Bipolar Wonderland

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Twist and End

104,006. That’s the word count for The Breaking of Rainbow: A Fictional Novel. 320 pages. I don’t know how long my new story is going to be, but I know it probably won’t be that long.

I posed a question about my plot twist and ending to my Facebook writing group; I asked them if it completely sucked. I got about 35 responses. Everyone liked the twist and said they’d want to read it, but I also got several responses from people saying they didn’t like the ending and that I should change it to the opposite of what happens. I knew the ending before I knew the plot twist. I’m a bit torn now if I should change the ending. A bigger part of me wants to keep it as is. It’s like when Stephen King’s book The Mist was turned into a movie and the screeenplay writer changed the movie’s ending. Fans were pissed, but King stood by the ending saying he liked it and didn’t care that people thought it was just for shock value. That’s how I feel about my ending. It’s a very dark and final way to end the story, but to me it just makes sense.

I was very surprised that overall it was very well received. I was expecting it to be torn apart. Reading the positive reactions and that it would be very read worthy has given me new inspiration to continue writing. I haven’t wanted to write the story because I was afraid it was awful or predictable. Turns out I wrote a really good twist. I know I’m a decent story writer, I always have been. Writing as an adult and writing novels is different than short stories written as a teenager. Just like with my first story, my goal is to get my new story published. Whether traditionally or through my current publisher.

I’m Trying. I’m Fighting.

I’ve been gone a long time. My life has continued to be a bit of a clusterfuck. Here’s what’s happened.

My son’s visit so far has been beautiful. He swims almost everyday in the huge pool his grandparents got him. Sometimes they swim with him. My depression is so severe that I’ve only gotten in the pool 3 times this summer. Not once have I gone underwater. I only go underwater in my head, heart, and soul.

I was hospitalized and placed on a 72 hour hold. I spent a total of 6 days in the hospital. When I got to the ER (I went voluntarily) and found out it could take up to 3 hours to find out if they’d admit me, I almost walked out. The nurse working with me said she could streamline the process for me if I would just stay. She asked me several times to please stay. So I did. The psych ward upstairs was full at the moment, but they were having discharges the following day. I could stay in the ER for the night and be admitted the next day, or I could let them start making calls to have me placed somewhere else. I opted for the ER. This was the only hospital I’ve ever been hospitzlied in and I felt safe there. The prospect of being taken somewhere else scared me too much. I was already scared. For my life.

The first thing the nurse does once you’ve come in is telling you, with all sincerity in their eyes, that they’re glad you came. They’re truly thankful you’re there trying to save your own life. They do all the usual vital sign taking. Then they run bloodwork on you. After that they set you up with a Teledoc to discuss what’s going on. From there the Teledoc talks to the PA oncall to decide what to do with you. Everyone agreed that I needed to go inpatient. Including myself. That’s the whole reason why I had my husband and son take me to that ER.

My husband and son weren’t allowed to come back with me at any point. Everyone had to wear masks. It wasn’t like this 3 years ago when I came to this ER. At the time my abusive ex wife and son brought me at my request. My son was upset because he didn’t know what was wrong with me and he didn’t want to leave me. He told me this time around that she was mean to him the whole time I was gone, except when they came to visit. Which was every day that I was there. This time I couldn’t have any visitors, only phone calls.

I spent 17 hours in the ER waiting. I slept the entire time except when they brought me food. I’d wake up to eat. I wasn’t kidding when I was telling everyone how tired I was. I’m still tired. All the time, every day.

While I was in the ward I isolated majority of the time in my room. I went to art therapy once, but that was it. I tried to attend a coping skills group, but got annoyed so I walked out before it even began. I went back to my room. The only time I ever came out was to get water, meds, or to eat. Other than that I wanted nothing to do with anyone there. Except the psych PA that was in house. Her I liked. She listened and she listened well. She took me off Lithium and upped my anti anxiety meds. She also put me on Wellbutrin. It’s not doing anything so far. It didn’t help at all the last time I took it. I knew my actual psych would be frustrated by the fact that my anxiety meds had been upped and the quantity increased. She was, but for now she’s sticking to my new perscription.

