Category Archives: Society


A commentary on today’s society. If you are abnormal, peculiar, or deviate from social standards, than you are not worthy of acceptance.

You are treated differently, unwanted, unloved, unequal. Unless, of course what makes you unacceptable can be used to society’s advantage. The “normal” ones do not care what the cost is to you as long as they are entertained or provided with a new scientific discovery. Your pain, suffering, isolation is of no consequence to them.

They do not comprehend that you have more empathy and compassion than is typical. They are mundane and cruel, unable to see the devastation left behind by their self-indulgence.

Hypocrites, Idiots, and Strawberry Wine

I’ll start by saying I’m a hypocrite at times. Or maybe too judgmental. I was watching a reality show and the woman on it was crying like they always do. She was crying because she was an alcoholic. She was drinking too much wine.

I am ashamed to say it but I laughed. I thought “Lady you wouldn’t know a real wino if one bit you on your Chanel ass.” See? Judgment and hypocritical. So many people didn’t believe I was an alcoholic. I am an alcoholic. To the outside world I came from a nice middleclass family. I was polite and quiet. That’s because I went 2 or 3 towns over to do my drinking so no one would know me. They didn’t see the “real” me that came out at night. It was like living a double life.

One night I stayed late at my favorite dive bar talking to the wife of a member of the band, when I looked up I saw my uncle mopping the floor. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The 2 worlds were not to meet. But I was plastered so what could I do except make an ass out of myself. They had just put my mother in a coma that day and I handled the news the way I handled everything. I drank. The Wylde’s were good people to a total mess of a person. It was a good thing that there were a few people like this along the way because I got myself in some pretty bad situations.

Anyway, I’ve also seen my share of heavy wine drinkers. They get a bluish/purple stain on their teeth and sometimes tongue and lips. They hide it well because wine is considered acceptable with lunch and dinner making it easy to hide HOW MUCH you’re drinking. But the woman on the “reality show” showed no signs of addiction at all. It was a low budget show looking for viewers. Unfortunately drama brings people in. Look at Celebrity Rehab. How many of those poor people actually made it? I couldn’t watch.

On to the Idiot portion. I don’t like name calling but it’s to make a point.

The Lord My Savior Jesus Christ will not cure BIPOLAR DISORDER.



I ask nicely at first to stop. I ask nicely the second time to please refrain.


I am a Sober Bipolar Atheist. I’m sorry if that offends some people but it also offends me to constantly have something shoved down my throat that I do not agree with. Maybe Atheist is the wrong word. I do not believe in going to a designated building to listen to a man speak and then putting money in a collection plate. I believe in Evolution. I believe in things I can see. I believe Religion has killed more people over time than any plague or disease. I believe you should be able to love with freedom as long as they are of age. To quote the great Dr. House “Everybody lies”. There is proof of this in the basement of the Vatican. There was a movie with Gabriel Byrne that had a Bonus Disc about the Vatican that was quite interesting. Everyone is free to choose what they believe in. What they are not allowed to do is infringe on my rights to stay calm and somewhat private on these matters. There is a Stigma attached to saying you are an Atheist. People get confused and conjure up images of Anton LaVey. That would be Satanist. Totally different. Lately many people have spoken to me about going to church. I have just smiled and kept my mouth shut. How many times am I expected to do this? I hate doing it. But I know if I open my mouth with anything close to the truth it will cause a shitstorm.

Don’t ask where the Strawberry Wine comes in. I just thought it sounded funny. I used to drink Boone’s Strawberry Hill Wine when I was 17 until I drank too many bottles and was violently ill. Never touched it again. Sometimes when it slips out what I used to drink my brother in law will say “You know you drank like a homeless person?”. Says the person who told me to bring Black Label to parties because no one would steal them. Kingers even. How soon they forget.

I know I’m going back and forth. I apologize.

