My cup is empty

I am lost and empty. Why is my life always much more sad and empty than happy and full? What is missing? What can I do differently? 

I have been very very sick the last three weeks, but to be honest, I have not felt like myself in over 6 months. I keep doing the math, adding up the symptoms, trying to figure out if its depression, if its extended withdrawal from the pain pills, if I have some disorder completely unrelated to anything I already know of. What is WRONG with me? Where has my HAPPY gone? I don't look forward to anything other than sleeping. I know that I have replaced my other addictions with an over indulgence in sleep, but it is the only way I get any relief from the suffering I feel every day. I do not want pity. I am not feeling sorry for myself. I just want hardcore answers. I have had antibiotic resistant pneumonia and it has kept me in bed for about 3 weeks. I am sooooo weak. I cannot eat much and I have lost about 16 lbs in the last 2 weeks. I am trying ensure and gatoraid, but even those go down pretty rough. My house is a dirty NIGHTMARE. I want to cry when I get out of bed and look around. I never realized how much I was the glue that kept this house going. Now I am just the crazy glue that is stuck in bed all day.

I am scared of Dr.'s right now. I told Destin's social worker how they gave me dilaudid in the ER while I was on the suboxone and he said it could have killed me. I think it is pretty scary that they put people on medications and Dr.'s don't do their research and get familiar with what is new. I got so upset that I wanted to go off of all of my medications, but that had horrible results. I was so anxious over the last few days that I was ready to be committed to the psych hospital. I am not going to lie, ending my suffering through suicide crossed my mind more than once. It is sooooo unbearable when your mind is not working right and when it has unnatural thoughts that aren't real, but seem real at the time. I did not go back on the suboxone, but I did resume the depakote, buspar, and tegratol. I guess I need to go off of them slower. 

I had a Dr's appt. Thursday and I had a half hour long panic attack leading up to the appt., believing that if I left the house I was going to die. I made myself go because I hoped she could help me. She supports me being off of the suboxone and she wants to lower my other medications slowly. I have always hated the 3-6 week turnover for the results of psych medications, and still do. How the hell do they expect you to get through it? 

On a different note, Destin (who is now 14 if I forgot to mention it) is having some ups and downs. he messed up pretty bad a while ago. Him and a friend tried some coke and ended up trying to shoplift a pocket knife. He has some fines and a class to pay for, and it will be him that pays for it. He has been in the day treatment program since January and for the first time that I can remember, all of his grades are C and above. He got A's in gym and life skills!!! All of his ua's have been clean for over a month and he earns a $40 gift card for every clean ua. (5 a week) He will be trading those to me for fine money to cover his shoplifting and warrant.

I did not expect my life to be where and how it is right now. This is by far the hardest trial I have ever ever been through. Bryson has been out of work since Jan. 10th and Medicaid still hasn't come through! He needs surgery to get back to work and we are hurting for money and food so bad. It costs almost $200 a mos just for Bryson to see the Dr. and get his meds for his back. The kids are not understanding that there just ISN'T ANY MONEY. 

Today I am thankful that despite mine and Bryson's illness and pain, we have 3 healthy children. I am thankful for the sun and that I have been out of bed a little longer every day. I am thankful that I have not given up in spite of hoe painful life has become. I am also thankful that my grandpa has come to see me in my dreams almost every night. It feels like I get a second chance to see him and it means so much.

So Much To Unlearn

I am sitting here as if I am sitting across the table from an old friend. "So, Blog, we meet again!" "Oh, my, I am happy to see you too!"

It has been quite some time since I have been here. I have missed it so much. At one time, this was one of the reasons I got up every day, but back then it was to read over the night before's drunken post and see if I had any comments. Most of my interacting back then was done at a bar or over a bottle (either of milk for my young Victorya or of booze for me) or over the internet. What has changed? I haven't been interacting over any bottles for almost 2 years now! (YAY!) I haven't been interacting online or in life much though.

I have to make my way up out of the darkness somehow. I have made many tries at re-emerging through my blog since my sobriety from alcohol, and again after getting off the pain pills. I guess it just wasn't yet my season to bloom. Is this my season? I don't know. The thing is, I don't know what led me down the path of binge drinking and partying. Maybe it wasn't anything that led me, but nothing leading me away from it? I have to wonder what makes me different than most 33 year olds?

Today, as I reflect on my past, I see a lot of pain. I realize that I was not taught to brush my teeth every day. I was not taught what a good work ethic was. I was never strong in my religion. No one told me how to "find a good man." No one taught me to eat well or exercise! I was comforted by food as a child and when I turned to alcohol at 13 and it became my new source of comfort, I think it came as a welcome reprieve from the tiring work of raising a child that was bestowed upon my poor clueless grandpa.

Today, as I look to my future, I realize I have a long ways to go, but I have overcome some pretty big obstacles. I have 3 beautiful children that I am proud of, and in spite of our hardships, we have made it through so much. I am maintaining my sobriety! October 14 is my clean day!

Something else amazing has happened. I have come off my suboxone. I did it all by myself after a major mess-up by the ER. They gave me dilaudid when I was seen for chest pain last week (which turned out to be pnuemonia). I am not supposed to have narcotics while on suboxone. As I did some research on the internet about it, I found out some very scary things about suboxone that no one ever told me when I agreed to take it... Like that it renders virtually all pain medication useless, and that in most cases it even makes general anesthesia ineffective!!! I am sorry, but I am not taking any chances of having to face a surgery with NO pain relief, just to avoid some withdrawals... and OH are they horrible. I am on day 5 now and just barely starting to see the light from the suffering they caused, but even more important, my head is clearing and my will to LIVE is coming back. After 5 months of intense anxiety and depression that have made me a recluse, I am starting to look for ways I can actively participate in my recovery. Coming off all substances was one part of my journey- a hard one, but now there is the business of unlearning all of the bad habits that lead up to the substance abuse and supported it. That's 20 years worth of unlearning!

I better get busy, because I have so much to unlearn!

