These are my thoughts. They are not meant to make sense. They are my echo into the woods. I am the tree that falls, and it is here that I make a sound.
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Sanity Optional
Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Alternative Treatment

I'm always looking for other ways to deal with BP than the heavy medications we are given. I did a google search and came up with this site that describes things as odd as breathing through one nostril and then the other.

I'm all for trying something new. But geez, that's just a wee bit strange. Why, you ask, back there in the peanut gallery? Why turn my nose up (pun intended) at such efforts?

Well, smartie pants, I don't think it's really possible to breathe through one nostril at a time, except when in the midst of those horrible February colds where your one nostril is encrusted closed and packets of C4 are required to open it anyway.

But let's re-examine this.

What would one have to do in order to really do this? It would take extreme concentration, to the extent of shutting out all other stimuli. This is, I believe, the definition of meditation. Instead of concentrating on a point of light or an architectural feature in the room, you are concentrating on your breathing. This is one of the key steps in meditation.

How does this help BP?

For those who are not tarred with the bipolar brush, you have to imagine your mind as a clean kitchen floor (I'm going to borrow and alter an analogy that Michele used, if you don't mind, Michele). You have a house full of kids and a couple of dogs and they wake up, run through the kitchen, spilling juice, the dogs have dirty feet from outside, so you go down and clean the floor, but they come back from playing outside and track even more through and yet you still clean the floor, but in a different corner now, and they make their own lunch and it's mess again all over the floor, and still you clean. The bipolar mind is both easily distracted and has difficulty on extended concentration (moving from area to area to clean the floor, the tracks along the clean floor being all these new thoughts randomly racing across your mind). Ironically, the BP mind can also take one idea and shake it repeatedly, unable to let it go, the constant focus sometimes changing into a distorted view of the topic, which, according to some topics, can be quite dangerous indeed. The thoughts can be still racing, they are just one topic, over and over.

The benefit to trying to do something as ludicrous as breathing out one nostril at a time is it helps focus the BP mind onto something neutral, something that is very unlikely to trigger either a manic or depressive spiral. Breathing also controls your system's tempo: the steady slow breathing of such an exercise would help regulate the BP nervous system to a calmer, manageable level.

Mind you, I still think the overall suggestion is strange--one nostril at a time. But the message behind it is good.

Do I plan on doing it? No. But I run, I draw, I play hockey, I paint. These things help regulate my concentration and keep me, for at least those short durations, closer to the ground and not spinning into the stratosphere.

Do I think it could take place of medication? Oh, I wish with all my heart that it could. But I'd be terrified to try. Not yet. Just not yet.


Monday, August 30, 2004


A new sales rep at work started August 16. He resigned today. My immediate thought was - What did I do? He had only really worked with me, just getting started on his sales calls, and I know that I hadn't offered one of his customers one of the options he had suggested and we didn't get the order so I thought, man, was it my fault he was leaving all of a sudden....

I sent an email as such to my husband. He responded: NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU!!!! And I guess this means that the great mood of this weekend is now on a down turn.

You know what? That was the right thing to say. It's NOT all about me and I have been feeling so wonderful this weekend, I wasn't going to give that up. So the spin happened - 180 degrees - and I was good again. Took all of 5 minutes from spin to spin.

David, the president, posted the announcement of this man's resignation with a note that this was this man's 5th position in 1 year. Then I thought, geez, that sounds like bipolar behaviour. But then again, it's not all about me. Just because people act like me doesn't mean they are like me.

Let's get off Planet Blondzila....

The three of us (Rob, Adam and I) went to Chapters and got Adam some more books. He's going through them like Demi Moore goes through plastic surgeons. Pretty good for a kid that was supposed to be dyslexic when he was 5.

Rob's watching TV in our bedroom. I am going to go. The Seroquel's still not kicking in, but it's getting late for an old girl like me.

Life is good.

Sunday, August 29, 2004

Burst of Activity

It's been a while. I've noticed it was last Monday for my last post. I've figured out how to list the blogs I like to read (you're welcome, Cliff :-)) - I may not be the sharpest tool in the woodshed, but I get it eventually haha.

I've also had some wonderful correspondence with Michele, another BPer whose blog I read.

