And On A Lighter Note, New Blog Content

I have decided to move the content from http://turbulentstories.blogspot.com to it's own page on this blog.

The traffic on the "Turbulent" blog is about as busy as the traffic in West Cowpoke, Arkansas, population 136.

So keep your eyes peeled for all the additional content that will be appearing here. You really don't want to miss the wonderful submissions from others who are battling bipolar disorder. They tell their stories & illustrate their struggles through short stories, truth based fiction, short memoirs and poetry... their talents are indescribable. Stay tuned and see for yourself.

My Apologies...

I feel the need to publicly offer my sincerest apologies to the poker genius I insulted last night when he pushed me over the edge with his incessant shit talking... I believe my exact words were "Hear that? That's the sound of logic screaming in agony .... but thankfully, brain trumps mouth..." and for that, I am truly sorry.

What I meant to say was "I'm sorry, I don't speak fluent caveman, but I'm pretty sure what you just said translates to:  'Please come across the poker table and shatter my jaw because I am an utter imbecile and deserve to have my obnoxious ass beat down until I stop breathing and die- then I should be brought back to life just so I can have my ass kicked again.' or something to that effect. And by the way, motherfucker,  is that your face or did you just block a kick?"

So, truly, if I said anything out of line, please believe me... um... that's it. Just please believe me.

Tag the Stupid People

Fuck stupid people. No one likes them. Of the numerous things that really piss me off, stupid people account for the vast majority. One thing that drives me to my absolute breaking point is when I see a doe-eyed, overweight housewife, whimpering, and gazing in astonishment at a psychic’s every word on television.

“Can you talk to my dead grandma?” a woman pleads. Her hand is cupped by Montel Williams.

“I am seeing her now. She says she loves you. She is saying something about a kitchen,” the amazing psychic responds.

“A kitchen? Holy shit! My grandma lived in a house with a kitchen!” shouts the woman.

I almost choke on my Slim-jim. She’ll question the psychic more. I mean, she won’t buy it that easily… right? This psychic will have to prove it with a hell of a lot more detailed information than that. No one is that dumb. Nope. No way. Hold on... she isn’t questioning it. She’s clapping and crying. People are applauding the psychic. What in the fuck is going on? All of a sudden, I realize that I am punching myself in the face and turn the television off. What could this woman really offer society? Besides a “Don’t go there!” t-shirt, not much.

Stupid people, while entertaining at times, slow the progress of life, and make being in public frustrating as hell. I could go on for hours about it. Anyone could. The one thing that we can all agree on is that there are too many dumb fucking people in the world today. Instead of just bitching about it, I have a solution. I have a noble idea for the assholes that make you scream in your car, and throw dishes and cutlery at your dog. No, my idea is not a psychotic, murderous solution, like Hitler, or Darth Vader would come up with. It is just an option that would help improve the quality of life.

Dumb people should be tagged. Like the animals they match in intellect, they can be avoided and tracked.

You believe a psychic is real because she told you that your uncle said he loves and misses you from beyond the grave...

Tag.

You shoot your friend with a shotgun while hunting for quail…

Tag.

While driving, you come to a complete stop before you make a right-hand turn…

Tag.

The minute someone illustrates stupidity this horrendously, they should be pointed out. We would have a warning when we were about to encounter a person with an I.Q. the equivalent of a urinal cake. The advantages would be astounding. Think of the shitheads you could avoid. Oh yeah... I'm starting NOW.

Unbalanced

*Original post date 12/30/08 by @KimShannon

For as long as I can recall, people have referred to me as "crazy". 

I always thought the reference meant that I was fun, the life of the party - a real hoot. And I was. Am. But I'm also bona fide crazy... I have Bipolar 1, rapid cycling, and it's a real bitch. I exist mostly in a state of hypo-mania which, according to the American Heritage Medical Dictionary, is a mild form of mania, characterized by hyperactivity and euphoria. Let's face it - energetic and euphoric is something we'd all like to be ALL THE TIME, right? Sigh... If only it could last forever.

