Different Kinds of Dirty

I can’t stand a lot of different kinds of dirty, and a dirty bathroom is the worst. A filthy house gives me a sense of physical desperation akin to claustrophobia. It feels as if chaos is raining down on me. Like I’m drowning under piles of trash. As if the earth itself has vomited all over me.

I know it’s crazy and that it’s the OCD talking. No. I am not drowning in trash. Garbage gets taken out every day. Yes. There is dog fur. I have 2 dogs so there is not a day where there’s no fur somewhere. There’s a layer of dust on the baseboard heater. I noticed it at 3:30am when I was cleaning up from yet another late night binge and purge session, which has been a regular occurrence this week.

I am so tired. Exhausted really. If I slow down or sit for a bit, I find myself nodding off within minutes. But let me lie down and get comfy so I can have a decent rest, and immediately I’m back on high alert.

Thoughts screaming around in my head, shouting demands at me to dust the heater. Or wipe the puppy nose prints off the window, so they can smear it all up again.

There’s no end. I hurt. Physically. I feel everything I do is done in vain because I have to keep doing it over and over. I want a clean house. And I want to curl up with Netflix and watch all day long without having to lift a finger to clean anything. A day for me.

I feel so awful for even saying that. Its selfish to want it all about me.

God, I am such a loser.


I hate the feeling when I wake up in the morning (scratch that, and let’s be honest, I meant the afternoon) and my heart just bottoms out. The weight of it is so heavy that it falls right out of my chest and at lightning speed it goes down through my intestines, through my bladder, and then falls out of my body with a thud on the floor.
I haven’t had my feet on the floor more than 5 minutes and I have already fallen apart.

What’s The Friggin Point?

I can’t keep up with this. My anxiety is really bad. I’ve been going around today visiting some family and my legs are weak. My heart is continuously beating fast and very deep. It feels like my heart is no longer located in my chest, but rather in the pit of my stomach.And thankfully I have autocorrect because 5I’m shaking so much that it is difficult to type anything on my phone.

Yesterday I ended up missing out on a family gathering because I mentally could not convince my limbs to move. I felt paralyzed and glued to my mattress. It wasn’t until 2pm that I could get myself to stand up. Things continued to work in slow motion the rest of the day.

I did manage to dress and put on some mascara and eye shadow and by 5:45m I Was standing in the kitchen, ready to leave to go to a Christmas church service. I was proud of myself for getting so far considering the state of my mind earlier that day. But then everything blew up within a matter of minutes. My dog managed to get outside and we couldn’t get him to come back to the house. We tried everything possible to bribe him back in but no. He knew that we were going somewhere and he was determined to come with us. He didn’t get to go though. Neither of us got to go actually. My husband got very upset because we had been rushing around trying to get out of the door on time but yet now we were very late so he turned around, stormed off into the house, put his pajamas on, and said we aren’t going. So after having some angry words with him I went to bed with my face stained with mascara. I didn’t have the strength to even wash it off because I just didn’t care anymore.

Continue reading “What’s The Friggin Point?”

When the lights go out

The closer bedtime gets here the bigger than pit in my stomach becomes. I get this sinking feeling at night and it happens every single night around the same time. It’s dark, everybody is settling down, the neighbors have come home and settled into their homes for the night. My dogs are curled up in their spots on the couch, having their pre-bedtime snooze. David’s eyes are getting droopy and at times he becomes irritable. And I know that he will be heading to bed very soon.

But instead of getting tired like the rest of the world, I am becoming more and more alert. My stomach hurts and my chest gets uncomfortably tight. Sometimes I get this ringing sound in my right ear that drives me nuts. And then there’s my throat. It shrinks in size and becomes very constricted. I feel like my airway is about the size of a drinking straw and everything I swallow gets stuck and I have to push it down in a big lump. My feet also get Restless. I feel a burning sensation underneath the skin on the soles of my feet and it makes me feel the need to continuously move them. I rub them against each other and sometimes I tap them.

But by this time everyone is gone to bed and tapping is just a noise that becomes an annoyance to my exhausted husband. So I have begun to learn to sit with my nighttime anxiety and let the effects of it take over my body. By the time that I eventually do get so worn out that I fall asleep I finally realize that it didn’t kill me after all and somehow I made it through another night of this.

And then I wake up in the morning. And realize that I am going to have to do this all over again tonight.


Bipolar Wins Again

I cancelled a very important appointment today. The waiting period for a spinal MRI is quite long. I should be ever so grateful for it. And I am. I really am grateful! But no. I cancelled it.

Me – 0

Bipolar – 5,623,790

Not Sure What Recovery Looks Like

It seems like some of the biggest battles I have fought were many years ago. Some days it feels like forever ago and other times it still feels like yesterday.

There are still bad days but there are many – many – good days that outweigh it all!!

There are still things that I struggle with. Some days my anxiety weighs me down.
Anxiety can be crippling. It’s like a heavy pressure on your chest and it takes your breath away.
Depression can be lonely. It gets exhausting to be stuck in ones head, questioning everything, caring too much, worrying too much, or not caring enough. Overthinking. Fear. An emptiness. A void.

We don’t talk enough about Mental Health. There is such a strong stigma attached with it.

It’s a weird sort of shame that keeps us silent from speaking up. And it shouldn’t be that way.

If each of us had enough courage to share our own struggle with Mental Health, what would our society look like?
Even if you don’t struggle with some form of mental health , how many people do you know that do?

I still have battles. I still have demons to conquer. I think if we were honest, almost everyone does!

I don’t know what recovery from Mental Health really looks like…..
but I think of it like the ocean. Sometimes it’s still and calm and crystal clear. And other times the waves begin to roll in. The tide rises. The waves get bigger and a storm is brewing. The winds blow and the sky is dark. A whirlpool is formed. A typhoon hits.

And then after a while everything settles again.

Everything is calm.

Having To Break Through Rocks

Just feel like venting. My chest is heavy. I’m emotionally drained and physically exhausted.

Why am I so lazy?

Well, it’s not lazy. Lazy is when you shrug things off because you just don’t give a damn. When you’re curled up on your couch, on your bed, alone and desperately wishing that you had your life in order, that you did all the things you had to do, that it didn’t feel like breaking through rocks just to feed and clothe yourself and get some sleep, that’s not lazy. People don’t understand. You tell them it’s hard and they tell you, no it isn’t. You start to wonder if maybe they are right. Is breaking through these rocks easy for everyone else? Are they that much stronger than me?

They don’t look like they’re struggling.

Just try harder they say.

But I am trying!!!!

It’s just not working.

Breaking boulders in my path until I’m worn out isn’t lazy. And I do it day after day after day after day after day. I’m not lazy. Most people don’t have those rocks to break. They don’t even know what it’s like to have to break through rocks to get things done. They don’t understand how hard I have to work and how hopeless I feel when I try and try and try and only fail to do what other people seem to do so freaking easily. Things are harder for me. They really are. And if those people had to deal with my problems, they wouldn’t be able to do any better than I am doing.

I’m not lazy.

I’m not weak.

I’m fighting hard. Damn it!!

I’m fighting harder than ever before.

And I guess I just wanted you to know that today.