Something that always astounds me is getting confirmation that those really bizarre thoughts, those self-destructive messages that drop right from the clear blue, that these are not just me, that others experience similar things. This confirmation...I wouldn't say it makes me happy, because that would be wrong....but rather, it gives me a moment to breathe. It makes me feel like the burden of such thoughts becomes spread out over more shoulders, lessening its weight. This is a good thing. This gives me almost a sonar-locating sense as well - the messages that bounce back give me a sense of where I am in an overall landscape whose edges are sometimes blurred. This comes in a different form from the other blog that I read that is written by a partner and caretaker of a woman with BP. I can get a sense from her writings how difficult it can be and the sonar bouncing to me sometimes helps me adjust my reactions and interfaces with Rob.

I initially wrote this post saying that nothing bad's happened this week. I erased it. I have to say that there have been moments where I struggled. Michele and I corresponded and I mentioned to her that even as a teenager I knew on some level that something really was wrong with me, because I had to promise myself as a teen not to die if I had children, so I wouldn't hurt them. I'm not depressed. Not at all. In fact, if I'm not stable (which I still am not sure that I am not indeed stable), I would say I'm hypomanic edging to mixed. Case in point: my activities yesterday.

Up at 7, breakfast, we drive Adam to his fathers 45 minutes away, get home and take my car to dealers for oil change etc, while waiting walk the mile to the doughnut store for a coffee and a danish, bring it back and sit outside in the sweltering heat doing crosswords waiting for my car(you may be surprised to know how hot and humid Toronto is in the summer - it was 26 C which is about 72 F but it's the humidity that is a killer - the adjusted temperature to take the humidity into about was about 36 C, or 97 F), then drove from dealer to Home depot on the spur of the moment to get some gardening stuff - ended up getting three privet hedges (two to replace the two that are dying and one to fill out the thin spot), and two bushes called "Bluebeard" and two perennials and two bags of 3-in-1, dug up the two dead hedges, planted the new two, moved one of the other over about 9 inches, dug up the sod and put the third beside it to fill things in, ripped up about 4 square feet of the garden by the corner of the lot where the stop sign it, planted the two new Bluebeard, turned all the soil and planted the perennials, moved another perennial over 2 feet to balance the look, went inside, had a bite to eat, finished painting the windows in the front door (painting them in a faux stained glass look), changed, went for a 2.5 - 3 mile run (which was the best run I'd had all week: they'd been sluggish lately in all the sudden rise in humidity), came in, had a hot bath, then sat and started another beaded glass necklace. By this time it was about 6 pm and I went and got dinner.

So - because I was so busy, I think my mind had little time to divert down the bad pathways. But the need to continue moving, the drive to do something, the cleansing feeling of the backbreaking sod turning - why does this have to be hypomania? Why can't it just be me feeling good and energetic? Am I arguing with myself? Sure. Always do. Good sign was though that the Seroquel helped me sleep last night. The bad thing is that Rob and I haven't been "together" in over a week. That is EXTREMELY unusual and I'm feeling awkward about it. I just don't think about sex though (again VERY strange).

Rereading this, I really do think it's just an energetic spurt. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, Dr. Freud. Sometimes getting a lot accomplished, and wanting to see something finished once you start it is not the beginning of mania but is just being productive. I do remember having very disturbing dreams last night, but "normal" people have those too. Today I'd like to work on the necklace some more and I also want to do some sketching from that little photo book of Buddhist temples I bought.

I'm going to go off, get some coffee, and read some more, check in with my favourite blogs and wait for Rob to wake. Hmmmmm...maybe I'll wake him???

See ya soon raccoon.
Monday, August 23, 2004

Hockey and sleep

We finished our summer hockey season last night. The game was to start at 9.30 pm. It was delayed significantly - I don't think we got on the ice to really play (flood and warm up aside) until maybe 10.15, 10.20. Then it went into overtime. And we lost in a shoot out.

I didn't get my evening seroquel till almost 11.30 pm. Plus I was tired and really fucking irritated with Jan on the team. She nags and natters and says absolutely nothing positive. It was the last game of the season and I didn't enjoy it one bit because everytime I came off she kept telling me what I had done wrong. Poor Rob. He's our coach and I think he enjoyed himself even though we lost and when I came out of the dressing room into the parking lot I was raving about Jan. I'm so close to just asking Lucie for my $200.00 deposit back on the winter season and joining a team closer to home. I don't know if I can deal with another winter of Jan.