Update: Detox and Suboxone

Yes you read that right and I am talking about myself! The fading ups and the lingering dreaded downs of the pain pills consumed me and I had to ask for help. I went to a mental hospital- the one that my son has been to- and they sent me to the ER to get medically cleared with the assumption I was returning. That didn't happen. it was determined that I needed a medical detox from the pain pills, so off to a detox program I was sent. I thank God it was a nice one and they kept me pretty comfortable. I was started on subutex 24 hours after my last dose of narcotics and for 3 days they checked my vitals and asked a lot of other quesions, which determined if I was in need of more subutex. After 10 days, I was discharged on suboxone. (Subutex has only  the active ingredient of suboxone, minus the extra one that deters abuse.) I could not go on to the inpatient mental hospital like I wanted because they cannot facilitate the suboxone.

I have a LOT that I want to share about my experience with all of this. Mainly my anxiety is sky high and it is preventing me from taking an active part in a lot of things, but it is particularly stunting my recovery. I struggle with reality. I have moments where I feel like I am in a dream, sometimes it is a bad dream that I just wish would end. I don't know how I am supposed to be advocating for my self when I can barely get out of bed some days. My son is a whole 'nother story. He is only about 2 weeks clean (he says) and I havent been able to get ua's for him started. Funny how he has needed them and I have been asking for them for MONTHS, but I get out of the hospital and I am now labeled an addict, my counselor drops me and puts me in the program Destin has been in and I get ua's ordered immediately. Wonder what their reasoning is in those priorities?

My substance abuse group is such a JOY. There are 4 other girls. 3 are around 25 and have lost their kids to social services or their parents, and are court ordered to be there, and yet they are STILL in there talking about their latest relapse and their still using boyfriends that are an obstacle to them ever getting their kids back. It makes me sick. Then there is the 34 year old stripper. Now she is really an inspiration. She sleeps all day while she puts her 3 year old in front of the TV, and then finds the energy to go to a hotel wide Halloween party where she proceeds to "do lines (of coke)  in every room and get loaded until four in the morning."

So my counselor at the mental health center that I have been seeing for almost 6 months has dropped me saying that I am an addict in need of an addictions counselor, but they dont have an individual one so I am stuck in the above mentioned group for 12 weeks and I am supposed to drop my private psychiatrist and use their Dr., but if I miss 3 groups, I get kicked out of not only the substance abuse program (the wonderful group), then I also lose their Dr. (who would be my suboxone provider), and I lose access to any mental health meds or services. Way to dehumanize me and give me lots of hope about the future. Just when i decide to make a positive change in my life, they label me and take away my privalages as a mental health client because I am now a substance abuse client.

My private psych., who by no small miracle is a suboxone provider, has already given me my 1st prescription and although he recommended some form of group therapy, offered to bill the usually cash only suboxone visits to my insurance and said if the group doesnt work out, he can help get me some one on one intensive therapy with an addictions counselor. As I am writing this out, it makes me wonder why there was ever any debate as to which route I should go. So even though it takes me some balls of steel to go to group, it is going to take those same balls to quit (I don't like being labeled a quitter, especially at a fragile time like this) and walk away from the mental health clinic. I have not been treated very well even before going to their hospital and getting over medicated back in August, so in my heart I know its the right thing to do. My anxiety on the other hand makes me afraid of the permanency of it all, and my fear of driving and appointments makes it hard to instead commit to the private practice that is further away.

I have days where I am completely frozen by anxiety and fear. It was my Birthday yesterday and I was literally stuck in my chair for hours, sweating and freaking out. I couldn't even go to my ceramics class. I don't  know if this is extended withdrawals or if it is suboxone side effects, which are similar. I see my, MY, Dr. on the 10th and will be talking about my dosing, my debilitating anxiety, as well as the program at the mental health center.

There is so much going on and I wish I could get it all out, but I am lucky for the ability to sit here now and say this much. My reality has changed so much without the pain pills and the label of "addict" feels so harsh. When I was on meth, it was different. I chose an illegal substance and I continued to abuse it. This time a Dr. prescribed me opiates and when I became dependent and wanted off, I was labeled "addict."  Because of my meth addiction, I know there will always be an addict in me, but I don't think this time was the same and I think I should be respected for realizing I had a problem with the pills I was being prescribed and getting off of them. Maybe its the suboxone that says, "addict."

I have to take one day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time. I feel so raw and and I desperately need the healing to begin. I must believe that it will get better so that I have a reason to walk in these unbearable shoes.

Scraping Up Some Hope

I feel hopeless today. It is a horrible day. Well I feel horrible anyway. It should be a great day. I am taking Victorya to celebrate her upcoming 4th birthday at the Circus! Yay!! WEE!!! THE CIRCUS! ...nope not exactly. I am overwhelmed by so much internal chaos and anxiety, and I feel very depressed. I couldn't get up with Victorya early this morning. I kept her in bed with me watching cartoons until we fell back asleep and slept in until 10:30. I made it to the store because we had no food and my SIL needed to trade foodstamps for cash because they are living in a hotel and couldn't pay the room. I remember being in that predicament. It was so horrible and hard to get out of. I should be able to feel some relief that I am not there any more, right? 

I don't know what I feel. I feel like I am sinking. I feel like a failure. I don't know the black and white of my condition anymore. I guess that is what medicated bi-polar looks like. Everything's grey because the medications take away the black and white. At least I think that's how its supposed to work. I feel like I have only lost my mania and I am still incredibly depressed. I guess I am in the black hole of depression, no grey, no white. I am trying so hard to understand how to get out. I need help, but the things I am doing aren't helping. Meds aren't helping. Counseling isn't helping. I missed my counseling appointment this week because some drama with my daughter came up, and I got side tracked and forgot the appointment. Tells you how stable I am.

There is a recurrent theme that Destin's and my counselor keep insisting on : Sleep, diet, and exercise are key in recovering from anything. I dont feel like eating or exercising and all I want to do is sleep. I never feel rested. I never have energy. I am still in mourning for being manic. I find myself praying before bed that I could just have one good manic phase to help me get everything done that I am behind on. I was superwoman and could handle everything when I was manic. Now I can barely make it to the computer. 

