Dear Insomnia

Once again I can’t sleep.  I usually go to bed with a movie or something on for the background noise but I felt like this was just going to keep me awake so I shut it off.  Once I shut it off my brain turned on.  Some things are trivial, some things are negative anticipation, some things are stress over the wedding and the rest was flashbacks of Kyle.

I’m getting anxiety over having to switch psychiatrists because I sadly cannot afford the $60 a month co-pay, attempting to get stronger pain meds (as the ones I am on are mostly Tylenol) from my family doctor at least for the winter, I have to make an appointment with the neurologist as my migraines are getting worse and spreading down the side and back of my head, I have to make an appointment with the orthopedist for my knee….blah blah blah….

I still haven’t told my real dad that Jake and I are engaged and, as much as I want to, I’m afraid that when I tell him and my grandmother, my grandmother is going to initially be happy but then go for the “fat bride” and just start going in on me about losing weight and what not.  I intend to lose weight as I want to be a fit bride and just fit period, but this is a topic my grandmother focuses on constantly.  Whenever I call or come over it’s the second thing she brings up in conversation right after “how have you been”.  I even imagined her saying something and me going on a rant towards her about her issues with things as she is a judgmental southern woman and then running to the garage to ball my eyes out.  Yeah….that’s how I envision telling my real dad and grandmother my great news.

I don’t know how to ask my parents to help out with the wedding.  Traditionally, the bride’s parents are supposed to help pay for at least half of the wedding but I am BEYOND afraid to ask them and I have no idea when I should do such a thing.

I want money for the wedding gifts rather than getting registered but really we do need to register for some things and I am just stuck….I’d rather be able to pay for the wedding vs. having people pay for certain things we want/need for the house.

And unfortunate of all things that keep running through my head, I’m having flashbacks.  Not just of Kyle, but of days when I was an alcoholic and previous relationships where I had seriously made an embarrassment of myself.  I have no idea why *Kevin keeps showing up, but when he does I feel the same way I did as if I was in that moment all over again…..and these moments that flashback are not good moments at all – this man nearly killed me twice and habitually beat me….I was convinced that I was going to die by his hands before the relationship ended.  Flashbacks of him I need not.

Sedatives aren’t helping me sleep.  For two weeks I’ve been up for two days and then down for 12 hours.  I tried just being in the moment, breathing deep, and mentally repeating “everything is okay right now, right now everything is okay”.  It worked for a bit and I started to see strange nonsensical images like I do when I am about to fall asleep and then promptly snapped out of it.

The scene I played out in my head with my grandmother and the fat thing was when I decided to sit up and list out loud the things that were bothering me in that moment, the things that built a racetrack in my head at the time.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep as I had already been laying there for two hours so I gave up on sleep and here I am writing this.  I wish there was a reset button on my brain sometimes. 

Somebody Else

I keep sleeping.  I can’t get anything done when I sleep my life away.  I woke up at 11pm after sleeping for 16 hours.  Now all I can do is sit here and cry.  Not like before where it was just a little bit and then I felt better.  This is the kind of cry that doesn't stop.  For every hypomanic episode I must expect a depressive episode yet I never do.

This feels more intense than it has before.  Normally I just cry for a day and then I feel better towards the end of the day.  This time I want the world to disappear.  This time I feel like I want to die.  What’s the point of being alive when I have to live with this disorder?  What’s the point of being alive when my mind tortures me constantly?  What’s the point of being alive when I’m slowly going insane and will probably off myself by the time I’m 60?

I know I won’t feel like this tomorrow but I’ll feel like this again and again and again through the rest of my life.  Another day will come where I feel like I’d rather float out to sea than be bothered by everything and everyone around me.  Another day will come where I feel as if I have fallen into a hole and I’m watching everyone around me wishing I could be anyone else. 

I’d love to be somebody who’s at least slightly sane.  Somebody who isn't a step away from being a hermit because their mind has kidnapped them.  Somebody whose life is actually eventful rather than the highlight of the week being that I went to the fucking Wal-Mart and didn't have a panic attack.  Somebody who isn't afraid of most things around them.  Somebody who isn't afraid of themselves.  Somebody who isn't ashamed of themselves and their own feelings.  Somebody who doesn't have to hide what they feel from everybody and then be embarrassed when they slip up and cry in front of somebody because they learned not to show emotions and weakness.  Somebody else.

 I guess days like these will always come back, I just hope I learn how to deal with it better.

I Crashed and Saw Jesus

After a hypomanic episode I usually crash hard...and I did.  I have been taking my meds properly but every couple of months I will have a hypomanic episode and then crash like a speeding car.  I slept for three days straight.  I had gotten up early Friday morning because I was supposed to volunteer to box and wrap toys for people in town who couldn’t afford to buy toys for their kids and then I had a doctor’s appointment at 11:30, or so I thought.  I was so tired that no amount of coffee and caffeine pills could help me stay awake, so I decided not to go help the toy people (yeah I’m an asshole who’s selfish) and I rescheduled my appointment only to find out I actually didn’t have one that day so I went to take a nap.  My nap turned into an all-day sleep.  I woke up at 12:30 at night/morning and when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw, instead of the ceiling fan, was a gigantic crucifix with Jesus on it like the kind in a church.  It wasn’t a split second vision it was there for a few minutes and then it finally faded away and there was our ceiling fan.

Now I have to explain that I always have really messed up dreams.  I’ve had them since I was little and they used to freak me out but over the years I have gotten used to them.  They are technically night terrors.  Sometimes I remember them, but it’s usually when they are particularly fucked up that it resonates with me and makes me feel weird all day.  I don’t remember what I was dreaming about the night that I woke up and saw Jesus, but I saw as hell wish I did.  I went back to sleep around 5am thinking I would just get up with Jake when the alarm went off for him to get up with Leo…..I didn’t.  I slept until 4pm.

When I woke up I started crying and I had no idea why.  I got up and went to the bathroom and when I came out Jake was standing in the kitchen and Leo was on the stairs (he was waiting for me to comment on his new haircut he got that day).  Jake asked me if I needed anything and I said I was thirsty and he offered to go get me a soda and I started to cry and said he didn’t have to.  He grabbed me and held me and I kept crying and said I didn’t know what was wrong with me.  I know now that it was from my giant crash but at the time I couldn’t stop myself and I didn’t understand.  I went back to the bedroom because I didn’t want Leo to see me crying because he wouldn’t understand.  When Jake came back I told him about the Jesus thing and he said that was strange and suggested that maybe he was trying to tell me something.  So what could Jesus possibly be trying to tell me?

Eventually I came out of my funk and was fine…except for Jesus.  I can’t stop thinking about that.

