Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Art of Forgiveness

 

The dictionary defines forgiveness as a conscious decision to release resentment or vengeance towards someone who has harmed you, regardless of their deserving. It is not the act of forgetting or condone that harm. It simply means that you let go of any bitterness or resentment towards that person. 

I have a lot of people to forgive. I think we all have. I have harbored bitterness towards childhood bullies and people that I believe have wronged me somehow. Understandably, I have also harbored a deep hatred and anger towards those that have assaulted me. I carried this weight around for years. I even went so far as to hate myself and feel guilty for things that simply were not my fault. 

But I have learned to forgive. The first person I had to forgive was myself. I had to learn, after years of therapy, that I am a good and lovable person. I deserve to be loved and treasured. I am not a throwaway. I am not a monster. I am a child of God. God, who created me, loves me for myself. He knows my faults. He recognizes my shortcomings and loves me anyway. He gave me grace. So, I had to learn to give myself grace. Mistakes are not a sign of failure, but a lesson to learn. I make the necessary corrections and try again. That was the biggest thing I had to learn to do, try again. 

There were many times that I gave up on myself, on family, on God. I didn't believe I was worth the effort. I thought that I was a colossal mistake. I honestly believed that I wasn't wanted. My parents never said or did anything to make me feel this way, but I felt that way just the same. No one knew I felt that way. I never spoke about my pain. I isolated at a very young age. I thought if I was a good girl and stayed out of the way I would be loved. I was loved. I know that now. But, I would have denied it vehemently then if you had asked me. 

I've said it before, but I tried to take my own life several times. For some reason, I survived each attempt without any damage. The fact is, I saw each survival as a failure. I couldn't even kill myself, that's how pitiful I was. It didn't occur to me that my death would hurt anyone. I figured everyone would just get over it, and move on with their lives. It's only now that I realize that I must have caused my family a lot of anguish that I was so miserable and they couldn't help me. No one could help me. I had to help myself first. To do that, I had to forgive myself and trust God. He must have saved me for something. 

So, here I am now. Sometimes still reeling from my parents deaths. Trying to figure out what to do with my life. The fact that I am 60 years old only occurs to me when I try to make plans for my future. I want a house, but I don't have the body for the upkeep. I mean, I can't mow the lawn, etc. I could hire someone sure, but I don't have the money for it. If fact, I don't have the money for down payment for a house. I want a newer car, but again, I have a severe cashflow problem. In fact, Christmas this year is looking pretty bleak. 

I sometimes get angry at my parents for dying. I wasn't done with them yet. I still depended on them daily for support. I called my mom at least once a day to check in, and my dad at least once a week. I would call to get my "phone hug". When they died, I was left without that support. I had no one to go to anymore. Sure I still have my sister, but she is not a touchy feely person, so no hugs from her. My brother yelled at me about 6 months afterwards, basically telling me to get over it. So, I started calling my Aunt Gloria once a week. She was my mom's best friend and dad's cousin. She became my support system. I tell her all my problems. I'm starting to reach out to my other aunts and uncles for support now. It's kind of hard, but I'm learning to trust them. I don't do it more often because I don't want to seem so immature and needy, even though that's sometimes the way I feel. 

So, how do you forgive a dead person. My therapists suggests writing a letter. I've done that a few times. I told my my mom about how her illness affected me, and how I blamed her for driving my dad away. But, that's not the truth. At least I hope not. I never did have that conversation with my father. It's a regret. But I forgive my mom for being sick and I forgive my father for not being able to deal with it. Loving a mentally ill person is very difficult. I know this now. I guess now I should make a list of things I need to forgive and write them done to get them off my heart. It was suggested I write it on a rock and throw them into a lake or pond. That sounds like a really good idea. I think I may do that to close out 2025. This has been a pretty sucky year, and unless something miraculous happens, it will end on a not so great note. The theme for 2026 will be openness. I will open my self to new experiences and seek an adventure. I will continue to open my heart for love. I will continue to hope. 

