WATCH THIS SPACE!

I am crawling out the abyss of depression and I am going to be writing here again, but I have no idea when or about what. Just putting you on notice. I’m still out here, skulking about, endless conundrums on my mind, trying to nail down some clarity. During a recent panic attack in my therapist’s office, while I was crying hard and she was coaching me to breathe and think of a peaceful happy place, I protested, “I can’t, I can’t.” But I took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled and imagined….the color turquoise… the color I have always associated with clarity, and then turquoise waters on white sandy beaches, and I began to calm down. It’s obvious, I thought, I only need to go to the Carribean. Then she told me to go to my happy place and my mind immediately switched gears and put me in a beautiful castle in the north of Britain: Hogwarts. I breathed a few deeper breaths and felt the panic recede. If reality was unbearable, there was always the world of Harry Potter and his friends Ron and Hermione. Especially, Hermione, whom I identified with strongly.  Maybe I need a vacation in the Carribean…or Hawaii…(yes, please). Maybe I need to reread the Harry Potter books. Not just watch the movies or listen to the audiobooks. ACTUALLY READ THE BOOKS. I don’t like the narrator’s voice on the audiobooks. If only Alan Rickman had read them! *sigh*

Anyway, it was clear that I had finally hit bottom and needed to find my way back up and out. I had stopped listening to the news. I didn’t care about Trump or anything that was going on. (I know, shocking!!!!). I got sick of Facebook and started purging friends in alphabetical order causing a slight panic among people who don’t even know me. I would post my “memories”, posts from other years, but I hardly looked at my friends’ posts anymore. I deactivated my Facebook and left it completely for 5 days and loved it, but it called me back. There is a love/hate relationship there. But I just stopped thinking creatively. I had abandoned all writing projects. (Simple rule of writing: Writers WRITE.) I watched the same movies over and over, listened to the same books over and over, too lazy to sit up and read from my Kindle or a REAL BOOK. I listened to the same music over and over…..Prince, mostly,(still haven’t accepted he’s gone) and John Mayer. Thankfully, Mayer introduced some new music that I have been positively giddy over. Just the change I needed. His music is always right on time.

So there I was, feeling “meh”. I changed my profile pic on Facebook to Grumpy Cat and made grumpy statements. People were amused. I was deadly serious. And then a friend posted a video that was an incredibly lame attempt at humor at the expense of anyone intelligent enough not to buy into stereotypes. It was a black man, a “gangsta” (their word, not mine) who promised to explain George Orwell’s 1984 from his point of view. So I pressed play, expecting mild humor and was overcome with a horrendous white man’s caricature of a black man, a completely, racist, stereotypical portrayal of this “gangsta” who used language I have never heard come from the mouth of any black person I have ever met, and I know a few. It was shameful. I was embarrassed for the man portraying the “gangsta”, and felt he ought to be ashamed of himself and embarrassed, too, but I supposed they paid him the right price. This video filled me with so full of negative emotion that I really thought for a few minutes I might be having a heart attack, but I recognized it as panic brought on by pure provoked anger. Racism is a trigger for me, for many reasons I won’t go into here. It should trigger anger in everyone, maybe not to my degree. I decided to get some feedback. I shared the post on my Facebook page with the explanation of how racist I found it and how angry it made me and waited for my friends to respond. One hour went by, two hours went by. No response. No likes, no comments. This made me angrier. In my anger-addled mind, I reasoned that probably a  lot of people on my friend list thought this video was funny and didn’t care that it was racist and were too afraid to say so to me. And this made me angrier. And the anger and panic built. I was talking to two different friends by text and they were both trying to talk me through it, begging me to breathe. It just MAGICALLY happened that I was on my way to a therapist appointment that very morning and was about at the boiling point when she called me into her office. So I got in there and finally let go and I told her about the email, and I suddenly realized how really unimportant it really was in the great scheme of things. Yes, racism is important, but it’s vast problem that is not going to be overcome by me throwing a tantrum over a video. And then I remembered, and I told her, “This is not what I wanted to talk to you about.” And I calmed down a little and told her what I had planned to talk to her about, which was some things my mother had said about me to a good friend of mine. Terrible, hurtful, damaging things. As my mother has been the main subject of my therapy for many years, it wasn’t too surprising. But when I looked the therapist in the eye and told her my mother said that I hadn’t turned out the way she wanted, she inhaled sharply and startled a little and for a moment I thought she might cry herself. But she didn’t. I did. HARD. I cried and cried.  I curled into myself in the chair and rocked myself crying and gasping for breath and confessing random worries and secret hurts. “I’m never going to have a baby. My cat is getting old. I can’t deal with losing her. She’s like my baby. ” And on and on, every doubt and fear and insecurity, until I was completely spent. I got my cry out, and cleaned up my face and answered the therapist’s questions. She’s fairly new. I’ve only seen her a few times so she is getting caught up on my history. I explained to her how my mother had emotionally abused me my entire life. That she loved me, but she loved me too much. She was clingy. Nobody loved me more than she did, but she couldn’t stop criticizing me. She made me dependent on her and then when I became independent she flipped the tables and became dependent on me. When my therapist asked, without a trace of irony, “So would you say she used guilt…” I just burst out laughing in her perplexed face. I laughed and slapped her on the arm and kept laughing, nearly hysterical. “Oh, sister!” I said as I wiped the tears from my eyes again. “Does she use guilt??? Yes, ma’am, she does!” And I was laughing again, and she finally laughed with me. And I thanked her. I had needed that laugh!