Here are the things I am still getting done, although a little slow/late sometimes: Getting Victorya to school, keeping house picked up, but not as clean as usual, making dinner and cleaning up the kitchen after words (kids do dishes that fit in dishwasher), mine and Bryson's, and Victorya's laundry (slow, last minute), getting kids to all of their appointments, paying the bills. The problem is, I am struggling to get all of those things done. Each one is like facing up to my worst fear. Its like going on stage. I have panic build up and I sit paralyzed, sometimes until the last minute when I have to push myself, and then it takes all I have to get up and go. I feel panic when I am driving, when I am waiting in a waiting room, or sometimes for no reason at all and sometimes I can't breathe and it builds and builds until I cry. I have told both my Psychiatrist and my counselor and I get a lot more sympathy than I do solutions. I think Bryson is runing out of sympathy. He never had any solutions. The more I look at this, the more scared I get, as I realize I am probably not going to come out of this without a lot more agony. I am sick right now, yet somehow I need to be my own advocate and I have to fight to come out of this. I also need to fight because my kids need me. Destin has reported suicidal feelings all week. He has been falling asleep in class and the teachers are confused and don't know if its still his concussion or depression or? He needs an advocate too. Mentall illness isn't understood or accepted the way physical illness is. Part of my daily fears is that someone who is involved in our lives (counselor, school personnel, Dr.) is going to find me unfit to be taking care of the kids and is going to call social services. I have to get well. I have to, but I don't know how. I refuse to go down without a fight. I will keep taking what energy I have to scrape up some hope.

Just Some Blog Business

I have been doing some thinking today about this blog and about what should go here. I started this initially because I wanted to share my recovery from my addiction to meth and needed a place where I could be open and honest about my mistakes. My bipolar has always been a present theme because, well... because I am bipolar! I kind of fell into the community of parents of addicts and nestled in for a nice stay. Much like now, I felt in the middle because I was both an addict in recovery (from meth at that time), and a parent, so I could relate on different levels. Now there are two more levels because my son is stepping in the muddy waters of drug use and he has also been diagnosed bipolar I.

I have many different followers, from all walks of life, and here for many different reasons. Rather than try to send people in different compartmentalized directions by separating this blog into the many different areas of my life, I have decided to keep it the way it is.  The main issues still being addiction, recovery, and mental illness, but shadowed by events in my day to day life. I will keep my other blog, Acute Verbal Sabbatical going, and its purpose will be more for random thoughts, information sharing, or my sometimes much needed babbling and venting about my moods and my life. Feel free to follow both or to just stay put right here! I will keep My Sacred Insanity more focused on mine and my son's Bipolar and addiction and recovery issues. I must say, I hope I don't have to revisit addiction in Destin's life, but I know the hand he has been dealt and so I am prepared for anything, and most importantly I know I can find support here, so I think its important that I keep it the way it is.

He is using again! Now what????

I am devastated and concerned. Destin has admitted he is smoking weed again. I am sure that is the reason for his depression. Best case scenario he has switched to a depressed state of his bipolar and the marijuana is making it worse. What can I do? I want to lock him up and never let him out, but I know I can't do that. I am so torn up inside. I know what it feels like to be mentally ill and to not understand mood changes and to want to take something or use something that fixes it. He says smoking weed makes him feel "normal" when nothing else does. He says he is afraid of a med change. I don't know what more I can do for him. He sees a psychiatrist for his meds. He sees a therapist weekly. He has been seeing a substance abuse counselor and passed his last UA. I just had a feeling that he might have smoked so I asked him if he was going to pass his next UA and he told me no.

Since we had all the openness going on, I figured I would ask Aliviya if she had used at all and she said YES! OMG! So I have 2 kids that are using marijuana. I asked them which kids have it and they are doing it with and they said pretty much everyone they hang out with. Do I start calling parents? Do I ground them from all of these kids. I know if they are determined to do it, they will find a way. I have to reach them on a different level where they want to make better decisions. I am at a loss. I can only have a say until they are 18 and it is especially hard in our area because it is legal for medicinal use so kids have easy access because a lot of parents are licensed users and there are as many dispensaries as there are liquor stores.

I sat them both down and laid out my thoughts on it all, which went something like this:  I am not ok with it. I will never condone or allow it. I do not want to ever see you high or doing it.You are not to have any type of drug or paraphernalia in the house. If I do find it on you or in your rooms I WILL report it to the community police officer. I will not take any responsibility for any trouble you get into related to its use. You are putting yourselves and your 3 year old sister at risk of social services taking action against our family if there are drugs found in this house, so I will completely comply with any social worker or police officer that wants to take action against YOU for YOUR poor choice. I will not pay court fines. If you steal anything (to pay for drugs?) I will report you. If it escalates to probation or juvenile hall, I will have no sympathy and I will not pay for any costs and I will not put any money on your books or pay to get you out.

To all you parents out there that didn't see the signs when your kids were younger, what would you have done if you DID see signs? What else can I do?

What Do I Do?

I want answers that I am going to have to get for myself: being a parent is really hard.

What do I do? I am asking myself and my husband that all the time. Do I play endless taxi? Do I give them $? Do I let them spend the night? Have friends spend the night here? Go to the mall? Skate City? Take a nap? Wait to do homework or chores until later? Get on facebook or youtube? Hang out?

My anxiety and panic have crept into all of my once strong parenting nooks and crannies and have me questioning EVERYTHING. I want to raise strong, independent, resilient, creative, and humble children. I know that if I give them everything they want, I am taking so much away from their learning, but somehow I still get left with so much guilt.

Right now with Destin I feel like my decisions are so life or death, literally. He has been experiencing more depression than usual and was pulled out of class on Friday because he seemed "down." Further conversation with the teacher revealed he has been having some suicidal ideation and thoughts of worthlessness. We found out earlier in the week that his smoking cigarettes is causing his red blood cell count to be elevated and his blood is thicker than normal, putting him at greater risk for heart attack, stroke, or blood clots. This was very distressing information for him- as well it should be- he is only 13! Some of his thinking was: If I am going to be sitting around waiting to have a heart attack, maybe I should just kill myself so that I know when its going to happen instead of being in fear of death all of the time.

