Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: And So It Begins

 

The results of my sister's tests came back. She has Parkinson's disease. So, there it is. My sister, who just turned 65 on Wednesday has been diagnosed with a cruel, debilitating disease. She sees her neurologist on Monday, so she will get more information at that time. In the meantime, I have been Googling. The information is scary. 

I must admit, however, I haven't read too much, because I'm trying to wrap my head around this news. I have a lot of questions. I want to go to the doctor with her. I want to know what stage she is in, what to expect and when to expect it. The scariest part is the hallucinations and delusions that come with the disease. Then there is the lost of motor function, which has already started. I fear that I am watching my sister decline. It's been a quick decline. Six months ago, she was fine. 

I'm not sure how all of this is going to change things. What if her health declines faster and she is no longer able to work? Will this make me the breadwinner? Will Erica have to be her mom's care giver? How will that work? Will she have to go on disability? What happens if she does start having delusions and hallucinations? 

We need to move and pronto. I don't know when or how exactly, but we have to get out of this apartment this year. I'd like to stay in Johns Creek, but at this point I don't really care. 

On top of this, Erica's boss cut her overtime hours. She now works 8:30 to 5 pm. She used to work 8 to 6pm. That hour and a half adds up on a paycheck. They are going to be posting Customer Advocate positions at Delta, which is the level 2 position I've been gunning for the past 2 years. I told my boss that I'm ready to begin training. As soon as they open the position to internal employees, I'm posting. 

I had my phone meeting with the social security admin yesterday. It was a pointless waste of time. It took all of 5 minutes. She just told me that they wouldn't waive my overpayment and I had to set up payment arrangements. Anyway, I'm going to pay back $50 monthly. They don't bill or garnish your wages, so they will deduct the money from any future benefits. So, if I go back on disability, they will deduct it. I guess when I do or if I ever am able to retire, they deduct it from that payment also. 

I now have something in my throat. I went to the dentist for my cleaning. While she was examining me, she noticed some red spots on the back of my throat. There are about 10 red dots there. I figure that it's just an infection, so I got some cold medicine and have been gargling with warm salt water. Unfortunately, they are still there. I have some left over antibiotics so I'm taking that for the next few days to see if that helps. If it doesn't I guess it's off to the ENT. It's always something. 

I have come to the conclusion that I am just one of those people who are meant to struggle. It is a constant battle just to keep going and maintain some sense of positivity. I've been adjusting my attitude at work and it does seem to be helping. My day isn't so miserable anymore. But then again, I don't look at the future much. It's not a good thing for me. 

Right now my phone is acting stupid. I keep losing my internet connection. So, it's difficult to stream. I have to constantly reset my network. Like I said it's always something.   

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Everybody's Talkin' at Me

 

Seems everybody wants me to prove something lately. I have to prove to the government that I'm still crazy. I also have to prove that I can't afford to pay back Social Security the thousands that they say they overpaid me. I have to prove to the student loan people that I'm able to go back to school part-time. I have to prove to the apartment people that Kyber and Zelda are emotional support animals. Most of all I have to prove to myself that I can do this and remain focused. 

I'm always having to prove something to someone. Why does one have to keep proving disability for a mental illness? It's not like I'm going to be cured. I mean, bipolar sleeps sometimes, and then one day, BAM! You're crying hysterically in the shower trying to justify to yourself that it's necessary to wash your body. It takes me no less than a half hour every single fucking day to convince myself to take a shower. I have to talk myself into brushing my teeth. There's no one here to convince me, I have to do it myself. After I'm done, I have to take a cat nap. 

It's the same with eating. I hate eating actually. I get hungry but I hate eating. I hate cooking because by the time I finish, I don't want whatever it is I was cooking. It takes at least a half hour to decide I'm going to eat, and longer still if I am trying to eat something healthy. I think the only thing I do automatically is make my bed. I conditioned myself to make my bed as soon as I get up to prevent getting back in the bed and writing off the day as a major mistake. So, I do it. 