I told the therapist the other things my friend had reported: my mother’s derogatory comments on my weight and not working. ( I am on disability. She was on disability, too, before she retired. I guess she forgot about that.) I told her my friend said if she had known I would be so upset that she wouldn’t have told me about it, I said that I thanked her. “I felt that she gave me a gift,” I said. “Now, someone else has seen and knows and it’s not just me, it’s HER. I feel validated.”  I told her I didn’t care about the fat remarks and the other stuff, but the part about me not turning out like she wanted was too much. When my friend told me about that, something in me just broke, and I thought, “I don’t love her anymore.” Now anyone who knows me knows what a source of anguish this is for me. Because I have always loved my mother so much, and I strongly believe in God’s command to honor your mother and father. How can you honor them if you don’t love them? I told the therapist that the ones who came before her had advised me to cut her off completely. Maybe that is the healthiest thing to do psychologically. But I have to think spiritually. She is my mother. Can I really cut her off completely? I have compromised. I limit my time with her. When the phone rings and I see it’s her and I don’t feel strong enough, I don’t answer. I wait until I do feel strong and then I return her call. It takes strength and energy to endure a phone call with her. Because she talks A LOT. If I want to get my word in, I have to be determined. And if I want to disagree with something she says, I have to be ready to stand my ground. And I have to do my duty as a daughter and check to see if she is really ok and safe, which is hard to untangle from all of her physical complaints and comments about the house falling down around her. She is a hoarder. My brother and I would like to help her but she refuses to let us. I have to resign myself to just sitting and listening to her prattle on about nothing. Why? Because she’s lonely, and she’s my mother, and who else is going to do it? Yes, Ms. Therapist Lady, she does use guilt, whether she intends to or not. My dad reminds me that my mother is living the life she created, and I know that’s true. What happened between them was over 30 years ago. Yes, he left her for another woman. I’m not defending that. But she has had ample time to get herself together and create a new life, whether that involved getting remarried or not. That is her choice. It is plenty of time for her to forgive if not forget. But my mother does not believe in forgiveness, at least not for people who sin against her. She is still bitter and derisive when she speaks of my father, never caring that it hurts me because he is STILL MY FATHER. Recently, I apologized to my father for believing all her hatefulness about him over the years, that poisoned my relationship with him. It’s a little late in the game, but I think he accepts it. We have a healthy relationship now.