Proof to me that his mind is not mature enough to be processing some of the choices he is making and it makes me very afraid for him. I am afraid that at this low time in his life, that either the unimaginable worst could happen; he could succumb to his depression and take his life, or he could think life is already as low as it can get, why not try A,B, or C substance and see if it makes me feel better and end up abusing a substance to make him feel better.

So now I am walking around on eggshells, afraid for him and unsure how to help. I am checking in with him, and on him frequently. I am trying to balance his time with friends and with us, and reassuring him he is very loved and needed and that we are here for him while he works on feeling better. I am asking some questions about what he is up to, but not making any judgmental comments. Most of all I am just worried ALL of the time and afraid I could say or do the wrong thing that could make his situation worse.

Having all of these intense feelings during such a hard time for the family is really hard on me, especially because I have my own symptoms of panic and instability. I also have an 11 year old daughter who is interested in boys and is testing every boundary there is, and a busy 3 year old that both need my time, attention, good judgement, and parenting. Oh how I wish I had a parent or grandparent to pick up the phone and call and ask for help. Instead I just keep finding myself asking, "What do I do?'

Take THAT!

More pills! Sigh! I went to the Dr. today and I think he is just as confused as I am as to what is causing my anxiety. I must admit I am thankful he only makes minor adjustments or little tweaks of my meds at a time rather than changing the whole regimen at once. I did officially quit the Nurse practitioner that only spent 5 minutes with me. She was very rude when the subject of me seeing another Dr. came up and it just made me feel like I was making the right choice. Soooo at least I only have one cook in the kitchen right now.

This time he upped the Lyrica (for pain and anxiety), added a small dose (5mg) of buspar in the morning in addition to the night time dose (20mg), and I can take risperedol (sp?) as needed for the panic attacks.
I am still on 80 mg extended release morphine a day as well as 5mg endocet 3 times a day. I am finally free of physical pain, which is a miracle in itself, but I have to jump through hoops to go to the clinic in the city and get my meds. I have to find and pay for parking in a busy area off the highway and I have to have a written prescription every month. The Dr doesn't schedule more than 3 weeks out so I cant make my next apt while I am there. I have to call at 3 weeks out and then she only has apts available 5 weeks later. So then at the last minute (like I am now when I am one day from running out) I have to call and leave a message for her to write a script for the time period until I have my appointment. I also have to do ua's to show I am not using anything illegal and that I am taking my pain pills and not selling them. This all may sound reasonable to the average person, but for someone who now has panic about leaving the house alone, driving, waiting in waiting rooms, and is extremely paranoid of a opiate withdrawal from the meds I have to take, it feels like a 3 ring circus.

I hate to say it, but it is so much more convenient to have my friend come over and pay for enough pain pills to last until I get paid again, or go to the liquor store. Staying sober is hard work. I do it because I dont want to lose my kids. I do it because I want to believe there is a such thing as happy and content for a bipolar former addict. I do it because I want to be the best mom I can be and I want my kids to have a chance at a sober happy content life.

I need someone that knows its possible and can help me get there.

My support group points out repetitively that I need support, but that has always been what I have been lacking. This time of year is a big harsh beginning of seemingly endless death anniversary dates followed by lonely Holidays, where I yearn for parents or grandparents or aunts or uncles or cousins or someone, someone who is above me. I am not ready in age or wisdom to bear the title of the oldest elder at every family function.

This turned into more of a rant than an update, but my favorite words lately are "it is what it is." It helps me to be able to put a voice to my overwhelming feelings.

Why My Insanity is Sacred....

DUN DUN DUN!!!!! Well it is the title of my blog and perhaps a reader or two has found themselves wondering "What the HELL is she talking about?"

I do not know how to live in "normal." Every time I have attempted to medicate my bipolar illness, it has become such a huge failure that I go running back to the safe and familiar arms of my insanity. My insanity is having exciting manic phases where I have limitless energy and I accomplish some of the goals I set for myself. It is self medicating with something that enhances my mood and makes life "fun." I have successfully self medicated with meth and almost ruined my life. Won't try that again. I have self medicated with alcohol and don't remember the better part of the nights of two years OR writing the first half of this blog. It was fun, but I won't try that again. I abused my pain pill prescriptions for the last year and found myself living happily in the warm and fuzzy buzz of narcotics.... oh wait, but I spent money I didn't have to buy extra pills, shared them with Bryson, and went to the hospital when I was withdrawing from them. Nope that isn't the life for me.

So what AM I doing right now you may wonder? I am taking my meds as prescribed. I feel like shit. I have no mania and I am living in this incredibly depressed state filled with fear and anxiety. I have no high or buzz to look forward to, not even my natural manic one. Everything is so incredibly blah that I have extreme anxiety that this could really be it for me. Life that is.... you know like a realization, "Wait, what? THIS is IT?"

I am going through every mental health patient's favorite part- finding the right diagnosis/cocktail. Since going into the hospital because I was suicidal, because a Dr. gave me a rather large prescription for narcotics without anyone to follow up with, I have been shuffled around and my meds changed and added, and added, and added.... HELLO I am a person with a family and all of your medications have FUCKED ME UP. I cant sleep at night because I am worried about everything. I only want to sleep all day because I am paralyzed with fear and anxiety. Some of you may remember when my son's anxiety started about a year ago, how I could not understand anxiety, but I was his number one advocate? OH HOW I UNDERSTAND NOW! I have near panic attacks all day long. I keep telling the Drs. (I am seeing two, through two different agencies and trying to figure out which one, if any, is trying to really help me) that I don't feel ok. The one just keeps upping my dose. I had to make a choice to go off of several medications because my panic was so bad I couldn't function and she wouldn't listen to me. She spends five minutes with me and sends me home with an array of side effects, err I mean more medications.

