Monthly Archives: January 2015

Climbing in Jumping out

My emotions are a jumble right now.  A true mess.

I want people to talk to.  I want to hide in my bed and be left alone forever.

I want to climb inside myself and jump out of  my skin all at once.

This rip roaring fun wasn’t what I signed up for when we had Patrice, but it definitely adds layers to my day.

The transitions from depressed to steady to manic are not exactly fun.  They keep me guessing, keep me obsessing about my every feeling.  I live in constant concern of where the roller coaster is going next.

It would appear we are currently headed up.  How high, I don’t know…

Just time to Hang On…

Trimming the Grocery Bill

Okay people, I really need feedback on this post.  I want to cut our grocery bill significantly.  I have seen it come down by buying flour in bulk and storing it.  Making waffles and pancakes from scratch and my own Jiffy/Bisquick mix.

Now I am looking for more.

What do you buy boxed?  Anything?

What do you make from scratch?  Everything?

What do you buy in bulk?

Do you meal plan?  If yes, how do you think that saves you money?  Do  you cook according to sales?

What tips and hints do you have to pass on?

We have no special food requirements.

Vroom Vroom

Today was the AWANA (Bible Club) annual Pinewood Derby.  This is Sue’s third year and Caitlyn’s fourth.  Each year they work with daddy to make a car.  Next year we add Patrice.  The girls had fun and were good sports.

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Tooting My Own Horn

I have shouted it on my Facebook status.  I have shouted it in Facebook groups.  I have texted it all over the world.

I ran 3.1 miles (5k) without stopping last night for the first time in a few years.

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And that was after walking a mile.

2015-01-22 20.07.57My legs felt okay this morning, until I did my 21 day fix dirty 30 workout.  That dude is killer and now,  feel every muscle I have ever used!!!  But I did it.  I am back to running!!!

 

 

Brave For Who

Please join me over at Project Underblog where I talk about suicide and peoples’ reactions to it.  There is a disparity in how it is viewed.  That’s a fact, but is it right?

 

My Siren Song

Just over a week ago

I came out of a

multi-month long

depression.

I am no longer depressed.

I am functioning like myself.

I am comfortable in my own skin.

But

The Siren sings.

“Come back to me.

“Come back to my arms.

“Why did you leave?

“My shelter.

“My comfort.”

I know why I left.  I fought with all I had to get free of the depression, but here I am a week out being wooed, being desired.  I resist the song I hear, but the words are still there, faintly, and behind it is a melody I know so well.

My Siren Song.

I Shake My Head

Have I mentioned that I live with Bipolar Disorder?  And that the last few months were bad?  Super bad?  Insanely bad?

Well I do and they were.

I survived, the last few days have been nice, really nice.  I can breathe in and out, I can function.  I want to live.

I got through it with a lot of different coping mechanisms.  The main one being the treadmill.  I was on it several times a day almost every day.

Now?  I don’t want to go anywhere near it.  I haven’t set foot on it in over a week.  It’s not like the treadmill caused the depression, so why don’t I want to walk down there on it?

I also did a ton of loom knitting, making 5 hats in the last month to get through.  The rhythm and accomplishment of making hat after hat made the hours I spent hiding from the world seem acceptable–okay.

How many  hats have I worked on this week?  None.  Not one stitch.  My hands are itching to,  but when it comes to actually picking it up–nope.

There’s a literal barrier there.   It is as real as any moment of the depression.  My mind and body say no, don’t you dare go there.

So I hold off, waiting, hoping the feeling lifts, without the depression returning.

I really like making hats!

Do you have anything you avoid when in depression or out of depression?  Do  you know why?  Or am I just totally nuts? 😉

 

Rock Solid

I miss being solid on my “emotional” feet.  You know, feeling like you know what to expect when it comes to well—feeling.

Bipolar has robbed me of that.

When I was battling Multiple Sclerosis as a teenager and young adult, I would wake up every morning and test my body, part by part, to see what worked and what didn’t.

Now, I do the same…with my mind.  Am I up, am I down, do my thoughts make sense, how fast are my words coming, are the words good or bad.  How is my mind treating me?

In those few minutes, I try to get a lay of the land for the day.

Today, started out good.  I still feel fragile after the last depression, but I could breathe in and out and cope.

I got up, I exercised–I can always use that boost for my mood and body, the girls and I got started on school.

All seemed well.

Then something small, something expected, hit me, and I was a bubbling, blabbering mess.  Hiding in the bathroom sobbing, upset.

Logical, huh?

Sigh.

I am much better this afternoon.  I did a few things to help get myself settled again, and they have helped, but I still miss the feeling of being rock solid, the feeling of trusting my feelings, and walking confidently through each day.

Part of me wants to curl up and surrender to the fragile emotions, but I can’t do that.  I can’t give them that much power over me.  So, I get up, make choices, and put one foot in front of the other.

Bangladesh Safari

We are using the book Asia and It’s People for our Bible lessons right now.  We are, surprise, surprise, studying Bangladesh right now 🙂  Yesterday we had a matching game to play.  We had cards with animal names and cards with their descriptions.  We had to match them like a memory game.

So we went on a Safari and saw Bengal Tigers, Asiatic Bears, Rhesus Monkeys, Mynah Birds, Jackals, Clouded Leopards.  Patrice found the elephants.  They were everywhere…

🙂

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2015-01-12 11.00.17See, we even had our steamer trunk and safari hats!!!

For the longest game of memory ever, but that’t not this post, huh?

 

Half Empty

I walked into see the movie Selma last night white, alone, and clueless.  I went two hours before to buy my ticket to make sure I got one–I was so afraid the showing I could attend would be sold out.

My mouth hung open a bit at how empty the theater was when I got there.  It ended up maybe half full.  Maybe.

I had taken a big step, one I never imagined I would in order to be there–I had come alone.  I am not by any means a movie buff.  I rarely want to go to a theater and I have never, at age 39, gone to a movie alone.

I went in with little knowledge of what I would see and left feeling very small that Martin Luther King, Jr. had changed a nation by the time he was 39 and here I had been proud at the fact that I was at the movie alone–at the same age.

Selma is the telling of a portion of the Civil Rights movement from the time Martin Luther King, Jr. won the Nobel Peace Prize until people of all races got the right to vote unencumbered in the United States of America.

It was told with stark reality and honesty.

I felt a myriad of emotions.  Anger, lots of anger at the ignorance of those who wanted to withhold rights from others, sadness at the pain and death involved, joy as progress was made, and frustration that more people were not there to see this film.

Director Ava DuVernay did an amazing job telling the story with both strength and emotion.  She went at it not just for or from the male perspective but also with the female voice.

“It was vital that they be included in this narrative.  There was no other way I could be involved if they weren’t,”–Ava DuVernay on MSNBC.

Vital is right.  They give a story that is about life, even more life.  Her additions of the many strong women involved gives the fabric of the movie depth and movement.

I am by no means a movie critic, but I believe this movie to be the best I have ever seen, right up there with Schindler’s List of the 90s.  It needs to be seen.  By more than just the four white people in the theater I sat in last night, by more than just the half theater of people who came out last night.  It needs to be seen.  By the ticket taker at the movie counter (I told her just that), by the teens old enough to handle the level of reality, and every adult who can possibly get to the theater.

 

 

*Yes, there is some language and a time or two it is jarring, but I do not find it inappropriate or offensive.