So this is where I am. Still a little girl trying to win her mother’s approval, almost knowing before I start that I will fail. My question for you, dear reader, is this: What do you want to read about? What do you want to hear about from me? Do you want to go with me on the journey to explore the depths of motherhood?  Both the struggle to become a mother myself and the drama of the relationship with the one that I have? My ongoing struggles with depression, bipolar disorder, and anxiety? Do you want me to write about politics? The Resistance against the EVIL TRUMP and other stories of the day, or human interest stories from around the world? Focus on incidences of injustice and inhumanity and racism? Maybe a little of everything? Or something yet unnamed? For the first time, I am blatantly asking for a response to a blog. PLEASE COMMENT HERE OR EMAIL ME AT heathersavann@gmail.com   Tell me what you want to read. What do you want to see here? What do you want from me??? I’m gonna try to give it to you, you wankers!!!!! LOVE AND PEACE TO YOU ALL!!! ❤ ❤ ❤ 

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What I Know For Sure

   The first thing I know for sure is that I straight up stole that title from Oprah and her magazine and I’m hoping she will sue me, because I need the publicity. But there are many other things I know to be true and here are just a few:

     If you are a writer, you should concentrate on your “audience” and not concern yourself about what the people close to you think about your writing, because I am here to tell you, I know for sure THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT. Most of your friends and family will not even bother reading your stuff and those that do will either tell you it’s wonderful when you know it isn’t, or just not comment at all. Because THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT. It’s not that they don’t love you. It’s just that they aren’t living the literary life. They don’t live and breathe books and reading and writing. So, THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT. Get over it. Get over yourself. Put some ice on that bruised ego and don’t insist they read your blog or your short story.  Find other readers and writers for that. 

     The movie is NEVER as good as the book. Almost NEVER. The film version may indeed be excellent, but almost without exception, the book is infinitely better. I have to give credit to the BBC’s adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, and also Emma Thompson’s version of Sense and Sensibility. They stayed pretty close to the book. But still, if you liked the movie, I recommend you read the book, because you’re probably missing a lot, and likely seeing a lot that the author never intended to be part of the story. I hold up the Harry Potter series as an example. Delightful, entertaining films, but the books are better. Of course they are. How could a two hour film do those books justice?  The fourth film in particular, The Goblet of Fire, completely butchered the book. And yet it’s still better than most of what’s coming out of Hollywood these days. 

    People who care about you will make time for you. If they don’t answer your call or text or message right away, they may be busy. People have lives. They have jobs and spouses and children and responsibilities. Things come up. Emergencies, big and small. However, If they don’t respond to you for days at a time and you notice that they do seem to have time to post on Facebook, THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT. They can’t be bothered to make room in their busy lives for you, and you should stop wondering and whining about it and focus on people who do make time for you. An exception to this is a friend or family member you suspect might be depressed. Give them some time. I know from a lifetime of experience that depression causes you to withdraw from the people closest to you, even though you know they love you and want to help. Some days you just can’t deal with PEOPLE. But the others? THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT. And you shouldn’t either. Move on. 

It is true what they say, “If you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.” I am not well. I will not bore you with a list of ailments, but suffice it so say, I am not dying, at least not imminently. Technically, we’re all dying, but you know what I mean. Anyway, while other people have jobs and children to focus on, my main focus is just on getting healthy. It’s a good thing I like to read and write, because that’s about all I’m good for, besides watching TV. I do enjoy having the time to read and write, but it comes at a cost. I am often sick, weak, tired, in pain, or all of these things. I suck as a homemaker. My husband deserves better. It’s a lonely existence. But I suck it up. Because NOBODY GIVES A SHIT. 

 There is life outside of Facebook. YES! It’s true! I deactivated my account days ago and I have survived and am actually thriving. I’ve gotten tons of reading done, started writing again, began learning piano, exercising,  and I feel so much calmer. I didn’t realize how agitated I had become. Facebook had become a sordid addiction for me, like gambling and I had to cut it off cold turkey. So I did, and apparently Facebook is rolling merrily along without me! AND I DON’T GIVE A SHIT!

