that’s stupid, why would you show people that?”. It is in my DNA.

My hairdresser managed to sell about $200 worth of my jewelry. It was only some necklaces. She priced them at $40 to $50 a piece. That’s what she thought they were worth. The highest I ever priced them was $8. lol

That’s how bad I am at judging myself in that way. I want to do something. I’m only capable of doing a few things. I can’t work with the public for any length of time. I can’t stand up for long periods of time, and the unknown kidney failure thing doesn’t help. I like to feel useful. I can do some hair stuff, I really don’t know what I’m adequate at that would make money. Enough money to donate to some charities I believe in. I tried to ask another person that made jewelry and had 10% of their profit go to mental health charities but I never received an answer. Is 10% low if you are fairly successful? I don’t know. Then stupid Disability is a Catch 22. I get enough to live with my dad but not enough to really do anything.

Getting back to donating, I feel angry that I’m not able to donate in the way I want to. I still help people if they want it and when I can. I’ve given a lot of jewelry away. I’ve also given free hair cuts and products to people. If I know they are going for a job interview or somewhere special but don’t have too much money I’ll offer to do their hair, make up, and give them pick of my jewelry collection. People that I have done this for have been very appreciative. I love watching their faces when they see themselves. Even little things make a difference in how you see yourself and the people around you.

My friend doesn’t have much. She lives in her mother’s house with her husband and 2 children. There is also her grandchild, the mother’s boyfriend (dying of lung cancer), her brother, her son’s girlfriend (horrible girl), a dog and a cat. I think that’s it. My friend has had 2 open heart surgeries and is on the list for a heart transplant. She’s had 1 knee replacement and needs the other one done. She is also what the Doctors would consider “morbidly obese”. She wasn’t always but after the first surgery she had to be less active and started to gain weight. She was also on steroids. She was born missing a valve in her heart. Her first son suffered brain damage from the forceps used during childbirth. He also is Bipolar. She has her hands full. She is the only one to say that no matter what happens she will never let me live on the streets. I will always have a home with her and her family.

My twin sister doesn’t say that anymore. She did years ago. My best friend of over 25 years, who at one time had a room set up for me, doesn’t say it anymore. No one wants the drama of someone with a mental illness living with them. Where at one time I was “fun” now I’m not. I don’t drink and act “crazy” without thinking of the consequences. What’s the point of having me around then? And my sister doesn’t want my nephews exposed to my behavior 24/7 just in case. This is hard to know.

Another reason I wanted to donate. To help people like me. For when I truly need the help I hope it’s there.



Corey Taylor’s Plethora of Intelligence and Wit



I was watching a radio interview with Corey Taylor the other day. I know an oxymoron. They film their radio interviews. This one was highly entertaining. I couldn’t laugh like I wanted to without bringing up unlady like globs of phlegm. I’ve been sick. You know the whole immune system kidney thing

So Mr. Taylor is discussing a small feud with Kanye West that really only exists in Mr. West’s mind. I dislike calling him Mr. West because he really has not done anything to earn that gentlemanly title. But last time I fought someone over that distinction I wound up in jail. You can stop laughing now. The fight was with a female judge who kept referring to the accuser as “Mr.”. The accuser was a drug selling, woman beating, no good son of a bitch. I decided to call her out on it. Not my finest moment but there are no regrets on that one.

Before we go any further I need to tell you that I personally think Corey Taylor is a master at what he does. His range of musical styles and pitch is crazy good. When you hear him sing Wicked Game you forget he’s a married man with children and I forget I’m a 42 year old sober Bipolar who hasn’t seen a naked man in real life since 2008 maybe even longer.

