Tag Archives: Honesty

‘CAUSE I KNOW ALL YOUR VICES (Adult Content)

October marked my 11th year of not having sex of any kind. I was sick, tired, working, taking care of dying parents, sober, there are a million excuses. I really just didn’t want to get hurt anymore.

Fear of rejection, no self-esteem, and a constant feeling of not being good enough, all play their part as well. My body image could use a boost too.

I was 270 pounds for most of my adult life, going down to 119 pounds in 6-7 months then gradually gaining weight over the last year hasn’t left me feeling excited to be seen naked.

When you’re Bipolar with Complex PTSD you have an extremely hard time trusting people, you don’t think people are being honest, that they have a hidden agenda which includes hurting you in some way.

What happens when you meet someone who makes you feel special and safe?

Well if you’re me you pull back and think of running because it’s too good to be true.

For some reason this time I didn’t.

We had been messaging when I said: “It’s difficult to find people who are into the same things I am”. He took this to mean sexually and described to me what he’s into.

I wasn’t shocked. I kind of got that vibe anyway and finding someone to accept all of you and doesn’t want to change you isn’t easy. I know this and that’s why I don’t judge.

He likes BDSM which I have experimented with when I was younger.

There are a few things that I’m not comfortable with because they’re triggers for me.

I don’t know if I want to tell him more about my past than he already knows. He knows I’m Bipolar but doesn’t know about the Complex PTSD, Conversion Disorder, or the cause of it. At least I don’t think he does. I did confide more than usual to someone we both know and unfortunately I don’t know if I can trust them. One of the many reasons I haven’t talked to any of the same people we know since the beginning of September.

I don’t like not knowing how someone really feels. Are we acquaintances? Friends? Friends but we’ll see how it goes when you get back? Will you even want to see me in person? I try to ask these questions but I’m scared of the answers. I feel like I’m waiting for something that probably isn’t going to happen, whether we hang out as friends or something else. It isn’t a good feeling.

It was your hug that made me feel safe, comfortable and a lot of other feelings I haven’t felt in a very long time.

When you held my gaze I felt like the only person in the room.

A part of me is afraid that none of it is real.

I won’t do one night stands anymore. I don’t necessarily mean I want a traditional relationship either. Maybe I don’t know what I want except answers.

I don’t want to be another woman on your phone that I do know. Nikita Gill …what kind of girls are the ones who run wild with the w…

 

 

 

 

 


BRUTALLY HONEST (How I Feel Right Now)

When someone confirms what you’ve been thinking for years it isn’t a relief.

I’ve known for some time that certain people have been avoiding me over the last few years. My sister did me a favor by confirming this. She admitted that she herself avoids me. She said my behavior has gotten out of control. She doesn’t want to hear any “excuses”.

Everyone forgets I went into Kidney Failure two years ago, was resuscitated and spent a week in the hospital. I left there minus a kidney and having one kidney working at 70%. That number has gone down recently. No one wants to listen how this changes the way my medications work or how every chemical and hormone in my body has also changed. This is partly why I’ve been getting worse.

Over the last month I feel like I don’t want to be here. The aching hole in my chest is constant and all I want to do is sleep so I don’t feel it. The ache is a combo of sadness, grief, loneliness, feeling useless or like everything I do is wrong. I also feel like I have the plague. I know I can be annoying. I get excited around bright lights and shiny objects. I talk too much when I’m around people I like because I want them to like me. I beg my own family to talk to me. They don’t.

I don’t want to be here anymore. My nose is constantly swollen from crying so much I can’t breathe. I have headaches from crying. Part of me wants to stop my meds, take off to Vegas and drink until my kidney shuts down. I had to put my fist in my mouth while watching Leaving Las Vegas in the theater. When he couldn’t sign his name because he was shaking so bad reminded me of me.

The bartenders at a bar I went to after work knew not to give me a bottle of beer. They would have a mug waiting for me with a straw in it pushed forward so I could just bend my head down to drink. They knew my hands shook too much to hold anything until I got a few drinks in me. So much of that movie hit too close to home.

I’m lost. I’m told to leave the house and join a group. I wish it was that easy. The thought of leaving the house now cause a lump in my throat and a sick feeling in my stomach. So I talk myself out of it. Even my dog isn’t listening to me. In fairness I did cut his nails against his will. lol


WHY I’M TOO HONEST

I wouldn’t want anyone to go through what I have in my 44 years on this Planet. I talk about my past and my diagnoses as honestly as I can remember in case someone reading recognizes some of these symptoms or behaviors in themselves. No one should have to wait over 20 years to receive a diagnosis. When you’ve had a mental illness that has gone undiagnosed for so long it’s almost impossible to treat.

The team of Doctors I have guess that I started showing signs as early as 10 years old. I wasn’t diagnosed as Bipolar until I was 35/36. They wonder about my earlier years because I started so early using soothing mechanisms. I would rock back and forth in my crib while standing, when I grew a little older I bounced my head on my pillow to fall asleep and bounced my head off of the car’s head rest whenever I was in the car.

I also couldn’t keep myself from bouncing one leg up and down while sitting. I always had to be doing some kind of repetitive motion to calm myself down.

The Doctors also found it odd that I had so many nosebleeds and had to have my nose cauterized 3 times. Finally they took out my adenoids and slowly the nosebleeds stopped. I started having them as a toddler and they didn’t stop until I was about 10 years old.

There are days where I want to donate myself to Science and tell them to scan my entire body and do every test available because I’m tired of living this way.

I have been leaving my sister alone. She eventually sent me a text saying she loved me. I sent her one saying I was frustrated because on good days when I don’t want to talk about mental or physical health but everyday stuff I have no one to talk to.