2017: To Blog Or Not To Blog?

WELL. Here I am, finally, some two months or so since my last blog entry. For the handful of you who actually follow me, I sincerely apologize. To say I hit a “rough patch” would be putting it mildly. Sometime in early November, I sort of had a “come apart”. The fact that my hero, Hillary Clinton won the popular vote by some 3 million votes but lost the election to TRUMP is not a coincidence. Combine that with the anxiety I felt trying to write a novel in  30 days for the National Novel Writer’s Month (NaNoWriMo) and I just sort of fell to pieces. No novel was forthcoming. No writing of any kind was forthcoming, not even in my personal journals. I just froze up. I was dead inside. All because of an election, you say? Well, yeah, kinda. It was the most important election of my lifetime, I believe, and it was a disaster. In 10 days, a lying, racist, sexist, misogynistic, xenophobic, narcissistic , moronic  blowhard will be sworn in as President, despite proof of Russian hacking in the election, despite, Hillary Clinton winning the popular vote (because even though we complain about the electoral college every election year, we never do anything about it!). 2016 was a rough year. It had it’s bright moments. We should all count our blessings, of course, But it was a long, arduous election cycle, and the celebrity death count was unprecedented. People die all the time, of course, famous and not, but there seemed to be an unusual amount of big names on the In Memoriam lists for 2016. I won’t run through them all, but the most traumatic for me were Alan Rickman, Glenn Frey, Prince, Harper Lee, and Carrie Fisher, though I admired many of the others.

Alan Rickman: a gentleman in real life and often onscreen, though he will probably be remembered for his starring role as the cold, brooding Professor Snape in the Harry Potter movies. That gorgeous bass voice will forever haunt me. I have a recording of Thomas Hardy’s Return of the Native narrated by him, and I treasure it and listen to it when I have trouble sleeping.

Glenn Frey, founding member of the Eagles, one of the all-time greatest rock bands. Lead singer of so many classics of my youth, like “Take it Easy”, “Heartbreak Tonight” and so many others. I regret I never saw the band perform live.

PRINCE….What can one even say about this genius? He was just the best. He wrote his own music, his own lyrics. He could play every instrument. People tried to compare him with Michael Jackson. I’m sorry, but NO. Just NO. His was my coming-of-age music. I had put him away for awhile but since he died I’ve been listening to him every day. I just can’t say goodbye.

Harper Lee. Her death wasn’t such a shock. She lived a good long life. She wrote one of my favorite books, one of the greatest books in all of literature, To Kill a Mockingbird. It was adapted into a wonderful film and she rested on those laurels for many years and no one thought she would ever write another book. But about a year before she died, a second book was released, possibly against her wishes. Her state of mind was unknown. I read Go Set a Watchman and wish I hadn’t. It had some of the same characters as her first book but they were too different. I don’t believe she really wanted that book published. I believe someone took advantage of her to make money. A sad situation. But that can never erase the wonderful legacy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

And dear Carrie Fisher. I identified with her so much. She was open about her struggles with bipolar disorder and addiction. It’s easy for me to talk about being bipolar because I’m not trying to maintain a career. But she was in Hollywood, an actor and also a writer. She was very brave. And had such a wicked sense of humor. She and her mother were so close, it reminded me of my relationship with my mother. When her mother, actress Debbie Reynolds, died within a few days of Carrie, I thought, “She just couldn’t make it without Carrie, ” and I could imagine my mother doing the same. Or me, if my mother died. So close we don’t know where each of us begins and the other ends.