AUTHOR INTERRUPTION: Another example is the song “From Can To Can’t”. It’s from the Sound City Soundtrack/Documentary that Dave Grohl did. Watching the emotions play out on Taylor’s face is I imagine what one of my therapy sessions would be like if I ever went. Which is tortured, isolated misery, desperation, an emptiness and a longing, spite, doubt, panic, blame, shame and a need to scorch the earth. This is strictly my observation of the song while being sung and in no way is based on any knowledge or fact. (DISCLAIMER) (Happy lawyers?) And I started to refer to Mr. Taylor as just Taylor as if I was a sport’s commentator. My apologies. I get carried away. My parents taught us to always use Mr., Ms., Mrs., Miss, huh there are way more for females. I personally don’t care what people call me except for Donna and Dena. My name is close to both and can be a male or female name which annoys me to no end when I get anything addressed to a “Mr.” and all my spam is Viagra based. And I am EXTREMELY OFFENDED BY RUSSIAN BRIDES AND ANYTHING REMOTELY LOOKING LIKE TRAFFICKING! Ok, done.

Kanye West has had at least one song I think I might of have liked. In all good conscience I have to say it might have been the shock therapy. I liked everything right after that.

The thing I dislike about Mr. West is his ability to throw the “race card” into every fight or thing he does. Like an excuse. “I was rude to people but that’s ok because my ancestor’s were held down for centuries and treated badly.”

What I would really like to see is Mr. West’s bank statements showing how much he does for his people that were held down. I would like him to also remember that just because I look Irish as they come with my pale skin, turquoise/sky blue eyes (YES FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME, THEY ARE MINE!), and red hair I do have African American in my DNA somewhere. I also have Norse/Scandinavian, Scottish, and Native American blood.

The Native American is more on my mother’s side. When my aunt, who is a recovering alcoholic was at her worse, she looked just like Sitting Bull. It was crazy. Her face was bloated which made her nose more prominent. When I said something to my mother she laughed so hard she peed her pants. Then yelled at me not to say it again. My Grandmother was a what you would call back then a “loose women”. I called her a Psychopath.

The true problem is when you have such delusions of grandeur and there is no one to tell you that you suck. Hell, when I was drinking I thought I could sing. I would sing Aerosmith so loud and what I thought was the best out of anyone in the bar. The same with Motley Crue. Home Sweet Home. I’m surprised people were not throwing things at me and telling me to go home. It was a good thing most of them were afraid of me at that time. Now? I would never get away with it. I have nothing to back it up.

Who knows? If you look at Mr. West’s actions separately I see some warning signs.

  1. Delusions of Grandeur
  2. Promiscuity
  3. Erratic Behavior
  4. Spending Sprees
  5. Control Issues
  6. Hallucinating (Thinks he’s GOD)
  7. Traumatic Past Events

I think it may be time for a Psyche Eval. (I don’t mean me. I’ve had mine.) But I thought someone should mention it. Who better than me?

In closing I would like to thank Slipknot, Stone Sour, and Corey Taylor. You gave me music as an outlet instead of a bottle again or something worse. Is it always healthy when I have road rage and put Psychosocial on at full blast, go 80mph to get next to the person that almost made me crash and roll down my windows. No. But seeing the looks on their faces when they see a skinny, blue eyed, red head with Rhinestone sunglasses, dressed to the nines, staring at them is priceless. It feels so good too. Before I would’ve heard a variation of “fat” comments. Now it’s silence.

P.S. They do call me The Rambler for a reason.

I did realize my mistake in calling the documentary by the wrong name. I suffer from CRS. It’s really the SOUND CITY SOUNDTRACK. Sorry!


What Does Bipolar Depression Feel Like?

Most people do not understand what Bipolar Depression really feels like. It isn’t just the blues for a few hours or days. At least not for me. For me it is being in a deep dark hole I can’t get out of no matter how hard I try. I can watch a million movies, listen to a million songs, play with my puppy, and still feel a crushing weight on my chest. Sometimes it feels like an aching hole that will never be filled.

There will never again be laughter or light. It is gone forever. I feel useless, I feel like I’m moving but not going anywhere. Sometimes I am stuck in my own skin and I want to scream to get out. I want to sleep for days until it goes away. Unfortunately my body won’t allow me that escape. I daydream about not being here. I wonder if what the people around me have said over the years is correct.

I also wonder if it’s worth it to take all this medication. This medication that only stalls the inevitable. Eventually the Depression hits anyway no matter what anyone does. No matter what I do.