Sadly, "forever" is a word without meaning to those of us with Rapid Cycling BP1; our neurotransmitters perpetually misfire, causing our moods to continually shift in accordance with what our imperfect gray matter dictates. We're never in a particular mental state long enough to even say that it feels like forever. So sooner or later, the electric awesomeness of my beloved hypo-manic state will raise its chipper hand to wave bye-bye, and it becomes a tiny dot on the horizon as I am taken prisoner by its replacement mood, whatever it may be. There's no telling whether I will experience the extreme mania or debilitating depression next, but I can tell you that it's the anticipation of what's to come that gets my agitation kick-started either way. The unknown can make a person truly insane; it's the bee that that circles around your head, always a threat but never giving any clues to its intention - you just sit, helpless, waiting for it to sting.

This mood disorder is either a blessing or a curse, I'm still unsure of which. The maximum strength moods never last for more than 2 weeks at a time, which is good, but they can also change in as few as 20 minutes... that's bad. Very fucking bad. As you can imagine, anyone with properly functioning brain signals can't understand what it's like to be trapped in a cyclone of ups and downs, and that makes it difficult to empathize. We cuckoo birds desperately need unconditional support, however, so this post is intended to educate and inform the masses. SPOILER ALERT: It's fucking exhausting. You'll see.

So without further adieu, I invite you to join me on the thrill ride that is Rapid Cycling Bipolar 1 Disorder

I feel(for a while) that nothing can go wrong. I'm like an action hero; I'm SUPERMAN[ic] and nothing can stop me! This is hypo-mania, and I LOVE it!!! My spirit is unrelenting, I am quick on my feet and my mind's sharper than ever... I feel witty and brilliant and popular and loved, and I am sure that I could rule the world if offered the job. I'm on-point and fabulous, and can do no wrong...

I don't have to think about anything. Words just naturally come together perfectly and effortlessly; everything I say is just this side of genius. I'm everyone's best friend and and conversation comes easily. I naturally adjust to different situations.I fit in wherever I go. I am self-assured and assertive. I am outspoken, and people come out of their shell when I'm around them. I can take on 5 tasks at once, completing them faster and better than anyone could. I feel great!

Suddenly, that mood becomes something else entirely. It clicks up about 700 notches and almost takes on a life of its own. Now, the thoughts are coming TOO fast! I can't keep them straight... I almost think I can feel them buzzing while they whip around in my head. My ears pulse and my heart pounds. I'm on sensory overload. Every nerve in my body is awake. I gotta move & get things done, and I devise a plan to do it. I'll come up with a brilliant and WAY too complex course of action, but I am so overloaded by outside stimuli that I am thrown off course. A ringing phone could push me over the edge. Actually having to stop and answer it DEFINITELY would...

People become a distraction to me. If they speak or even move, they're interfering with my thought process, and I can't stand it. I have no patience for people and no interest in making small talk. Tick motherfucking tock - time is wasting. I try to tell them to go away, but I trip over my own words. Yesterday, I could stand on a soapbox and give an impromptu speech about any random thing, and it would have been seamless. But now I have trouble even stringing a sentence together; the words are coming faster than I can form them....

The need to MOVE is overwhelming, and if there's nowhere to go, I pace. Back and forth. Or I just stand and rock on the balls of my feet. Back and forth. Or shake my leg. Up and down. If I sit, it's only for a minute or two until I stand up again. Up and down. Back and forth. I find myself moving in and out of every room in the house, knowing there's an objective, but confused about what it is. If anybody tells me to "calm down" or "take a seat" or "relax - you're a mile a minute", I get irritated and aggressive. My roommate asks me a question, and I lose it! How DARE HE interrupt me when IT'S CLEAR that I'm in the middle of something important? I answer his question in a way that lets him know I don't have time for him. He tries to understand, and asks what's going on. Suddenly, he seems like the dumbest person in the world. His tedious questions are unbearably annoying; he's wasting my time. He's talking too slow, moving too slow. Why can't he keep up? Now I'm furious. He's interrupting my mission. I already forgot 5 times what the mission ACTUALLY IS and now he made me forget AGAIN! I feel like he's doing all this on purpose, as if he WANTS me to fail. How arrogant and selfish of him!!