So this is what all has been on my mind during the time I haven’t been writing. Death and disaster. I want to be optimistic for 2017, but it’s hard. The question I have now is: To blog or not to blog? If so, why? What is my purpose for keeping this blog going? I don’t have a huge readership. I can barely get my friends and family interested, and often not even them. I think I started just to be writing SOMETHING. Well, now I am writing something. I have a memoir project I’m working on and I’m outlining a novel, both potentially paying projects. No one is going to pay me to write this blog. This is sheer vanity work. This is just  getting my name out there (I guess. Is it really?). It’s a place for me to blow off steam. That was especially useful during the election year. It’s my place to share my opinion. Bur really,  who cares about my opinion? Not that many people, really. So I don’t know how much time I will be spending here, honestly. I’m committed to resisting the Trump regime so I may write about that. But I mostly intend to work on other writing projects, so if I’m in here, that means I’m procrastinating. I thought this would be a good forum to talk about bipolar disorder and maybe help others who suffer mental illness but I’m not convinced I’ve done any good. I think I may have just spilled my deep, dark secrets in vain and now everyone knows I’m crazy and thinks I’m a narcissist who can’t stop talking about herself.

Maybe I’m just in a mood. I don’t know. I had a medication increase recently and it should start helping soon, I hope. The fact that I’m even at my desk, on the computer, typing a blog is an improvement. Maybe I’ll come around and think of some brilliant new blog topics to dazzle you all with. Who knows.

A Few More Words on Trump

I could probably go on for days about this orange-faced baboon but I will try to sum up. I’m seeing a suggestion that we, as in Democrats, need to meet Trump with the same meanness and obstructionism that Obama faced during his two terms. Tit for tat. I’m not sure I agree with that. This is a democracy. This man has been legally and freely elected our President. Unless the Electoral College does something miraculous and historical on December 19th, he will be sworn into office in January. It ain’t pretty, but it’s fair. It’s our system and it worked the way it’s supposed to. I am all for throwing out the Electoral College. Hillary Clinton won the popular vote and should be President. But until we get that straightened out, we are stuck with Trump as President. And yes, he is your President, whether you voted for him or not. He is every American’s President, to love or hate or feel neutral about. And his success or failure is OUR success or failure. So these people who say we need to do everything we can to make him fail? I think they have the wrong idea. That’s what the Republicans did to Obama for 8 years. Of course, they are the ones who failed, because Obama performed spectacularly! It’s a losing strategy. Regardless of our feelings for him, we should want the leader of our country to succeed, as long as he is succeeding at doing the right things. We want him to succeed in managing the economy and making wise decisions in foreign policy. Do we want him to succeed in building a wall around Mexico? Maybe not. I don’t know. I just don’t think we should go into this with the attitude of being automatically against everything he says and does. I’m sure we are going to disagree with a lot, but there may be room for compromise and we should take advantage of that. It’s probably just my Pollyanna voice coming out, trying to make everything seem alright when it’s really dark and dreadful, but I think we should try to stay positive and look for ways to strengthen our position. There were millions of voters dissatisfied with both parties.  We need to take back the Democratic Party and for leadership, I think we need not look any further than Senator Bernie Sanders, the man who probably ought to be President now if things had worked out differently.  Now is the time to be working at the grassroots level looking towards midterm elections in 2018 and unseating some Republicans in Congress. Hillary won the popular vote. That means this is a LIBERAL NATION. Soon the reality of the vote is going to sink in and Trump is going to start making decisions and taking actions and people are going to start regretting their vote. That’s the time to start talking up the issues with them, find out what they really care about, get involved in different causes. We need a strong, united Democratic party. The third party, protest voting is what killed us this time.The Democrats need new leadership and fresh, young blood, as well as loyal  yellow dogs like me. Meanwhile, the Republicans have their own regrouping to do. They have a President, but most of them didn’t support him, so that puts them in an awkward situation.  The GOP leadership has a real job on its hands. Will they support Trump in everything he wants to do? He has a Republican Congress, he could be very powerful, indeed. That remains to be seen. Will he make a mistake, commit an impeachable offense? Because you know the Democrats are going to be watching ever so closely. I think that’s what they are hoping for, to get rid of Trump and get to Pence, who will be easier to manage by both sides. Give America a little time to get used to a new President, and then we start all over again. Politics is a game that never really ends. Are you in, or out?