A New One I Wrote this Morning About What's Going On With Me Over the Past Few Days....Strange Things

SOMEBODY HAND ME A MIXER

I’m confused.  I have hypomanic episodes that last about four days and I have depressive episodes that last about the same amount of time.  Thankfully they are never back to back but I do crash after a hypomanic episode.  By crash I mean that I’ll sleep for 12 or more hours straight and I have zero energy the next few days.  What’s going on right now is that I’m exhibiting hypomanic symptoms but also the crash at the same time.  I’ll have hypomanic energy and I’ll get tons of things done but it only lasts for a little over 24 hours and then I crash and sleep for 12 hours.  One day I slept for 14 hours, was up for2 hours, and then promptly fell asleep again.  I slept until noon the next day.  That day though, obviously I wasn’t able to go to sleep later and went right back into the hypomanic stage….until 36 hours later when I yet again crashed.  This is what is happening right now.  I slept until 2:40pm and had tons of energy and have been getting loads of things done….things that I have wanted to get done for weeks but didn’t have the motivation or energy to do so.  I’ll crash later tonight and then it will start all over tomorrow.  What is going on?  I’ve never experienced this.  Has anybody had this issue?  What did you do about it?  I personally don’t mind having the 4 day hypomanic episodes but this mixed state is just plain annoying.

Bipolar Diaries pt. 16 - Return to Tinley Park Mental Hospital Part 2 - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

Immediately the doctors at Tinley park decided that I should not be on Klonopin AT ALL so they cut me off of it.  Anybody who takes this knows you are supposed to gradually wean off the med as it can kill you if you just plain stop taking it.  They significantly reduced my Paxil and my Lithium.  This change messed with me so much that after about 6 days I started yelling at the staff and the other patients when they pissed me off.

I had been here before so I already knew how things were going to go and how everything worked.  I also remembered how horrid it was last time because the nurses are bitches (and that’s putting it nicely) and at one point I ended up having to take care of one of the patients because they ignored her.  She didn’t belong there anyway, she needed to be in a nursing home.  I expected it to be just as bad this time, but for the most part it wasn’t.  The nurses were the same but the people were different.  Things did get a little ugly towards the end though.  I'll get to that in another post......

Before I go any further, it must be noted that this place is a state run facility.  It was a wonderful crap hole.  Like I said there were rubber beds and rubber pillows.  The food was horrid and on top of it I’m a vegetarian but the last time I asked for vegetarian meals what I got was rice with salsa on top.  So I just ate what was given to me and I ate everything on my plate so I wouldn’t be so damn hungry all day, plus they watch to see how much you eat.  Ro Ro made a comment that “this is just like Girl Interrupted.  It’s life imitating art imitating life”.  It was very true that we were almost living out the movie.  That place even reminded me of the bit in The Changeling when Angelina Jolie’s character goes to a mental hospital.  It’s a bit creepy really.

Before my groups were set up I waited anxiously for meals as we were always starving.  I was more anxious about my visitors.  Even though they came daily they always seemed to be late and I always cried when they left even though I knew they would be back the next day.  At one point they were running so late I thought they weren’t coming and started to have a panic attack.  When I asked for something to calm me down they refused.   Thankfully Mum brought me clothes and  I asked my fiancée to bring me a shirt that smelled like him and some pics of him too.  Last time I was there I was in the same outfit for days and stinking like hell because even though the facility has clothes for people who don’t have anything to change into, I couldn’t get anybody to help me get anything until 4 days before I left.

I went to all the groups just to make the time pass and in between I spent time with K, J, Ro Ro, and the Serbian stripper.  They had a library there so we got to pick out movies to watch on the weekends.  I had books and word finds that Mum had brought me too.  J and I would sit in our room talking and marking our word finds.  My last weekend there we played Jenga in the rec. room, but there was so much noise I started to freak out.  The groups were boring but I put my two cents in to participate and make things look good for me.  The only issue was when I confessed that I have a fear of going out in public and the person conducting the group pointed out that it was all in my head…as I know this because our mind is everything we are, fear and do.  Not to mention my disorder is a mental illness - a sickness of the mind.  So I know all too well it’s in my head, I just don’t know how to stop it and I really did not appreciate the insinuation that I was being ridiculous.  Ro Ro understood what I was trying to say and was defending me, but the group leader persisted so at that point I yelled out “I’m done talking just move on!”

The Serbian stripper was quite an interesting, and beautiful, creature.  I was quite enamored with her, even from the start when she came into the place like a bat out of hell.  I don’t remember what she was yelling about but she was yelling at the only male technician there.  He had surly demeanor at times and always seemed to be annoyed with the patients and he couldn’t be bothered with us.  So we all watched in awe as she went ballistic on him but we also felt slight gratitude towards her.

© Nina Allen

Bipolar Diaries pt. 15 - Bad Days Are All In Your Head (a bipolar rant) - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

When you start the day out wrong, everything else goes wrong.  At least it seems like everything else goes wrong because you’re already in a stressful mindset. 

I’ve been stressed out all week anyway because my step-son’s mother is playing a game with my fiancée and Mum and using my step-son as a pawn.  To put it short, my step-son’s mother hates me and wants for him to have nothing to do with me.  She picks small things to get mad at him for and then blames them on me.  She even claimed that I threatened her and said she was a bad mother when I wrote her to say that if she had a problem with me to come here and we could sort it out.  I may have only known my step-son for 8 months but I have grown very attached to him and he told me that he considers me to be a mother to him.  So I am stressed and saddened over this whole ordeal and things seemed to be very bad Tuesday evening.  He called to tell Mum everything that has been going on and that he wants to come see us because he misses us.  He told me that she said she wants him not to have anything to do with me period.  You see I had posted pictures of an outing of him, my fiancée and I to Facebook and some of the pictures had him in it.  One of the pictures was us together.  I tagged the ones with my fiancée in them but did not tag the ones with my step-son in them because she made him remove me from his friends list and I am sure that she wasn’t happy that his profile listed me as his mother.  My fiancée tagged the photos of him that are on my page.  I said “you watch she’s going to think I tagged those photos and freak out” and she did.  My step-son is 16 and can choose to live with us if he wants.  Not to mention there is no custody agreement and his mother refusing to let him come over here is illegal.  So there is all that.

Yesterday…. Yesterday was bad.  For a bit now I have been having cervical issues but do not have the insurance to get it checked to make sure it is not cervical cancer which I am at a high risk for.  I started my period two and a half weeks early yesterday.  There’s problem one.  I have homework that I need to get done for my psychology class at Ashford and the computer kept running uber slow, freezing and crashing, making it so that I barely got any work done and further irritated me.  There’s problem two.  I had to ship some things from eBay to my buyers and seemed to have gotten charged the same price for everything I shipped despite the fact that all boxes were different sizes and weights.  I was charged $46 for 4 boxes.  Sadly I did not think to look at the receipt until five minutes later when I was like “hey that’s not right” in the library parking lot and the post office was closed by then (I took a long time in there).  That leaves me with only $30 profit from what I sold.  I feel there was a mess up and started to worry about money.  I plan to call the post office and speak to the post master this morning.  That was problem number three.