I had heard of people doing Shadow Work. It’s another type of self-love/self-help. I asked for some stuff to be printed off so I could look into it more. They were nice enough to oblige me. I started working with it, slowly. It made perfect sense and I decided it was something I wanted to work on truly.

I didn’t smoke the whole time I was in there and I didn’t have access to my phone. I talked to my husband every day on the phone. I had intended to quit smoking for good when I got out. Of course I’ve failed at this miserably. I’m disappointed in myself, but I honestly can’t seem to help it. Fuck.

The newest line of defense for this nearly-deadly depression I’m drowning in is to place me in an IRT. It stands for Intensive Residential Treatment. It’s a 30/60/90 day treatment center. I currently have a large professional support system. I have a therapist, a psych, a job coach, an ARMHS worker, and a county case manager. Wtf has happened to me? Jesus Christ, that’s a lot of people working with me to save my life. I also have my husband, son, parents, family, and long distance friends that give support. I’m beyond lucky to have so many people care.

Here’s the secret though. None of it matters when I’m deep in my depression rabbit hole. My suicidal ideations have become extremely loud now. Occasionally I have sincere thoughts about how fast I would need to drive to violently jerk my wheel towards the ditch hoping I die on impact. That’s the only thing close to a suicde plan that I’ve had. It’s strange, though. In all of the suicidal states of mind I’ve ever been in, my thoughts or plans never involved a car. It was always pills. Or my wrists. I didn’t want to shoot myself or hang myself. I’ve always wanted it to be painless and/or quick. The love of my husband and son (and others) is what keeps me alive. That and fear. Fear of the unknown about what happens after. The one time I tried to commit suicide I wasn’t afraid anymore. That was the dangerous part. Having no fear is what kills. For me, anyways. Having no fear stems from absolute depseration.

My other biggest fear, and a large part of what drives the loud suicidal ideations, is that this will never stop. This pain and desolation and near deadly depression. That my state of mind is going to always be unstable and that I’ll never feel good enough; good enough for a good life, good enough as a wife, good enough as a mother, good enough as a daughter, good enough as a sister, or good enough as a friend. I feel like I’m a burden. That’s so cliche. It’s true though. My husband has reassured me several times that I am not a burden and that I’m the glue and love that holds everythig together. Well, I feel liked expired, defective glue that should be thrown out.

I want to enter the IRT program. I gained a county case manager to do this. My psych told me I need one to get into the program. I told them all that there is no way in hell that I’m doing this until after my son leaves to go back to Denver. They get it, so we’re waiting. My son flies back August 9th. I have my next meeting with my case manager on August 10th. She said there could be a waiting list, but it’s not likely that it would be long as there are always people cycling out of the program. My husband thinks I should go now. I absotlutely refuse. I haven’t really been mentally present for my son’s stay so far, but I will not miss the rest no matter what.

So it’s come to a likely semi-long term residential treatment stay. It’s been explained to me that basically every 30 days my whole team (my psych, my case manager, and whoever at the treatment facility) get together with me to determine my progress. Honestly, I think I’ll be there the entire 90 days. I think it’s the only way I’m going to get any of it to truly stick. It’s the only way I’m going to get truly better. One of the things my psych wants to do it titrate me off of all of my medications (she thinks I’m over medicated and I agree). Once everything is out of my system we can see how I do and then start fresh with some new medication. Having all of my disorders, especially the depression, is like having cancer. I have to take medication for the rest of my life to live. If I don’t take the meds, see a therapist, see my psych, go to treament, be hospitalized when needed… I’ll die. I know this. This is why I’m trying to save my own life.

Trying to save my own life is exhausting. But, the point is that I AM TRYING.

Friendship Break Ups

Friendship break ups are the fucking worst. Especially when they come with no warning. When you’re just ghosted without knowing wtf happened. It kills me to see the bff I was dropped for doing all of the activities and adventurous things that used to be what I was doing. I’m not being talked to anymore, but I remain “friends” on social media. That’s how I see how I’ve been replaced. I don’t know if I’m pissed or sad. Probably both. I didn’t deserve to be left behind with no warning. Maybe it’s better that way, I don’t want to hear how I must have failed.