To all of you parents of addicts that know there is a mental health diagnosis for your child- I hope I can be the voice for at least one child out there that is suffering through this hell. It is not easy. I am going to tell you something very important though... I keep working on my sobriety because there is no one enabling my addiction. You would probably be reading the words of a former me (say 7+ years ago) who had not gotten it yet and was still using, except all of my enabling ran out.

The current me is still living in an emotional hell. I stopped self medicating and started going to the Dr. to set a good example for my son. Mom takes her meds like a good girl.... hoping he would see that is the right thing to do, as opposed to what he was already starting to do (self medicate with marijuana) and what has happened? He has watched me fall apart and become a panicking, suicidal, dysfunctional, mess. Never on my worst unmedicated day, have I felt as bad as I have these last few months. It is a total reproduction of what it felt like 10 years ago when I tried to get properly medicated. What if psychiatric medications are not for everyone? They now know that certain meds make bipolar people suicidal.... what if so many more deaths are a result of improper medication, but because the person had a mental health diagnosis, their death is attributed to their condition?

So does anyone want to venture to guess what I am thinking right now? I will save you from thinking on it too long. I want to go off all of these meds and go back to at least knowing what I feel is "real" and is "me," but this time without any form of self medicating. Can anyone tell me how that might be possible?

Introducing: Hopelessness and Despair

I am at an all time low and it feels like my only 2 companions lately are hopelessness and despair. I do not know how I am supposed to make it out of this place. It is so up and down. When it is down it feels like it will never be better again and when it is up, it feels like it can never go so low again. The problem is that it hasn't been going up and the anxiety, worry, and even panic, are wearing me so thin. I am getting through the bare minimums of the day, but I constantly have my hopelessness and despair with me. What if I could just leave them behind somewhere? Set them down like a briefcase with a bomb in it, and leave it behind me.

This is going to take some serious determination to get through. I can't lie, giving up seems like an option and I hate that feeling. I know there has to be a way to get better. I just have to take things one day at a time. For this moment, at least I was able to blog a little. It was hard and I feel very shaky and scared, but it means I made it through one more moment.

Bipolar- where it all begins, over and over and over again

Some days I am up, some days I am down. Some moments I am up, some moments I am down. I think we can all say that at some times. What makes it so different for someone who is bipolar? I am asking myself this question, but I am working harder on the answer. Some things that I know: Addiction loves mental illness. The wrong meds make the wrong addiction that much more appealing. Self medicating takes practice, and damn am I good at it. Proper medication takes practice and I am not at all good at it. I am just as afraid of success as I am failure, perhaps even more so. I have misconceptions (ideas that I create), misperceptions (ideas I perceive to be true, that are not), and the truth. I have been living in a place filled with more of the first two. I have to learn to let the end fit the means.

So those are all pretty random, but can you tell I have been working on how to save my life? Desperate times call for desperate measures. When existing is first and last on your list, it has a way of taking up the whole list.
I am going to take a much needed step back from all of the hopeless negative thoughts that I have been berating myself with, and start by accepting who I am today. I am going to work on a couple coping skills for when the negative intrusive thoughts come, some of which include taking my medication, relaxing, or distracting myself. I am going to focus on the things I am still capable of instead of the things I am not, and build on those, slowly and only a few at a time. I am expecting to conquer my illness over night instead of learning the proper ways to  LIVE with it.

Some of the difficulties I am fighting with are: my ability to stay positive, my ability to cope through some very normal life situations, my pain level, and differentiating what (positive and negative) is really me and what is really my medication (my least favorite part of being bipolar), as well as some negativity towards myself about my abilities to contribute towards my family. I am not used to being the taken care of one, and my family isnt used to the caring for mom roles.

I must admit, being an advocate for my family is much easier, and speaking the truths about my illness is much easier when I perceive myself as well and don't have to admit to my current struggles. That is- past tense bipolar is a lot easier than present tense.

I would like to share a story.... it is representative of the quality of mental health care as well as how taboo it is, even in the mental health field.

About 6 weeks ago I got a call about my then upcoming mental health evaluation. I had waited over 3 months for this appointment and suffered a hospitalization in the mean time. It seems there had been a staff member quit, and my soon to be Dr. had to do fill-ins and they were bringing in a temporary Dr. to do my evaluation. I was so thrilled to know that my intake was going to turn into some notes passed on to my actual caretaker.
During the course of the interview I was more worried about my other health problem, my back pain. After some interaction with my actual Dr., it was to my surprise and relief that this fill in Dr. was going to use the super secret, off the record rx pads to give me my normal pain meds. After all, it was his concern that an opiate withdrawal would only complicate things, and I happened to agree.

We were discussing all of the ways my bipolar illness was affecting my life.... all of the usual, like my current and past medications, side effects, current signs and symptoms, and side effects. I started out a sentence like this, "I have realized that managing my illness through self medication isn't working for me...." The Dr. looked over his paper with serious concern and a degree of shock and said, "Oh my God, that's terrible that you have been sick, what is wrong?" I was experiencing my own degree of shock. "I am bipolar," I replied. The Dr. took a minute to even realize what had been said. He tried back stepping and then apologizing, but I found some serious irony that a "Dr." who's degree is in psychiatry, would fail to recognize, especially during an "exam" of a "patient" that being bipolar could be accurately represented by the word "illness." When we think of illness, we do think of a physical manifestation of some sort. I am used to it in the general population, really I am, but for the Dr.? This is why it is so important to raise awareness and educate people about mental illness. Perhaps that is why it is so hard to ask for help, because it is so hard to acknowledge, even for a Dr.

Get it all out.... Am I a Failure?

I am still having such a hard time getting through every damn day. Hell some minutes are unbearable. What IS going on? I have never felt this bad before over such an extended period of time. I KNOW I have had better times. I KNOW I have felt joy in my life. Why not now?