And Jan and Deb will be at the hockey skills and drills starting tomorrow night. It'll be interesting to see what she says. My mood was pretty apparent when I left last night.

But my mood today is suffering because of fatigue and off-schedule medication. I'm going to hit the hay early - Rob's at another dinner for work tonight - tis the season for him for those things.

Seroquel's not hitting yet but I'm going to go lie in bed and watch that TLC programme Body Work about plastic surgery. See if that'll put me to sleep.


Saturday, August 21, 2004


First off, point is well taken re: the possibility that if I enter into the Seroquel study that I may be contractually bound to continue the medication past the point where I physically require it. However, one thing I didn't mention is that the pdoc did say that there were several potential outcomes of the study: 1) that Seroquel helps in the reduction of symptoms to the point of complete remission and therefore I can come off all drugs; 2) that Seroquel must be taken with Epival for me to have relief; 3) that Seroquel helps in reduction of symptoms but constant minimum dose is required (much lower than I currently take), and other possibilities. I wish very much that I can eventually come off all drugs. Rob doesn't think that's likely. He compares it to his blood pressure: he's inherited a tendency to high blood pressure and, particularly since both his parents died of stroke, he's got to take blood pressure medication for the rest of his life.

Random 1

I saw notes on several people's blogs re the "Next Blog" on the tool bar at the top of our own blogs. It refers you to your current blog neighbour. I say current because I did some tests and the "next" blog varies wildly from second to second. It's a mirror of life: who you are beside, who you "touch" changes dramatically from one breath to the next. The juxtaposition can be startling. One I saw next to mine at one moment was written in (what I think was) Chinese, and was obviously a proud father documenting the pregnancy and post natal times of his first child. I couldn't read a damned word, but the message was as clear as glass. Makes my semi-sane dronings quite mundane.

Random 2

I saw an update in the paper online recently (I read the newspaper on the internet) about the man from down east who was stopped from the gun rampage by the dog he saw in the park. Briefly: this man drove from the Canadian Maritimes to Toronto, a centre of evil activity as far as he was concerned. He stopped into a park before carrying out his self imposed mission for a rest and was approached by a very friendly dog. The dog reminded him strongly of a dog he had back home long ago and it made him reconsider: a place with such a dog couldn't be so bad. So, the man went and found a policeman and surrendered himself. The policeman, a rookie with only a few months on the job, went to the man's car as directed and found the truck chock full of automatic weapons. The dog saved the city. The man's currently undergoing psychiatric assessment and his family/friends are saying that he really was planning all this to make sure that he got the treatment he needed, that he knew he needed help and was frustrated getting the right help any other way. That frustration, that impotent rage, redirected.

Random 3

My sleep's been a bit wonky again. Up past 11 last night (late for an old girl like me, especially since I take an anti-psychotic at levels that are about 5 times what some people are prescribed as a nightly sleeping aid). So I laid there at one point, staring at the overhead light in the bedroom ceiling. And I remembered the shock and shame when my family doctor came into the hospital last year to see me when he was told I was committed. I was racing up and down the halls in manic frantic, back and forth over and over, and I turned one corner back towards my room and there was my case nurse and my family doctor. I stopped dead and immediately was mortified. If I could, I would have turned and run from the building. Normally he'd seen me as a young professional mother, calm cool and collected, and here I was, a fucking blithering fool locked up for my own safety. I know that the nurses in his practice, which he shares with about 6 other doctors, call him Doogie because he looks (and is) so young. So I'd always liked him but thought of him as....oh, I don't know..."less" somehow because of the labelling of his nurses. Well, he and I went into the TV room (it was quite early, 7 am, and the rest of the ward was pretty much still comatose - only us manic lunatics were so active then) and he talked to me. Calmly, honestly and I could see both the concern and the error of my ways. He was a strongly competent, caring doctor, and all he wanted to do was help me. That sudden knowledge helped me, knowing that this man, even though I had judged him badly, was an official "presence" in my corner. You'll have to remember that at this point my pdoc and I weren't getting along AT ALL. But Dr. P. was worried and wanted to make sure I got the help I needed. He didn't talk to me like I was crazy (though I don't know that I've ever been completely sane), which, when you're in a floor full of people mumbling to themselves and arguing with invisible people living in the refrigerator, goes a long way to letting you stand a little taller.