Peace Joy Love-B 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Giving Thanks

 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. It's a strictly American holiday in which we celebrate the blessings of of lives. It was originally a day for the Pilgrims to mark their survival in the colonies. It was thanks to the Native Americans or Indigenous peoples of the colonies that helped them survive. What did we give them in return? We gave them disease and stole their land. It's a harsh truth that most White people want to wash over like so much of history that they find unpleasant. But, in fact, when the colonists came they seemed to think that they had divine rights to the land that we call America. The natives were savages that had to be eradicated one way or another. So we either killed them or shuffled them towards the west. We stole their gold, and pushed them out of their way of life. 

Now, I am not trying to be un-American. But I think we need to look at our history for what it is. The Atlantic Passage brought the slave trade to America. It can safely be said that not one black person in this country has ancestors that are native to this country unless they have native blood running through their veins. The colonist wiped out about 60% of the native population by the time they were through and "imported" about 5 million Africans. 

Does that make me less than American? To the racist, I guess it does. But, I did not ask to come here. My ancestors did not come to America to seek a better life. They were kidnapped and brought here by force for slave labor. Blacks have endured 400 years of slavery and 150 years of discrimination. We had to fight in the courts just to be declared a whole person by the American government. 

I can't really say why I am talking about this, it's just that sometimes being an American is embarrassing. The history of this country, especially the treatment of other races is based on white supremacy. Right now, there is a movement to turn back the accomplishments of civil rights workers in all cases. The government has gotten increasingly openly racist. It's always been racist, but now it seems that it's okay to be a racist if you say that you are being a "patriot." 

I'm all for national pride, you understand, but why can't all of us, black, white, brown, yellow and red be proud Americans? Why can't we continue to fight for our dreams? What is the white man so afraid of anyway? Doe he think we are going to line them up and shoot them? Is he afraid that we will put them in camps like they did to the Japanese, and now doing to the Latino? Should white people have to carry their citizenship papers around proving they were born here? And if not, should they be exported back to their country of origin, especially if they are criminals? Maybe he is afraid. Maybe he is terrified of what would happen if he lost power and had to kowtow to another race. 

I happen to believe that we should be enforcing the human race, but that is neither here nor there. If the animals ever got wise and rose up we'd all be done for anyway. Then we would be slaughtered and packaged for consumption. 

So, keeping that all in mind. Give thanks for your current freedoms. Give thanks for your family and friends. If you have a job, food and a roof over your head, give thanks for that. I will be giving thanks for all that and the love I have in my life. You never know when it can all be taken away. 

Peace, Joy, Love-B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Shape of My Heart

 

So, I have hung up my dating shoes. I had taken a break from the dating sites in hopes of meeting someone the natural way. That went over like a cement balloon in a wind storm. I am and have decided to remain terminally single. 

Not that I mind all that much. The selection of men on the sites is questionable at best. Most of them are old homophobes who think they are God's gift to womankind. Reading some of the profiles was shocking due to their out and out hostility. Some were laughable. The lack of education is quite apparent. This on the profiles of those who claim to have a college degree! Other men want nothing but sex. I suppose I must give them credit for their honesty, but that's not what I'm looking for right now. In fact, sex is far from my mind these days. 

What do I want? I want romance. I think I deserve to be swept off my feet. I want to be impressed by a man. I want him to want to be with me and spend time with me. I want someone to walk into a room and turn on some music and grab me for a slow dance. I need good conversation and a great sense of humor. I don't think I am asking too much. 

The way things are going, I will never meet anyone. I had decided a while ago that I will spend my life alone before getting into a substandard relationship. I guess I will just have to be content being an old maid. It be different I guess if I weren't so poor. I think I'd be more dynamic if I had money. Money makes the world go around after all. If I were a truly independent woman, I don't think I would even worry about being alone. 

The heart is my favorite shape. It makes me feel good. It reminds me of love. Not so much of the kind of love that 2 people share, but the love that I share with God. It helps me remember that I am loved and always have been. My own heart has been ripped to shreds and pieced back together on several occasions. However, joy still beats within it. While I am alone, I still have hope. I suppose that is the most important thing. I love myself, which is the greatest love of all. I just wish I could share it with someone. Until then, I guess I'll just spread it around to all I come in contact with, even at work. 