I have intruding thoughts of failure ALL the time. I am 2 damn classes away from my degree, yet I can't believe that I can possibly get it. WHY WHY WHY? Its like I am at war with myself constantly. Is this illness, is this insecurity, or is this imagined? When failure seems inevitable is it permissible to step down and wait until I am well? I don't even feel like I can ask for help. Who would I even ask if I could. This is just so damn hard. hard hard hard.

I need to be doing constructive things, but I can barely do functional things. I build up all these thoughts and then I get to my Dr. and try to find answers and all I get are more pills. Even better, I get different Dr's with complete different opinions and I don't know how to know who to trust. I am trusting them with my life after all, but half the time my life feels so worthless and I feel so hopeless.

I cant even write anymore, no one is listening and I am tired of crying. Time to go and try to save my life.

Its a New Day

It is a new day with new challenges. I am getting better at facing each day... I think. I have some sense of normalcy with taking classes, but also a sense of being overwhelmed. Life is such a roller coaster, but I am learning that after every uphill there is always a downhill, and it will be that way until I take my last breath. It will never be just uphill.

I really should be here everyday, sharing my thoughts, relating to others, but sometimes I feel like what I say doesn't matter. Don't confuse my thoughts with a need for affirmations... I just feel like this blog has lost its importance and so I must remind myself to do it anyway for myself.

I have been thinking about writing in general lately and about how much I still want to write a book. It is another thing I need to do for myself. I get inspired easily, but I lose my motivation just as easily. I am good at ideas, not so good at following through. I haven't even finished my 30 day challenge that I started, oh, back in June I think?

I guess it shows that I have been questioning myself a lot. This new anxiety feeling that has been happening has been paralyzing at times. My Dr. insists its a medication reaction, and I sure hope so because it is HORRIBLE. I have actually wished death on myself when it was at its worst and had to go to sleep to get through it. I wonder if I am a worthwhile parent, partner, or even person. It is that bad.

Today is a new day and I am not feeling anxious so I am going to enjoy this moment, because no life is worth succumbing to feelings of hopelessness.

Where I am at today....

I am sad and mad and my fight or flight is always raring to go. I have opinions directed at me from every which direction, either from what is said or unsaid. I am in the middle of trying to find quality care for my health, both physical and mental, and I feel like I am self diagnosing because I can't find a Dr. who can take some actual time and do their job.

Some people know, others don't, but both me and my son were in mental hospitals within about the last 30 days. I had only been out for 2 days before he went in. Is it because of life issues or medication issues, or both? It feels like only I am asking that question. I don't feel good and I am not sure why. I have lots of guesses.

I had an appointment with a counselor today who is here for "family preservation." He is a "Love and Logic" instructor as well, and I felt so uneasy after the appointment. I felt judged. He encouraged me to get a lock on my 3 year old's door for when she isn't listening. During the conversation all of his theory made sense and I was going along with the idea and then when I discussed it with my husband, it seemed so highly inappropriate. I don't want parenting classes right now and now I don't know if I can change my mind about it all.

I'm highly overwhelmed and am scared that if I keep pushing myself, I am going to push myself back into the hospital. How did things get like this? I see everything through the nauseating fuzz of a disgusting little pill, one that is punching holes in my life and my head. One that gives me back physical mobility, but creates chaos everywhere else. I can't even find a Dr. who I can discuss it with. They will prescribe them, but won't talk about them. Ironic, no? I have so many appointments for every little area of my life and I move on to the next one, hoping it will be the one with some answers to all of my questions, and instead I get answers to questions that I didn't even have or more  pills that I can't live with and I can't live without. I just want this madness to truly end.

I need an Intervention!

Those are the words that most friends and families would love to hear from the person in their life who has an addiction problem. Those are the words I should have said 5 years ago. The sad thing is, there was no one who cared enough to implement that kind of help.

I watch the show "Intervention" because it helps remind me of the place I was when we were using, BUT I have to admit I feel a lot of grief to see these people enveloped with all kinds of support- some love- some enabling, but support nevertheless. The kind of friends and family we had were partners in crime as opposed to the stable, loving, providing families I see on the show.

There were some people who went downhill just as bad and fast as we did, some worse. We had parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends all use with us, but when we started going downhill and some were able to stop, we were only isolated and judged. No one reached out, and the few times I made a dramatic decision to reach out to the police or to someone in Bryson's family, the reactions were detrimental. The police didn't care and the family members blamed us for making things bad for them in the course of them helping us. I won't go into those details because they are too painful.

Even when we hit rock bottom and were in a hotel, staying clean and trying to recover, we were still judged and treated like we were worthless. We didn't even get as bad as some of the people on the show. We never stole from family and despite our addiction, we were always helping the addicts worse off than us.

I am proud of myself to say that we saved ourselves with some help from social services, but I still mourn the type of support that some people have and take for granted. I wish I had a role model that was close by, a parent that I could live with when times are hard, or just go over for dinner. I miss my grandpa, and mom, and my grandma soooo much.

Relapse has crossed my mind more lately than ever, but I know there is no one to save us from ourselves. I think of Uncle P who is going to be in prison for a while because of his relapse. I think of what my kids need in me and to be honest its hard because I miss the super energy I had to do things, but I remember how worthless I was when I was coming down. I remember the Halloween I stayed home because I was dope sick. I remember sleeping for 2 days and nights while my brother watched the kids, and waking up thinking it had only been one night. I remember the kids telling me that they were going to call 911 cause they couldn't wake me. I remember the different police that insulted us and told me that Bryson had the right to commit suicide and made me let him leave. I remember the social worker that I begged to help us with our drug problem, who promised she would come back with a safety plan to get us out of our situation, who instead closed the case and said we could do it on our own. Yeah, we could just quit using an 8 ball of meth and some occasional crack all by ourselves. There are a lot of good memories, but I see that the memories are good because of the actions themselves, not the drugs. I have to keep the consequences close at hand so that I don't relapse.

I am pushing on one day at a time, being my own advocate and my own voice, because there are no voices cheering me on right now besides my inner voice.