Everything is a chore lately. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm not depressed, but I'm lying. The truth is I'm tired. I'm tired of tryin. I'm tired of praying. I don't want to be an adult anymore. I just want to sleep late, drink coffee and go shopping. Why is that so wrong? Whose idea was this adult thing anyway? Why do we have to grow up and get jobs? Why is that the goal? Who invented society and why does society get to dictate who and what I am? 

There was a time in history when people like me would go away for a while to a nice place where they could rest away from the hustle and bustle that is life. We suffer from melancholia. I could use a place like that now. I talk to a therapist everyday, I'd take walks by a lake and rest on a lounge chair under a tree. Why can't I do that? Why does every Sunday night find me in front of my laptop typing away my anxieties about facing another day and week at a job I can't stand. When will things change? 

I have important decisions to make. People are looking at me and calling me asking for answers. I don't have any answers. I can't think that far ahead anymore. It hurts when I do. I just wish everyone would leave me alone. Stop talking, and pressuring and asking. The truth is I don't know. I don't know what, when or why. So, please stop talking at me. One day I hope to retreat into the fantasies in my mind where everything is quiet, and cool. Just a slight breeze, fragrance in the air and me by a tree next to a lake.  

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Queen of Pain

 

Well, another sleepless night. I woke up in severe pain this morning. My back spasms have gotten worse and I am experiencing the most pain I have ever had. It's centered in my thoracic spine. Somehow I managed to make it through my work day. I was popping Tylenol and had a heating pad for a while. I was in the bathroom when I found the lidocaine patches. I put one of those on and survived the day. It hurts to move in any way. I can sit in the chair with a firm pillow behind me. I dug out my old back brace to give me some support. It's helping a little bit. 

Right now, I'm trying to decide if I should talk to Dr. Ayer or seek the counsel of a new doctor who also specializes in pain management. I'm leaning towards calling the new doctor. She's here in Johns Creek and is supposed to be very good. Plus, she's black, which means I may not be dismissed as just another female with pain. Of course a new doctor means new x-rays and perhaps another MRI, but I don't care. The pain is quickly becoming unbearable. I can see why some people get so desperate. While suicide has not crossed my mind, I can understand why people do it. 

I have always told myself that I wouldn't take narcotics over a long period for fear of addiction, but things are at the point now where I may consider it. The lack of sleep and agonizing pain is getting to me. It hurts to walk. Every step jars my spine in such a way as to cause sharp pains in my back. I'm not sure of what to do. I hope that I don't get shuffled off for more physical therapy. The pain is so bad that I am seriously considering more surgery. I wish there was such a thing as a spine transplant. 

As look back, I have been in chronic pain since 2012. That's 13 years of sometimes crippling pain. I'm tired. I get at most 4 hour of sleep a night. It's taking a toll on my mental state. I'm currently dealing with April's illness, and money stress, work stress and this constant soul crushing pain. I honestly don't know how much more I can take. I don't want to be the queen of pain. I don't have time for this shit. School starts in 3 weeks. I have to be ready. I want my degree. 

Oh well, I guess that's all for now. I'm just here, plugged in and listening to my music. Right now that's Annie Lennox radio on Pandora. It's a good mix. It's stimulating and relaxing at the same time. Poor Zelda has been up with me all night. She's napping next to my computer. She really wants to be on my chest or my lap, but even her 12 pounds is too heavy for me. I've had to shove her off of me several times tonight. I'm so sorry Pud Pud. Hopefully, I'll feel better in a few hours. Time for more Tylenol. 

Peace - BB

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Good Girl

 

My sister has been sick this weekend. I automatically kicked in with my old trauma response. This house is clean. All the laundry has been done. All the dishes have been washed, and the bathroom is sanitized. While I know this doesn't sound that unusual for me, the sense of urgency that these tasks have been completed is out of the ordinary. I am cleaning purely out of anxiety. I started having flashbacks.