Now we come to the fourth and final problem of the day.  Before Mum and I left the house we told her husband that there are problems with the computer, told him exactly what was going on that we needed him to look at it.  The thing is, I know enough about computers to know to maintain them but he made it so that he has a separate profile on the computer I am using right now that is password protected.  So I can’t go in and update the things that need to be updated, or cleaned, or de-fragmented because our profile does not have administrator privileges.  That in itself is frustrating but he seems to think he is way smarter than everybody else.  Mum and I were gone for a few hours and when we got home he hadn’t even touched the computer.  Everybody was irritated about that.  So he finally comes upstairs and just like I knew he would he’s asking me what things are and I have no idea because he is the one that put them on there.  I went downstairs to avoid the frustration and a little while later he came down asking about a game on here and I told him I downloaded it from a site that I buy games from all the time.  He said “well that’s causing the problem” which is impossible because I just downloaded it Tuesday and the computer had been acting up for weeks now, which I mentioned that to him two weeks ago and he didn’t do anything about it then either.  I’d never had problems with the site I bought games from and Mum knew this so we were both defending me saying that it wasn’t possible because the game in question is new.  Then he said to be wary of Facebook, so I turned to my fiancée and said “Okay no more Facebook.”.  That’s when Mum’s husband started yelling, and I do mean yelling, at me saying “Fucking listen and quit playing little fucking games!!”  Mum instantly came to my defense and told him to quit yelling and that we weren’t going to listen if he was going to yell, so he stomped off in a huff muttering under his breath.  So it’s fixed now right???  WRONG.  My fiancée turns the computer on and now the internet doesn’t work on it.  It’s not the internet itself since it works on the computers downstairs.  He came upstairs again to fix it and I started noting all this stuff coming up on the computer that shouldn’t have been because the “computer wizard” screwed things up.  After a few more hours of trying to get the internet to work I was convinced that the computer was just plain dead now.  I went downstairs again just to avoid this whole thing and told mum what was going on.  She, my fiancée and I agreed that I’m getting a laptop with the money that I was saving for Christmas presents and then her husband can’t touch it and screw it up.

Mum’s husband is constantly trying to tell me what to do no matter what the situation is.  In a lot of ways he reminds me of my mother, especially when he started screaming at me last night and the words he chose to use.  This is not the first time we have had confrontation either.  Once I snapped at him for talking to me like I was an imbecile and brow beating me.  I must admit though, last night after the screaming I felt overwhelmed by the whole day and shame.  I started to cry a little, hiding it as much as I could, and all I could think about was that my mother was right, I am a bad person and a burden.  I do know that Mum’s husband thinks I am a nuisance and a burden so I try to avoid him as much as I can just like I did with my mother.

Yesterday helped me realize that it’s the mindset that makes it seem like the whole day is going wrong, one thing after another.  If I can remember that and once one unfortunate thing happens remind myself that it’s just one instance and there’s a lot of time ahead of me, I might fair better and have less episodes.  The other thing that I learned is that my mother still has power over me even though we no longer speak and she has done more damage than I know of at this point.  The more I examine my actions the more evident the damage becomes.  I think the Mother Chronicles needs another installation.

© Nina Allen

Bipolar Diaries pt. 14 - Return to Tinley Park Mental Hospital pt. 1 - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

(SIDE NOTE: Tinley Park Mental Health Center has since been shut down by the state but it is well worth googling because that place was pure hell for many of us and we were rather mistreated)

I started writing this entry in the middle of October...shortly two weeks after I got out of Tinley Park Mental Health Facility which was on September 28th.  I was in there for nearly two weeks.  It took me until four days ago to finish the first part of this.

I started writing this a month ago.  I should have written sooner when it when it was still out-of-the-package fresh.  I think I was afraid to write it and kept putting it off.  Not for fear that my family will read it because they already know.  Perhaps because I didn’t want to re-live it.  THE RETURN TO TINLEY PARK MENTAL HEALTH CENTER.  Or as I so affectionately call it, Hotel California…thank you Don Henley.

I had gone another night without sleeping…PERIOD.  Then I got into another argument with my fiancée as I caught him “e-cheating” again.  As I sat and bawled on the couch he reassured me it was nothing but I knew he was full of it.  He and his mother left for his appointment and for the first time I was alone in the house.  They figured I was going to be fine alone but being a recovering cutter, I knew I wasn’t going to be.  In fact I had planned to eat all of the Vicodin I had left and then slit my wrists.

Then I decided I just wanted to talk to a psychiatrist as I was having an anxiety attack as well.  Considering the last time I called 911 and went to the hospital for it and didn’t get committed, I thought this was a good idea.  I was wrong.  First of all I told the 911 operator the truth AND while I was on the phone with her I was slashing my arms open with scissors.   This landed me in the worst hospital in my area where I was put into the suicide room.  Except for the first 30 min that I was in there, nobody paid attention to me.  Later a social worker from the hospital came to talk to me….I didn’t tell her the whole truth for obvious reasons.  Soon after that a rep from Will County Mental Health Department was there to do my paperwork….to send me to Tinley.  He was an asshole in attitude only.  He treated me like dirt.  One: I cannot stand men treating me in an unfair manner in any way shape or form thanks to my ex.  Two:  I cannot stand authority figures treating me as if I am a nuisance to their day and I am just a dog in the dirt.  SO I was a bitch right back.  There was nothing I could do to get out of going to Tinley at that time so screw it.

I had called my fiancée’s mother and she was going to come see what was going on but she got an even more frantic call when I found out I was going to Tinley.  I had a panic attack after the call and the nurse came into my room, looked at me square and said “you’re just doing this to yourself”.  My fiancée’s mother fought tooth and nail so that I would go someplace other than Tinley, although I later learned that once you have been in Tinley you will go right back there.  So another ambulance came and carted me off to Tinley Park.

There I was again in this smelly room with rubber couches waiting to be admitted.  At least this time I had clothes…last time I went there all I had was a hospital gown on.  For the 50th time I was asked what was going on.  Then I saw an admitting psychiatrist who asked about my meds and then proceeded to tell me that because I take 2mg of Klonopin and Vicodin for migraines I’m a drug addict.  This is very untrue.  I do not take Vicodin everyday, I don’t do street drugs, hell I don’t even drink anymore and I used to be an alcoholic.