Random 4

Adam and I had another "date" last night. We saw Alien Vs. Predator (a movie I agreed to see since his team won the PeeWee World Series Thursday night). It was a typical movie of the genre, and sitting with him, listening to him whisper sarcastic commentary to me ("mom, I guess these people haven't seen this movie yet either" - as they walk into a room where it's obvious they'll meet their doom) - he reminded me so much of me at that age. Smart, sassy and sarcastic. I just hope with everything I have that he doesn't follow me further down the path, that he stays as "normal" as he is now. It would break my heart to have him end up like me.

Rob's waking up now. Time for me to make some pancakes, I think.

See ya soon raccoon.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004


Interesting day.

The doctor's visit was good. Apparently my blood levels are now finally in the low end of the acceptable range rather than so low they are off the chart. So he doesn't want to tinker with the Epival. But he was possibly thinking of increasing the Seroquel again, because when he asked me of where I thought I was from 0 - 10, 0 being where I was when I was admitted last year and 10 being right where I'd like to be. I said 8 or 9. So I guess he interpreted that as room for improvement. But then he realized that I'm already taking the 400 mg recommended dose of the Seroquel so he's leaving that for now. But he's asked me to come back in 4 weeks rather than 6 and is going to see if I can be part of the Seroquel study. It would be a 2 year commitment, more frequent doctor visits. My only trepidation is having to explain to work that I might have some time I have to take for blood work etc. But I don't want to put the cart before the horse - I'll wait a day or two before I plunge headlong into explaining things. That would be a typical BP reaction. But I want to take a moment to breathe and think this through before I shatter any "mental illness" barriers at work. Not high on my list of things to get accomplished.

The other thing that happened was Adam's team won the "American League" championship of his baseball. The game really came down to the wire and was quite exciting - final score was 9-8 and came to a last-at-bat triple that brought in the winning run with the bases loaded. I was jumping and screaming like he'd just won the lottery. He's so excited. The final championship "World Series" is likely Thursday. Tomorrow is some time that the coach has requested at the batting cage. So that's tomorrow at 6.30. Busy day again then.

So, I've come home, done some laundry and have a marble bundt cake cooking. A bit manic? Perhaps. But nothing bad in that. It's not like I'm playing with knives again yet. So things are cool.

I'm off to fold laundry.

See ya later gator.
Monday, August 16, 2004

Dr Visit Tomorrow....uh oh

I'm honestly fearful. I always am. I don't want to be too honest about what has occurred in my mind the past six weeks, because I really don't want another increase. I was quite upset that he increased things last time, after having gone a good three months with no adjustments. The only benefit to last time was that there was no attendant weight gain with the 25% increase in depakote.

I think that my decision to leave the msn group has been a healthy one. Venting here, where I don't feel like I have to step on eggshells, is much more relaxed, less riddled with tension and angst. (which reminds me - angst being a German word - I want to start my "teach myself German" book again, the one I had Rob bring into me when I was committed. had to have something to do in there other than play cards with that poor schizophrenic kid...I mean how many games of gin can you play in one night?) And while that decision and my thought processes seem less paranoid and the thoughts dropping in from out of the sky are fewer, the repetitive racing thoughts still exist - but again, to be fair, they too are less. So all in all, I think I will tell him that the past six weeks have been good, a few blips on the radar, but things are heading in a positive direction again. I won't tell him about the thoughts about the knife or the driving into the bridge, because that will either get me committed again (possible but not probable) or a major dosage increase (probable).

Wish me luck.
Sunday, August 15, 2004

Killer game

Played a killer hockey game. Skated my ass off. As usual, it found me again, much to my chagrin. But I do love this game.

Have to dry my hair (just had a shower) and time to eat a little bit - popcorn and sunchips :-)

See ya soon raccoon.
Friday, August 13, 2004

A Date with my Son

Rob's not feeling well. A kind of Montezuma's revenge...perhaps better called Mississauga's revenge. So Adam and I went out for a date. We've not done that in a while and it was so nice, just him and I. He's really maturing - I know, 13 is not a grown up, but I remember having our "dates" when it was just him and I living in that dinky one bed room apartment after I left Greg, and he was 2 or 3 and we'd go to Pizza Hut for a swanky $13.00 dinner. He was so proud then of being the big boy, of helping mommy. Now, I catch his eye watching the young chicklets at the table behind us. Sigh....teenage hormones. But it's a good thing. Don't get me wrong. He's such a good, healthy kid.