When I was growing up, my mom was sick a lot. She had depressive episodes, and psychotic episodes quite often during my childhood. When I was little, I did my best to be a good girl and stay out of the way. When I got older, I cleaned the house, did laundry and did my very best is school. I was driven to be a very good girl and keep everything in order. It was the only way I could manage my anxiety. I figured that if everything was neat and tidy on the outside, it would help my mother maintain herself on the inside. Of course, things didn't work out that way, but what is a kid supposed to do when she's not even sure what the problem is? 

I think if we had been told, well, make that if I had been told that my mom had a mental illness I would have been better able to handle the chaos going on around me. I'm sure I would have looked up schizophrenia in the library and learned what to expect. It would have helped me recognize that her illness was not because of me, but a chemical imbalance in her brain and her symptoms were the result of those chemicals being out of whack. Instead, I was left on my own to try and figure out what was going on, and like most children, I thought that what was happening with my mother was my fault. I thought she didn't like me. I wasn't pretty enough, I wasn't smart enough or good enough. So, I went out of my way to be good, and quiet, and neat. 

Well, since my sister got sick a month or so ago, these feelings have been coming back. I have to keep the apartment clean and orderly in order to keep the chaos in my head in check. If the house  is messy, then I can't function. Things being out of place leave me discombobulated. My anxiety rises to the level of panic, then I completely fall apart. I had been managing okay for quite a while, but now all those old fears are bubbling up again. What if April gets really sick? What if she becomes disabled or worse, what if she dies? What will I do? Who will look out for me? Who will help Erica and Sean deal with the loss of their mom? I can't do it. I won't be able to. I barely made it through when my parent died. 

So, here I am again. The little girl inside woke up from her slumber and is feeling lost and abandoned once more. The only way to calm her down is to put everything away, and make sure everything is clean and organized. I guess this is something I should speak to my therapist about now that it is apparent that's what's going on. I'm so tired and my body aches. NO amount of Tylenol is helping. I'm in chronic pain. My sister will be 65 on the 30th. I hope she is well by then. I think I'll go sit in the care and cry for a while. I can't let anyone know that I am upset, it will make them upset. I must keep it together in front of others. I must be a good girl. 

Peace- BB 

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Am I a Good Neighbor?

 

Today is Sunday, I was having back spasms last night, so I slept on the couch again. I have not spent a single night in my bed all week. In any event, I woke up early. Zelda was on my chest, and the Lord smacked me on the head and said get up and go to early mass. So, I did. I fed Zaybra, got dress and off to church I went. 

I had my breakfast and coffee so I was awake this morning. Today's homily was about being a good neighbor. Today's reading was from Luke chapter 10: 25-37, The parable of the Good Samaritan. All that God wants us to do is love him with all our hearts and minds and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Some people ask "Who is my neighbor?" Well, to my way of thinking my neighbor is anyone I should happen to come across or speak to during the course of a day. That includes everyone. All of mankind is my neighbor. I am to love all people as myself. That's simple enough to follow. 

However, some people make it very difficult to love them. There are some people in this world I would not miss or bat an eyelash if they were to suddenly keel over dead. That's not a kind way to think, I know, but it is true. Additionally, the world is so chaotic and so cruel, that most people mind their own business. This results in people not coming to the aid of their countrymen. This is especially true of the homeless. So many are on the streets, and they are avoided as if they have some dreaded disease. Which in a sense they do. The have the disease of poverty which strikes fear in the hearts of most people. I know I should help, but it is fear that keeps me away. I know this is fear, because it is one of my greatest fears. I am but 2 paychecks away from the street. I could live in my car I guess. But there it is. Instead of showing compassion and thinking there but for the grace of God go I; I walk right by avoiding eye contact. That is my sin. 