Blah!  It was time for them to send me off to my bed now.  It was 5am when I was able to get a bed so I slept all day and all night, waking up to blood tests and what they call breakfast.  I don’t remember much of my first day there, but I do remember meeting K.  I knew she was gay from the second I saw her.  We started talking about that and we soon discovered that my roommate, J, and the girl admitted at the same time I was were also lesbians.  So we’ve got a handful of lesbians and almost all of the girls in the unit had Bipolar Disorder as well….that’s what helped to get them there.  K was a self check in…crazy loon.

I spent 12 days there and they all seem to blur together.  It’s the incidents and the people I remember most.  The place is cold and dirty with rubber beds and rubber pillows.  Even though my fiancée and his mother came to visit me everyday, I was still going crazy in there.  Most especially with boredom, yet the people there did provide some entertainment and a temporary distraction from a place that was making me even more depressed.

As I frantically write this I promise I will return with interesting stories about the people and my own explosions....and how Tinley managed to badly screw up my medication and treatment.
© Nina Allen

Bipolar Diaries pt. 13 - Anxiety, Party of One - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

I can’t sleep.  I slept two hours after taking my Lithium, Paxil, and three vicodin thanks to my migraine.  I layed there thinking about all the things I need to get done and what not.  I finally fell asleep and then woke up at 1am wide awake.  Here I now sit writing.

I am also very paranoid after what my fiancee had done so I do not trust him and find myself invading his privacy or trying to see what he is saying when he is chatting with people….or I should say girls.

I’m worried about school because I have to buy books and do not have the money for them.  I’m supposed to be getting a refund check because FAFSA always pays too much and I was hoping to buy my books with that and put half away for the wedding….

I worried about not having money and how I might go about getting it.  I’m rather uncomfortable with the fact that my fiancee’s mother’s boyfriend is making me quit smoking.  That alone is going to make me freak out as I have tried to quit many times before and it just makes me intolerable; nobody will want to be around me.  Nicotine is like my crack.....I'm a wild fiend without it.

When do good things happen?  Is my karma that messed up that I will never be able to be “right” again?  I reapplied for disability this time using a firm with a 98% success rate but I hate that the process takes so long.  I need a doctor now.  I need better meds now.  I need sanity now.

I’ve also been thinking non stop about the fact that we will not have enough money on our link card for the food we eat as we are Vegans and our food costs more than what most others eat.

I hate worrying.  It’s no wonder my doctor put that I have obsessive compulsive disorders at the bottom of my charts.  We had a conversation last time I was there and I confessed that I don’t care what happens to me.  Sometimes I pray that I will get cancer.  I told her about how I saw a bumper sticker that was pro-life stating “I notice everyone who is pro-choice has been born”.  That made me think.  I didn’t choose to be born.  I didn’t choose my parents or the life I had to grow up with having to raise myself and be abused by my mother.  I most certainly did not choose to have Bipolar Disorder.  It was given to me like an ill fitting jigsaw puzzle and I still sit here with it strewn about me.

And I might add that I am sick of people thinking they know the damn cure to what my problems are.  I'm not just depressed I HAVE A MENTAL ILLNESS. "you don't need anything but a relationship with happiness. When you find your happiness and begin to look forward to being with it, your attitude towards everything else will change. A lot of people have reinforced your dependence on drugs and that only slows down your anxieties but when you have found what it is that will make you continuously smile, all your acts of depression will cease to exist." I'm sorry but it doesn't work that way.

© Nina Allen

Bipolar Diaries pt. 12 - A Day to Remember - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

Today was a day to remember for a long time.  I woke up out of smokes.  This doesn’t make for a good start.  On top of that I was out of  Klonopin as the pharmacy only had enough for a couple days so it wasn’t like I could take them to calm down about the fact that I was having a severe nicotine fit.  I know it’s hard for people to go without cigarettes period, but for me it’s horrendous.

We were supposed to go to Wal-Mart  to get the rest of my meds and snacks for Andrew’s daughter as she is staying the night.  I waited hours and got so agitated I started walking.  I got a quarter of a mile away from the house when I gave up and just didn’t want to go.  So I turned around and started walking back when Nancy pulled up next to me and demanded I get into the car.  I didn’t want to go so I refused…but she made me.  So I sulked and brooded the whole way there.  When we pulled into a spot I refused to get out of the car which at this point she leaned in and told me I was child.  I said I didn’t want her paying for anything of mine because they always talk about how they don’t have any money.  She said she’s not giving me money she’s buying my pills and then I in turn am going to buy food with my link card….I misunderstood how she meant this comment but didn’t realize this until later.  She took my purse and left into Wal-Mart.  I became more angry and stomped through Wal-Mart to try and find her.  She was in line at the pharmacy counter and asked when my birth date was, I shrugged and left off with my purse.

I walked three miles home.  I told Andrew what happened and what I did and said.  When Nancy got home she didn’t come upstairs; I figured she would to yell at me.  She didn’t so I took matters into my own hands.  I found her downstairs and tried to hand her my link card expressing my disdain for that fact that two days earlier I told her I barely had enough money on the card to take care of mine and Andrew’s food needs.  I thrust the card at her along with my pin number and told her if that is what she wanted then here it is: take it.  I said that I had been having an episode of anger that I could not control, I did not want to go to Wal-Mart but she had forced me.  She called me a child which is not going to snap me out of it, it is only going to piss me off.  She said good it should piss you off.  She said there are many things she doesn’t want to do and she experienced the same things I do when she was my age.  I told her there is a difference between her and I because of my disorder and sometimes I can’t control it.  I said that she had never seen the other side of my disorder well this is it right here today.  This was not a nice conversation; I was livid and yelling.  She told me not to raise my voice to her and this is her house.  I felt like I was allowed to be angry at everybody else but not her.  It almost felt like my mother all over again.  I exclaimed that she obviously does not understand my disorder after all the books that I had rented for her (she must not have ever read them).  Other things were said that I cannot remember, but I do remember right before I walked upstairs she said this is my house so I said then I’ll f*cking leave!

I went upstairs and called Andrew into the bathroom so I cold talk to him alone and told him the whole conversation.  I also told him that I was going to leave because I felt like this was my mother all over again telling me that it’s not my disorder it’s just plain being a female.

After about 40 minutes I had him buzz her upstairs while Andrew’s daughter was downstairs eating.  At first I wanted to ask whether I should pack my things and leave before or after his daughter left.  By the time she came upstairs I apologized for raising my voice and was sorry for having an episode around his daughter but it’s something that is very hard for me to control.  She then apologized for saying things that had hurt me and now all is well.

This is something I NEVER would have gotten from my mother as she never apologized for anything because everything was ALWAYS my fault.