After dinner (which was at Applebee's) we went to see I, Robot. Rob and I had seen it alone, and I didn't mind seeing it again with Adam. He really enjoyed it. He was fascinated by the computer animation and reiterated that that's what he wants to do for a career - computer animation for movies. I wish I could afford the Flash programme he wants. I'm going to do some investigations....I'm creative enough that maybe I can find something that will kind of fill in the gap in the interim until he gets into high school. One of the mom's of one of Adam's baseball teammates said her older son, who goes to the same high school that Adam will in fall 2005, has an *excellent* computer animation programme, afterschool computer animation club, etc.

My day at work was really quite busy and I came quite close to just flipping on Bruce. He's an older man, and the details are really irrelevant but he started yelling at me for something that wasn't my fault. I mean really yelling, and he was shaking with rage, his eyes bloodshot with the pressure. I sat there and said very little. I contained myself though, which was good I suppose. I could have done far worse, especially in my medically addled state.

What I mean by that is that, as I told the pdoc last time, it seems that since my diagnosis last fall, it feels like my ability to hide and mask my emotions, as is required from time to time by EVERY member of society (otherwise we would truly have anarchy), it feels like that ability has been muted and I'm more a prisoner of the tsunamis the emotions produce.

Right now, I'm fine. The date with Adam really did me well. And the run I did when I got home was great - I shaved yet another minute off my time for the shorter run.

L, the blogging partner of the other K woman with BP, was surprised I could run on seroquel. It's a question of timing. I run at 5:30 or so each night. I take the Seroquel at about 9 pm (400 mg). That usually means I'm kinda sleepy by about 10 but if I'm on a more manic upswing, even that is dulled and it might be 11 or so. The Epival (Depakote or Valproic acid) I take at about 8 am and 6 pm (I honestly don't remember the dosage - think the total is 1000 mg) .

Kevin is sending me msn messages. He's a whole chapter in himself. He's a man I met via the chat (now defunct and moved to Stepchat). He initially was of great help to me and suffers a great deal from a rapid cycling BP with a strong psychotic component. He's into medieval structure and culture and talks/writes like that. Long story, but he and several others (myself included) went to an msn group started by another "beeper". They were all pity-party poopers and I got sick of it. Every time I mentioned something positive, one would change topics or conversation would cease. Fed my ever present paranoia so I left. Now that has triggered his "saviour" complex - he feels I suffer, hence my departure from their clique. I don't. I found it unhealthy. And I need to tell him that. He keeps holding out an msn-framed hand to me, offering assistance where none is needed.

There - just sent him a message saying I left the group because it was healthier to do so than to stay, that I am well and that I know he will be as well.

Now, finally, the seroquel is catchign up. Time for sleep.

later gator
Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Meds and BP

I'm in one of those "my meds are making me this way" moods. Now, don't run away screaming. There is some logic to this, and not just twisted BP logic. Because I've got to take medication consistently (almost constantly it seems) throughout the day, each dose is a reminder of this .... flaw...whether it's an organic flaw or not bears little merit on the feeling it engenders. I know that the medication is supposed to be a balance of neural chemistry, but even the most up-to-date pdoc will tell you that they really truly don't know HOW this medication works. And still we take it, with each dose a small drop of water on our foreheads reminding us of the disorder. Each reminder, for me at least, is then performs a sort of internal radar check, and that in turn reminds me of how "off" I am that day.

I read something really quite fascinating, though, regarding the possible (however tenuous) relationship that BP may bear to epilepsy. On the larger scale, it is the new family of anticonvulsants like Epival (what the Americans call Depakote) that have "proven" to be "successful" (in quotes because of my current distrust of medications) for mood disorders, particularly Type I Bipolar.

In this link is an interesting theory behind the causes for bipolar:

It may be that the development of bipolar disorder is due to a process of sensitisation (kindling). This idea suggests that the first episodes of illness are triggered by stressful life events, but that each episode of illness causes changes in the brain which make the next episode more likely, and eventually episodes occur spontaneously. This process was first describes as an explanation for epilepsy, and may explain why certain antiepileptic drugs are also effective in the treatment of bipolar disorder.

