Guess why I'm back...?

Haven't been to this blog in a very long time and since it's time/date stamped, well, there's just no getting away from the truth. 

It's also interesting to return after such a long period of time.  The days, and cumulatively, my past, quickly fade away into a mist, leaving it unclear and shadowy.  It is one reason I blog and write and have about 50 partially-filled journals lying around the house.  To remember.

The other is to allow the poison inside to ooze out.  I'm afraid, that if I didn't let it ooze out and kept it all inside, it would eventually consume me and I wouldn't be me anymore.

So this post, this reminder of my blog, is to share my latest experience.  This one is about the depressive side of bipolar disorder.

I posted the below on FB to a limited group of friends.  Any time I write about my illness and my experiences, I am hopeful there is just one single person I can touch.  Not touch as in a feel-sorry-for-poor-pitiful-Karen way.  But touch, as in, bringing awareness and understanding to those that do not have the capacity to fully understand (e.g., non-afflicted) so they can help those around them that are already fully aware and understand because they do experience it.

A very dear friend of mine commented on my FB note and what she said touched me and reminded me of this blog.  Then I realized, I was able to touch, the way I wanted to touch, another person with that one note.  That would be my dream.  If I can touch just one person and bring them awareness or understanding, then I feel validated.  Thank you so much, Dee, for seeing me and not judging me. For being open to understanding and for your compassion.  Thank you for inspiring me.  For reminding me of something I had forgotten. 

If I can express what I experience in a way that those who feel the same things can relate to, then I am no longer alone because one more person saw me and truly understood me in a way that friends and loved ones can't, no matter how hard they try.  And, hopefully, that person doesn't feel so alone either.

So, the blog is and always will be here.  I'll pop in and out as life and moods dictate.  Heh, kinda sounds bipolar, don't it?  haha

Here's the FB note.  I offer this to you.

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I once saw a Swami who is a very intelligent and wise man. He spoke in parables, much like Jesus did. He would always start with, "A little story..."

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So, I share with you now, "a little story". I am not sharing this with everyone and if you are one I chose to share with, please, please respect my privacy and do NOT share this with anyone. If you cannot make me that promise now, please do NOT continue reading. Also, if you cannot read this with an open mind, stop here now.
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The below may be shocking for some, sound self-pitying to others, crazy (haha), thought-provoking (hopefully!), or, even better, enlightening. Enlightening about the intense struggle with bipolar disorder.
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I don't tell just anyone about my diagnosis. Most just don't understanding. I hope that what I've written will help those who read it gain more insight into the rollercoaster of the mind. What I have written is not specifically about bipolar, but more about the period of depression. Anyone who has ridden that dark train, or, as Dexter so eloquently and accurately describes it, with our "Dark Passenger", understands.
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I recently had the worst crash I have had in many, many years. It was frightening in its intensity alone. After an approximately 2 month build up (or is that down?) I crashed. Hard. I literally do not remember 2-1/2 days of my life. No memory at all. Just red-blood rage, anger and hatred. The desire to smash and destroy conflicting with the need to love and nurtrue.
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Thank everything that is available to show gratitude toward, I have Troy. When I was falling apart, when I felt as if I would splinter into a million little pieces and like Humpty Dumpty, never put them back together again, Troy lay next to me for hours and just held me tight, kept me safe. Keeping me from falling deeper into that hole and shattering on the floor. Losing myself. Forgetting who I am. That I am loved. That I am safe. That I am NOT alone in this struggle.
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I am doing much better now. I'm coming out of the hole, the dark tunnel, the abyss again. It will be back. But, each time, I will kick and fight until I come back out the other side. There is talk of suicide in the below, but please do not be alarmed. The thought is not present now. And, yes, I am taking my medication (I NEVER miss it!), AND I have an appointment with my new psychiatrist Monday. So, all is well.
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Also, I am not looking for "kudo" comments or anything else. I want to know I've reached you, touched you, and just maybe, gave you a little, tiny glimpse into our lives as bipolars.
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This was written the morning after I broke. I wrote it without edit and just let the words flow from my fingertips. It is raw, but it is from my soul.
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Depression ...