I haven’t had a friendship break up not instigated by myself in a long time. Usually when a friendship is over it’s me who puts it into motion. This time I was simply ghosted. I haven’t been talked to in over a month. It just really hurts my feelings that I turned out to so disposable. That’ll get you in the feels.

Now that I have a large social media following, almost at 1400 followers, it doesn’t matter. That was always a wish for models, to have a following. I never had one, but I was always chosen to model anyways. In many different capacities. Now I’m chopped liver. I’m nothing. I really fucking hate it. I don’t have a bff anymore that I’m actively involved with, other than my husband and my sister in law. I think every woman needs at least one bff they can say anything to and that’s close by. I don’t have that anymore. I know I’m not missed. I’m the only one who misses.

Oh well. She stopped clapping for me right when I needed it the most. I always clapped for her and her successes. I only got silence from her. Then and now. Whatever.

Girls’ Ranch

120 views yesterday. What the fuck was in the air, I wonder? I’ve been having a lot of engagement on my social media lately and I have no idea why. It’s exciting, but oddly intimidating. I’ll let my notifications grow because I don’t know if I can keep up with them. I love this “problem”. Even if it means I’m slightly intimidated.

My first day at work yesterday went well. It was all orientation/HR stuff. I toured the barn and the main house. It’s a working horse ranch and I’ll have to conquer my fear of horses. They’ve always frightened me, they’re just so big. I met some of the girls who are in the program at the ranch. They were mostly nice, only one had an attitude. I’m going to be met with opposition daily. I’ll be able to handle it. I’m going to be very good at this job. I have much to learn, but I’m going to evolve and become an exceptional youth counselor. I’m determined. I just have to remember that these girls are at risk youth and they need compassion and understanding, even if they have attitude problems. That all stems from somewhere/something. I know that from experience.

Every day is going to be a challenge and I’m going to face them head on. In the beginning I’m going to be overwhelmed and I’m going to doubt if I can really do it. I’m going to do it, though. I’m going to be fearless. I think it was Taylor Swift that explained what that means best. She said that it means you’re full of fear, but you whatever it is that scares you anyways. That just resonates with me.

Mainly what I want to perfect is how to handle these girls. If I can handle them, I can help them. Including the ones hellbent on not being helped. The only way these girls are accepted into the program is if a county refers them. They can’t be enrolled privately. It reminds of when I worked at the drug & alcohol rehab center, the most challenging ones were the ones who didn’t come on their own volition. It’s hard as fuck to help someone who doesn’t want help. These girls are in the program, on average, anywhere from 9 – 12 months. That’s a long time, especially for teenagers.

I look different than majority of the staff I saw. I don’t look like I’m from rural midwest. I’ve always looked different. I embrace that. Maybe that will help me with the girls. In my interview one of the questions asked was what my hobbies are. I said writing, of course, but I also explained that I’ve really gotten into hair, makeup, lashes, and nails, even though it’s all superficial. The program manager told me that will actually be good for the girls to be able to talk about. Who knew my superficial induglences would actually work in my favor? Awesome!

I start shadowing other counselors this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I’m feeling a little nervous, but more so excited. I’ll spend the rest of the week just hanging out. I’ve already picked up two more shifts for next week. I have to pick up shifts when I can so I can make enough money to pay my own bills and pay for my own wants. I’m looking forward to that so much. It’s been so long since I could.

UAs, Twitter, & Sleep

I actually slept in until 5 this morning! It was great. I’ve spent my time since then doing a detox for this ridiculous UA I have to do this morning before I start orientation. I have consumed COPIOUS amounts of water, omg. If I’d have known about this UA before my interview, I wouldn’t have smoked the day before. I hadn’t smoked in months prior to that. So, what the fuckin odds? Oh, well. I’ve done what I can and now I’m just crossing fingers. I mean, honestly, why is cannabis still criminalized and tested for? It’s a joke.

