A Million Little Pieces of Me

Oh hello, all.

Here's what I felt like yesterday:


Is it overly dramatic? A better question would be "did I give a shit?" The answer, of course, would be "no." I didn't care about anything yesterday except how miserable I was. Part of my bipolar is intrusive thoughts, which, in layman's terms, is like having a voice in your head telling you you are worthless, that no one has/does/will ever like you, much less love you. In fact, it would probably be best if you drove your car into oncoming traffic, because everyone would be way better off if you weren't around. A mercy killing, if you will.

And that's how I felt yesterday. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to take my meds and go to bed, instead of doing anything rash. There were a lot of tears, and panic, and agony, but I lived to see another day, and I didn't even have to go to the hospital.

If you're someone who has intrusive thoughts that are not rational, like I was having yesterday, the best way of dealing with them is to think about something so mundane and white-bread-rational that it CAN'T get twisted in your head. For example, I couldn't kill myself yesterday because no one can tolerate my cats except me. I'm the only one who knows how to take care of them properly. Also, it was nighttime, and I don't drive at night. Therefore I couldn't drive into traffic, because I don't drive at night. It's a rule, and rules aren't broken in my mind. See? Totally rational.

So I went to sleep and you know what? Tomorrow came. I was rattled as hell, and felt like I had run twenty marathons, but the intrusive thoughts were gone. I even went to my meds doctor and told him exactly what had happened the night before. So now I have another medication, and we'll see if that doesn't shut my brain up when it decides to be cruel to me. Cause I can say now, which I couldn't say yesterday, that I DON'T deserve to feel like that. And a day in which I think that I don't deserve constant punishment is a damn good day. So yeah, today was a pretty good day.

I know this stuff is scary, and unnerving, but it's a huge part of my life. I depend, I rely, I cling like a spider monkey to my sense of humor to get me through the ugly times, and knowing I can make other people laugh is better than all the meds in the world.

But there are bad days, and yesterday was a bad day. However, I can sit here and say that I didn't hurt myself, didn't hurt anyone else, didn't break all my plates or do anything rash. That's a good part about having paralyzing worry and non-existent self-esteem. I didn't want to do anything that would make people hate me. And I suspect that offing myself would make a lot of people hate me.

This is who I am. The laughing, goofy, fiercely loyal, creative, passionately loving woman whose brain betrays her. I go to my therapist, I take my meds, and most days I can fill this blog with stories about the cats and times my pants fall down. But yesterday was a bad day, and I wanted to share it, because it is as much a part of me as anything else.

That's all. Promise to bring the funny next time. And lest I forget, thank you a million times and again to my wonderful friends and family who helped me through yesterday. I am so blessed to have every single one of you.


A Million Little Pieces of Me — 16 Comments

  1. Heya,
    I’m also bipolar, but I’ve been doing really well for the last year or so, so have hope. You will get balanced eventually if you keep at the meds and therapy and writing.
    People say lots of stuff to me when I’m in certain states, and it all sounds like bunk, so I don’t have much to say to help you out, other than survive another day. But I think you figured that out.
    Stay safe. I’m here if you need to chat.

  2. Oh, let me tell you about the time I threw a wine glass at the wall and then took four ambien. That was fun. And then I had to explain my completely irrational behavior to three close friends of mine. Let’s just say that I’m only friends with two of those people right now. And on the one hand it sucks of course but on the other while I hate having to explain something like bipolar disorder to anyone, if you are flippant about it and don’t give a shit well that says more about you than me. So I leave it at that.
    Also in those depression moments what has kept me from seriously hurting myself is that my apartment is too messy. Things aren’t in order. I couldn’t possibly have anyone come to my house and go through my things with it looking like this. And it’s really sad that we think and live this way. And even sadder that there is no way to explain it to someone. There’s no way to fully explain how God fucking awful it is and that’s what really upsets me about this entire thing; no matter what I do other people who don’t have this really shitty disease will never get it. It makes me really appreciative of those that do though.

  3. I’ve told you before, but you’re not a clown or a performing monkey, and your blog should be whatever you want/need it to be. I know that I, for one, love you whether you are making me cry-laugh, or whether I’m just, you know, crying, either for you or for me, or both. And I’m pretty sure I’m not alone.

  4. Well I am one of the people you make laugh with your posts, blogs, and tweets and I appreciate the laughter. Sorry you had a bad day, but glad you pulled thru ok. Hugs.

  5. I got in a huge fight with my mom today because she tried to make me feel bad about something going in my life that I already feel shitty about. I tried to explain to her that NOBODY N-O-B-O-D-Y is tougher on me than me and that trying to make me feel shitty succeeds only in turning me into a pathetic blob. The little voice inside my head is nastier than even she can ever be. All she does is reinforce all the horrible things I think. I had to watch 4 episodes of the Gilmore Girls and go to the gym to get back on track.
    Keep sharing, dude.

  6. As grossly inappropriate as it was, I used to think that there was nobody in the world I hated enough to make them clean up after me if I did myself in. It was dumb, but I also used to think that the state of my paperwork and finances would have been a big mess to anybody else. So, I got myself a filing cabinet (for my own, long-term use) and a therapist. And meds. Luckily, I am at the stage now where I am doing well, and have tons of friends to kick me in the shins when I start to feel that nobody loves me.
    It gets better. Lots and lots better 🙂
    Leslie in Toronto

  7. Thank you so very much for sharing yourself with the whole world–both the hilarious and the horrible. I have been thinking about starting a blog and my husband is puzzled as to why people put their lives out in public. This is why. Miss B, by sharing what you are going through, we feel less alone, less frightened.
    Thank You. Just Thank You, even though that really isn’t enough.

  8. Cyber Hugs. Whatever you need to write to get though the day, I’ll be here to read it. Some of my best friends in the world and bi-polar and some days you just need to get it out. Clear out the voices and have people understand. I will never understand it fully, but as someone with depression and anxiety issues I do get how hard it is to live with. Just know you are never alone and a whole lot of us out here in the cyber world love ya.

  9. Glad you’re feelin’ a little better, and hope the new meds do right by you.
    Also, the photo makes me think of the lost boys from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. Sorry. Know that wasn’t the motivation behind it, but it still looks kinda cool.

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