When I happened to mention to my ex sister in law that I was an Atheist her response was “No you’re not. I don’t believe that. You’re just confused.” This was 3 years ago and I’ve had to tell her several more times because she keeps sending me religious stuff. It doesn’t sink in.

Is There a Wrong Way To Grieve For A Pet?

In my 42 years on this planet I have lost 2 grandmothers, 2 grandfathers, 2 Aunts, 2 Uncles, my Mom, 4 dogs, and 1 cat. 2 of the dogs lived to be 20, 1 was a Black Lab Husky mix and the other was a German Shepherd mix that looked like a wolf. The cat was an indoor cat and lived to be 22. Having to euthanize a sick pet that is only almost 7 kills me. I admit I do not handle death well since my mother’s passing 7 years ago. Animals have always been hard on me, I’ve always had a special connection with them. Even the most aggressive animals change around me. (This was observed by several other people I’m not delusional) I’ve given CPR to several dogs but no humans. I have more compassion and empathy for animals than humans. Maybe because what you see is what you get. You know in the wild it’s survival of the fittest. The other animals don’t lie to you, if you’re the weak one then guess what? You’re gone. But some do know about a love and loyalty so fierce they would kill for it. I have found that lacking in the Society around me.

My dad was sobbing uncontrollably this morning when I told him we had to let our Chihuahua go. This man was in the Navy, has tattoos on his forearms like Popeye and worked a blue collar job. But he loved that dog. He would hold him in his arms like a baby and sing to him some made up song he thought was funny. Pookie would only respond to my voice which is kind of high pitched and a little cartoonish. My father would have to imitate me to get him to come in from outside. I would hide and laugh until tears rolled down my cheeks and I started coughing. Pookie slept with my dad every night curled up next to his head on his pillow. When I was feeling extremely low Pookie would somehow know. He would look at me and then run as fast as he could to jump in my lap and lick my eyes where tears had started. I have since read that Chihuahuas are the best dogs for people with Bipolar Disorder because they can sense their moods. I know Pookie could.

A few people have already expressed their opinions that “it’s just a dog”. No, he wasn’t. He was family. He helped more than most of my actual family.

Did my sister answer her phone? No. Her father is in a ball crying and I’m right along with him and she doesn’t answer her phone. Am I surprised? No. My father has cried in front of me a total of 5 times in 42 years. He doesn’t show emotion easily. I called my brother in law and he said ” I don’t know what you expect her to do about any of it”. How about just calling your f**king father and offering support instead of leaving it all to me as usual? My sister doesn’t care about animals and apparently she doesn’t care about her family either.

I will cry, scream, and grieve for as long as it takes. He was my dog, my best friend, and I loved him. If the rest of the world doesn’t understand I feel sorry for you.

To Laugh or Cry? That is The Question.

Sometimes I have no idea what I’m doing or feeling. I get consumed by the smallest things. It’s always been people, places, and things with me. I’m like a dog with a bone on some topics. I know this is annoying to others. To me it’s a way of coping.

I loathe the way the media portrays the mentally ill or anyone with mental health issues. Lately this is all you see on the big news networks. To stockpile all of us into the same group causes more stigma, shame, misinformation, isolation and the system to fail even more than it does now. We are not all monsters to be shunned and locked away.

The healthcare system plays a big part in the lives of the mentally ill. Resources are limited and stigma is also a big factor. Research shows it negatively impacts a person’s desire to get help. They are less likely to divulge their mental health condition.

In around 50% of cases Mental Health and Addiction begin by age 14. About 75% present symptoms by age 24. And still the System fails. I can’t hold a press conference about it but others can contributing to the misinformation and stigma.

On a different note. Making friends. Or keeping friends. I have one that I have to cut loose. She calls once in awhile. It always starts the same. ” I’ve missed you! How have you been? I’ve been worried!” Then it goes to ” Can I borrow $200?” or ” Do you have some Adderall I can have?”. Today I  told her if she was that desperate to go a town near us and a certain bar and buy some coke. She didn’t catch the sarcasm. She just said “Why do you know anyone?” I wanted to scream at that point and accidentally send her to the cop bar that’s near the other bar. I didn’t.