I do help my neighbor when I can. I rarely have any money, but I try to help. I've given blood, platelets, donated to a few charities. However, when it comes to giving myself in person, I am lacking. I keep trying to find something to do, but I just don't put forth much effort. So, I guess in some respects I am a good neighbor, but I could really do better. I have to schedule another platelet donation, and find somewhere to volunteer my time. 

Deacon John closed his homily with the theme from Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Won't you please be my neighbor? It struck me that Mr. Rogers was truly talking about the good Samaritan. He's asking us all to be good neighbors, to look to each other with compassion and love. So, will you please be my neighbor? 

Peace, Joy, Love- BB

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: New Chapter

 

They say that your life is like a novel. Each phase is a chapter of your life. So, if that's true, the gothic novel that is my life is entering a new phase. I am going back to school. I know I have said this before, and I have gone back to school on a few occasions. However, this time I did not go with the intent of starting a new career or learning something totally different. This time I decided to pursue a degree that actually means something to me and I'm good at it. 

I will be attending Georgia Southern University starting on August 13th. I am seeking my bachelor degree in English believe it or not. Why English? Well, for one thing, it is a lost language to my way of thinking. To hear people speak nowadays is horrifying. The lack of basic grammar and pronunciation is astounding. Vocabulary is staggeringly absent. If you ask most people what a synonym is, they will say it is a sticky bun. It's astonishing. 

But it is not only my love for proper English, which I admit I don't always use, that calls me in this direction. I love to write. I love putting my words together in a cohesive manner that stimulates the imagination. I love making my stories sound lyrical and intriguing. I am an English nerd. I owe it all to my high school English teachers, Diane Fimiano, Barbara Speece, and Dr. Betty Falkensten. Those three ladies opened up my mind and spirit to embrace a nicely constructed sentence, and the obscure vocabulary word. However, I can't go without acknowledging my 5th grade teacher Mrs. Robinson who introduced me to the Chronicles of Narnia. Blew my mind!! We had a story hour then, and she would select a book to read to us. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is the first book that ever set my mind on fire. I was ignited to a love of reading. I would spend hours in the library reading the synopses of books to see if they stimulated the colors of my imagination. If they did, I would check them out and take them home for a week of reading. Some were classics and award winners. Others were just novels that captured my interest. I would take out 5 or 6 books a week. 

As I grew older, I still spent time at the library. I would sit and read a chapter before checking the book out. I don't know what reading level I had, but it was pretty high. I read young adult, adult and like I said some classics. I never made a list of the books that I wanted to read. I just started at the beginning of the alphabet in the fiction section an worked my way through until I found my 6 books and took them home. 

This continued until the bipolar got the better of me. It ruined concentration and comprehension for me for quite a while, and sometimes I still struggle. I don't go to the library anymore. It got to be too overwhelming. But lately, with school on the horizon, my interest in reading has risen once again. '

I have 2 classes this semester, English 2100, and History 2110. We'll be reading some classics in my English class and writing essays, etc. I'm looking forward to it. It may actually be fun. Plus I will have something to do in my spare time. I should graduate in about a year. I think so, anyway. I'll need to check my schedule.  In the meantime it's back to the old grind at Delta. 

Peace, Joy, Love - BB

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Nice Date, No Sparks

 

So, I finally had a date. I had been talking to a new guy named Robert. We talked on the phone a few times and he made me laugh. We made arrangements to meet at the Barnes & Noble around halfway between our 2 houses. We each drove around 35 minutes to Cumberland. I had never been there before so I was kind of nervous, but I figured I'd look around for a book, and maybe we could go to the cafe and talk. 