Peace, Joy and most of all, LOVE 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: It's that Time of Year

 

Okay, so my rage against the holiday season has ended. In a big way too. I've been watching Christmas romantic comedies for the past 2 weeks. They've been quite enjoyable too. Granted they are a little corny and I know it's going to work out for the heroine, but still I like them. I mean after all, it's the time of year for the world to fall in love. 

Christmas for most people is a great time of year. You seem to feel happy for no apparent reason, you smile at strangers and little kids are especially cute and adorable. Even the music is good. I'm listening to Christmas music right now. I love decorating for the holidays. I love having a colorful tree and sitting up at night to watch the lights twinkle. 

You see, when I was growing up, we didn't have much. But my parents went all out at Christmas. We asked for things and just hoped they were under the tree on Christmas morning. I never cared about the presents anyway. I just like to see everyone happy on that day. I love to buy gifts for people. I like trying to find out what they really want and get it if I can afford it. I just love seeing the faces of recipients when they open the present. I don't do it for glory or praise. I do it to make them truly happy. 

I already have my gift giving wish list for this year. I'm just hoping I can afford it. We owe and I owe so much money to so many people it's a hot mess. I don't really care anymore. I have figured out that credit scores are a scam. The government is so in debt and yet they have the nerve to tell me I can't borrow money when they owe trillions. 

I've picked out my Christmas cards on Amazon. Erica is encouraging me to use Etsy instead of Amazon in order to support small businesses. Usually, I have found Etsy to be expensive, but I did take a look yesterday and found a few things I actually like. I'll take a look there for the cards. I only need about 15 anyway. I don't send out many cards anymore. Postage is ridiculous. 

I don't really want anything for Christmas. I need a new printer. I'd like a zebra print purse from Dooney & Burke. It's on sale right now, but I really can't afford it. I have the electric, car insurance and phone to pay. Plus, I need to give April money for the storage unit. We have to pay it by December 4th otherwise they will auction off our stuff, and we've got some good shit in there. 

I met with a grief counselor on Friday. My therapist thought it would be a good idea, since I am still in mourning for my parents. This time of year is especially hard for me. I miss my mom in the kitchen baking, and I would go visit my dad for his birthday in December and stay through the New Year. It's been a while since they died, but I'm still having a hard time. Not just now, but all the time. It went pretty well. Her name is Carla, and she's very nice and very easy to talk to. We are going to work on how I am processing my grief and get ready for the anniversaries. 

This is the first time in months that I've been able to smile when I think of my parents. Most of the time I cry or get really depressed. I had a suicidal thought last week. I didn't do anything, I just tried to put it out of my mind. I succeeded in doing that by watching a Christmas movie. 

I'm going back on the dating site I think. I will be very discerning regarding my choice. I haven't got time to fool around. I just want a companion right now. No sex, just fun. Then sex, hahaha. I have to figure that out still. I'll give it some more thought. 

Peace, Joy Love - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Let Her Cry

 

She weeps when there is no one around. In the daytime, the tears fall like rain. No one can see those. Everyone has gone to work. Only the animals see. They gather at her feet and seem to ask her why. Why do you cry? Why are you sad? What can we do? 

The dog licks her toes. The cat climbs on her lap and makes biscuits on her shirt. All the while, she weeps. Does she even know why the tears come? Hot and salty burning her face. Her eyes become raw and achy from the sting of her tears. Sometimes she cries pretty, other times it is an ugly scene. Her nose runs, and voice cracks and she moans with pain of a thousand years of dreams broken. Does she even know why? 

Sometimes she think she knows, but doesn't dare speak it lest she sound too pitiful. Other times, it just seems like the thing to do on those lonely days. Her days are spent alone. Anchored to a desk with a headset connecting her to a world and people she couldn't care less about. She talks for a living. Trying to be cordial and helpful to those who ring through. But in between, she weeps. 