30 Days of Truth - Day 16 - Someone or something you definitely could live without.

Something I can live without is weed. I know that sooooo many people really love this drug, but it just never worked for me. It makes me soooooo paranoid and freaks me out about everything. I wish I could make it work for me sometimes. My Dr's don't seem to have a problem keeping me hooked on narcotic pain medications, which I am sure have their own share of harm. If I could get my license (for those of you not in Colorado, it is legal here) and just get pain relief from good old mary jane, I think I would try it.

The reality is that is freaks me the fuck out. Actually for those of you that are interested, when I first started this blog, I decided to try and smoke a little and I was so freaked out about it that I started writing here. It isn't pretty for me. SO yeah, I could DEFINITELY live without weed. I was always an upper drug kind of girl anyway.

Day 15 - Something or someone you couldn't live without, because you’ve tried living without it.

I didn't try this like you try to lose weight, or like you try giving up something for lent. I was forced to try to live without my kids. I will never know who the coward is that called social services. There were actually some things going on that warranted some help from social services, but no one came forward and offered to help, and almost everyone we knew was doing the worst of the stuff right along with us, but someone made up lies and exaggerated things to expedite a social services sweep and I was forced to try living without my children.

I had a social worker from hell. She was a lesbian with no children and she didn't even want to hear our side of the story, the way she saw it was good kids, druggie parents, easy placement with a foster home, more money coming into the system, good deed for the day done.

What she didn't know is that she was NOT going to take custody of my children and give them away. Bryson and I fought like crazy to prove who we really were. We made it through the toughest of times and drug ourselves out of the gutter we got kicked into. I had to go through 6 of the longest months of my life with my kids living at my grandma's. I could not enjoy anything about my life without them.

30 Days of Truth - Day 14 - A hero that has let you down. (letter)

Dear Dad,

As an adult, I can now call you Dad without cringing. It is more because of hard work and forgiveness on my part. You are making small strides at being a decent person, son, brother, father, and grandfather. It wasn't always this way.

When I was really small, I have one memory of being in your physical presence. We were at a hotel and I was on the bed, still in diapers. You were there with your boxer, Roxy. My mom laid on the bed with me and I saw you walk out the door with the dog. I know that we were together on more occasions, but I only know because of other's accounts and pictures. Together they don't paint a pretty picture.

You painted your own picture for me, and it was a blank canvass starting when I was 2 years old. I realize now that it was probably better that way. You were living life in the fast lane, taking dangerous risks and moving from woman to woman. You forever tainted my mom's reputation with your family by stealing her away from your brother, the man she married when she was 16, and injecting her with poison, your poison adulterous seed, and the poison of a needle. One created life and one ended life. That is why today I sit here and my mother is forever gone. It is incredibly ironic to me that you like to tell the story of how I was conceived in the hearse that you provided as a place to stay for my mother. 

There were so many times in my life that I wished your brother was really my dad. He is such a sweet, kind, and compassionate man; not like you. He went off to the service, hoping to make his new bride proud. He came home to your aftermath. 

I remember talking to you on the phone a few times after you left for Texas, the big beautiful non reporting escape from your child support obligations. Then I guess phone calls were too much. I didn't hear from you for years, and then when I turned six, I got a card, signed from you and your new wife. Both me and my mom laughed at it and she put it away for me.

I learned that you were good at taking life away from people when my mother succumbed to the inner demons that began with her relationship with you. You didn't make it to her service. Later you told me that no one told you. I can see why no one thought you would care, but the truth is that you had made yourself invisible to avoid your obligations.

It is only because of my chance run-in with Grandma that I even knew you were back in Colorado. It broke my heart to know that you didn't even look for me. I lived in the same house that I did when you left, but you never came. You were playing house with yet another woman and she was pregnant with your child and you wanted to make it look like you had been a good Dad so you started having me over. I knew what you were up to. I also got to witness your abusiveness towards her and her children. Our relationship, like yours with her, was short lived.

Many years passed without me hearing from you. I often thought of my older sister, Maleia, and wanted to meet her. I was sure we shared some of the same feeling of abandonment. She, as you know, was only 2 years older than me. How sad for two sisters to never meet. That sad fate was sealed the day she took her own life.

It was only then that you began to question yourself, rightfully so. Unfortunately you turned to me for reassurance, something I could not give. I found it highly insulting that after years of being absent in my life, you would expect me to come to your rescue and save you from the feelings her death was causing you. In some ways I envied her, she had been released from her pain, and yet I had to face mine, and face you.

As we slowly got to know each other again, there was another piece to the puzzle. My little brother, your namesake. His mother's life was suffering on a reckless path and all of the adults around him, including you, seemed to be more concerned with drugs, alcohol, and sex than with his well being. I just want you to know how much I resent that you foiled my attempts to provide something better for him.

When my own life began to mirror some parts of yours, you chose to continue your pattern of neglect. You would drop off your leftovers from the food bank from time to time, but never were concerned with mine, or my children's well being. When social services got involved, and grandparents were sought out to care for my children in the interim, that idea was laughable at best.

Today we can be civil and we see each other at least once a week when you bring over a food bank box. You finally learned that my brother had to be some sort of priority to you, and I am glad that the two of you have a better relationship, but I resent that ours will probably never grow to that level.

It is hard to see you continuously reward his mistakes and bail him out of situation after situation, paying his rent, his phone, getting him to court, yet taking no responsibility for how his life got to be like that. Like father, like son? For his sake, I hope not.

For now, all I can do is forgive, hope you are a better grandparent than you were a parent,  and be thankful for my food box.

With hope,

Your Daughter

30 Days of Truth - Day 13 - An artist or song that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)

I don't know who the letter is supposed to be to.... the band? Just seems weird. So like everything else in my world, I am going to take this post and make it mine and just write about a few specific songs that got me through some tough times. There are many so I am going to limit myself to three.

The first song is "Lean on Me,"  and not the older version by Bill Withers, but the remake by Club Nouveau. My grandfather loved this song, the new version- he was such a hip Grandpa. lol He always loved songs because of words that he took personally. No matter how hard the days we faced were, and they sure were hard, he always had a way of letting me know he loved me, he would be there for me, and that it was going to be ok.