Trump’s America

I just watched the cursor blink for several minutes with that headline above it, willing it to disappear, wishing I could change it to something more joyful, more victorious. But I am a realist, and this is our reality now. Donald J. Trump will, barring any unforeseen  accidents or acts of God, become President of the United States of America on January 20, 2017. That is a cold, harsh fact , that I and tens of millions of Americans are struggling to accept today. Some are not accepting it. #NOTMYPRESIDENT has been seen all over Twitter and t-shirts and many have taken to the streets in protest. I have mainly just taken to my bed. I wasn’t sleeping well before the election and not that it’s over, I am still struggling, but am sleeping a little better so I am hitting the sack every chance I get. Not just to sleep, but just to get away from news and social media. I haven’t turned on the tv since before the election. I have been on Facebook, but I read a few posts, made a few posts, and left. Too depressing. Everyone is talking about the voters and their reactions and their feelings. I am wondering about Hillary Clinton, and her family and friends and staff. I read that everyone was weeping during her concession speech. Except for her, of course. I’m sure her tears came later. I hope they came because they needed to come. All that time, and work, and effort, and putting  herself in the public eye, and being constantly grilled by the media and being professional and pleasant while being constantly scrutinized and slandered and being promised that this was her time. The convention, and the debates. Oh, the debates, where she outshined her competition so brightly that no one doubted that she had this election in the bag. Sure, it might be close, but there was no way America was really,  SERIOUSLY going to elect TRUMP, the loud-mouthed, overbearing, belligerent, sexist, bigot. Right? But they DID. Nearly 60 million Americans. My faith in the American public is BLOWN, not that it was ever strong.  SIXTY MILLION PEOPLE voted for this man, who is openly racist, sexist, and xenophobic. Who doesn’t believe in climate change, doesn’t have a clue about foreign policy, doesn’t have a clue about anything, really, that doesn’t pertain to him or his companies or family. I bet Hillary cried. But I bet she cried more for America than for herself. Because she knows what a disaster has been initiated. In a little over two months, our nation is going to be at great risk, if not already. Our allies and our enemies have taken note of what has happened here, and we will no doubt be tested. Will our allies stand by us? That depends on what kind of relationship Trump forms with them, and who knows what that might be? He’s rude, arrogant and self-centered, so, we’ll see. All the plans Hillary had for her term in office….gone. Obamacare won’t get fixed. No communication between communities and law enforcement for better race relations and criminal justice reform. Certainly nothing in the area of climate change. No common sense gun regulation. No immigration reform. No, he will just be focusing on that wall around Mexico he promised and making us pay for it. Trying to punish women for miscarriages and abortions. Promoting private prisons for profit. Deporting peaceful law-abiding Muslims for being Muslim. Restart torturing prisoners at Guantanamo. That’s just his short list. He’s shown himself to be an impulsive thinker. Whatever mood strikes him each day may dictate his next move. And “dictate” is an apt word,  for he plans to act as a dictator. He has no idea of how government works, no concept of checks and balances. He just knows he’s the boss. He plans to rule over America with his tiny little fist. Unfortunately, he’s got another almost 60 million Americans that voted for Hillary that are very unhappy right not and are not heeding the calls for “unity” and “open mind”.  I, for one, am not going to join the #NOTMYPRESIDENT crowd. It was a democratic election. We all voted. He was elected. He’s the new President. I despise him, but he will be my President. I will be ashamed of him, but he will be my President. I will most likely write about his foibles and faux pas daily in my blog, but he will be my President! That’s right. I will openly embrace him as President Trump, because I am going to be following his every move and providing commentary here on my blog every day until one of us dies or he is impeached and do everything possible to make it go viral. I’m sure I’ll be just one of many, but I’m going to do my part. Why? First of all, I voted, and that gives me the right to complain. And secondly, I intend to show Trump fans just what they voted for. Rub their noses in it? Maybe, just a little. I’d rather they read my words than have highly unpleasant conversations in person. I am Southern, after all. I can handle confrontation, but I don’t like it. It’s so unladylike, and it makes me perspire. Heavens!  Is this the Christian thing to do? Well, most Republicans don’t even consider me a Christian, so that is a moot point, but as it turns out, I am a Christian (God knows, and that’s all that matters.) and I think God wants me to use the talent he gave me for putting words together to good use and I think keeping people informed of the doings of their dictator/president is a good thing in a free society. And I’ll be watching the doings of the followers of this dictator/president, too, and reporting on that. But more on that later. 