When did her life become so lonely? When did she become so old and jaded? What happened to the smiling girl in the picture when life held such promise? Where did she go? When exactly was the day her mind betrayed her and get so cloudy and muddled? The promises of life were broken. The success she promised herself is a long ago thought now. 

She had wanted to be an educated woman, a doctor. She just knew she would go to college and be a great thinker and doer of things. She would find the love of a good man and have 4 children. She would live in a nice house and be a good wife and mother. Then came the day when that slipped through her fingers and fell to floor crashing into a million tiny pieces that were so unrecognizable no one would be able to put that shattered dream back together. 

She wept all the time then. She didn't remember her dreams. She lived in a nightmare fully awake. Her thought processes became those of despair and death. She believed her mind when it said those things. She was stupid. She was ugly, she was a monster so horrible that no one could possibly like her let alone love her. Who did she think she was anyway? This blob of a girl, this horrid, putrid excuse for a human being? God did not create her. She was a creature from the deepest, coldest crevices of hell. She believed that she was a child of the devil himself. That is how her mind betrayed her. She had always believed her mind before. It had never lied to her, why should it lie now. She would be better off dead. It would have been better if she had never existed. She believed it. So, she wept. 

Now, she knows better. She knows that she is of God, and was created in His image and light. But it is too late for her. She grieves a life that is lost. The life she should have had. All of the time it took for her to find her way back to the light made her too old, too broken and forgotten. She doesn't smile much anymore. She hardly ever sings anymore. She doesn't dream anymore. She merely exists in this world and will continue to do so until her time comes. She now hopes that that time comes soon. She is tired. 

So very tired. Her body aches, and her head hurts. Sometimes, the tears do not fall. But there is a pain in her chest. She knows that it is her heart that weeps. One day to the next she goes about her business. There was a phrase in a movie she's seen many times; Get busy livin or get busy dyin. She no longer knows what to do. She feels it is too late to live, but it is not her time to die. So, she just is. 

That is why she weeps. 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Downward Spiral

 

As much as I am fighting it, I am in a downward spiral. I can't sleep, I can't think, I can't do much of anything without an incredible effort. Work has been one long struggle to get through each second of everyday. I feel like I am losing touch with reality. But then again, my reality is nothing I want to hold onto. 

My mind wanders to the depths of despair. Today, I worked for 40 minutes, and then called out. I went for a long drive. I stopped and bought some cheap cigarettes. After not smoking for over a year, it seemed like the sensible thing to do. I think if I didn't have them today, I would have fallen completely apart. I even thought of suicide. It wasn't just a fleeting thought today. It was a solid real thought. Death has become an option. 

I've been thinking of the next 20 years, and my future doesn't look good. I got a new diagnosis from the rheumatologist I saw last week. Instead of sarcoidosis, she found that I my blood work is positive for another autoimmune disease; primary biliary cholangitis. It's a disease in which my body is producing antibodies that are attacking my bile ducts, eventually destroying them. This in turn means that my liver cannot release bile into my bloodstream and allows for the build up of toxins. There is no cure. Eventually, I will go into liver failure and die. 

There is treatment. There are a couple of drugs on the market. However, from what I can tell, the drugs work in the gallbladder. I do not have a gallbladder. In worse cases, a transplant it warranted, but since I have diabetes, I may not be a good candidate for a transplant. So, I don't see much of a future. 

I'm not sure what to do at this point. I have 2 cat scans on Friday. One with contrast and one without contrast. She wanted to get pictures of my upper body and soft tissues of my chest and neck, because my lymph nodes in my neck and armpits are always swollen. I'm so tired. Fatigue is a major symptom, and apparently people with liver disease don't sleep much. 

In the meantime, I feel very alone. I stopped talking to Caton or whoever he is. I think he was a romance scammer after all. I told him I was sick, and that's why I haven't written in a few days. I wrote to him on Saturday, and didn't hear from him. Anyway, I deleted the app from my phone. At any rate, if he was who he said he was, he would have moved heaven and earth to contact me. So, much for my latest attempts at love. 