In a flash, I become a predator. My prey is his spirit, I want to crush it so he'll go away and leave me to my projects. So I do. Whatever it takes - wailing, foaming at the mouth, hurling things across the room, attacking his ego. I say gut wrenching things about his character so he'll go the fuck away and leave me alone. It's clearly all his fault that I'm in such a cluttered state and he deserves whatever he gets just for pushing me so far off track. I don't sleep or eat, sometimes staying awake, unfed, for 6 or 7 days. I begin to drop things, which leads to throwing things. The things I throw break. I. AM. SPINNING.

I cannot hold my tongue and pick fights with everyone. If I get the urge to go out, there's a good chance I won't be home later. And if I do come home, I'll be so drunk someone will have to carry me. I can't stop any of it. I'm edgy and tense, on the verge of snapping at all times. I can't focus on anything, and that makes me mean. I'm convinced that my head is going to implode and then I'll never get to unlock the secrets all these rambling thoughts have been holding. I better get a pen and start writing them down...

And so it goes, until the inevitable crash occurs. Oh hi there, Depression... didn't hear you come in. Sit down, make yourself comfy; you're staying for a while, I assume? When THIS happens, I do not function at all. Not. At. All. The housework, cooking, bills, and laundry all goes untouched. My only movement is shuffling from bed to couch, couch to bathroom, back to bed again. Shuffle to the kitchen, look at the dishes that have piled up, shuffle to the corner, think about how much I want to die because of the dishes that have piled up. Shuffle back to bed and cry about the fact that I can't even do the dishes, and now they are piled up. Shuffle to the bathroom for tissue - I need it to get rid of the tears and snot that are all over my face because I've been thinking about how high the pile of dishes is. Shuffle over to the mirror, realize how DESPERATE and PATHETIC I look, collapse on the toilet seat and think about dying. Shuffle back to bed and pray for permanent sleep. 

Shuffle, cry, shuffle, cry, shuffle, collapse. I don't speak, I stare at nothing and focus on everything negative that has ever happened in my life. I wonder why people love me and then remind myself that they probably don't. I convince myself I'm all alone in the world and that anyone who calls themselves my friend must have an ulterior motive. I feel hopeless, useless, and burdensome. I can't concentrate on anything anyone says. When I do summon the strength to move, it feels like I'm trudging through maple syrup and it's as though my feet are made of lead. Even though I've barely taken 15 steps, I'm exhausted to the point of near collapse. It takes every bit of power I can muster up just to raise an arm, but it's too heavy and I decide I don't want to move anyway. I think about how I was born useless - doomed to fail at everything. I tell myself that death would be welcome. Even being struck by lightning couldn't hurt as much as the pain that I feel at THIS MOMENT... I shuffle, shuffle, shuffle to the sofa. I succumb to weariness and decide I'm giving up. I stop resisting the crushing weight of my eyelids and allow them to close.

When I wake up, it's as if nothing ever happened. The clouds have cleared and all is right with the world. I can do anything! Is it extra sunny today, or am I imaginHEY YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE FUN? Wait. Lemme get some coffee. And a pen. Where did I put all the pens?

And I launch into the cycle again....

Sounds fun, right? It's a real blast.... Especially when everyone around me assumes that I can control this behavior. Well folks, I'm here to tell you that I cannot. Period. Dot. When it happens, it happens and there's no stopping it; even when you see it coming, you can't avoid it. It's like a heat seeking missile and it will find you. 

There is NO CURE for bipolar disorder, only treatment. I am currently taking Lamictal, which is a mood stabilizer that seems, for me, to work on the depression wonderfully (haven't wanted to hang myself in at least 3 days) but the mania is still very prevalent and THAT'S the mood I have the real problem coping with. Of course. Anything else would make entirely too much sense.

A Rant .... Submitted by Heather Al-Juboori

This post was submitted by Heather, who obviously has some strong feelings on the matter... Thanks Heather!