But back to Hillary. Poor, poor, Hillary. Yes, she will enjoy a wealthy, comfortable retirement. No need to pity her too much. She has Bill and Chelsea and grandchildren and time to relax or travel or do whatever she has always wanted to do besides be the most powerful woman in the world. But I grieve for what could have been. We will have a female president one day, but I wanted it to be her. I feel that she has earned it. I think she is almost overqualified for the job. But it is not to be. She is still my hero.

Let’s Go Crazy!

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life. Electric word, life. It means Forever, and that’s a mighty long time, but I’m here to tell U…there’s something else….The Afterworld. A world of never-ending happiness.U can always see the Sun, day or night. So when you call up that shrink in Beverly Hills. U know the one. Dr. Everything’ll be alright. Instead of asking how much of your time is left, ask how much of your mind . Because it looks like, things are much harder than in the Afterworld. This life, you’re on your own.”   Prince

Words of wisdom from the musical genius we lost too soon this year. Some of his music is pure sex but a lot of it is very spiritual and it speaks to me on a very deep level. U are missed, your Purple Highness. Even though I hated his use of “U” for You and other shortcuts. I forgave him. Because he was PRINCE!!!💜💜💜💜💜 Anyway, maybe he had the right idea. Sometimes you gotta go a little nuts in this life.Not psycho killer rampage nuts , but just a little crazy. Because this WORLD is crazy. Look around you. Look at this Presidential election we’re about to have. Everyone is on edge. Find a way to let off some steam before you completely blow your top. Embrace your own craziness. Learn to love it. It’s part of you.If you’re freaking out and don’t know what else to do, TURN THE MUSIC UP LOUD AND SING ALONG. And dance if you feel like it. Driving and singing along is especially good therapy. Whatever music does it for you. Your personal favorite artist…mine is John Mayer. Classic rock, 80s, 90s, country, hip-hop,Kenny G. Ok, maybe not Kenny G. Save him for your more intimate moments. Get your jam on!!! Caution: playing your favorite music loudly in your vehicle may cause you to drive faster and more aggressively and will not be accepted as an excuse by local law enforcement if you are pulled over. Trust me. I’ve tried. (“Excuse me, ma’am, you say the MUSIC made you drive faster? Uh-huh. Why don’t you go ahead and step out of the car for me, please, ma’am?”)  So keep your foot off the gas. But sing along! Do a little dance in your seat! Serenade people at stoplights! Live it up! If you’re, home, crank it up and put on a show for the neighbors, especially you apartment-dwellers like me with noisy neighbors. Give as good as you’ve been getting. Just make sure the music isn’t loud enough for the cops to hear outside in case they call and you’re home free. What can they do about it? NOTHING!! I like to put on headphones and sing along so all they get is my voice which you know sounds EVEN BETTER when I can’t hear myself!!! Hahahahaha!!! Crazy? You betcha! Let yourself go a little crazy and see if you don’t start to feel better. Lighten up, loosen up, let go and CHILL. OUT.  Tell yourself, none of this will matter in a hundred years. Because it won’t.Tell yourself, all of this is temporary. Because it is. Good or bad, it will all change. The only thing you have control over is YOU and how you react. There will be serious times that call for serious decisions. Until then, LET’S GO CRAZY!