© Nina Allen

Omittance for my Own Safety and Avoiding Backlash and Family Issues

I have quite a few bits on what I called "The Mother Chronicles", but the last website I posted them on my family found them and got very mad.....despite the fact that what I wrote was completely true.  So quite a bit of that part of the book will be skipped.  If you'd like to read them, contact me here, email me, or get a hold of me on Facebook and I will send them to you.....they are rather interesting after all ;)

Energy Shift - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

The energy was completely negative today.  I have a black mass of bubbling tar inside of me.  I want to explode.  I want to hide in a dark place for weeks.  If I stop talking I feel nobody would notice.  I want to cry until I have no tears left inside of me.  I want to die.

Everybody thinks Bipolar Disorder is just “oh she’s depressed for most of the time and then sometimes she’s really really happy”.  There’s anger, immense internal anguish, physical pain, suicidal thoughts/tendencies/attempts, extreme fear, hatred of identifiable means, absolute despair….the symptoms never end and never cease to surprise me with their ferocity.  Not to mention acting upon impulses no matter how insane they are without being able to rationally think about what you are doing.

I have run out of necessities, I won’t be able to see my doctor next month, I won’t be able to get my pills which means the crazy that I feel all the time will become more real than anybody is able to deal with.  The state medical system is horrid.  I am not pregnant nor am I disabled therefore I cannot receive state medical assistance.  Yet I am mentally ill and cannot work or afford medical insurance.  If I am not to take my pills I can harm others and or myself but that’s just fine by the state because I am not pregnant when I do so.   The horrid thing is I already hate people extremely; I want to beat stupid people senseless, I even have dreams about it and sometimes daydreams.  When situations come up I later think about how I could have physically harmed that person or persons.  I want to scream obscene and horrifically violent things at people until their eyes bleed.

I’d like to be committed please.
I’d like people to understand.
I’d like people to help when I can’t help myself.

Andrew’s money magically disappeared so he can’t get anything he needs nor can I.  No party cares to help and buy some small things I need.  In fact his step-father had the nerve to ask me how much money I have on my link card because they might need it.  IT IS MINE AND ANDREW’S MONEY FOR FOOD BECAUSE WE EAT SEPARATE FROM THEM AND HAPPEN TO EAT A DIFFERENT DIET AS WE ARE VEGETARIANS SO NO YOU CAN’T USE MY DAMN FOOD STAMPS WHEN YOU WON’T EVEN BUY ME RAZORS WITH ANDREW’S MONEY THAT YOU ARE HOARDING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  He’s being cheated and he can’t do anything about it.  When I get the means to I am saving every dime and we are moving out of state.   Then I am to be interrogated about some of her pills that she is short on.

There’s the other ugly side of how people treat those with Bipolar Disorder: we are all criminals in the eyes of those who do not understand.  Cuff me and haul me to jail since I am to be put on trial anytime something goes wrong.  This is not the first time this has happened in this house or period.

Powers of the universe please take me away.

© Nina Allen

Birthdays and Fits - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

I ACTUALLY WROTE THIS TWO WEEKS AGO BUT NEVER GOT AROUND TO POSTING IT.....YOU'LL SEE WHY LATER IN THE POST.

It started out as a good week.  The 15th was my birthday, I went to the doctor the day before and got a refill on my prescription for my anxiety meds THANK GOD.  The day of my birthday I didn’t do much, I didn’t go out partying like I normally do, but I did make sure that I was to be seen.  I got all dressed up in the dress I bought just for my birthday, my tiara, my new necklace from Andrew, my “Kiss Me it’s My Birthday” button, and my velvet lace up cuffs that had purple satin on the ends and black feathers over the sides.  All I did was go shopping for a few things here and there at a few different stores in town haha.

I felt like a star for the day.  Every place I went to people would notice the tiara and comment on it and then I would tell them it’s my birthday and of course ensued the birthday wishes, or people would notice the button and wish me happy birthday.  The highlight of my day is when I went to the dollar store.  I got out of the car and there was a group of four guys standing near the shop.  One of them nodded at me so I nodded back.  Then he waved so I waved back.  So of course as I was walking towards the doors I gave a sexy saunter.  I guess they must have come in to the store soon after me because the guy who waved ran into me in one of the aisles and started chatting me up.  There was flirting and what not.  I told him I was engaged but that didn’t stop either of us.  It was fun.

The next day I spent at my grandmother’s house where Andrew fell in love with her dog Tessa a Lhasa Apso/Poodle mix, a.k.a. LhasaPoo.  I told her about the engagement and she was happy.  I took photos of her gorgeous flowers, Andrew managed to capture photos of a Hummingbird and a Cardinal in the backyard, he took photos of Tessa as well.  I got the traditional birthday cash and a book that Grandma had bought but never read.  I was rather excited about this as I collect books of an educational manner.

Then there was Saturday.  It started well but ended in a craptastic way.  I was excited all day about going shopping with Andrew’s mother at this giant goodwill in the next town over.  I found lots of great clothes and books ( Hello Vera Wang for $4.99 ) and I got 25% off of everything since Goodwill sends me a “birthday card” with a discount coupon on it.  The book section is where things got ugly.   People started crowding me and suddenly I could hear every clang and every child in the store.  I wanted to scream out and run, but instead I covered my ears, crouched to the floor, and pretended that I was looking at books when I was really trying to keep myself from hyperventilating.  I ended up being rude to a customer again, what is it with thrift store that makes me angry?  I was trying to get to the other side of the book shelf, but this woman had her cart sideways and was standing between me and the cart.  I said excuse me but she ignored me.  Then a man behind me said “excuse me” to which I could not help but quip “I’d excuse you if I could excuse myself!”  Finally I had enough and we checked out and headed home.

When we got home Andrew’s mother’s boyfriend kept going on about how long we were gone.  I had to bite my tongue this time, but I wanted to snip “What difference does it make how long we were gone?  We were gone and now we are back.  Tada!”.  So I dropped off the bags and then left to go to the dollar store to pick up some things I forgot the other day.  I’m making a right turn at a green light when these hillbillies turning from the left cut me off.  So I flipped them off.  Then they decided to slam on the brakes in front of me right near the intersection on a very busy road.  So I punched the gas and went around them again flipping them off.  I come to the next stop light which is red and when he drives past me again I flip him off and he screams out the window “What the fuck is your problem?!” to which I retorted, or screamed rather, “You Fucking cut me off and you don’t know how to drive!!”.

I do my thing and then go home.  Andrew’s mom asked if I got everything I needed and I said “Yeah all except mosquito stuff”.  Her boyfriend thinks he knows everything and everybody else is stupid so here was a chance for him to do so to me.  I had a mini snap on him; it was more or less just a rude reply.

I couldn’t make dinner for me and Andrew since every burner was being used and there is barely any counter space.  I couldn’t use the computer and hadn’t been able to do so in days as Andrew is either always using in or sitting in the chair in front of it.  The day started good and then turned bad which made me want to flop on the bed and throw a fit like a five year old.  I’ve been taking my pills like clockwork so I have no idea why I feel like schitzo/bipolar/crack head cunt.