This seems to make sense to me. It explains why sometimes the moods change, so DAMNED FAST, and take me so much by surprise, it almost leaves me breathless. It's such a helpless feeling, to not have control of your own mind. For chrissake...I've got an IQ of 135, I'm smart, funny, together, and lately I've been struggling to get two syllable words out of my mouth. I know that the medication slows me down.

That last blog I mentioned re the partner of the BPer like me, she was sweet enough to respond to my comment, and that made me feel very good. I hope we can kind of help each other - she lets me see a bit more into the partner side (which Rob hides from me for the most part, to not aggravate my moods, rightly or wrongly), and maybe I can give her some insight into the daily workings of a woman struggling to remember who she is, and to hold on to all that is dear before she loses her mind.

dammit...i'm almost crying now. fuck i hate when this happens. I've got to go. I don't know that this post has made a lot of literary sense, but it's made sense in the moment I wrote it.

*big deep breath*

Adam's downstairs watching Simpsons and Rob's at a dinner function for work, so I'm going to go spend some time with Adam, my reason for breathing. I've got to straighten out so Adam doesn't seem me like this. It'll freak the poor kid out.

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Decent day

Today was a decent day. I feel good. Earlier in the morning I was so tired. My sleep was interrupted last night, which, considering the sedative effect of the Seroquel, is unusual. And I've never been one to cope with missing or inadequate sleep. By mid-day it started to improve. But when I got home and realized Adam had done nothing all day than play Monster Rancher on the PS2, and the house was shut up tight and hotter than hell, I was irritated. So, I ran. And it was another good run. Dinner went well - fish and perogies (far from haute cuisine, but tasty nonetheless). They had the perogies, I had salad.

And now we've just finished watching XXX with Vin Diesel. Adam, at 13, seems at an ok age to watch it. The worst you see is a few deep kisses and one girl in bra and underwear using a poster bed for a humping post. He seemed to like it. Now I'm just waiting for him to get out of the shower and I've got to hit the hay. The 9 pm Seroquel's kicked in big time and I'm struggling.

Tomorrow's Wednesday - week's half done. Hallelujah.


Monday, August 09, 2004

Another BP blog

Found another one. This is written by a partner of a woman with BP. It's really quite fascinating to read some of the thoughts and frustrations....

oops - be right back - my wrist watch alarm's gone off for my Seroquel...And since I missed this morning's Epival and doubled that up at dinner, I better not be off with this. I'll be screwed for days.

ok...Where was I?

This new blog I found (new to me, that is) gives me a glimpse of some of the frustrations, rewards, just the inner voice of one woman who is the partner of a woman with BP. I know that she and Rob and different people, and from reading the blog briefly, it seems that the partner with BP ("K", funny, that....That's my initial as well) also has had a near fatal heart attack last year, so that's a layer of worry and tension that Rob doesn't have. But he did have to deal with my involuntary committal last year. The anniversary of that is coming up and I can sense it approaching on my periphery and it's an uncomfortable feeling.

You know, I drive by that hospital every day on my way from work. And I actually drive by my room. And every freakin' day I look over and picture myself curled in a ball sitting on the window ledge looking out.

It seems so long ago.

And it seems, some days, so easy to just let the floor fall from under me and plummet there again. But I have to remind myself, sometimes daily, how Adam and Rob both count on me. I can't be selfish or self-absorbed (or at least limit it - it seems sometimes that BP comes with an automatic "I'm the centre of the universe" dial that never goes quite down to zero). Deep depression, with its debilitating self-loathing, believe it or not, falls into that category as well. Self-loathing requires a huge amount of concentration on the self, to flay and skewer every aspect of the self - it's an enormous undertaking. And perhaps that's why depressives can't do much - their internal energy is sapped by this destructive egocentrism.

Now me...I don't get depressed. I get manic, and I get mixed. People who haven't experienced it really can't understand what a mixed state is like. It's hell, quite frankly. You have the excessive exuberant energy of mania, but the vile bilious self-destructive spiral of depression. Depressives rarely suicide - they don't have the energy. For a person with bipolar disorder, a mixed state is the most dangerous: it is the time of the highest suicide percentage. I can tell when I'm heading there because I'll be driving down the highway, feeling shaky, like a wire thrumming, or like I've had too much caffeine and don't know what to do, and from the clear sky comes a HUGE desire to drive into a bridge abutment. Today was the first day I could trust myself to remove the letter opener from my desk that someone put there two weeks ago. I kept eyeing it. It's double edged and double serated, and comes to quite a point at the end. The past week or so I've been skirting a mixed episode. Today is better. Today I moved it to the photocopier area where it belonged.