 

Bipolar: The Real Deal

You know my last post, about being depressed but knowing that “the heart of life is good” and all that positive stuff I wrote? Forget all that BS. It has just gotten real up in here, up in HERE. By the way, this is the first blog I am writing from my phone because I do not have the strength or energy to sit at my desk. Props to WordPress for having a phone app. When we last talked I was depressed, mildly from the sound of it, but more than I let on.That was me putting on my brave face to the world. That was the me I wanted you to believe in . That’s me SOMETIMES. But now I am doing what is called rapid cycling. I am now in a manic episode. The main feature of this is insomnia. I have not slept in three days, despite a plethora of drug options. I am also agitated, anxious, and easily angered. Many experience “high” moods during a manic phase. I haven’t gotten there yet. Still hoping I might experience that but really what I need is to be back to center or “normal”, whatever that is. Not depressed and not manic. Centered. That is the goal, always. I don’t know what triggered this latest round of cycling. I suspect, but I can’t know for sure. But I think one trigger can be found in a blog I wrote called A Voice For Teresa, about discovering the suicide of a friend of a friend. That incident was unsettling to me and has stayed with me. Once a thing gets in my head, it just burrows deep inside there and makes a nest and calls itself at home. May that be a lesson to those  of you who are considering suicide. You will hurt not only every single person who loves you but also every single person who knows you and many people that know of you and a lot that hear about you. You have no idea how far your influence reaches in this life. So think about that, and choose to live. I am choosing to live even though I feel godforsaken awful right now because I know this is all just temporary. Fluctuations in my hormones come and go. Depressions and manic episodes come like seasons and they stay a little while and they go. Better times come around too and are worth waiting for. There I go getting all positive again. I’ll be honest. I’m not in a good place right now. That Pollyanna voice just takes over somehow when things get dark. I’m trying to tell you what it’s really like. People have the idea, partially from me that being manic is party time. It’s FUN. Well, occasionally, it can be, truth be told. Your spirits are in high gear and your sense of humor is sharp and you feel like the life of the party. Those moments do happen. And yes, it’s true, it can increase your sex drive, making you a lot friendlier than usual. But these are only part of the story. As I described before, agitated, anxious, ANGRY. Anger is the one trait I have to be cautious about when I am in manic mode. Most people who know me will tell you that I am a an extremely laid-back individual but that I do have a temper deep inside somewhere. When I’m manic, that temper sizzles to the surface in seconds at the slightest hint of a provocation. It doesn’t even take that much. I can sit and stew over something too long and suddenly, I’m ANGRY. Over something that happened days, weeks, months, or years earlier. And when I begin to brood over something or someone, I believe God leaves me to it. “You’re on your own , He says. “I want no part of this.” And so I am alone with my evil anger which, in His absence, turns to hatred, and I fill up with this venom. The anger happens during depression too, but is not as likely to rise to the surface. This is what I fear. My anger showing itself. Being out of control.Self control is the key. Anger is not, in itself , an evil thing. Sometimes it is appropriate and righteous to be angry. But it must meet those guidelines and be controlled to be acceptable in our society. So what do I do with my anger? How do I vent? The same way I deal with everything else: I write about it. Not in a blog. Some things are not meant for public viewing. Trust me. At least not yet. I am grateful to God for the gift of being able to express myself in words. Otherwise, I might explode one day and kill you all. Haha! Just a little mental health humor. Lighten up. I couldn’t possibly get to you ALL, could I? Of course not. So stop worrying. While I am quite ill, I’m relatively harmless. I have very few thoughts about harming other people. Those thoughts are always specific and directed towards people in my past whom I no longer have contact with. And I’m too chicken to harm myself. I faint at the sight of blood. I almost fainted from typing that.

Since I started this blog I have managed to get a little sleep and feel a little better. I think I am still manic. I will find out tonight when I go out for “girls night” with some friends. I’m going to try to just be myself but I may get silly and laugh too loud and talk too much. No harm done . They will forgive me. I’ll drive like a maniac there and back, willing myself to drive slowly and failing. I’ll come home to my husband waiting up for me to see what kind of mood I’m in. If he’s lucky I will still be silly and funny and no one will have made me mad all night. ❤