© Nina Allen

A Very Lonely Birthday - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

Sometimes I have mixed symptoms, meaning that whether I am going through a manic phase or I am in a depressive phase I exhibit elements of both.  Which means that my irrationality and lack of self control is always present.  I do things without thinking about it until it’s far too late to stop myself.  Sometimes it feels like a completely different person emerging and doing stupid, dangerous, life threatening or illegal things.  This is mostly because I am not on the right medication.

Due to my stupidity I basically lost most of my family save for my brother and grandmother.  Andrew told me that he has done worse things than I, yet his family has not abandoned him.  This made me realize that it’s possible for family to love you without caring about you.  I have no friends where I live now and really don’t have much of a way of meeting anybody.  Out here I just have Andrew, his mom and my grandmother.

My birthday is next week and I feel so alone.  Normally I buy myself a dress specifically for the occasion along with accessories which most times included a tiara.  Then I’d go to the bar and lots of my friends would show up.  I’d get presents and drinks.  One year I decided to bring two disposable cameras with, one for me and one for the bar for people to take pics of whatever they felt like.  That was definitely interesting.  My birthdays over the last six years have been great fun.  This year…..I feel so alone.

I can’t wait to see how depressed Christmas will make me.

© Nina Allen

Severe Anxiety - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

Lithium.  Paxil.  Klonopin.

No combination of pills seems to be able to combat my mind's self destruct mode: anxiety attack.

The racing thoughts that chatter themselves in circles cannot be silenced.  Well, they can, but only I have the power to do so.  So how does one do such a thing when they don't know how?
I sold my car in an act to be able to take care of myself for a few months while I awaited the state's decision on my disability claim.  That is probably one of the only responsible things I have done in my "adult" life, but that's besides the point.  I have now  been denied by the state and have the option to appeal.  I also have the option to be "employed" by the state as my fiancee's personal assistant.  At the advice of my doctor and my own notion, I decided to commission his mom to call the department who arranges such a deal.  She said she would call tomorrow...TWO WEEKS AGO.

Now I am running out of money.  The bulk of what my fiancee gets from disability is sucked away by his mother's boyfriend for bills leaving my fiancee with $70 a month to himself.  He and I both suspect his mother's boyfriend is taking more than necessary one way or another.  Personally I feel that as her boyfriend receives more money from disability than my fiancee and she herself receives unemployment, my fiancee is getting the shaft here.  Had I any income to contribute I would, but I don't, and again that's besides the point.
I'm in freak out mode.  I am OBSESSIVELY thinking about my own finances and how I could possibly get more money.

To add to this anxiety she never added me to her car insurance policy, so once I cancel mine my license gets suspended (long story).  The dose of Klonopins I have is not strong enough.  It does nothing when I get like this and I fear I may have a meltdown.  I'm starting to think I should have checked myself into a psych unit after being denied disability.  I truly do not know how to deal with things and take are of my disorder.  The thoughts you read here in my other entries may be coherent and fluid, but the violent storms that go on in my head are different.  They are so horrible I can't even describe them to anyone.

I want to scream as loud as I possibly can.  I want to yell out for help.  Many days I fear I will never NEVER get the proper help I need.  If the healing slashes on my arm don't announce loud enough that something is wrong then I don't know what does.
I want disability or the state pay because I WANT TO GET THE HELP I NEED FOR I AM DROWNING MYSELF.

© Nina Allen

Scrambled Thoughts and Mood Swings - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

Despite the fact that I had so much to write about, given my hard past and the day to day struggles with myself, I couldn't bring myself to do so.  I should have.  I have a very bad habit of holding everything in and putting on the “pretty” face.  What I ended up with was a break down confession of thing I never tell anybody, a waterfall of tears, and so many more thoughts running around in my head.  I feel like somebody slipped me speed and I’ve gone crazy.

Let’s back up.  I should write no matter what I am feeling.  I didn’t write because I didn’t push myself.  Then I got sick with food poisoning.  Because of this I couldn't take my pills…even if I had they wouldn't have had a chance of staying in my system; I couldn't even stay hydrated.  While I was sick the only thing I could think about was being sick.  As my body got better my mind began to get sick.  Now I had to deal with myself and all my paranoid thoughts.   I was watching T.V. but also happened to be watching my fiancee talking to a girl on Facebook and it made me curious what he talks about to other girls.  So I asked and he told me he talks about me among other things.  Given the nature of how we met, my disorder and the fact that people don’t want to deal with it as well as how I feel abandoned by most the people I have known in my life, I confessed that I was afraid that eventually he would hate me and leave me too.  I started bawling and soon all these other feeling I harbor about life in general and my past came pouring out.

Then I felt stupid.  Anytime I talk to people about my feelings and especialy if I cry, I feel stupid.  I have been conditioned not to cry or show emotion as I was punished for it, and now my mind continues to do the damage my mother started as I don’t know how not to feel that way.  He tells me not to be ashamed and not to hold things in as I can talk to him and his mom whenever I need to.  The sentiments are fantastic but it is a hard thing for me to do.  Not long after I am feeling better but it quickly turns when I notice she is flirting with him.  He insists she isn’t but the stupid and obvious remark she made says otherwise.  As quick as the snap of fingers I am pissed.  I stay this way for the rest of the night and part of the next day.  Only when I hear a song on the radio while coming home that day do I realize that I’m being completely stupid.  I forget to look at the big picture.  Even if she, or any other girl, is flirting with him why should I care?  He’s not flirting back and WE’RE ENGAGED HELL-O.  Once again I apologize.
I don’t notice the changes in my moods from lack of medication until it is too late, but he notices a lot sooner than I do.  My actions during my rapid cycling made me realize how fast and easy it would be for me to go off the deep end without my medication.  I really do feel horrid that he has to deal with me sometimes. 

© Nina Allen

What Did You Just Say? - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

When I went to have my review from a psychologist for my disability claim, I was informed that my doctor had documented in my records that I have OCD. This came as a shock to me as I am not what I picture OCD to be. My brother is far closer to exhibiting OCD-like behavior than I thought I do. His psychiatrist even told him he had "OCD tendencies"...we just call him "anal retentive" and he agrees.