My after work runs are getting better. I'm hoping that if I can string together a few more, I can extend it a bit. I want to see if I can make a dent in this damned 20 lbs the BP meds have added. I am also extremely concerned about the Pdoc appt next week. He's done another blood test on the Epival and I'm afraid he's going to raise it again. I'm so sick of meds. If I was alone, I'd quit them, but I can't - Rob would be so angry. He knows it's the only things keeping me alive and has been through so much, he'd be furious at being put in that situation again. He has said that he couldn't take it again, seeing me in hospital and unable to leave. The poor guy's been through so much.


Time to get Adam into the shower. There's a challenge for everyone - get a 13 year old boy to take a shower. Mind you, it is getting easier. Puberty does have its advantages.

Later gator.

I Am such a MORON!

I finally figured out why my hotmail wouldn't receive even test mails from my home address. I had the junk mail filter set on such an extreme setting, if the email was coming from an address that wasn't on my approved list of addresses, it wouldn't accept it. So it got nothing.

I was so paranoid - I figured no one was answering me.

But then again - I had sent email after email to Kevin to see how he was doing, when he was going off about being evicted I sent him one, etc - and he's on my approved list - I got zilch back.

That's one of the things that pissed me off and made me leave the msn group - no response. I felt like everytime I said something in response to a post etc, everyone else would either shut up or just change the topic.

So I still say fuck 'em after all. Yes I am a hotmail moron, but still, fuck em. They still changed topics and ignored me.

I'm off to do my run.

This posting is a community experiment that tests how a meme, represented by this blog posting, spreads across blogspace, physical space and time. It will help to show how ideas travel across blogs in space and time and how blogs are connected. It may also help to show which blogs (and aggregation sites) are most influential in the propagation of memes. The dataset from this experiment will be public, and can be located via Google (or Technorati) by doing a search for the GUID for this meme (below).Please join the test by adding your blog (see instructions, below) and inviting your friends to participate—the more the better. The data from this test will be public and open; others may use it to visualize and study the connectedness of blogspace and the propagation of memes across blogs.The GUID for this experiment is:as098398298250swg9e98929872525389t9987898tq98wteqtgaq62010920352598gawstThe above GUID enables anyone to easily search Google or other search engines for all blogs that participate in this experiment, once they have indexed the sites that participate, which may take several days or weeks. To locate the full data set, just search for any sites that contain this GUID.Anyone is free to analyze the data of this experiment. Please publicize your analysis of the data, and/or any comments by adding comments onto the original post (see URL above). (Note: it would be interesting to see a geographic map or a temporal animation, as well as a social network map of the propagation of this meme.)INSTRUCTIONSTo add your blog to this experiment, copy this entire posting to your blog, and then answer the questions below, substituting your own information, below, where appropriate. Other than answering the questions below, please do not alter the information, layout or format of this post in order to preserve the integrity of the data in this experiment (this will make it easier for searchers and automated bots to find and analyze the results later).REQUIRED FIELDS (Note: Replace the answers below with your own answers)(1) I found this experiment at URL: I found it via “Newsreader Software” or “Browsing the Web” or “Searching the Web” or “An E-Mail Message”: browsing the web (trawling through my blogroll)(3) I posted this experiment at URL: I posted this on date (day/month/year): 09/08/04(5) I posted this at time (24 hour time): 07:35(6) My posting location is (city, state, country): Mississauga, Ontario, CANADA.OPTIONAL SURVEY FIELDS:(7) My blog is hosted by: blogger.(8) My age is: 35(9) My gender is: female(10) My occupation is: sales representative(11) I use the following RSS/Atom reader software: no clue what you mean(12) I use the following software to post to my blog: blogger(13) I have been blogging since (day, month, year): 02,08,2004(14) My web browser is: Explorer(15) My operating systems are: windows xp
Sunday, August 08, 2004

Bipolar Blogs

I've done a bit of searching to find if I'm the only BP blogging then found out how really HUGE blogging is as an entity in and of itself.

