This is a mental health/mental illness blog dealing with daily life with words that are real and raw, video, pics, and music chosen by one fucked-up kitty. I am diagnosed Bipolar, with (crippling) Anxiety Disorder, and seriously horrific PTSD.
Sometimes it's a real treat of Freedom of Speech and Crazy to let it out, and scream something out in public when you just lose it, and let the stress out of your sails in one quick go, unlike the "unlucky" majority. Nope. Can't say everything is bad 100% of the time. Now take your meds and get ready...

This blog is permanently under construction/destruction.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

The Awkward Dimension

Fuck sunlight.

Once again, I was up at 5am before my alarm went off, so I slithered out of bed, and dressed myself in the ol' workout outfit. It was as if the moon was calling to me again. I was unmedicated as of yet, apart from the previous night's whopping leftover dose of seroquel.

Today I tried the same escape plan as yesterday, only when I got to the starbucks at 5.30, it was closed. I was too early! So I went back home, messed around quietly for a while, then went back out, where I managed to get a picture of the fuzzy moon. I had a sudden realization while slowly walking home that I felt good outside in the dark, empty streets. I can't say I feel good any place else. Not even bed. I actually looked forward to having to come home, and do the trip all over again, knowing it would be by moonlight again. It was worth the overpriced baked goodies just to be outside in the dark again, free, alone, and listening to music.

While I was thinking of turning away from home and walking off into the dark, I started to think am I just  supposed to be nocturnal? Would that be a quick fix - to get on a nocturnal schedule? Years ago, when my
mania was at its greatest and best, I was not really sleeping at all, but definitely wide awake during the night, and loving looking out the window at the night sky. I know it's not supposed to be "normal" to be nocturnal, but what the fuck? What about "normal" people that work graveyard shifts and live in the dark? Is that not living a sort of nocturnal life? Is that so bad? Could it be a cure? Would it destroy what's left of my marriage? Since my spouse has been laid off, I've been missing my alone time, especially my morning alone time, so I'm getting up earlier and earlier and going to bed earlier and earlier.

I'm living in the "Awkward Dimension"! I don't know how to live! I don't want to live as if I have an 8-5 job! I don't necessarily want to live by someone else's schedule. Is that a crime? Is that selfish or is that something that might give me a little more sane time in the dark?

I don't think that SAD lamp is for me, and since my spouse bought it, I think he's going to be pissed and disappointed that I can't use it. Truthfully, it begins to make me feel like my skin is going to burn off, I get irritated as hell, anxious, jumpy, heart palpitations... He is probably the one that can really use it. I can't stand outside light coming in the room. He demands it. He should be trying out the SAD lamp. Hopefully he won't get pissed when I suggest it. I know he likes a room lit up. Unlike me.

 "Valentine is done..."

I can't say I was really sad yesterday, even though I had no valentine, no flowers or chocolates, no words or physical expressions of love or affection. We didn't even leave the apartment, apart from my moonlight escape. I just felt empty, except for making sure my daughter knew that I loved her. I wanted to make sure that she knew I was thinking about her. I hoped to death that she was happy. We were in contact, so that was way cool.

I'm suddenly reminded of PiL: The Flowers of Romance


I know the last post I did for V-Day was a Debbie Downer of a song to some, maybe even most, but I feel it actually gives me strength in my aloneness (not loneliness), and it's just so lovely sounding, with velvety vocals. I love it. I imagine being tall, cloaked in a long, heavy royal blue velvet cloak, standing almost like a statue, safe, and separating myself from the pain, or chaos, or humans that surround me that I can never really relate to. On very rare occasion, my eyes might tear up, but I won't let them fall.

Here in the Awkward Dimension, the Yardbirds: Over Under Sideways Down.  Groovy, man. Groovy.

Now as I try to wait patiently for my big dose of seroquel, let nausea take me down for a couple of hours.
tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock etc... Go crazy.