There are triggers to these episodes. I won’t lie. I have been depressed for quite some time. It just seems to get worse. This time of year is always bad for me. It will continue to be so until March. That’s if I’m lucky. It’s getting harder and harder to pull myself out. My support system, which is small, is growing impatient. I can’t blame them. Nights and mornings are the worse. Doesn’t really leave me with much time in between. I don’t want to eat, talk, clean, or go outside. I’m down to 120 pounds. Does it bother me? Yes and no.

Understanding me is complicated. Too much of an undertaking for the people around me. It’s easier to blame and spew stupid quotes at me. I really just want them to hug me and tell me I’ll be ok and they love me anyway. They never do. It’s such a simple thing.

Wentworth Prison Better Than Orange is The New Black



I don’t know about you but when I watch a show or movie about prison I expect it to be a little realistic. The ratio of attractive women to unattractive women shouldn’t be so ridiculously off you wonder if they arrested only Victoria Secret Models. Don’t get me wrong I watch Orange is The New Black. It’s well written and has a comedic touch. That being said I think you should give the Australian drama Wentworth Prison a try.

The show has been nominated at least 10 times in Australia for best Drama, Best Acting, and Best Director. After watching just one episode you’ll see why. The show is gritty and horrifying. What one human will do to another to survive and get ahead. And that’s just the staff.

The story centers around Bea Smith a woman who attempts to kill her abusive husband. While in prison her young daughter overdoses. This turns her into a hardened, revenge fueled entity. She decides to become top dog in the prison to accomplish her vendetta.

To do that she has to take out some obstacles. One of these is a character known as Franky Doyle. You don’t know whether to hate her or cry for her. You see it in her eyes. A deep pain that is constantly screaming, causing her to lash out at everything and everyone around her.

The main thing I like about this show is it shows some people are worth saving. It also shows some people you can’t no matter how hard you try. Redemption isn’t in the cards for some of us. For some of these characters, like in the show Banshee, you see them accept it. It’s almost beautiful to watch.


As Long As I Have Me



Hello! I have a much different perspective today. Thoughts and feelings have evolved in a way. I see the mistakes that I made and how out of control I was. I need help. I see that now. I’ve never tried hard enough with therapy and when I get my health back I’ll try again. While I’m in Boston I’ll look into Doctors and Therapists specializing in Bipolar Disorder and Conversion Disorder. There are some cutting edge research programs there and already existing programs and centers. I have to be open and willing to do the work.

I have been used to being unhappy for so long that I have become afraid to BE HAPPY. I don’t know what that world looks like and it scares the crap out of me.

There are still things I want to do in this life. I would like to see Steven Tyler in concert one more time. There are a few others as well. I would like to travel a little. New Orleans is still on my list too. There are some good movies coming out I’d like to see. These may seem like frivolous reasons but it’s what keeps me going. These small things. A song that expresses what I feel or can’t say. Or a song that makes me feel some kind of happiness. Movies that help me escape the pain my brain perceives in this world. I used to enjoy travel until I became afraid to leave the house. I would like to take things further with my jewelry. I’m tired of being so hard on myself and thinking I suck. I don’t think strangers would stop me in stores to ask about the jewelry I’m wearing that I’ve made if it was awful.

I also need  to try to let everything go with my sister and brother in law. It isn’t going to do anyone any good. I’m not going to let things be the way they were. I was calling her too much. She never picked up, but I did call a lot. I’m trying not to do this. I need to do this for my nephews. I can’t see my brother in law right now. My father spoke to my sister this morning. Her side of the story was told. I of course was made to look like an out of control crazy person who damaged the relationship of all of us. I’m not so sure she’s wrong.

The suicidal thoughts are gone. It wouldn’t achieve anything and it would ruin all the hard work I HAVE DONE. I have survived 20 years of Alcoholism and an undiagnosed mental illness. I have survived physical abuse, verbal abuse, and some of the worse mind games I’ve ever experienced. I SURVIVED ALL OF IT.