Well, I got dressed, and smelled good. Put some makeup on, and took the time to look cute. Him, not so much. He looked like he had just got finished cutting his grass, which I think he did. For some reason, he dropped his car off at the repair shop to get new tires and alignment. He walked to the bookstore in 93 degree heats, so he smelled a little sweaty. He had on loose gray Bermuda shorts, and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. There was no effort to look nice. He kind of looked like he was running errands and stop off to meet me while he was getting his car repaired. Needless to say, I was not impressed. I was so hopeful. Because I am a nice woman, I spent a few hours with him. I did get a book at the store, and then drove us over to the food court at the mall across the street. We got lunch and talked. He's nice and very funny, but he talks fast and a LOT. I didn't get a chance to talk much, not that I had a lot to say. Anyway, while he was talking, I noticed he was missing a front tooth!!!! Strike 2!! After lunch, we walked around the mall and talked some more. It was okay. I was not my outgoing friendly self. There weren't any sparks, no chemistry. It's like we've been married for 40 years and we go to the mall. 

Anyway, he walked me to my car and we said good bye. I called to let him know I got home okay and he was still waiting for his car. He said he'd call when he got home, but he never did. I thought about calling him, but I decided I am the one who should be pursued, so I didn't. I haven't heard from him today. I can't say I'm sorry. I got more satisfaction cleaning the bathroom today. I am now doing laundry. I was thinking about things while I was at the Walmart. I don't think I'll see him again as I didn't feel anything. I don't think he did either. I would just be going out with him to date someone, and I'd rather not. So, back to the dating site. I got a message from some guy named Sergio, but I had to block him because he came across as a dating scammer with his rush to romantic talk. I've played that game before so no thanks. 

There were a couple of other guys I messaged that I may talk to again. I'll have to take another look. I think I might try a white guy. More chance of romance. Seems most of the black guys are too sexual and predatory. I just want a nice date somewhere. Robert could have taken me to see Jurassic Park, but he saw it with his brother!!!!! What a boob. Anyway, on to the next guy. At least I got lunch. 

Peace, Joy, Love - BB

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Monster Within

 

Okay, so things fell apart for me today. It actually started last week, when I was having a hard time at work. I have said often that I don't like my job. Then with April being home sick for a week, I was quite upset on the inside. I started thinking all sorts of things. Now that she's being evaluated for Parkinson's disease, things got dark very quickly. 

My mind basically took off on a tangent of negative thoughts and patterns. Needless to say, the sleeping monster, bipolar, woke up with a very bad attitude. This wasn't a case of the blues. Today disintegrated into full blown hysterics. I couldn't breathe, had palpitations, a screaming headache, and diarrhea. I cried miserably for an hour. 

I even thought of harming myself. I thought maybe if I cut, it would make sense of all the chaos in my head. I flirted briefly with taking an overdose. However, those thoughts were swiftly cut down by the thought of going inpatient. I vowed that I would never go inpatient again. The only way I'm going in the hospital is if it's for a medical problem. My days of inpatient mental stays is done. I call my therapist and my psychiatrist. I talked to my therapist a little while ago. Fortunately, she was able to talk me off the ledge. She reminded me that the things I'm going through are mere distractions that are causing me to lose sight of my goals. I've been through these feelings before, and I have the artillery to fight back, so that's what I'm going to do. First thing she had me do is list my distractions. Then she had me come up with 2 positive things. 

1. David ghosted me. While I wasn't in love or fully invested, it hurt my feelings more than I was willing to admit.  

    A. I did have a relationship that would have broken my heart

    B. I'm talking to someone else, and may have a date this weekend. 

2. My sister's health. 

    A. I still have my sister

    B. I can spend more time with her

3. I don't like my job

    A. I have a well-paying job

    B. I have fabulous benefits

4. My own health is declining

    A. I'm not bed-ridden

    B. I have scheduled my wellness screenings this month

All these distractions have pulled my focus away from the things that really matter. I'm going back to school next month as an English major. I will use my degree to climb out this rut I am. I will get a better job with higher pay. Whether it be with Delta or somewhere else. Also, I need to keep pushing to stay positive and on point because I am a boss lady. I also need to get myself together to date effectively. I may have plans with a guy named Robert. He made me laugh this morning. That's a big plus for him. I will not be offering too much information. I will not have sex right away. I'm like a kitten. I will be cautious in my approach until I know someone better. I still have my 4/4/26 folder. I'm just manifesting a different vision. 