I’m scheduled for my biopsy next Friday. My dad has dialysis and can’t take me so I asked my sister. She said she couldn’t because she has plans with her friends. So now my dad is taking me early before dialysis and just dropping me off. I’ll be alone. They have to put me under and it’s a risky procedure. They have to replace the stents keeping my kidneys working too. I’ll be alone when I wake up and have a tendency to cry after anesthesia but I have no choice. So today I just laughed at the ridiculousness of it all and ate 2 gluten free chocolate toffee cupcakes.

ROCKFEST 2014 ~ Aaron Lewis

I wasn’t sure where I was going to post this or if I was going to post this. Then I remembered being at a show where Fight was playing. My best friend and I have always loved Rob Halford’s voice. I was close to the stage and someone kept touching my rear end. I would  try to look behind me but we were packed in like sardines. I was getting annoyed and I was drunk. Not a good combination for me or anyone around me at the time. But I was letting it go. That was until the person put his hand between my legs then it wasn’t going to be ignored. Since I couldn’t really move, but knew it was the guy behind me, I made a fist and swung it backwards connecting with his face. He wasn’t happy. Security wasn’t happy and was trying to get to me. I explained what was going on but they didn’t care. I was getting angrier.

At certain shows they didn’t like girls up front or in “the pit” because we got in their way. Bodyslamming was a guy thing. I didn’t spend money to be in the back of the room so these morons could run into each other. Another time we tried to get up front for Pantera. I was doing ok but my Barbie resembling friend wasn’t so I had to take a few elbows to the face to get to her. We were lucky there were some decent guys we knew that got involved to break it up. She was being groped everywhere and I was just getting stomped. Ridiculous times. But when you add alcohol to events like these, and a pack mentality, sometimes it’s what happens. What always bothered me was the acceptance of it.

When I found the YouTube video of Aaron Lewis stopping in the middle of playing to yell at some guys for touching an underage girl while she was body surfing I was blown away. It’s sad that I was because I haven’t seen it happen before. I have been to many, many shows in my time and that was the first time I’ve seen an artist intervene. In a perfect world he wouldn’t have had to but I give him credit for doing it when no one else has that I know of. Others may have but the way he did it was memorable. Maybe more will become aware of the problem.

Weight For Me

A lot of you may know that I spent the majority of my life in the body of a 250 pound person. When I was diagnosed as Bipolar then with Celiac Disease things began to change. I also began my journey of sobriety. The meds can make you gain or lose weight, it’s difficult to find food that is appealing and affordable for Celiac and alcohol bloats you and puts on the pounds.

The combination of meds I have taken for the last few years made me lose weight rapidly, I am also always sick from the Celiac because mine stays active. I lost 120 pounds in less than a year. It looks like more because I have a muscle wasting disease caused by the Celiac. It shows mostly in my face. There isn’t anything I can do about it. I also no longer have the trigger in my brain that tells me I’m thirsty, this leads to dehydration.

I bring all of this up because it is difficult to respond to people who haven’t seen me in awhile. People don’t realize the things they say. I often get the response of “You must be so much happier now that you are thin”. Actually I’m not. My brain has trouble processing it when I look in the mirror. I also didn’t lose the weight in a healthy way. This leaves me in an awkward position. Do I tell the truth or do I lie so everyone feels better? Why do they have to assume my happiness depends on my weight? My sister tells me I look awful, like a skeleton. My father has asked that I don’t lose anymore. Others say I look good. I looked up my height and age and I am within my target weight. I’m just tired of the comments and questions.

I’m also tired of going clothes shopping alone. My sister refuses because she is no longer thinner than me. I cry in dressing rooms. I was always complimented on my style as a plus sized woman. Now I can’t even decide on a pair of socks. It shouldn’t be this way should it? I should be enjoying this time. I try not to let other people bother me but guess what? I’m human and Bipolar and over sensitive. I think robes should make a good fashion statement. I love pajamas. Maybe I’ll stick to those.