I would rather experience physical and verbal abuse than the mind games. At least I knew where I stood with the other two. When someone tells you they love you and you’re one of the most important people in their life and they say and do all the right things, then you slowly find out everything is a lie, it’s devastating. I spent over 7 years with someone who was suppose to care about me. When the entire time he did everything in his power to make sure I sunk deeper and deeper into an abyss. I can’t blame him for everything, I chose to drink and I chose to hang out with him. When you hear something repeatedly you start to believe it. I was told no one would ever care about me like he did. No one would ever understand me like he did. So I ignored things. When he twisted my arm behind my back and pushed my face into the carpet I ignored it.

The biggest warning sign I ignored was when I got a phone call one Christmas from someone I hooked up with frequently. He was my first and I thought I loved him. I was stupid. I had not heard from him in a long time. He called to say he was sorry for the way he had treated me. He told me I didn’t belong hanging out with the person I was hanging out with. He said no matter how bad I thought he was this other person was worse. He told me that he would hurt me and he wasn’t who I thought he was. He wished me a Merry Christmas and hoped I would be happy. I should have listened.

Every time I would try to quit drinking and this guy was still in my life something would happen to trigger a relapse. There was even a time when I was drinking plain Coke. I went to the bathroom and when I came back and took a drink of my soda it wasn’t just soda. It was a Rum and Coke. It was too late. The warmth spread through me and I said to myself “Oh well too late, I might as well drink”. There were things he did that I won’t get into because it’s too personal and too horrific. The final straw was when he beat me until I was drowning in my own blood. I still have nightmares. He had a skull ring on that left a small scar on the underside of my nose. He broke a chair over my head and threw me down a flight of stairs. People wonder why I panic and get scared when a man is loud or aggressive around me.

The sad part is he wasn’t the first to hit me he just did the most damage. I’ve been thrown in a dumpster, slapped more times than I can count, spit on at least 4 times, had darts thrown at me, someone tried to sell me at a bar for $30, and I’ve blocked out some stuff that I need to deal with.

At least I’ve come to accept that I need more help than I’ve been getting. I’ve also been stubborn because I’m so used to wallowing in my own misery I’m afraid of anything else. Fear will keep you down. I need to conquer some of it soon.

Suicidal Ideation (Warning Triggers)

For the first time in years I have had thoughts of suicide. My veins are more visible now and as I stared at them today I thought how easy it would be to cut. I picture the blood everywhere and felt a sense of relief.

I thought of my brother in law telling me to take ownership of my actions. This made me think of all the things I’ve done over the years. Even though I’ve apologized to people I’ve hurt there are some things that I can never forgive myself for.

He doesn’t know me, he only knows what my sister has told him. My sister doesn’t even know everything. Hell I don’t even know everything. My brain won’t let me remember some things. What I do remember is bad enough.

I tore apart my family with my actions. I worried my parents constantly which probably put a strain on their marriage. My father blames himself no matter what I tell him. My mother’s last words to me were “I’m sorry I ruined your life”. Even though she was heavily medicated she still must have felt this way.

My sister blames me for not getting the attention she deserved when we were growing up. She believes she was the “good one” and was ignored because my parents were too busy worrying about me the “screw up”.

Maybe all of this is true. Maybe I have not taken responsibility for my actions. Maybe I am selfish. I’ve been too busy trying to stay sober and alive too see anything else.

But my sister would constantly call me crying about her husband. I would always listen. When they needed money I gave it to them. When she needed someone to watch the kids and I could I did. I ignored all the things her husband would say about my brother, my father, and other things I disagreed with just to keep the peace. One time he pushed my dog across the room for begging while he was eating. She yelped and limped for days. I was furious but said nothing because I knew it would cause a big argument.

I didn’t like it when he called my brother a “loser, drunk, pathetic, worthless asshole”. He had no right. He was drinking himself. He was no better. He didn’t know anything about my brother and what he had been through in his life. It was hard to keep my mouth shut and my sister agreed with him.

Here is someone who has never really worked a 9 to 5 job in his life. He has maybe worked 1 job on the books. He’s like Peter Pan. His parents have helped him through out his entire life. They helped them buy their house. He shows no respect for my father. My parents gave them what money they could. They didn’t have to have a huge wedding with an open bar and a 3 week Honeymoon. They smashed open the beautiful wedding chest my father spent months hand carving and engraving for them because they forgot the combination. My father had put gold hinges on it and gold trim. They destroyed it to get to the money so they could book a couples massage and a private dinner on the beach in the Bahamas. My father was so hurt.