I do feel better now. I think I may actually have a good day tomorrow. I'm getting Invisalign. Also, getting a bridge as implants give me the willies. So, better health to me. 

Peace- BB  

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Waiting, Watching, and Worrying

 

I know most posts are about me and my reactions to other people. I guess this one is too. But this time it's about my reaction to my my sister. Before you think that this is a rant against April, please rest assured that it is not. Although, I do bitch about her sometimes, I really love my sister and I look to her for advice and support. 

Yesterday, during a very bad day, she was encouraging to me. I wanted to call out because my body was freaking out. I had palpitations, body aches, a churning gut and headaches. But she was like, it'll will be okay, just try to push through. So, I took my migraine medicine, and took breaks when I could. It was rough but I made it through the day. 

We talked a lot yesterday, which was kind of unusual. That's not to say that we don't talk about stuff, but we talked like sisters. We shared some stuff. It reminded me of times that we used to hang out together. We had lunch, listened to the radio (actually it was Pandora on Alexa) and just talked. It was so cool. Then I started thinking about how much I do love her, and how worried I am about her. You see, my sister's health has been in decline this past year. On July 30th, she'll be 65 years old. 

The reason she was home yesterday was that she's in severe pain from a hip issue and that she had a neurology appointment for evaluation for Parkinson's disease. From all of the symptoms that she is displaying, that is the probable diagnosis. She's been home all week. She also had to have some images of her thyroid done because they are looking for something. I don't know why, but the test was brutal for her. She has to have an MRI of her brain and a scan to confirm the Parkinson's diagnosis. She's been to 5 different doctors in the past 2 weeks. I jokingly said to her, welcome to my world. However, I wouldn't wish my world of parading doctors on anyone. Watching her go through all this makes me sad. 

It's causing me to think of her mortality and our future. We are after all considered senior citizens now, even though I still have the mind of a 30 year old. I mean, I still think that I have plenty of time. That is until my body reminds me that I don't. I'll be 60 this year. I maybe have another 20 years left. My dad died at 85, my mother 79. I'm not scared of my mortality or April's but it has occurred to me the past few days that she is declining rapidly and that Erica and I will need to care for her. I've already decided that if I need to, I will take time off with FMLA to care for her. 

Growing old really sucks. Betty Davis was right. Growing old ain't for the weak. This shit will break your spirit. I think that's why people die. Not so much of any particular disease, but because their spirit was broken, and they simply lost the will to fight. I don't know which category my sister is. I'm hoping she is a fighter, but I can tell it's starting to wear her down. The only thing I can do for her is keep going myself, and try not to cause anymore stress. Which means, I need to push through one day at a time, one minute at a time. Other than that it's just a game of waiting, watching and worrying. 

Peace, Joy, Love - BB

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Today is NOT the Day

 

Today I hated my life. When I woke up this morning, I hated this apartment, I hated April and Erica, I just hated everything. I hate Mondays as a rule. I would rather work on a Saturday and be off on Sunday and Monday. Today was worse than most. Today I could have punched somebody in the throat. Not for a specific reason, just because they breathe too loud or they have a stupid face. 

The job was brutal today. I failed my quality last week. So now I have 81.50% . Which in some circles would be a B. A respectable grade. But here it is a fail. I hate this score system. I hate the arbitrary way the points are assigned or taken away. Fortunately, it will be changing soon, but it can't come soon enough for me. I hope I last that long. I've been actively seeking another job. I want to do claims processing. I'm tired of the call center and the phone quality bullshit. I know you may think that I hate it because of the quality scores, but it's not. Even people with high scores hate it. 

