Death and taxation. Right after a concussion? Oy. Give me quick death. HR Block lady, thank you for knowing what a yurt off the grid is.
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From the category archives:
Time-out. (General insanity)
Almost daily, usually in the afternoons, I start shaking. My hands tremble and become icy to the touch. Five blankets and a space heater don’t do the trick. It’s the coldest cold I’ve known, and it comes from the inside out.
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Church signs don’t help much. Meditation doesn’t help much. Spam doesn’t help much, except for one anonymous spam comment that arrived today:
There is so much you can write about metamucil.
Really?
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I was diagnosed in September 2005. I wrote about it at a D.C. airport, in a new journal. I filled four pages, then couldn’t bear to write any more. I did not want to believe it could impact my life; I did not want to think about it any more than I needed to.
I’ve been cleaning. I found the journal today.
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Live-blogging the bipolar bear brain.
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Bipolar disorder, in its acute form, can rob a human bipolar bear of any coping abilities whatsoever. This is difficult to explain to friends and family, because aside from a dirty house and a disheveled appearance and maybe an empty fridge, you still look, you know, like…you.
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So I inched up and down the aisles, scratching off items on my sad little list with a mini-golf pencil I had found in Mom’s car, trying not to cry, trying not to listen to the pop songs of lost love that kill me.
I can usually hold it together. I am used to putting on a happy, perky face. “Chipper,” my one friend calls it. I am the queen of chipper. This means you might not notice that I am dying inside as I put milk, yogurt, apples, white bread and two Lunchables (gasp!) in my cart right beside you.
Which means, of course, that everyone at the Big Why could be dying inside. There are many kings and queens of chipper in this world.
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Your hands shake as you work. You hope your tablemates do not notice. Your eyes are bloodshot. It is hard to focus. But you are determined to learn as much as you can.
And you do.
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In case you’ve been decorating your house with, gosh, candy cane lights or tending to your own family’s selfish, needy-pants needs and you haven’t been checking my blog every seven minutes AS WE AGREED YOU WOULD, let’s recap, because I’m generous that way.
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