It was two weeks ago that I went for my review but the other day I found myself thinking about that. My fiancee and I were supposed to go to the mall so we could get me a new "temporary ring" that doesn't make my skin turn green but before we could take the car Mum, as I have found myself calling Andrew's mother, had to run an errand. OK no big deal I still had to finish getting ready anyway. Three hours later I was having my own little shit fit because she wasn't home yet. It could have been worse, I could have had a fit when she left considering I know that when she runs an "errand" she ends up getting side tracked by all the things in the stores or different places she should go while she is out. So there I am outside smoking a cigarette with Andrew when my mind wandered to that specific comment in the interview and it hit me...there ARE certain things that I do that are a little compulsively obsessive. I wouldn't freak out so much and have to take klonopins if I didn't pre-arrange the entire day in my head. Even when I have nothing specific to do that day my mind arranges it so that in a manner I do. So then when the plan fails I freak and in come the klonopins to the rescue.  I plan every minute of my day. I make lists of things to do....lots of them. When I used to clean at the ex's place I would find so many papers that were nothing but my lists. I don't just make lists of things to do - I make them out to minute detail. I make lists even for when I am on the internet of websites that I need to go to and then challenge myself to make it to all of them within the amount of time that I am on the computer. Then I cross off the ones I have gone to, turn the page and make a new list.

I calculate and pick every action, every scene, every reaction, every what if, every consequence to any given thing every day. It's sick really.

On a somewhat related note I ended up filing a complaint against the old fart who "reviewed" me. First problem: we never even addressed the issue of my disorder which was why I was there. What he did was ask me questions that are related to people with Dementia. Second problem: when he asked me about my meds I told him that I have to take two klonopin sometimes because I'm so worked up and I seem to be building up a tolerance to them to which he told me was straight up drug abuse. I do not see how I am abusing them if I am trying to make sure that I am safe and calm and that I don't hurt anybody or myself. Then when I said something about the lithium making me rather tired during the day he said it was all in my head that I subconsciously thought myself tired as lithium is a salt pill......uh no it isn't and it says in the information papers you get from the pharmacist, the side of the bottle, and was told by the pharmacist herself as she is required to warn me about this fact IT MAKES YOU DROWSY. The third and final problem was the kicker: when asked about the last time I worked I happened to mention that I was going through a manic period that happened to last a year and he said "they would haul people to the funny farm for that"....which I did not find funny. Nor did I find his choice of words professional. I was actually somewhat offended considering the fact that I have been in a state facilitated mental institution. I bear some horrid memories from that place and would like never to return there (although I can't due to the fact that it closed shortly after I was discharged from there) or any other place like it.

Between the psychologist and waiting to hear about my claim I've become even more stressed than normal. Last night I dreamed that I was sitting with my doctor and she told me that the results of his review came back and he claimed that I was not Bipolar I was faking it and that I need to get checked out by a psychiatrist to see what my real problem is.

© Nina Allen

Promiscuous Disorder - Brain Error: Record Skips - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

Sitting in the passenger side of a car this morning, I found myself eyeing the man in a long black truck next to me. He was caressing his tan shaven head. I noticed his fingers having always had a fetish for manly hands and thought they were sexy. I noticed he had rather strong arms and then I caught a glimpse of his profile. Perfect chiseled jaw line, a long rounded perfect nose although I couldn't see his eyes for the sunglasses. Yet, I liked what I saw. A lot. I thought to myselfMMMM I would do him, I would do him good. I imagined kissing another man's lips and sliding my tongue into his mouth, his into mine with the urgency of our libido's crashing into each other.

Oh god what am I doing?! I'm engaged and I'm fantasizing about the man in the truck next to me and I cannot bring myself to stop staring at him.This is where it starts. I have cheated on EVERY boyfriend I have ever had no matter how committed we are or aren't. I must bring this to a stop for I dare not hurt what I have.

After the thoughts of the random man in the black truck I found myself thinking of my most recent ex...because I had cheated on him too and he too I wanted to marry, though nowhere near as much as the one I have now. I thought about how the ex and I are still friends and that he was shocked that I had gotten engaged as if I would burn a candle for him forever. I had for a long time thought that I would love him forever and never find anybody better....but I did find somebody better. I had a conversation in my head with the ex where I proclaimed that I have everything that I had in and more with my fiancee. I don't have to ask for attention for it's lavished
upon me without. I don't have to try to kiss him we can't keep our lips off each other. I don't have to be afraid of his harsh words because I know that will never happen. Nor do I have to fear that I shall come into abuse in any form as I have with the ex and many others before him. Not to mention there is so much love between us that I have cried happy tears for the first time in my life. Tears of love.

I've finally broken the pattern of bad boyfriends who give me nothing but grief and pain whether physical or mental. I finally found what I have been telling myself this whole time that I needed: a man with a heart of gold, intelligence, loves everything about me unabashedly, knows exactly what he likes and wants but is not afraid to let people help him....oh...and he's gorgeous to boot.

Then I started thinking about how I saw that the ex had put up new photos from his vacation and I wanted to see if he aught any good fish plus I wanted to see where he went. So I wandered through the photos and I came across one where the sunlight hit his face so perfect and I remembered how sexy he used to be to me. He had rugged good looks and wonderful dimples when he smiled and laughed. I stared at the picture thinking about what used to be us and how anytime we broke up I would date somebody else but ultimately go back to him. This time after we broke up I swore I didn't even want to be friends with him and we didn't speak for two months. I stared at his picture still....knowing that what we had was over forever but I couldn't help remembering...well....the sex. I turned around and looked at my fiancee sleeping, with his face so innocent and beautiful it killed me. I turned back towards the picture for a brief moment and then turned back towards my sleeping beauty. I grabbed my engagement ring, as I sleep with it off, and put it on as if solidifying that he will not have victory over me again and I went about the rest of my day....

That is until the man in the truck. After thinking about the photos this morning and the conversation I wondered to myself what would happen if I were to be around him for a given amount of time.....would I be tempted?? Even so if I were would I consider it or go through with it? I couldn't. My fiancee's female friends reassure me of how lucky I am and how great a man he is and that if I hurt him in any way my ass is on a platter.

So the problem lies to be that I know I will think like that again given the good looking guy, although I am allowed my fair share of women. I must not act upon visual lust with men and I forbid myself to have any male friends as that is how I found myself in the bed of another all the other times. I MUST BREAK RECORD INTO PIECES.
Recently I read in a few books that I have been reading about Bipolar Disorder that promiscuity is often a problem one with my disorder has.......I have no idea how that ties in there but it seems to fit me too well.

© Nina Allen

Out of Order Bipolar Disorder - UNEDITED VERSION (pre-novel editing so you get the raw deal) - Originally written in November 2010

They told me "write something everybody wants to hear about" "write something everybody is talking about" "write about politics". I choose to write what I know and it's something I know all too well.

Sunday night I had spent too much time on the computer as I often do and had many things to do the next day...well that day as it had passed Sunday night and turned into early Monday morning. I decided I would just stay up and leave early for the errands I was to run that day. It felt like a good start (as most bad days do) until halfway to my destination I realized had forgotten the clothes I was going to donate to Goodwill. I don't have enough gas or money for gas to bring them back so they will have to sit there. So I get to the store and find that all the handicap spots are taken and the only place left to park is way in the back by the loading bay "MOTHER FUCKERS! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SPOTS!" So I park 50ft from the store doors and hobble my way up there.....by the time I got there I was in so much pain and so mad I wanted to just leave....and I should have after what came next....