One in particular rang true for me:

It's hard to describe sometimes how I think, and feel (are they separate, thought and emotion? One colours the other) and to get even a small sense of resonance with another person, that they have even an echo of some of my own .... neural fireworks - that is reassuring. I don't mean that we are all identical, but he had described in one part an inability to control the direction of thoughts sometimes, the hammering on a particular negative thought/emotion, and sometimes the deliberate calling up of that process while aware of its potential destructive effect, that whole thing rang true with me.

Last night

Rob and I finally went out for a dinner date. Money's been so tight lately - car insurance, me trying to pay down my Mastercard from my last spending spree, etc - so to go to a movie and dinner was a nice change. It's not like we went to some $150.00 a plate place - just Jack Astors. I had a nice chicken caesar with some asiago cheese on it for a nice change. And the movie was the Metallica documentary. Really quite interesting. Lars Ulrich is even more of an ass than he appears in the press. Not too bright either if he lets this kind of stuff be released in his name.

I was kind of hoping that it would be like when Rob and I were first married and a dinner date ended up with a nasty fuck. No. He sat down to watch the Toronto Rocks video (about the SARS concert last summer with The Stones and ACDC etc) instead. So I had to resort to the old lingerie thing and finally drew him away. Fuck, it was so hard for me not to dwell on that, that he needs that kind of incentive. I guess I am still dwelling on it since 12 hrs later or more, I'm still thinking about it.

He's calling - he's made scrambled eggs for breakfast.


Friday, August 06, 2004


Apparently I'm alone. That's ok.

I've got my family - husband, son and me. Fuck em. Don't need em. They can have their little BP clique and leave me out and I'll be just fucking fine thank you very much.

I've walked alone before and I'll do it again. I'm a fucking ox, a bull, I can bear any fucking weight, any fucking burden. Fuck em all.

fuck em

Thursday, August 05, 2004

McDonald's Revenge

Had a long drive for work today - 5 hours round trip, with a 1 1/2 hr visit with a customer. Nice older gentleman who liked to talk. That's ok - gave me a trial order for $900.00 with promise for more to come. But the appt was for 1 pm, and the distance from the office (2 and a bit hrs) meant I didn't end up eating lunch, so when I left his facility at 2:30 I was starving and had to pee like a racehorse. So I went through McD's to get those fajitas. Got the meal with the fries. BIG mistake. My system's not used to that and now I've got McDonald's revenge. Think it's time for some alone time in the ladies room....bleh.

But Adam's first baseball playoff game is tonight. I'm so excited for him. He's learned so much - not just the technical aspects of the game but the intangibles of playing a team game as well. We have to leave within the 1/2 hr so I'm off to get ready, things packed, etc. I feel somewhat more stable than earlier today and yesterday so hopefully I can hold that together and not shoot through the stratosphere and embarrass him.

See ya later gator.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Running Free

I came home and ran my just-shy-of-three-miles circuit. Shaved a minute off the time.


The switch was switched, and I was feeling wonderful, full of wonder, great and fantastic. If people could only understand how difficult, if not impossible, it is to control the "flick", that the change is so fast it makes our heads spin. But being on the "ON" side is good, great, even.

I love the limits I can push my body to. It's a drag that the BP meds have caused the 20 lbs weight gain they have, but I fight against it still. I know I'm slower when I run - 20 lbs will do that - but still I run. And as long as I can run, I can drown out the sounds in my head with my own foot falls, the rhythm of my breathing reminding me the good reasons to be alive.

The noise in my head

It continues...the noise in my head. Distraction upon distraction. Taking a while to type this properly because of inability to concentrate. On the surface all is calm. Underneath is magma, roiling boiling and spoiling to blow, smelling of putrid malefaction.

Off I go to ponder.

Is it paranoia if you can hear them?


I see people talking, hear them whispering and have the ultimate hubris in believing that they must be talking about me. Their whispers travel on grey waves eddying past me and travel to the next. I can hear the waves whisper sometimes: it is the sound of chubby corduroy thighs whisking together down an empty hallway.

But I know this to be disordered.

I know this isn't real.

It is when I cease to realize the disordered nature of the thought that I know I'm in trouble.

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Starting off

Not great but it's a day I've lived to see the end of. That in itself makes it a good one.

Copyright © 2005 Blondzila (because no one else would own this).

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