I've pretty much decided that I am just going to be a sick old lady without any prospects. I suppose I should try to think positively, but I keep thinking about grandmom, Aunt Berta and mom. All of them had liver cancer or something wrong with their livers. I guess I'm just following the family line. I figured at best, I had 20 years or so left. But it doesn't look like it at this point. I guess I could just give up. 

I am not a hopeful person. I guess I never was. It's time to stop kidding myself. I'm tired.  

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Tis the Season

 

I'm afraid I've reached the end of my tether. I go from being angry to caring about nothing. I've been yelling at the animals for no reason. I'm tired all the fucking time. It's that time. It's autumn. 

I like fall, I really do. The air is cool and crisp. There's a light breeze. I also dread it. I get depressed in the fall. It's seasonal affective disorder. I've never been diagnosed with it, but I know enough to know that the dark skies in the morning have a negative affect on me. I want to hibernate like some kind of bear. 

I cocoon myself at night, wrapped in fuzzy blankets and blotting out the light in the bedroom. My bed becomes my cave and I long to be cozy. However, I don't like waking up in the dark. It's hard to get started. I usually can't do too much in the morning during fall and winter. I wake up tired and want nothing more than to go back to bed. 

I become irritable and quick to temper. Lately, I've also had some paranoia. I keep thinking that people are talking about me. What people, I don't know. It's not like I know anybody. It's just the 3 of us. April and Erica still have their side conversations without me. When they do that, I feel angry, and I curse them in my mind. I know it's irrational because I didn't feel this way in the spring or summer time. I was pretty much upbeat all summer. Now, everything seems to get on my nerves. 

I started to talking to a guy on line, but have ignored him for about a week. I just don't care. I got tired of trying to be okay with the fact that I never talk to him on the phone. The more I thought about the more my mind convinced me he was some kind of romance scammer. I've made it a point of telling him that I am poor. I texted him today that I've been in the hospital that's why he hadn't heard from me. Quite frankly, I've compartmentalized him into a part of my mind for absurdities. I want a guy who is real and close by. Then again, I don't think I want to be with anyone at all. 

I'm 60 years old for God's sake. Entirely too old to play games. If you want me, here I am. I'm not chasing you. Actually, I don't mind being a spinster. I'll just get another cat and call it a life. I filled out a mortgage application. I don't know why. I don't know if I really want a house. I like the idea of owning a house, but who wants to deal with repairs and taxes. There's a lot that goes into the upkeep of a house. I don't even have the energy to paint one, let alone fix something. I suppose I'll buy a house if I ever win the lottery. That's the only way it will happen. 

God, I wish we could open the windows. It's so stuffy in here. I'm hot. I also want another cigarette. Yes, I started smoking again. Only 3-5 cigarettes a day. It helps me concentrate. It also relieves my anxiety. I'm anxious about school. My classes are okay. History is more interesting than my English class. She has us reading some dumb shit that's supposed to be funny or at least humorous. The stories are NOT funny to me. I think my humor is different than most people. It takes a lot to make me laugh. I chuckle from time to time, but mostly I just don't get it. As a result I'm only getting a C, and the thing is, I really don't care. I'm taking classes next semester and in the summer, but I hope that's the end of my core requirements. The state of Georgia forces you to take American history courses. Somethings have been really interesting. Mostly all it's done is make me dislike the settlers of the Americas a great deal. They came over here thinking they had the right to the land and the fortunes. The nearly destroyed the indigenous peoples that were here, hijacked there land and corrupted their cultures. 

I can see why conservatives are against teaching about race. The out and out criminal way they treated Africans with the Atlantic Slave trade was nothing less than an abomination. Africans were literally stolen people. How they can deny it is beyond me. 

I'm depressed. There, I said it. I want to go to bed. However, I keep trying to do productive things. I have it in my head that I at least have to try to live. Soon the holidays will be here. Unless, I plan carefully, there won't be any money for Christmas. I don't know what to get anyone anyway. Tis the season motherfuckers. Happy whatever. 

