Ready. Set. Sail!
Hello everyone. I’m back. Not the way I wanted but here I am. Broken and hopeless. Bipolar tends to knock the wind out of you sometimes but for some reason I need to talk now and this is one of the only things I know that really helps me heal.
So why do I blog?
It’s so easy to get caught up in the rush of likes and views and comments that I forget I’ve made real friends here. I forget that despite me loving my blog (it’s my baby!) that some people just don’t care about bipolar. Or about me. Sometimes I forget they don’t care. And when my stats hit a low point, I just feel unmotivated and discouraged.
I need to make sure I don’t fall into the trap of making this into entertainment. Because fuck that I’m SO not posting 10 times a day and handing out garbage. That’s fine for people who can and do hand out quality, but that’s not me.
I never thought I would write or become a blogger EVER. Because I hated writing before this. Too much work. I’m a scientist not a writer. I hated Creative Writing classes. So it made no sense.
I started this blog because I had to get out the shame from what I did to my husband. I needed someone to tell me I’m not a bad person and I wanted to show people that my struggles are valid. That’s the point. And now I want to be able to come out of the supposed bipolar closet and tell people “I’m here and things worked out” even though sometimes I just want to give up.
As many people’s relationships I can save is what my goal is now. I want everyone to hear even if some of them don’t listen. The people that do are worth it.
And the WP community here has given me such great advice and support. It’s the reason why I keep coming back. Years of time and money have been saved because of you my friends.
But my policy on this blog is raw and honest and I ONLY write when I’m inspired and the words are flowing. When it becomes too much to to hold in my thoughts. Today was too much and I need to tell my story.
I went to the dentist today. It was supposed to be a routine cleaning. Mind you I’m terrified of the dentist despite having a great set of teeth. However, there was some rather serious news. It turns out that my gum line has receded significantly and I wouldn’t be able to do a standard cleaning. They have to reschedule me for two deep cleanings where they administer anesthetic and only clean one side of my mouth at a time.
During the tests, they wondered in awe at how my gums could recede 3 mm on average in only 1.5 years! They asked me if my diet or anything had changed. With a shocked look on his face, my dentist Dr. A. asked me,”What happened?!” Being utterly embarrassed and lost for words, I simply said, “Since I saw you last I’ve been on a few different medications.”
“How many medications?” he replied.
“A few,” I said.
“….um…mental…um…illness…” I stuttered.
I couldn’t even find the words to say “bipolar.” Not with him and those nurses staring down at me with their judgemental eyes.
He left and said that his hygienists are booked for the day so they won’t be able to do the deep cleaning but that they will make sure to do it soon since it’s urgent.
I have to mention that when I checked in, I was told by the front desk that they no longer take my insurance. That they would need to talk to my insurance company in order to determine if they could cover these two procedures. In the end it seems like they were able to get through and had me sign a paper that would have otherwise been the bill. It’s amazing how much a dentist can charge for something along the lines of a cleaning. Let’s just say it was steep and I don’t have the money to pay for it.
After the inquiry by Dr. A., I was immediately given a lecture by the head nurse about taking care of my health. That something like this is very serious and I don’t want to lose my teeth.
Lose. My. Teeth.
The bitch looked me in the eyes and told me I needed to “take care of my health.” Like I don’t try to do that already. That from the moment I wake up in the morning to do my 6am workouts, to my plant-based whole foods diet, to all the psych meds I have to take throughout the fucking day that I don’t mind my health. What did she think I did this on purpose?
How much effort does it take to mind every single fucking thing about yourself? Huh? How much? I’m constantly monitoring my moods and weight and food and water and exercise and pills. CONSTANTLY! I go to therapy every week. I do pdoc checkups every other week. I do my regular pap smears and breast exams. I do it all. Except this. I neglected this. Because the last time I was in Dr. A. commented on the fact that in all his years of practice, he hasn’t seen such a health set of teeth minus the 3 cavities I had.
So now I’m just lazy apparently in their eyes. And that wasn’t even the worst part. You should’ve seen the looks on their faces. Like they just discovered a rare new species while examining my teeth. How condescending and callous they were. All the “Oh dear! That’s not good!” and “Yeah that’s bad.” It took a lot to hold back the tears. I kept telling them I don’t know what happened. And when I mentioned “mental illness” I got a look of superiority and pity.
Let me get one thing straight. I don’t need anyone’s fucking pity! For Christ’s sake, what I need is a break! I need a break from having to monitor my Goddamn health 24 hrs a day 7 days a week. I need a fucking break from shoveling these fucking pills into my mouth every day and having to spend all this extra time and money on MORE doctor visits to deal with the side effects of these fucking things.
The fact that I don’t get a choice in the matter is what is making me rage cry right now. It’s not fucking fair. IT’S. NOT. FAIR! I do my best. And I just. I just….
…I want a break. I want to just live. I didn’t want to drive home angry and scared and embarrassed like I did this intentionally. I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day in bed crying and cursing and feeling like a useless piece of shit. Like giving up. Like I’ll try and I’ll try and everything will just fall apart no matter what I do.
What I wanted was not to fall so far from the Mania that I hit a severe Depression. What I wanted was to climb out of this Pit with trumpets and announce to the world that I’m back and ready for action.
What I got was a one way ticket back to the Cemetery.
For those of you who are new or who may have forgotten, I finally included a Map to help people understand my journey and how far I’ve come. Right now, I’m stuck in Depression. I’m cursed with doubt and hopelessness. All I am doing is wandering aimlessly amongst the fallen. Dead inside. Empty. Gliding along; disconnected from reality. Past the cold rocky terrain of a place once known for peaceful, quiet reverence. Ghouls and demons follow behind me. Crooked and creepy looking creatures. They mock me and laugh at my misfortune. One of them confronts me and tells me one simple thing: “Your future is grey.”
I believe him. My future is grey. Marked with the sign of the devil. The cross of bipolar bearing it’s intolerable weight down on my back. I have to carry this and all its consequences with me the rest of my life. Every. Single. Day. Why the fuck is living even worth it if all I do is suffer?!
Why tell you guys all this? Because I had to get it off my chest and this is my blog and my space and I want to use it again. I miss it. Fuck the stats. I want to talk even if no one listens. I want to know things are going to be OK. Because I feel like it’s not. And I feel dead….
…it’s hard to hear the cries of the dead when they’re reaching out for help…