The Power of Grief

You read about the stages of grief. Denial, anger, depression, etc. but there really is no timeline for grief. Is it a year? Is it 7 years? I don’t know. I have read that people who have been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder feel grief stronger and longer than a person without Bipolar Disorder. I believe this to be true based on my own experiences.

I still grieve for lost pets. The grief I feel for my mom is at times unbearable. It gets to the point where I can’t function. I cry, stutter, and shake for most of the day. This usually happens in April and February. April is when her birthday is and you have Mother’s Day around the same time. February is the month she passed away in.

Today was an extremely bad day for me. I don’t know why. I knew it as soon as I woke up. I tried all my tricks and nothing was working. I decided to go get an iced coffee for me and my dad. Of course as I was walking up our front steps I dropped mine. I was then yelled at for making a mess. Mind you it was outside and a hose is next to the steps. I said I would clean it up but was told I wouldn’t do it right. My dad is weird about the yard and landscaping. I felt like more of a burden. His birthday is tomorrow and he will be 72. He’s on dialysis and cleaning up my mess. So of course I am inside crying. Which frustrates him and makes him feel helpless so he yells. I decide to call it a day at 2pm. I hide in my room, watch movies then I’ll go to bed and hope tomorrow is different.

People tell me I should be over my grief by now. I should be handling it better. They’re right I probably should. I have tried counseling and can’t remember the tools. I did write them down somewhere. There are online websites that have them listed but they don’t seem to help. My sister thinks I like to be in misery and pain. I’m comfortable there. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I have no idea what I’m doing. I do know on a sunny day with the sun on my face I want to feel happy and today I didn’t. That has to change or what’s the point? So some phone calls have to be made, I don’t want to make them but I have no choice anymore. When my dad looks at me with tears of his own and tells me he can’t take much more I know I’m in trouble. He is my only support. I lose him I have nothing. It’s up to me now. Even if it takes ECT again I am that desperate.


Today I had a visit with my sister and one of my nephews. I brought her some shirts that don’t fit anymore, a Chromecast, hair color, shampoo & conditioner, and dry shampoo. And a coffee. She enjoyed all of it and said she was happy to see that I was like “my old self again”. I am almost weaned off of the Viibryd and start taking Brintellix tomorrow.

I wasn’t “my old self again”. I was the same as I always am I just brought gifts and made sure I didn’t cry in front of her and kept the conversation about things SHE was interested in only. I gave in to her wanting me to “change”. If that’s what it takes to see my nephews and have some contact with her I’ll do it for now.

I’ll put my mask on, the one that shows I’m a happy well adjusted adult with not a care in the world. I’m used to this one it fits like a glove.

The next week will be extremely difficult. Going on a new medication always is for me. Physically and emotionally. I have been thinking about the past too much lately. My mom, not talking to my best friend, what I have missed out on and what is too late to fix. I wish I could have reassured her that I loved her and all of my actions were of my own doing. There was nothing she did wrong as a mother. I wish her last words to me were not I’m sorry I f**ked up your life. It will haunt me forever. I have to remember she was heavily medicated and would never normally say anything like that.

Something positive, I have started to forgive my sister-in-law for petty things in the past. I have started talking to her more, she really doesn’t have a lot of support herself. It’s time for me to step up and be a good Aunt to those kids too. I love them and it isn’t their fault they have my brother for a father. So some good and bad. That’s life.

About Fear

I have always loved music and it has been a big part of my life. Sometimes in a good way, sometimes not. I can become happier by listening to certain music, I also can become aggressive, extremely sad, and frustrated.

I was listening to a song that mentions how the lyricist has run from his pain, how fear holds you down, uses you up, and spits you out like you were never good enough. But now when he falls he gets back up, he doesn’t have to fall apart and let the damage take over.