Imagine a deep, deep, dark, black hole and you are in the bottom of it. If it were earthen, you might feel safe, as in a womb. But it is not earthen.
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It is a black substance you cannot describe. It surrounds you, not like a warm and comforting blanket, but smothering. You cannot breath, therefore you cannot scream. You cannot see, your eyes are gaping in the darkness that surrounds you. You are cold and yet you do not shiver. The cold you feel is not on your skin, but deep in your soul. As if you have lost yourself, but don't even realize it because you no longer have an identity.
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The only thing you have are the tortorous words that circle endlessly in your mind and the tears that slide down your cheeks, angrily consumed by the hatred that surrounds you.
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No one can reach you. You hear words, you hear the phone, but it is as if it is far away and just the buzz of an insect. You are too tired to interpret and too weary to answer the phone.
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How does one describe losing their sanity? Feeling a rage consume you for no other reason than pure hatred pouring out of you. Not knowing up from down and left from right. Thinking you can actually move and lift a 120-lb TV from a dresser onto an armoire that is 6-feet tall. Looking at the bruises on your arms and knees in the morning and wondering where in the world they came from. Completely forgetting about the TV you almost dropped on yourself.
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Losing track of time. Feeling lost in your head. Like you don't know yourself or anyone else any more. Fear. Anxiety. Panic. You never know when or if you will come out the other side because you don't even realize you have a momentary lapse of sanity, until you come out the other side. You never know what will save you. You never know what to expect afterward.
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I am fortunate. I had someone to hold me and say nothing. Just hold me tight, exactly how I needed to be held tight so I could keep myself together, so I wouldn't fall apart. Thank God I have him. Thoughts of death had already begun to dance in my mind, so pretty in all that black. I hadn't seen the dancers in years.
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Now I have to decide what to tell my boss who scheduled a 10 AM meeting with me shortly after reading the email I sent stating I would be out of the office yesterday. Should I tell her? Will she understand? Instinct says not. Or is it fear?
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This is life for someone with a mental illness. Sometimes we can act just like everyone else and you never know we are there. But when we break, when we can't keep it together for reasons beyond our control, then you see us. You see us and you judge us.
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Because you don't know what it's like to live with a Dark Passenger who can take control whenever it likes. You can never know. I'm glad you don't and hopefully never will. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.
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What I wish is people could be more compassionate when someone says they have a mental illness. They could feel the same compassion for someone mentally ill as they do for someone who has a heart attack or is diabetic.
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I wish mental illness didn't exist.
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But it does. And we continue to hide. In the darkness.
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And we do.
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I share this now because it is raw. As quickly as possible I scramble from these moments in my life, putting as much distance as possibly, so I can once again, fool myself into thinking, I'm just like everyone else.
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Sane.

what is the point?

does age make us wiser
does religion make us better

can love heal all hurts
can time heal all wounds

must we forgive to forget
or do we forget to forgive

does joy follow pain
or does pain follow joy

are we absolutely sure
nothing is absolute

can we love what we fear
or fear what we love

happiness is not something you find

outside the inside of your mind

what rages through your soul
a banshees wail or a lovers scream

does it always feel real
or does it really feel always

if you look up and i look down
who is left to look around

who is right
who is wrong

black and white thinking
shadows on the wall

a veil of truth surrounds me
i hide my face in shame

what once was hidden
can now be seen again

It's been a really, really long time since my last confession

Things have been pretty rocky the past six months.  There is a lot of instability where I work and everyone is trying to find some even ground to stand on.  Things have changed for me and I'm hopeful again.

This past weekend was one of the best I've had in a long time.  Troy and I had an easy Saturday, spending money we probably shouldn't have.  But, hey, that income tax refund should be in our account this Friday.  :)

We were so relaxed.  The weather was beautiful beyond description this weekend.  When we were out and about on Saturday, we met so many people who were friendly and smiling.  Seems everyone was happy to have a break from the dreary, cold weather.  We even sold a litter box at PetsMart!  A couple was looking for a litter box and we gave them our *expert* opinion of which one was best.  We really should do an info-mercial and get commission on them!

We went to Barnes & Noble to get me another Nook charger.  Troy has been after me since I got it to get a second charger so I can leave one at work and one at home. Then I don't have to tote one back and forth every day.  The clerk behind the register was so nice and friendly.  She asked about Troy's castle necklace and loved his nature Tao t-shirt.  She thanked us for coming in and said we had such positive energy.  She said it was a nice note to end her night on.

Troy says when I'm happy I glow.  I definitely felt like I was glowing Saturday.  I have hope again for my job.  I spent the whole day relaxing and having a good time with my best friend and soul mate.  The weather was beautiful with a slight breeze.  Anyone who knows me knows how much I love the wind.

Hope you are doing well.  Peace.