No one on the team likes their job. It's not like my old team. There was a real sense of teamwork and togetherness. We worked together for a common good. It's not like that anymore. All people on this team do is bitch moan and complain. The supervisor is nice enough, but he's no Angela Clark Smith. I really wanted to do my best for her. I couldn't give a shit about this team. I know Joe said he would help me get ahead, but I have to meet the metrics for 6 months. I've been trying for 3 years. It's clear to me, that it's not going to happen. I hate the callers. Most of the callers are stupid. I always think that they had better not make more money than me. Some of them are actually on the ball. Those are the people I have good conversations with, and hit all my marks. The bullshit of having to say this or that is so incredibly dumb. I mean the only thing that should matter is my customer service and did I answer the questions. 

So today was Not the day to give me grief about my after call work time. I was in ACW for 1 minute 30 seconds and he sends me a message: ACW. I'm like fuck you Joe!!! I'm trying to document the call appropriately. Get off my back!! 

There are so many times today, it took all I can not to quit. I wish I had like 3 months savings so I could quit and not have to worry about it for a month. I usually say I like my job, but I have to stop lying to myself. I hate my job, but like the company. If I could just get to another department. I think I would be okay. I even think I'd be happier back on ERS. Now it's just crap. 

Oh well, I guess that's all 

Peace - BB

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: The Wisher of Things

 

First things first. I hate to admit it, but I must. It's over. I don't know why, but it is. He had no time. His favorite words: "I'm sorry, but I've just been so busy." Do I hold any ill will. Not really. I guess I put too much faith in him too soon. I'm disappointed and a little hurt. He just stopped talking to me. I haven't heard from since Sunday. I sent a couple of texts, but there wasn't a response. He told me on several occasions that he believed in working for what he wanted. Apparently, he no longer wants me. 

So there you have it. Another imaginary relationship bite the dust. I shouldn't say that. It wasn't imaginary. There is nothing wrong with me. I'm a fabulous catch. I went back on the dating site for a few days, but then paused it because I need to regroup. I'm not changing my wants or desires. What I am changing is my approach. I will no longer put myself out there at once. I will keep things close to the vest and let him pursue me. 

I still have my wish list. It still applies. I still want all those things from my husband. But I will put spending time with me at the top of the list. I've learned my lesson. What are my other wishes for my life? Well, I want a better job. I would like it to be with Delta, but it doesn't have to be. I want to be a claims examiner or an appeals specialist. I mentioned it to my supervisor and he told me he will help me achieve my goals. 

This August, I will start school. I have to check the website to see if my schedule is up and see what classes I'll be taking. Ha ha, I'll be the one whose just too busy to date. Maybe that's why God is holding back on m love life. Maybe I'll meet someone through school, or in another way. I wish I could meet someone in a regular way like at the Kroger or something. It would be cool to meet someone at the Wild Birds Unlimited store. That way we'd have something in common and something to talk about. 

I wish I could afford the things I want. I thought about going on a trip, but I can't afford my passport. I'd like to go to Europe, but they are protesting tourists right now. Everyone is protesting something these days. How about I protest about the my salary. I've joined Actors Access again. I am pursuing my acting career again. I've gotten a couple of availability calls for background work on Tulsa King, but I guess I wasn't right for the part. I'm not a country western girl. I wish I could afford to get a introduction tape made. The movie I was in last year is coming out this fall. It's an independent film by this young kid. I doubt if it's any good, but I'll go to the premiere. Looks like a sparkly pink jacket occasion. 

I can't sleep tonight. It's 2 am, and I haven't slept a wink. I wish I could just fall asleep and stay asleep. I guess I'll call out again for physical therapy. I haven't been feeling too great in the morning. I'm just so tired all the time. I don't really wake up until 11 am. I try taking a shower to refresh myself and stretching. Sometimes it works, but most of the time I'm just as tired as I was the night before, and that's with my sleep mouthguard in my mouth. 

I lost 3 lbs. since last week. I've increased my dosage of Ozempic. I'm hoping to lose 20 lbs. by this time next month. I'll be down to 196. I've been trying to get some exercise too. I wish I could really workout in the morning, but the thought of it makes me nauseous. It would probably help me feel better. I have a well woman visit next Wednesday. I was kind of looking forward to it, but I hate the pelvic exam. But I do need a mammogram. I missed last year's appointment. I had to cancel it, and never rescheduled it. 

