Quiet

I prefer to write when it is quiet and I am alone. Unfortunately, I don't get much alone time, and it is rarely quiet in this house. My grandmother likes to talk and when she isn't talking, the TV is on. Actually she talks when the TV is on because if she doesn't say things as she thinks of them, she will forget. Since she has some hearing loss, the TV is always loud and I can't concentrate on anything with a loud TV in the background.

Of course, even when I am alone, it is never really quiet. My brain is always "noisy". Imagine a microfiche machine. If you are to young to know what that is, Google it. You put the microfilm in and start looking on the screen for the article you need. You can speed it up until the articles are going by in a blur, or you can slow it down and look at each article before moving on to the next. Now imagine that microfiche machine is out of your control. It is speeding through the articles and you barely catch a glimpse of one before it moves on to the next. Sometimes you don't even catch a glimpse, it just all goes by in a blur. Then, every once in a while, it slows down so you can start reading the article. You get to the point where you are about to understand what it is about, and the machine speeds up again. That is my brain, an out of control microfiche machine!

That is why I need to be alone to write. I have a hard enough time pulling thoughts out of my head when there are no distractions, it is next to impossible with a TV blaring and a person always talking. And, if the dog starts barking, my head explodes.

Anyway, my moments of clarity don't last long and my brain is already speeding up to blurring stage so, I must bid you farewell until next time.

Shocking

Those who know me won't be surprised to hear that I fell today. Our driveway is like an ice rink and my feet went out from under me. I reached back, instinctively, to catch myself, and took most of my weight on my right hand/wrist. While I didn't think it was broken, I figured an x-ray wouldn't hurt since it was swelling and the pain was growing. Turns out it is only a sprain and I have to wear a brace for a few days to keep myself from overusing it. Probably shouldn't be typing since it kind of hurts, so I will wish you a good night!

Not The Same

Tragedies like what happened today in Connecticut really make me question our treatment of the mentally ill in this country. Compared to this man, I am only mildly ill. I also don't have the compulsion to hurt others, even in my darkest hours. What I do know is that I have had instances where I have seriously considered hurting myself. In September I was at a point where I signed a contract with my therapist stating that I wouldn't hurt myself. We came up with a list of things that I would do in an effort to keep myself from doing any harm. I was also referred to the local psychiatric service to get some pharmaceutical help.

As of today, I am still on the waiting list at not one, but two, local help centers. If I needed meds for a physical illness I could most likely get them within 24 hours, but to get meds for mental illness I have to wait months. We don't let diabetics wait for life saving insulin, so why does someone with bipolar disorder or depression have to wait months for their life saving medications? Something is very wrong with that. Seriously, if cancer patients suddenly had to be put on a list and wait for who knows how long to start chemo, someone would raise a stink and do something about it.

There is more I want to say about this subject, including how going to an ER isn't much better than being on a waiting list for outpatient treatment, but my brain has lost focus, and I can no longer compose my thoughts into something comprehensible.

A Beginning

I've been thinking a lot lately about what to do with this blog. The truth is, I need a place to write and it's just sitting here, taking up space. The things I need to write about are scary but I need to share them. That said, I have no plans to let anyone know that I am blogging again. I figure some of my "followers" will notice and maybe I'll pick up a couple of new friends along the way. The fact is, I need to write for my own benefit and for my own sanity. I also need to know that someone may be reading this, even if I never receive a comment as proof. My life is spiraling out of control and I don't have much of a support system to help me. At this point, invisible internet friends may be all I have.

I've spent most of this year trying to get a handle on my mental illness. I've been in therapy since May and I'm on a waiting list to see a psychiatrist about getting on a medication protocol to stabilize my moods. The current theory is that I am Bipolar II, not just suffering severe chronic depression as previously thought, but also contending with states of hypomania. My mind races so continually that I have a hard time focusing on anything and writing does help me sort things out, at least a little bit. Problem is, I also lack the motivation to write, or do much of anything else. I'm hoping that if I start writing here again, I may be able to continue on a semi-regular basis.

Anyway, that is about all the focusing I can muster at the moment. I am becoming overwhelmed which leads to anxiety and isn't a state I want to be in right now. Welcome, or welcome back, and prepare for what will probably be a very bumpy ride.