B   

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: A Little Talk with Jesus

 

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed it be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever, Amen. 

Dear Lord, 

First I want to thank you for waking me up this morning, even though I was awaken by a four-legged black and white fur ball at 5: 45 AM. I was having a nightmare anyway, so I can't say I really mind. I'm having trouble sleeping this week. I'm very tense. As a result I've been smoking again. I only smoke 3 a day, but still, it's not a good thing. I'm asking You to take this stress from my heart and restore my joy in everyday things. 

I ask that you heal my body and spirit. I feel a little far from you this week. I was good for a few days. I went to Mass last Saturday morning. I felt refreshed and renewed. Then I did my budget for the next 2 weeks. I became tense and down-trodden. I don't know what to do, Lord. I need a financial blessing. I have been praying for a promotion to level 2 advocate. I have been told that I'm going to get it, but that was back in August. Still, I have not been enrolled in training classes, even though we have a new hire class going on right now. 

I ask that you look after my family. Heal my sister from her Parkinson's disease. Help Erica with her stress at work. Give her a glad heart and heal her soul. I ask that you give my brother a glad heart. I would love to see him sometime soon. Please give him some time off from work to come down for a visit. I ask that you bless him for his continued generosity towards me. He has bailed me out so many times. 

I ask you for guidance. Please lead me on the path of a life that glorifies you. Help me to be more like you. Let me approach everything I do with the love of Jesus in my heart. I thank You for letting me keep my job. I don't deserve the grace they have given me. 

Lord, I feel like everyday is a new struggle, and not just a chance to get closer to you. I pray that you continue to give me the strength to deal with each call as a compassionate person. Sometimes, I feel that I am flying by the seat of my pants. Help me be confident and do everything with kindness and empathy. 

I give all the glory to you Lord. I ask that you continue to bless me and all of my family and friends. Look after us, shine Your light upon all of us, and lead us in the direction of righteousness. Let us walk with the Lord in our hearts, and do all things through Christ. 

You are a deliverer, a healer, a strong fortress, a friend, a heavy load bearer, and confidant. I praise you, Lord, now and forever. I ask all things in Jesus holy name. Amen. 

Peace, Joy, Love - Bebe

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Tired of Being

 

I am sick. I don't feel well. I went to the dentist yesterday for a simple root canal. The dentist had trouble drilling out one of my roots. Anyway, it hurt. It hurt a lot. It also triggered an autoimmune response. I got a fever on 101, and my whole body hurt. I was supposed to work yesterday, and I was prepared to work, but I couldn't. I was in pain. So I called out. Mistake #1. I woke up very dizzy today, and had blood coming from my left ear. I was very dizzy and confused. I could barely speak I was so tired. So, I called out again. Mistake #2. I called the doctor and made an appointment for today. Mistake #3. Why was that a mistake, because the doctor didn't see anything, that's why. No blood, no infection, no problem with my ear. I am now sitting here questioning my sanity and seriously considering my life and where it is going. 

I am sick, but no one seems to believe me when I don't feel well. Not my family, not the doctors no one. Ok, maybe my gastroenterologist believes me as she is the one that diagnosed the sarcoidosis. But no one else. Whenever I see any other doctor, they do bloodwork and say they see nothing wrong. They make me feel like I am making it up when I say I don't feel right. I don't feel well most days, but I convince myself to just go through with the day anyway, even though I really just want to go to bed and sleep for a long time. 

I've been faking it for quite a while now. No one seems to care or notice. I don't know why I seem to care. My sister has never been one to notice if I am sick. She always looks at me and says in a very discouraging tone, what's the matter with you? As if that's going to make me open up and tell her what's wrong. If I tell her I don't know, I get the look. The look that's just saying get it together. No one seems to appreciate the fact that I just get tired of living sometimes. Like now. I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of putting on the happy face and the bright tone at work. I would like to have a job where I just didn't have to interact with people. But, I suppose everyone has to interact sometimes. 