Fa La La La La La La La La

The true Christmas Eve story

'Twas the night before Christmas and out on the ranch
The pond was froze over and so was the branch.
The snow was piled up belly-deep to a mule.
The kids were all home on vacation from school,
And happier young folks you never did see-
Just all sprawled around a-watchin' TV.
Then suddenly, some time around 8 o'clock,
There came a surprise that gave them a shock!
The power went off, the TV went dead!
When Grandpa came in from out in the shed
With an armload of wood, the house was all dark.
"Just what I expected," they heard him remark.
"Them power line wires must be down from the snow.
Seems sorter like times on the ranch long ago."
"I'll hunt up some candles," said Mom. "With their light,
And the fireplace, I reckon we'll make out all right."
The teen-agers all seemed enveloped in gloom.
Then Grandpa came back from a trip to his room,
Uncased his old fiddle and started to play
That old Christmas song about bells on a sleigh.
Mom started to sing, and 1st thing they knew
Both Pop & the kids were all singing it, too.
They sang Christmas carols, they sang "Holy Night,"
Their eyes all a-shine in the ruddy firelight.
They played some charades Mom recalled from her youth,
And Pop read a passage from God's Book of Truth.
They stayed up till midnight-and, would you believe,
The youngsters agreed 'twas a fine Christmas Eve.
Grandpa rose early, some time before dawn;
And when the kids wakened, the power was on..
"The power company sure got the line repaired quick,"
Said Grandpa - and no one suspected his trick.
Last night, for the sake of some old-fashioned fun,
He had pulled the main switch - the old Son-of-a-Gun!
- Anonymous

Social security fraud by whom?

MSNBC recently reported about the widespread misuse of social security numbers.  Our "unique" identifier.  According to research done by a large credit services bureau, they determined 1 in 7 Americans have had their SSN used by someone else.  (http://redtape.msnbc.com/2010/12/odds-someone-else-has-your-ssn-one-in-7.html)

Something the article doesn't discuss is, what happens to the social security taxes paid on those misused SSNs? 

Basically, it goes to the government as "unclaimed taxes".  Just think about how much money that is every year that employees AND employers pay into the social security fund that will go unclaimed.

If I've figured that out, you can't tell me the government hasn't figured it out as well.  So, just what ARE they doing with that extra money?

Dreams of Children

Read me first so this blog makes sense: 
The Dream Act (http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/local/orange/os-dream-act-immigration-bill-20101130,0,4438059.story)
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The thing about kids is, they are at the mercy of their parents.

They live were we tell them to live, eat what we tell them to eat (for the most part), and go to school where we send them to school. Children of illegal immigrants are no different.

Right, wrong, or indifferent and as much as you may dislike the saying, "It is what it is", well, it is exactly what it is. 

Or, exactly what is it? 

We have illegal immigrant children who have attended our schools and received educations.  Children who continued on to college and received college degrees.  Children who identify more with American culture than that of their parents birth. 

Educated adults who cannot get legal jobs so they may contribute to our society and economy.

We want to punish them because of what their parents did. 

We want to cut off our nose to spite our face.

Hello?  These children have attended our schools and received good educations.  They are capable of being productive members of our society.  They can pay taxes, buy goods at local vendors, and volunteer.  So, let's throw them all out now.

I guess, in a way, that could be good for other countries.  They could benefit from the education our country provided those children.

How many illegal immigrant children are in the US today?  No one knows, except the answer seems to be, "a lot".  Do we know who they all are?  No.  So what is the reality of rounding them all up and getting them out?  Does everyone understand what an "exercise in futility" is?  Okay.  Let's move on.

Basically, our systems have become irrelevant and instead of trying to move forward and fix it, we would rather waste time punishing people who could, right now, today, be contributing even more to our society and our economy.

They are already here.  Why not give them a chance and save ourselves all the paperwork and wasted money spent on immigration applications and the process to give them a piece of paper that makes them "legal" - or the massive amount of money (our country doesn't have) to throw them out?

...and if you're afraid they'll take jobs away from legal immigrants, then maybe a little internal competition would be good for the growth of our country?  After all, isn't that what capitalism and democracy is all about? 

Sweet Sylvia

This week came to a close with the realization that I have a lot to learn and do in a very limited amount of time.  I can see overtime looming in my immediate future.

Saturday morning we awoke to find our 16-year old (not 14, as previously reported elsewhere) Himalayan, Sylvia, with her legs straight and stiff.  She was unable to stand or walk and was not even attempting to. She did not appear to be in any pain and was purring in no time when stroked, so that is a good thing.