Hey I got something to submit if your still looking for outside info for the blog..


" You are right on target here. Labels are a biitch, no we aren't the center of attentio n seekers, and hey you know the fuck what??? If I had a choice I would make it all just go away and not have the dramatics in my life.. Hell I have tried to ignore this bipolar shit for years. You know what happens when you do that with out help? You fucking cycle and then it gets worse. If your lucky it won't get followed up with anything that leads to legalities. ANd the sad thing is your right. It is a sickness, Its not a fucking tabboo subject. Its fucking life. The autistic the children born with down syndrome, mental retardation, or even are just a little slower on grasping things are born with it too. Too fucking bad you wanna shut it off and walk away and pretend its not there. None of us fucking can!!! Its a living hell battling with yourself everyday teetering between the social ideas of normaility and your reality of normaility. Its as though at times we bipolars are possesed or short circuting. Its a spiral of confusion. Yes we eventually learn to cope and live and be able to function but thats those that are lucky. And then there are those of us that just dont know what is wrong with us or are crying for the help and never get it end up in trouble in our lives not knowing whats up or down. Its a scary thing to face that reflection that you see in the morning...You just can't walk away and pretend they aren't there. You never can walk away from you..I agree Kimmie, Society just doesnt make things any fucking easier for us. the question is are we really that fucking far from the old days? Have we progressed or is it all just another form of putting us in mental institutions and forgetting we exsist to wallow away in our own filth??? I say no. It is up to us to take up our bretheren in this God awful mental war we face daily. We help each other and stand tall and say Fuck off!!! WHo the hell needs your views??? Live in my fucking shoes and live my fucking real horrors in real fucking life both physical and mental and then you can judge me. Fuck off! The normaility is that noone is without fault and in some point int anyones life they can agree they have lived to some small extent at the least of what we live in a day. Don't take pitty, don't look away, and don't fucking stare. Have some fucking balls ask a fucking question and fucking empower yourself you moronic assholes, get educated and stop judging and being afraid of what you know nothing about. Reality and experience in my life suggests that yes sometimes education is scary, because you face cruel realities...but its also what leads to the epiphany of OH NOW I UNDERSTAND!!!

And if you wanna get right down to it..we can be damned good parents, because there are those of us, like myself, that care very much our children. We are very intune with thier needs. We are often able to see warning signs of any emotion issue a child may have...because hey we have lived it. My life has been sure hell. We have endured allot more then allot of any red blodded Americans could take in my family. And because of that, I knew what that meant for my kids...None of it had to do with me or anything I had done. Everything had to do w/ prejudices and morons. And children were the biggest victims. I am damned proud to say that I signed my kids in for counciling and you know what?? The councilor told me that I had children that were very healthy, especially in mental health...Because I learned long ago how to slow the anger, forgive, and move on. And taught it to them. I know this may sound contradictory here but every once in a while someone has to open thier mouths to help those that fucking cant!!

I teeter between meds or no meds. And you know what? I am me, take me or leave me. I am a devoted friend, spouce and dedicated mother, who will rip a fucking head off for those she loves. I advocate for those whom I can, I help the disabled and elderly without any compensation....and you know where I can find the most comfort??? WIth my grandmother..she suffers from althimers and demntia. She is basically feeling the same types of things I am with different labels..

Yeah people,like Kimmie said Labels are a bitch. Too bad Dementia is one of those bitches. I read an online article stating there was a theory that mental health is diagnosed on what it is in different decades of a persons life, ADHD, Bipolar, Depression, Dementia, The theory was that each label was at times difficult to differentiate, if I am not mistaken about this. But it suggested that bipolar and dementia are closely related. SO SOCIETY Shove the labels and looking down the noses and shoulder shrugs and side stares up you ass!!! No matter what a person does someway somehow it happens to everyone. Especially depression, a job loss, a death...Look in the mirror and then prtend that ones not there! HAHA fucking HAHAHA"

IF its good and you wanna use it go for it, edit it I dont care..lol If not its just my POV on agreeing with you. HUGS

Too Much Stuff Going On

Yup. There's just TOO MUCH stuff going on. Not in my life, *sigh*, but on this blog.  Oh yeah. WAYYYYYYY too much stuff. Something's gotta give. 