It’s not like I’m going to smoke on the job. I’m not 18 anymore. Back then I smoked on the job constantly. No regrets. It’s part of my story.

I’m going to need to drink more water because you’re suppose to pee 3 times after finishing the detox and before your test. FML. I’ll do my best.

Yesterday on Twitter I tweeted that I’d love to have more blogs to check out and asked people to drop their links. OH.MY.GOD. Last I looked this morning, that tweet had over 300 replies and nearly 300 likes and several retweets. I was trying my best to look at every reply and check out the blogs and respond to everyone. That became impossible and I simply couldn’t keep up. I felt terrible, because I always hope someone will check out my blog and respond to me when I post my links in tweets like that. Amazingly, I gained over 100 new followers. I’m over 1330 now. That’s fucking insanity. I am appreciative of them all.

I love my new teeth, but the only bummer is that my fake front tooth is shorter than my real front tooth. You can’t tell when I smile, but if you pay close attention to when I’m talking, you can see it. I still have a million dollar smile now, so ultimately it doesn’t matter. Just a small detail that bummed me out a little.

My author’s site/blog hasn’t been touched by me in a couple of days. I need to get on that. Hopefully later today after I’m done at work. “After I’m done at work.” What a fucking awesome thing to finally be able to say. Let’s hope this detox and a week of not smoking work. I’d hate to lose this before I begin this.

Have yourself a wonderful day! 😁

Glammed Up

I do a lot to look glam. It’s a reflection of how I feel inside and about myself. I’ve been told I don’t need any of it because I am naturally pretty. Let me break down all that I do to achieve my glam look.

First I put in my contacts. Then I do lashes and eyeliner. After that it’s primer, foundation, powder, bronzer, highlighter, blush, eyebrows, and mascara. Then I put in my teeth (my partial). I curl or straighten my hair and get dressed. I do all of that to make myself look how I enjoy looking.

When I strip all of that away, I wear my glasses and don’t have my teeth in. I take off my lashes and clean off my face. I put my hair up in a bun. That’s it. I post natural photos on my Twitter and Instagram and occasionally Facebook.

I post both kinds of photos because I like to be honest. I don’t get glammed up every day, just when I’m bored or need to go somewhere. I’ve only been into looking this way for about 5 months. I watched copious amounts of YouTube videos, bought some starter makeup, and my lovely sister in law sent me a care package of amazing makeup to add to my collection. I got into lashes just a few months ago.

I don’t know why I dedicated a whole blog post to this stuff. I know it’s superficial. I’ve just been thinking about what my routine to look glam. The best part is I can do a full face of makeup in about 5 minutes because I have a good routine.

So, nothing of great substance here, but I enjoyed writing this blog. I hope you have a great day.

Material Loss

I lost everything, except some clothes and a few other things, when I had to move back to Minnesota from Colorado a few years back. My ex-wife stopped paying rent without telling me and we were kicked out of our house. I was forced to put all of my belongings into storage that was eventually lost because my ex-wife didn’t pay the rent on it.

I had so much stuff that I loved. All of my art, 100+ painted canvases, gone. Most of my spiritual stuff, gone. My son’s pictures and artwork, gone. His newborn outfits that I had saved, including the one he wore home from the hospital when he was born, gone. Abox of my late grampa’s things, gone. There was much sentimental stuff that I had to let go of. It taught me not to become attached to much, because it could all be gone suddenly.

The stuff that I was able to keep is very important to me. I essentially covet it. At least I was able to save all of my Buddha statues. Those I kept with me while I moved around a bit after being kicked out. My ex-wife only let me keep so much with me. I had to choose carefully. At the time, I really thought we’d somehow make it work miraculously and I’d have all of my belongings again. In the end, I’m glad it didn’t work or else I’d never have been able to escape her. The Universe had a plan, lose all my belongings but be able to finally have an out for my son and I. I’ll always pick that, no matter the cost.