When I try to explain what I mean to my family, they are just like, everyone is tired. Everyone feels the same way, but you just have to do it. What if I don't want to just do it? What if I just want to lay down for a while? What if I just drive off into the sun one day and tell you all to go fuck yourselves? What if I do that? Then what will you fucking do? Who you going to blame for all of your problems then if I'm not here to be my old unreliable self? FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKK!!! 

Right now, I hate you all and I don't care if you know it. I'm tired and I'm sick. I'm not crazy either. It isn't all in my mind. I've never felt clearer. I'm just tired of being. 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Time Moves on

 

Today moved very slowly. But, I had a startling thought today. I have been waiting my whole life. Waiting for what? I don't know, but I always figured I had enough time to figure it out and go for it. Well, it occurred to me today on my fifth trip to the bathroom that I am running out of time. I suppose I should say yesterday, since it's almost 3 am. Today is the 3rd of October. It's eight weeks until Thanksgiving. It may seem far away, but it seems like yesterday that I had my 60th birthday. 

Time is passing me by quickly. What have I been waiting for? I've been waiting for a romantic love. I've never truly been in love despite my attempts at it. Therefore, I've never had a long term relationship. I've been waiting for a family of my own. That's not going to happen because of the cruel biological joke on women called menopause. So, I have cat. She loves me in spite of myself. I love her madly. I've been trying to get my bachelors degree. I haven't been too stagnant about that. I am back in school for the last time. I'm waiting to do things until I have enough money, but unless I am doused with money, that's going to be a long wait. I have so many dreams, like being an actress, but I need money to start. I know I'd be great at it. But, I need help. I've tried to ask Erica, but every time I ask her a question she gets this look on her face that tells me that I am bothering her. 

I was supposed to be going to Italy this year. I made plans for it on my 55th birthday. I am still trying to get out of the state of Georgia. It will cost about $1500 and I currently have $0.57 in my savings account. I owe about $4500 in bills. Every month's rent is a question mark about paying on time. The rest of the bills are kind of pay as I have it. I do have housing instability. 2 paychecks missed and I'm on the street, well maybe a hotel, but still no permanent address. I'm due for my raise soon. It's an additional $500 per month. Maybe I can finally catch up to things. Hopefully, I will. 

The cats go to the vet on Saturday, so I have that to deal with, maybe it won't cost as much as I fear. I do have finally approval on what things are done. Zaybra has a new food, Smalls. It really help clear up her skin. She doesn't scratch as much and her poops are not toxic. The food is expensive, but it's worth it. Zelda doesn't like it. So, she has her own food, Nulo. Kyber is the only one that's not finicky. Don't get me wrong, his food is expensive too. He needs more kibble. All three of them need to get a job. 

Soon, the holidays will be upon us. I'm hoping to get some rest on my days off. I use up my PTO as fast as I earn it. There are some people at work that have 3 weeks accrued. How they can show up everyday is beyond me. I've never been able to do it. Not in my whole life. I've always taken time off at least once or twice a month, even in high school. I keep telling people I was meant to be a housewife. 

I like to think I'm independent. Maybe I was once, but I don't want to be independent. I want to be a dependent. I want someone to claim me on their taxes and expect a clean home, a pretty wife and a hot dinner ready when he comes home. I can do that. I'd be great at that. In the mean while, time waits for no one. I've got maybe 20 years before I croak. I guess I better start living and stop waiting. Before you know it the parade will have passed by and I'll be standing on the corner looking stupid. 

Peace - B

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Excuse me? I have What?!

 

Well, I finally got all of the results back for all my tests. I do not have fatty liver disease. I do not have NASH or MASH. I do not have cirrhosis of the liver. My liver is not failing or anything stupid like that. What I do have is autoimmune hepatitis and sarcoidosis. I have what? I have sarcoidosis which is an autoimmune disease that causes granulomas to form in mostly connective tissues in your body. For me, these granulomas have formed in my liver. They have triggered an autoimmune response causing me to form antibodies which in turn are attacking my liver. Hence, the chronic hepatitis. 