The response I received was that I should volunteer somewhere it would make me feel better.

Not “Why don’t we get together and talk?” or “I’ll call you and we’ll talk right now” nope I was told I should volunteer somewhere. I guess it’s better than before when she kept telling me to go to Group Therapy to make friends. It wasn’t until she actually attended a few Group meetings that she understood what I was talking about. They put everyone together in the Groups, low functioning, high functioning, Bipolar, Borderline Personality, Schizophrenic all together in the same groups. Some are not even coherent they are so medicated. It took almost 2 years to get my sister to stop with the Group thing.

I don’t know why I keep expecting a different outcome. My dad was sitting on the couch near me, I tried to talk to him and he either couldn’t hear me or was ignoring me. When I finally got his attention and started to talk he fell asleep. It’s hard not to take that personally. I start thinking everything must be true. I don’t belong here, I never did, I don’t belong anywhere. I asked my dad to tell me when he first felt butterflies in his stomach or anxiety or scared. He was having trouble answering. I said “How did you feel when you were told mom had twins?” He said ” I didn’t really care at that time it didn’t matter to me” I thought I would break. My mom didn’t know she was having twins until we came.

Then my dad said “Oh I know I felt butterflies when my Russian Tumblers were up against this other pair of Tumblers and I didn’t think they would win Best In Show”. I’m not sure why I was surprised that he would feel anxious about his birds they almost ruined his marriage, actually they pretty much did. They took his health, they’re the reason he’s on dialysis, and he spends more time with them than anyone or thing.

I really don’t think I can I spend another winter here with my dad and sister. The weather alone depresses me. I need to look for a place that’s affordable, sunny, and has museums or wildlife. I would love a pool too. But I’ll take what I can get. I just don’t think I can do it. I already feel the gloom and doom and it’s only September.


Black Hole Sun~Until You’ve Been There

I was reprimanded today for crying over someone I did not know personally. The problem is in a way I did know him. I knew when I heard the news at 7:30 a.m. this morning what had most likely happened.

My sister sent me a text saying she had been crying all morning and we went back and forth a little. She has not talked to me in what for us is a long time. The communication stopped immediately when details were released later today. I knew she would discontinue communication when she learned what I already knew.

The life expectancy of someone with a severe mental illness like Bipolar Disorder is much shorter than the average person. If the person also has an alcohol/drug addiction you can take off a few more years even if they are now sober. I’ve done all the research there is do. I have a thing for statistics and research.

I cry over someone who writes lyrics that explain how I feel or have felt but could never put into words. Some lyricists write like they’ve been in my head or knew me at a specific time. It’s a tell like in poker.

Until you have stood on a roof looking down into a black abyss of pavement thinking “I can’t take this pain, this empty ache in my chest any longer” and you jump, I don’t want to hear your opinion. (I was closer to the ground than I thought and extremely drunk. I chipped a bone in my ankle and some cuts and bruises.)

Until you have had charcoal forced down your throat or your stomach pumped because you swallowed a bottle of painkillers while thinking “I never belonged here. I watch other people live but I don’t understand how. I don’t fit. I wasn’t meant to be.” I don’t want to hear your opinion.

Until you’ve been stitched up for you fourth time because you have no self respect and think you deserve to be treated like garbage I don’t want to hear your opinion.

Until you blow a .36 at the Police Station where you’ve been many times and the men in the room are wondering how you are still functioning and you hear the names they call you and are so humiliated it has gotten this bad you picture doing the unthinkable I don’t want to hear your opinion.

I hope I’ve made it clear that unless you have been in a person’s situation it isn’t gossip or fodder for the media it’s someone’s son, daughter, sister, brother, husband, wife. Remember that and the suffering that goes with it.

To the person who is no longer here. You had empathy, talent, a light inside of you that you probably couldn’t always see, and you made a difference to me. You will be missed.


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.


What I Can’t Really Tell People Who Ask About My Bipolar Disorder

The doctors I have been to all agree that my Bipolar Disorder probably started at an early age. I would guess around 12. When anyone asks about being Bipolar I try to inform them as best as I can without scaring them away. If I told them the truth I’m afraid they wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore. But since not a lot of people talk to me anyway I have decided to tell it like it is for me.

I am on medications. I take 3 different meds. I drank heavily for 20 years and have been sober for 6 years. I have trouble socializing. For most of my life I have felt like an outsider. Standing outside a window watching everyone else live. I get an ache inside of me that is almost unbearable. It’s like a gaping hole in my chest that nothing can fill. I feel this way often. I have to go into the bathroom and curl up on the floor with a towel to muffle my sobs. Sometimes it’s so bad I make myself sick. My head hurts most of the time. There is always something in there telling me I’m not enough. I’m a burden, too negative, no one cares, I am invisible.

I often think of leaving this world. I don’t want to die but I don’t want to be here either. No one really hears me when I talk. My family says all I do is talk about my illnesses. If they took them seriously and actually listened instead of telling me what they think I should do maybe I wouldn’t talk so much about them. They don’t know the things I have done and seen or the things that were done and said to me. These things stay with me always. Some were traumatic enough to cause Conversion Disorder. A true case of Conversion Disorder confirmed by 2 experts because a true case is actually rarer than you think. They don’t understand how difficult it is for me when the stuttering starts. They shut me down and won’t let me talk.

Most days I wake up crying and it doesn’t get better until the afternoon. Everyday it gets harder. I run out of things that make me calm or give me a little happiness. I spend most days alone. I am told to make friends. It’s not that easy for me. I can barely get dressed most days. To hear a simple “I love you the way you are we’ll get through this” would help. Maybe. It isn’t easy knowing that people find you annoying and avoid you. So I don’t risk it anymore. This is the truth.


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