This Mess I'm In
10.16.07

I made a mistake in my life today
everything I love gets lost in drawers
I want to start over, I want to be winning
way out of sync from the beginning

I wanna hurry home to you
put on a slow, dumb show for you
and crack you up
so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
god I’m very, very frightening
I’ll overdo it

Looking for somewhere to stand and stay
I leaned on the wall and the wall leaned away

(Slow Show, The National)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zz5pskaTNJU

Another Brick In The Wall
10.4.07

"It's almost very difficult to explain when you are the person that suffers from the thing, but the best way I can describe it is it's almost like before you get ill, you are a solid wall," Sinéad says. "And while you're ill, it's like the bricks are falling away and it's one teetering little brick."

Sinéad O'Connor (on her struggle with bipolar disorder)
The Oprah Winfrey Show (October 4, 2007)
http://www2.oprah.com/tows/pastshows/200710/tows_past_20071004.jhtml?promocode=HP11

I think Oprah redeems herself (from last week's less-than-stellar show on bipolar disorder) by interviewing such a thoughtful and talented, artist and mother.

Hopefully, millions of previously uneducated people are now a bit more enlightened.

TAKE IT EASY ON ME
October 1, 2007

Hola amigos! I have had a morning of gallivanting, procrastinating, lunching, and fashion trend watching, around campus and online. Productive? Not really. I have no idea if this means anything more than just being a normal human, not wanting to do work, or being bipolar, and having trouble concentrating. I have decided not to care either way, well, for today at least.

September and the fall is eff'n cRaZy for me, historically, and I said before, for most people, generally. So I am learning to take it easy on myself during this change in season. Two years ago, I was on my 2nd week in the intensive psych ward, painting wooden treasure boxes, talking to a woman who thought she was Lady Diana and another who believed she was Hitler's mistress. They seemed perfectly normal to me at the time, kindred spirits, who could talk in my coded language.

Now, it's all good, as they say. (Though I do wonder whatever happened to my friends in the psych ward). These days I take my son to the skatepark after school, we buy Jamba Juices, I sit on the grass, and I yell every now and then at my son to put his helmet back on. We stop by Safeway or Whole Foods if we want to splurge and pick up dinner.

What's changed since I left the psych ward with a DSM code of bipolar disorder I? Acceptance. Awareness. I think the same can be said of my husband, so traumatized by putting me on a 72-hour hold and having me scream obscenties at him. We hardly get into arguments these days and the look of fear and sadness no longer fills his eyes. We laugh more. If I feel myself getting really worked up and misunderstood, I say, "Let's not deal with this right now." With my life, I go around with this mental toolkit full of self-talk and meds. I try to detect and disarm emotional landmines, to take the pressure out of situations that can be triggers, and to slow myself before getting physically exhausted.

Am I fortunate that my meds are working and that I have had a good childhood and supportive family? Most definitely. Does it make it easier? Perhaps. Is it still hard? Gosh, yes. Am I managing? So far.