We rushed her to our vet's office and was fortunate our favorite vet, Dr Hess, was there.  They took Sylvia right back to assess her.  Troy and I both dreaded what we knew was inevitable. We just couldn't understand what had happened to her.  She's not a climbing cat and is what we call a "hider".  She chooses different hiding places and lives there everyday only coming out to eat, drink, poop, and pee.  She chooses a spot and lives there for 6-9 months and then moves on to another one.  At one time it was a litterbox.  EWWW!  Needless to say, she didn't stay in that one 6 months!  We couldn't understand any way she would have gotten an injury on her spine since she doesn't climb or jump and just stays hidden.

Dr Hess came in and confirmed what we already knew.  He said the cause was a blood clot and that there was nothing to be done.  He said it's time to let her go, but I already knew that too.

It's so hard letting go of any of our kitties.  They truly are members of our family.  We talk to them all the time and sometimes they answer back.  Like Sam.

Each one of them is special to us.  Some say cats don't have personalities, but I promise you, I am an expert on this subject and our cats do.  They each have quirks and pecularities.  But we love them each and everyone.

We were given a few minutes alone with Sylvia before the shots were given.  We each petted her and cried, telling her how much we love her and how special she is. She was alert, in no pain, sitting up and purring.  After a little time, Dr Hess returned and gave her the first shot to relax her and put her into a twilight sleep. 

I leaned over, cradling her head in my hands.  I placed my cheek against her fur so she could smell someone familiar as she took her last breath.  I continued whispering to her, telling her how much I loved her, how special she was, and how grateful I was she shared her life with us.  As I whispered to her the drug from the second shot sent her peacefully along.  As she took her last breath, my cheek was against hers and I continued telling her how beautiful she was, how much we loved her, how grateful we are, and told her to look for the little kitties like Sam that she could now chase.

Does she hear me? Does she understand?  I do not know and will probably never know. But I do know that it makes me feel better.  It's hard to watch a pet be put to sleep, but being with her as she took her last breath makes me feel I kept my promise to care for her to the very end.

Rest in peace, Dear Sylvia.  Beautiful princess.

We love you.

Until we meet again ...
Namaste

Inspiration comes from the strangest places

I have a family member that is really struggling with things in her young life.  I am trying to reach out to her, but am not sure how.  It hurts my heart to see her struggling as she is.

She is on my mind a lot.  I remember being a confused, angry, misunderstood (more by myself than others), and frustrated teen.  I am constantly wondering, "How can I reach her?  How can I tell her all the things I've learned that helped me overcome those feelings, for there is so much to share?"  I have been composing a letter in my head to her, but cannot seem to condense it enough to keep her interest long enough to read the whole thing.

The other day I was speaking to a friend of mine about one of my personal philosophies of life.  She told me, "You are so wise".  While I don't feel wise, and may not be college-educated or very smart, I do feel like I've been through a lot in my life and have come through the other side.  It's more liked "experienced, paying attention and learning". 

So the combination of these things have gotten me to thinking.  I've always felt destined to write a book and have attempted to sit down and do so a number of times.  But it just didn't seem to come each time I sat down.  I've had general ideas.  My drive and passion has always been to share my "unique" experiences with others that may help them or encourage them.  I don't believe I have all the answers, but do believe I have a few to some of the tougher questions.

I keep feeling these little prods to write my book.  Just feels like when the time is right, when I've learned whatever else it is I need to learn to share with others, then the book will flow.

I feel like I'm getting close ..... and if it will help my family member, then it feels even more important now than ever before. 

Unbelievable weekend!

It was such a great weekend!  Saturday night meditation was amazing!  We had two 45-minute sessions and during those I was able to reach those rare moments you experience in meditation.  You cannot try to create them, they just come naturally when you reach the right state of mind.

During differents points of the meditation, I would feel "detached" from my physical body.  It felt as everything in the physical was connected, but the true essence of "I", while a part of it, was also independent of it.  It was like being a an ocean and feeling water around you.  You are surrounded by it, you are primarily made up of water, but you still feel independent of the ocean.

I felt so wonderfully relaxed and calm after our meditations.

We got up Sunday morning and had a lazy morning.  At 2, we went to visit friends of ours.  We had the most amazing and relaxing time.  I really enjoyed spending time with them.  They are one of those few couples you feel completed comfortable with.

This morning, I was able to squeeze in a good 30-minute meditation.  That felt good and felt as if I tapped into a little bit of the good feeling I got from Saturday nights meditations.

Great weekend.  Feeling refreshed this morning.  Hopefully, it will last.  At least, until lunch time!  LOL

Have a beautiful day!