Is there a cure, well no. I can try to change my diet if I can figure out what triggers the autoimmune response. Sarcoidosis is a chronic nasty little disease that a person can have for years. It normally affects the lungs. So, I need to have a chest x-ray to take a look in my chest cavity to see if any granulomas are forming. 

Since it's an autoimmune disease, I'm seeing a rheumatologists since they deal with it a lot. I found a doctor on Zocdoc that specializes in sarcoidosis. I see her on October 21. I've also been trying to get in touch with the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL to see if I can get an appointment for a workup. I have a feeling some of my meds are contributing to some of my problems, and I am not sure if they are all still working for my benefit. For instance, I have been craving chocolate, but not just any chocolate, M&Ms, which do not really raise my blood sugar all that much which is surprising since I've been popping them like, well like candy.  I thinks it's the serotonin and dopamine I'm craving. 

I'm not sure of what kind of treatment I can get if any. The most common treatment is corticosteroids but I can't take steroids because they cause my blood sugar to skyrocket. Dr. Raina mentioned a medication but I couldn't find it. Anyway, she told me to follow up with my PCP or a pulmonologist. I decided to go to a rheumatologist. 

So how do I feel about it? I don't know I was very surprised when I heard the news. I guess I'm glad I don't have some dreaded liver disease, but I'm a little miffed that I have something that will cause me to suffer later on in life. I guess I should admit it. I'm depressed. I didn't do any school work last week, so I failed last weeks quizzes. I should be doing that right now, but I'm having a great deal of motivational issues. I don't really care. Right now I'm more depressed because my eyesight is going downhill. For the past 2 weeks I've had really blurry vision. I can only see if I wear my glasses. It's 2.5 magnification, and without them I can't see the screens and even watching TV is blurry. I got so bad I called my eye doctor and went in for an urgent visit. my right eye is 20/40 and my left eye is 20/70. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it is upsetting. 

I'm turning into an old lady and I'm not ready. My joints pop, and I have mysterious aches and pains. I'm just not ready to deal with my mortality right now. I'd rather live in my bubble of make believe and keep thinking that I'm about 35 years old. Why can't I? 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Come to Me My Melancholy Baby

 

It's been a little over a week since I got my diagnosis. I've had time to sit with it and reflect. What is my reaction to the whole thing? Mostly, it's What the fuck? I have looked over my life and how I have or have not taken care of myself. I think that my 6 suicide attempts and years of taking pills have caught up with me. I have ruined my body's disposal. 

The liver filters out all the toxins in your body. It would seem that I have overloaded the system and caused some liver damage. It's rather ironic, that now that I am content in my own skin and want to do something with my life, I may end up killing myself after all. 

I suppose I could say that the whole thing is bringing me down. On top of that, I haven't been able to keep my blood sugar under control. It's been in the 300s or even 500. I haven't been eating sugar or a lot of carbs, so I don't know what it's from. I'm tired all the time. I think I have a UTI. My bladder hurts, and I have to pee like 10 times a day. As a result, I'm dehydrated. I don't want to see the doctor again. I'm sick of doctors. 

My liver biopsy is scheduled for Sept. 16th. I have to admit I'm nervous. It's not as quick and easy as I thought. They take several pieces of the liver, not just one. Also, I'm going to be sedated. I didn't think it was that complicated. I guess I've been in a bit of denial. 

I keep telling myself that this won't kill me, but the I think of Grandmom and Aunt Berta. Especially Aunt Berta. She got sick so suddenly, and then she was gone. I don't want to die like that. I'd prefer to get killed by a lion. It's my spirit animal, so I feel it would be appropriate. 

I've had enough of this day already and it's on 6 am. Today is going to be a melancholy day. I wish I could take the day off. I just want to stay in bed. Oh, I met someone on Tik Tok. At least I think I've met someone. He may be a bot. I'm not quite sure. But that's another conversation. 

Peace - B