To threaten me with Social Services is the ultimate blow. I never stick up for myself. This time I saw red. It was like I was drunk. I wanted him to hit me. I confess I egged him on and let it get to a point it didn’t need to. I reached my end. I had swallowed down enough and kept my mouth shut for too long.

Now I have ruined my relationship with my sister. I am no longer welcome in her life or her children’s. This kills me. I love them so much. My little munchkins. I have nothing left. At least it feels that way. I’m trying so hard to stay in control. How do you get anyone to listen or understand when they are not willing? I am completely alone. I better get used to it.

My Consequences of Today



I am afraid that I have permanently damaged my relationship with my twin sister today. I feel crushed, humiliated, miserable and such pain in my heart.

I’ve been ill with kidney problems and on top of that I got a head cold turning itself into Bronchitis. I’m miserable to say the least. No medications are working. There isn’t much I can take for cold medications. My ears hurt, my face hurts because my sinuses are so swollen and I have a cyst on each side. When the tissue swells it puts pressure on the cysts causing the mother of all sinus headaches. The puppy is keeping me awake all night and the Pomeranian started having seizures last night. If it was up to me I would find another home for the puppy and the Pomeranian would be put to sleep peacefully. She is an older dog and has had these seizures for years. Every time she has one it effects her brain. It’s getting harder to watch. Because of my illnesses the puppy isn’t getting the attention and training he needs. I’m usually with him but too sick to do much.

I was so overwhelmed this morning with the puppy, being sick, the state of the house, my dad, that I called my sister crying. She offered to pick me up and bring me to her house where I could get some rest.

I got to sleep peacefully for a while. When I woke up it was because I had a bad dream. I went downstairs and her husband was on the couch. My sister and I started talking.

She said she was ready to call Social Services on my Dad and I because the house is a health hazard. My brother in law said it needed to be bulldozed. My sister said it was ruined by the dogs and birds and not worth anything anymore. She said it was probably the reason I was so sick.

My brother in law said that I needed to “hear some truths and own up to my part in things”. I needed to “take responsibility for what I failed to do”. He quoted some more stuff I’m pretty sure he learned in AA. When he kept saying I needed to “own it” something snapped. I saw red. I finally said “Just like you’ve owned up to everything in your ONE YEAR of sobriety! I’ve had 7, who the hell are you to tell me to own up to anything?” Then he told me to “Get the FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW! I MEAN IT! I DON’T CARE HOW SICK YOU ARE GET THE FUCK OUT!” So I said ” You’re nothing but a dry drunk. Don’t threaten me EVER! YOU THINK YOU’RE A BIG MAN? YOU’RE NOTHING!” At this point my sister is between us holding him back. I went and got my stuff from upstairs. When I came downstairs he kind of apologized by saying “I’m sorry I should know better and try to have more sympathy for people LIKE YOU” I said “Thanks. Don’t do me any favors.” I left and started walking home in the rain.

In the last few days I’ve lost 10 pounds. I am now 5’6″ and 120 pounds. Not good. My sister lives 25 minutes away by car. I’m not sure how I thought I was walking home. So I had to call my dad. I told my sister I’m too toxic for her and her family. I don’t want to come between her and her husband. I feel so alone. They will never understand battling Bipolar. How much harder it is when your medications are not working the way they should. When a man comes at you and sets off flashbacks and the panic attack is so bad you think you’re having a heart attack. How Bipolar is worse when you do not get enough sleep. No one wants to hear any of it. They want to talk about cleaning house when I can barely stand up, my hair is falling out at a rapid pace, my arms are skeletal, I can’t open a bottle of pills. But sure let me scrub the entire house, set mouse traps, line the cupboards, disinfect everything, find a place for the puppy that my dad won’t give up, try to get him to get rid of his birds and take care of myself. Easy. No  problem.

I’ll miss my nephews the most. I don’t want to hurt anyone else. Until I get better everyone is better off without me for now.

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