This song was one of those ways. I can still remember his smile perfectly. His warm gentle blue eyes that normally hard and stern, would melt when he looked at me, and they told me I was his world. I hear this song and I almost feel his hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me to sway back and forth, urging me to dance along with him, and he would smile so sheepishly, and tell me I could always lean on him. Oh and we would be jammin'!

I played this song at his funeral. It gave me great comfort, and even today when I hear it, I know how much I still lean on him. I look back to the comfort he gave me, the things he provided, and the round about way that only my grandpa could love someone, and I feel strong. This song got me through some hard times without my Mom and Grandma and through losing my Grandpa.

Here are the lyrics:

Sometimes in our lives
We all have pain
We all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that there's
Always tomorrow

Lean on me
When you're not strong
And I'll be your friend (I'll be your friend)
I'll help you carry on (lean on me)
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill
Those of your needs
That you won't let show

Lean on me
When you're not strong
And I'll be your friend (I'll be your friend)
I'll help you carry on (lean on me)
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

So just call on me brother, when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on
I just might have a problem that you'd understand
We all need somebody to lean on

Lean on me
When you're not strong (when you're not strong)
And I'll be your friend (I'll be your friend)
I'll help you carry on (lean on me)
For, said, it won't be long (won't be too long)
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

We be jammin'
We be jammin' (hey now)
We be jammin'

We be jammin'
We be jammin'

We be jammin'
We be jammin' (hey)

We be jammin'

(just call me) uh, when you need a friend
(call me) oh, baby now
(call me) uh, when you need a friend
(call me) oh, baby now
(call me) uh, when you need a friend
(call me) oh, baby now...

For your listening pleasure, here is the song:




The next song is very dark to me, well because I was in a dark place.


" I smoke the whole thing to my head, and feel it wash away,
cause I can't take anymore of this, I want to come apart"

Those words, in my head, as I was getting high on meth, meant someone else out there was doing the same thing and felt the same way as me, and that there was hope for me.

"I am nothing more than a little boy (girl) inside, that cries out for attention,
yet I always try to hide, cause I talk to you like children, though I don't know how I feel,
but I know I'll do the right thing- if the right thing is revealed"

These words meant that I was waiting for a revelation that I hadn't found yet, but that once it happened I would be all over it- giving myself permission to keep getting high.

Here is the song- with lyrics:





I saved the best for last. This song is so important to me. When I heard it, my kids had just been taken away from me and placed with my grandma. I was only about 2 weeks clean. The words impacted me so hard immediately, that they caused me to cry in deep sobbing cries. The words are so fitting as I interpreted them, that I swore this song was meant for me. I didn't see the video and know the way they had meant it, until years later. I am going to post the lyrics, and anything in purple will be my interpretation or feelings as I heard the song the first time. Some will be self explanatory. I am in tears now as I listen to the song.

"Far Away"

This time, This place - us separated from the kids
Misused, Mistakes - their trust in us and our authority and responsibility misused by us, mistakes we made
Too long, Too late - too long we used drugs, too late to say sorry because they are gone
Who was I to make you wait - pretty much says it all
Just one chance - just one, I promise is all I need, I won't let you down again
Just one breath
Just in case there's just one left
'Cause you know,
you know, you know

That I love you
I have loved you all along
And I miss you
Been far away for far too long - they had been with her for about 2 weeks, the longest in their lives I had ever ever gone without seeing them, and it was KILLING ME
I keep dreaming you'll be with me
and you'll never go
Stop breathing if
I don't see you anymore - I would stop breathing if I never saw them again

On my knees, I'll ask
Last chance for one last dance
'Cause with you, I'd withstand
All of hell to hold your hand
I'd give it all
I'd give for us
Give anything but I won't give up- couldn't be more perfectly said
'Cause you know,
you know, you know

So far away
Been far away for far too long
So far away
Been far away for far too long
But you know, you know, you know

I wanted
I wanted you to stay
'Cause I needed
I need to hear you say
That I love you
I have loved you all along
And I forgive you
For being away for far too long - I so desperately needed to know that they knew I loved them, and that they would forgive me
So keep breathing
'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore - I wanted them to know it would never happen again
Believe it
Hold on to me and, never let me go
Keep breathing
'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore
Believe it
Hold on to me and, never let me go
Keep breathing
Hold on to me and, never let me go
Keep breathing
Hold on to me and, never let me go 



I actually bought the cd and gave it to them and told them which song they had to listen to. I knew my son would understand, but I asked him to please take the words to heart, and to listen to it with my daughter and try to explain it to her.


I kept my every word and worked the hardest I have ever worked. I pulled myself up from the gutter and in 6 months I had my beautiful babies back home with me.


It's a beautiful song, take a listen:

Someone who drifted..... A New Beginning

I must apologize for the sudden halt to my 30 Days of Truth. A lot of things going on, and well, when you have three kids you just never know what could happen.

This weekend, I initiated a last minute BBQ with my Dad. He asked that we come to his house. My brother and his wife were there, along with their 2 year old son. I had all 3 of my kids with me, which is unusual now that the older two are 11 and 13.

Surprisingly, my Grandma Judy, who I just wrote about here, was at my Dad's house! Talk about timing! Then even more amazing.... when I asked what she has been doing to keep herself busy, she said she has been trying to write her book!!!! Oh how I would love to read a whole book filled with words of my Grandma's! To learn more about her, and about her life and experiences! She told me she needed to write about some of the things that happened around her as a girl growing up in a very racist Texas town. I was mesmerized! It really inspired me.

She had so many kind words for me, about not worrying about who I might incriminate in my writing, and that anyone worth knowing would fully support me no matter what! She also made an acknowledgement of my own childhood suffering and experience and the need for me to share it. She recounted back some of the most significant things that happened to me- through her perspective- and it was so amazing for me to know she even knew about me or what had happened to me.

We exchanged numbers, and I am so excited to get together with her again and talk some more. I don't believe in much, but it is sure hard to believe that some things aren't more than coincidence.