This makes sense of course. It’s a great concept. But how do you get there? I know the person writing the lyrics is Bipolar and has struggled with addiction. I also know that he took the religious path to get where he is. I am not religious. I never have been. I don’t predict I ever will be. Does this mean I will never get back up? Am I doomed to fail? Will the fear constantly eat away at me because I have tried these methods and found them not right for me? The same with therapy. When you have been to 10 to 12 therapists and they all follow a cookie cutter script that makes you want to scream, why would you want to go more therapists? Am I so cynical and damaged it’s clouding my judgment?

Too many people tell me I am wrong. I have stopped explaining myself. When it comes to certain topics there is no middle ground. So I keep my mouth shut and take it as usual. If my sister only knew how many of these therapists automatically suggested sexual abuse by my father her head would spin. That is something I won’t tolerate. My father is the best he can be and never even spanked us.

He is the only one that even tries to keep me going and tells me he loves me everyday. My twin sister doesn’t. No one else does either. I’m happy for the artist that has found peace I just wish there were more options I could support. Because fear does consume me, it eats me up until I’m left with nothing.

Trying to Take Off My Mask With New Inspiration

I have been reading a blog recently that has really helped me. My family doesn’t agree. I knew they wouldn’t. I have to try to be strong and not beg, bribe, pretend, and do things I don’t want to just so they will accept and love me. I know they love me. But I also know that I am a burden, annoying, hurtful, and clingy. My father thinks that the Bipolar Disorder, Anxiety Disorders, Social Phobia, and Conversion Disorder is all his fault. He thinks if he had gotten help for me sooner I would be ok. I tried to explain to him that it doesn’t really work that way. The other thing is, my mother’s side of the family is the one that is saturated in mental illness. It’s no coincidence that her sister and brother are both diagnosed Paranoid Schizophrenic and my mother was never diagnosed with anything but was hospitalized twice for “breakdowns”. She would spend weeks in her bedroom, only coming out to get food. She also had a lot of episodes where she was loud, talked non-stop, danced, cleaned and laughed at everything. I would say my grandmother had some issues also. The only thing on my father’s side is some anxiety. To see him cry, a man who rarely shows emotion, kills me.

My twin sister as some of you may know is my biggest critic. She’s the one that tells me I have to change. Quite often this is said to me. I have tried to buy, bribe, and beg for her love and acceptance. I did it again yesterday. I bought her a couple of art sets and some stuff to make her some jewelry. She hasn’t returned my texts or calls in a couple of days. I shouldn’t have to do this. It’s demeaning. Why do I have to change? I haven’t hurt anyone. I haven’t gotten drunk. I haven’t hurt myself. So I cry a lot lately, there’s something going on. I have Celiac that stays active and may be going through early menopause which does effect your body and brain chemistry. Or maybe it’s something else. I don’t know.

I was seriously considering just having more ECT because I can’t take it anymore. No one wants to be around me. I told my father to “let them shock me until I remember nothing and feel nothing”. This is pretty sad on my part. I’m letting other people who want me to “change” consider doing something I swore I wouldn’t do again. But I really don’t know how much more I can take from a world that sees me as “too emotional”, “crazy”, “Unbalanced”, “violent”, “too loud”, “too quiet”, “lazy”, “annoying”, and that I’m just not trying hard enough.

When I read Taking Off The Mask’s blog about stigma I cried through the entire thing. If I only had someone to say to me “Dana there is nothing wrong with you” or to say they know how I feel. This blog made me feel so much better about everything. Until I tried to explain it to my dad. Then it went to hell. He didn’t understand what I was trying to explain. I’m pretty sure my sister wouldn’t either. So I’ll keep it to myself and remember there are good, kind, understanding people out there. You just have to find them.

I will think long and hard about the ECT. I really do not want to do it. I’d rather try the Ketamine based nasal spray but there is only 1 Dr. in R.I. that does it and it’s for pain management. I can’t have another year long Depressive episode it’s already been almost 4 months, I think that’s long enough.

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