Oh well, I guess that's all. Maybe I can sleep now. I'm tired. 

Peace, Joy, Love - BB   

Sketches of a Bipolar Girl: Nobody's Little Girl Anymore

 

Tomorrow is Father's Day. I'm not doing anything but watching old movies. I don't celebrate the day, because like Mother's Day, I don't have a father. He's been dead for 4 years. This week was not a good week. I got angry several times and felt the need to reach out to my dad. Then I realized that my anger was towards my father. I haven't felt that in quite a long time. But there it was. I hated my life and everything about it because my father is not here to talk to. 

Please don't tell me he's always with me in my heart and my memories. This week that would have been met with a big "fuck off." I wanted him here, in the flesh and just a phone call away. I just needed a hug, to feel like I did when I was little. I felt safe and warm and loved. I needed that this week. I didn't get it. I got hugs from Erica, but I initiated it. Still she hugged me back, but it wasn't enough. I wanted to hear my father's voice and hear him call me Tinker. 

It doesn't help that the so-called man in my life is not trying to see me or talk to me. He's always too busy. He's aways sorry, but it doesn't change anything. I sent him a text message saying basically that I didn't fault him for having a busy life, but he had to try harder for me. I don't know if I'm done or not. It makes my heart hurt to think that I met this great guy that checks off all the things on my list, but one. I should have put at the top of the list that my husband will always have time for me. I don't think I was too demanding. I even offered to make the trip to his place to hang out. But, I forgot it was Father's Day weekend, so naturally he'll be with his kids and grandkids. Even still he didn't even suggest a day. I got no response. So, I guess I'm done. I am sad about it. I really like him. 

So what's it like to be an orphan in your 50's. It sucks. It hurts to lose one's parents no matter the age one might be. I don't go to church on the holidays for mothers, fathers or grandparents. I just don't want to hear the sympathy in people's voices or look at the pitying looks on their faces. 

I wish heaven had visiting hours. I'd be there every weekend. Well, in the beginning I would be. I imagine, I wouldn't visit so much after the years that they've been gone. But, boy I would like to visit my parents. They don't visit as much as they used to. I see cardinals outside the window, but they don't stay long. They just come by for the food. Every once in a while, one will look at me for a long time. I know it's one of my parents. I used to look for the stars at night, but I don't see them anymore. They come out more in the winter. Plus, I used to look for them when I smoked, but I don't do that anymore. 

I won't be in church tomorrow when people honor the fathers. It would be like rubbing salt in a papercut. I just don't feel like dealing with the pain. I think I will watch Smokey and the Bandit or the Blues Brothers, as those are 2 of my dad's favorite movies. 

I was going to send David some flowers, but I don't have the money or the inclination. Maybe I'll send him some later. But maybe I should give up. I don't know what to do. Why does life have to be so hard. Maybe I'll win the lottery tonight. I could certainly used $80 million. I just want to get out of this apartment and buy a new car. Our plan for new money management is not working so far because of me. I have no idea what I'm doing. I think I only make around $980 per pay. That's once all the deductions come out. I'll have to see on my next paycheck. Maybe one day, I'll get a full check. I was and hour late this week because of the maintenance man. So, I only worked 39 hours. 

I almost quit my job. I'm bored and frustrated. When I'm bored I get easily distracted. I told my supervisor that I wanted the appeals specialist position but know I don't qualify. He said to give him 6 months of hitting my metrics and he'll put me on track to make it happen. I guess I'm not getting my level 2 anytime soon. I've been actively applying for other jobs, but nothing is happening. My resume looks good to me, but I guess it sucks. Oh well, that would make sense. Everything sucks right now. Not me, I'm still fabulous. lol 

Peace, Joy, Love - BB