Yesterday afternoon I awoke at four pm to "We have cigarettes" (I had used the last of our money to buy some really cheap ones neither of us cared to smoke for the nasty taste). I waved my hand in dismissal as if I didn't care. I did care...I was more than glad to have cigarettes of my brand. My fiancee scooted close to me as there was obviously something amiss with my demeanor. I started crying as if I would never stop, th tears flowing from my eyes like a river and then came the words sobbing with every sentence I spoke. "There was too many! There was too many people in the store!! I started screaming at them! They were everywhere and I started screaming at them!!" I didn't tell him what I was actually screaming at them although he would have understood because he is one of the few people who TRULY understands me. What I was screaming must have seemed to the people in the store as if I were a crazed woman and sometimes I feel so: "Get the fuck away from me!" "Why won't you people move?!" "Must every person in the store be in the same aisle at the same time FUCK!" "Will you move?? Fuck! All I want to do is get out of the fucking store!!" "Must everybody stand in front of the doors so I CANT! GET! OUT!?!" Then of course once I got outside and started hobbling towards my car 50ft away I screamed out "FUCK!!!" As I got near to my car a woman asked me if I was leaving and although all she wanted was my spot I snidely replied "yesssssssssssss I am". As we are vegetarians I also didn't tell him about my stop at Burger King on the way home to get some chicken fingers. I did tell him about the cabbie behind me as I was at the light going to get on the highway that takes me back home. As soon as that light turned green he blared his horn at me so I peeled out with as much force as my car could give and fishtailed up the on ramp. I slowed enough to where he would get into the lane next to me and got behind him proceeding to blare my horn for 10 seconds. I followed him for five minutes incessantly honking my horn then I sped up and got into the lane next to him honking my horn and then pointing at it screaming,
"Oh you have a horn you're fucking great huh?!" as if he could hear me......he smiled a knowing smile and I sped off. Still in a rage, I sped up the highway nearing closer and closer to my exit shoving fries down my gullet despite the fact that I couldn't taste them nor did I even want them (keep in mind he doesn't know about my fast food stop so he knows nothing of the fries either). I noticed the sign that said my exit was 2 miles ahead so I tried for 2 miles to get over two lanes but nothing was working.  Every time I tried to change lanes somebody two cars ahead of me would get into the lane I wanted in therefore closing my gap. I had my turn signal on indicating that I wanted to get over a lane but it seemed to have been lost on everybody on the highway as I find people just don't give a rats ass anymore. Still filled with rage from the day I jerked my wheel back and forth shaking the car within the lane. Then I decided Maybe I will just ram this other car in this other lane out of my way.So I swerved hard to the right of me nearly missing the poor little white target....I wasn't really going to hit the car otherwise I would not be writing this now, it was more of a "Please let me the hell in" gesture. That was the end of what I told him but not the end of what happened...although close.

Nobody around me honked or did anything to make it apparent that they know that I am nucking futs. Finally there was an opening right at exit so I swerved two lanes to the right and drove my crazy ass home. Arriving in the parking lot I violently shook the wheel somewhat hoping it would just pop off. Then i just sat there for what seemed like forever but was really only five minutes. I grabbed a few things, threw them in my purse and then purse handles in hand bashed the dashboard with it. Were it not made of mesh it would have busted and the contents spilled out further crapping on my day or it would have made a dent in the dashboard. I got out of the car and hobbled up the street to the house and went in to be greeted by Richard (soon to be mother-in-law's boyfriend of 17 yrs) announcing that they (finacee and mum as I like to call her) were on their way home. I didn't care to wait for them so I went upstairs and went to sleep. Now we have come back to "Yesterday afternoon" blah blah blah so the story continues here:

I spied my mail hoping it was the missing food stamp card I was waiting for...it wasn't. I tossed the mail aside with a grunt. I grabbed my unopened smokes and headed to the bedroom door, turned to face him and asked "Are you coming?" as he usually comes downstairs outside to smoke with me. He stared at me blankly. I repeated but in a more irritated manner "Are you going to come with me or are you just going to sit there?" I didn't wait for a response I just went downstairs and lit a smoke. When I was almost done he appeared next to me. I thought about having another just to be out there with him but I muttered to myself about not wanting one and went back inside leaving him out there after I had asked him to come with me. I laid back down in bed and soon after he came back upstairs.

It should have been "Thanks for bringing me fries" but instead the thought wasWhere the hell is my Shamrock Shake? What actually came out of my mouth was "How old are those fries?"....they were four hours old. Sure I could have heated them up and covered them with ketchup...but I didn't. I asked my fiancee to taste one and tell me if they were nasty. He ate one and shook his head no so I chose the softest one and popped it in my mouth only to discover it was disgusting. With a grunt I spat it into my hand and said "No fucking way I am NOT eating those" and there they sat for another fur hours as I passed back into sleep. I woke to his mother bringing him a plate of cheese pizza and watched as she cut the already sliced slices into bits as if he were a two year old child. I should have unsterstood why she was doing this for him; he has had a stroke and can only use his left arm and leg, cannot say but a few words and cannot bite down on things as well as you or I can. Yet I didn't because I never cut his food for him in this fashion and I cook half his meals.

TIME OUT: I also understand why she does this and many other things she does for him daily because a mother gets to baby her child until he or she is ten and then you have to deal with adolecense and then adulthood. She has gotten a second chance to baby him because he has had a stroke, as well she lost her youngest child before his stroke. It is very endearing and sweet and shows how much she loves him and how special he is to her. There are many things she no longer needs to do for him as things he could not do when he first had a stroke he can do well now so once again he is becoming an adult.

So as she is chopping his pizza into tiny bits I whispered to him "Why the hell is she doing that??? She doesn't need to!" I had whispered too low so he didn't hear me and I told him I would tell him in a minute. A few minutes later after she had left and gone downstairs I said "Why did she do all of that she doesn't need to?!" to which I received a glare and a confused look at the same time. How one can do this I have no idea but that is exactly what it was. This is yet another instance where I should have just let be be and kept my mouth shut. So I turned over once again and went back to sleep not waking again until this morning.

Yes I realize that I live with my fiancee and his mother and his mother's boyfriend, but you see I can never live alone as much as I would like to. If I were to live alone.....ever.....well until I get the proper help lets hope....during these bouts of psychosis things would be 20 times worse and most likely above all things I would take my own life. So no matter how sordid living arrangements may seem to others, they are necessary to me.


WELCOME TO MY DISEASE: BIPOLAR DISORDER III

I could start at the begining of this but it would take too long. You'll get to know the whole life of my Bipolar Disorder and it's interesting stories eventually but not in order. I've always been out of order.

© Nina Allen