The Universe is strange and beautiful. I make wishes on the moon and ask that she send them to the Universe. There have been several times that I became impatient with Universe and assumed I was being ignored. Sometimes it takes a while, but she’s always listening. Right now I’m hoping that I pass a UA for my new employer. I didn’t know they were going to do that and had smoked cannabis for a few days prior to my interview. I really want and need this job. I’ve been drinking copious amounts of water to try and flush my system. I’m hoping it works because I’m fucked if it doesn’t.

Sleep & Lockdowns

Fucking hell, I hate being up so early. 😒 Not being able to use cannabis for the next week is totally screwing with my sleep. I’m frustrated. It’s almost 3am. I’ve been up since 2. I also slept on and off for 5 hours yesterday. I knew that would fuck me up, but I couldn’t seem to help it.

I’ve been watching a lot of The Walking Dead with my husband. That show is hella intense. I don’t like watching it all the time, it’s starting to give me anxiety. That’s not good because I’ve got anxeity about these lockdowns happening all over the world. They say here in Minnesota it’s coming. I’m freaked out because I feel like this virus is a conspiracy. Like it’s a way to control populations. I don’t like the level of control the government has on us now. I get why this all seems neccessary, but it’s ridiculous.

Just reading my writing about the virus gives me the willy nillies. I don’t like it.

Depression Aftershocks

My depression has caused a lot of strife. It broke me down and made it so I couldn’t cope with life because I couldn’t cope with myself or the catalyst for my depression. Now that I’m coming out of my dark fog I’m trying to be more useful. I have a lot of work to do. I have to be more productive domestically and in my relationship. I lost my ability to be a good partner. I’m struggling to make up for it.

I can be very self involved. I will admit that. The only time I seem to be selfless is when I have my son. I was the most selfish person ever before I gave birth. Once I had my son in my arms all of my selfishness fell away. Now that I don’t have him with me all the time I’m reverting back to being selfish a bit. Part of this, though, is me working on myself and loving myself. I don’t know how to balance self-love and self-care with being selfless. I’m struggling with that and it’s causing tension. I don’t mean to be this way and I’m trying to change it, but I’m severely struggling.

Mental health just comes in and wrecks house. I know that. I’m feeling better and making progress, though. I never want to be discredited for that. It’s not fair if I’m told I haven’t made progress or I haven’t made enough progress. I’m doing my level best and I believe in me. I love me. I have to, or I can’t be good enough for anyone else. My mental health professionals commend me for how progress I’ve made. I still have emotions, I still get sad about things; this doesn’t mean that I’m still depressed. My journey has been treacherous, but I’m making it.

I just want to be happy, in all aspects of my life. I want to be strong and healthy, I want my marriage to be strong and healthy, I want to be strong and healthy as a mother and daughter. I am trying. With all of my healing soul, I am trying.

My New Job

I start my new job today. I’m going in to fill out paperwork for a background study and to set up a place and time to get finger printed. I’ve had to do all of this for a couple different jobs. It’s interesting to get finger printed. I don’t understand why I have to keep doing it. Don’t they have a system they could look me up in? No matter, I’m just excited to get started. I’m not sure when my actual training will start. I’m looking forward to diving in and learning all I can.

The HR lady told me that the supervisor wanted to call me the same day I interviewed to offer me the job, but they had to do a reference check first. I thought that was pretty awesome. She basically wanted to hire me on the spot. That was my goal, to walk out with a job. That’s always my goal when I interview somewhere.

On a random note, I took off my nails and it is so much easier to type.

Back to my job. They asked me what my interests are. I told them writing and that I have a book coming out in the fall. I also said I was into some superficial things like hair and makeup, nails, and lashes. They actually liked this answer and said it would probably be good for the girls to have that to talk about as it’s a nice change from what they deal with regularily. I thought that was pretty awesome. I don’t know what the other Youth Counselors are like, but I hope they’re rad. I can’t handle another place that’s cliquey. That didn’t work out at my last job. I just want to be amazing at what I do with support from my co-workers.

So. I’m looking forward to today. It’s the beginning of a new chapter and I am ready to live it.