This page looks like an explosion of a Mardi Gras float carrying 73 beauty pageant contestants who just purged a bucket of Skittles.  I'm used to chaos & mayhem, but this is taking it way too far.



Tacky, tacky, tacky.

Afternoon Ever After (Submitted by Terry)

.

.

AFTERNOON ever AFTER

the afternoon awoke sometime, hours ago
i sleep like vampire at dawn
god can’t be this accurate, but why assume caring now

my barnacled eyes – robin breast red – pry open
towering difficulty, bitterness crawls between my teeth and gums
revolted by my hope that this vulgarity would implode

i know better than breath hope

i grumble out of our comfortable bed detailed shapes on each side
now granite cut, sharp sleep after whiskey pills 3 times dosage fuck this and fuck that
stumble through dying life emptiness
reeking clothes beer cans, bottles yawning computer

find the bathroom – comfort porcelain
the mirror swarms fly-by memories grease fire images
three weeks ago
can’t escape can’t fathom
turn off the light

fall against bathtub gather foetal
place pure darkness where nothing matters
forgetting is no false effort dank room my baby blanket now

hard door knocking again?
calling my name detectives professionally
tread carefully killer found their pride and relief

laugh, i laugh i wretch why do i care?

testify pronounce a man guilty
justice for your wife, you

their voices white noise my self-protective deafness
i don’t care about justice don’t want it know it
not judges people or magic not prisons death needles not god
no blame no guilt for me just a hole
pierced in my soul blackened dead at the edges

let him go shoot someone else
let someone else’s family condemn him

just let him go

Original Poem (Submitted by Terry)

.

.

a divinity here will not be denied

a moral in life and in demise

a moment of celebration

distrusted ambiguity

finality without glamour

welcomed like cold steel

stiff by knowing

no choice, no judge


in
sum
may
may
may
summation
in
sum
mer
mer
mer’s

last fires

in

con

cede

cede

cede

conceding everything

in


dy

ing

ing

ing

declaration

in


mor

tal

tal

tal

coil

in


mus

ic

ic

ic

ic icarus


wings

melting

plummeting

So What?

Hello Readers!!

First Things First:

As you can see, I am back to business - my blog is free & clear of those infuriating photobucket images which were plastered on my pages like makeup on Pammy Anderson... (and let me add that this was through no fault of my own - of course. Nothing ever is.)

Moving on... here's what's happening in my neck of the asylum:

I've been thinking lately about change. More specifically, I've been thinking about changes I've made and asking myself whether or not they've been worth the friggin effort.

Kim: Self, have the efforts I made been worth it?
Self: I'm not sure, Kim. What makes you ask?
Kim: Well, I was thinking that maybe it was easier when I was fucked up - at least I was oblivious to reality. Reality sucks.
Self: Happy is as happy does, Kim.
Kim: Thanks Forrest. And fuck you.

As you can see, conversations with myself rarely turn out well.

Before I discovered the wonderful world of meds, I behaved badly (I make the girls from Absolutely Fabulous look like nuns) but I FELT happy... Seeing things clearly and behaving like a good girl ain't so grand - it's unbearably boring; the world tends to be ugly and people tend to be shit. I wanna be crazy again so the world is just a kaleidoscope and everything is easy, breezy, beautiful; Crazy Girl.
Why would I want sanity when the other side of the coin is so much shinier?


Attainable Affirmations (as published at pendulum.org)


**As I let go of my feelings of guilt, I am in touch with my inner sociopath.

**I have the power to channel my imagination into ever-soaring levels of suspicion and paranoia.

**I assume full responsibility for my actions, except the ones that are someone else's fault.

**I no longer need to punish, deceive, or compromise myself, unless I want to stay employed.

**In some cultures what I do would be considered normal.

**Having control over myself is almost as good as having control over others.

**As I learn the innermost secrets of people around me, they reward me in many ways to keep me quiet.

**I need not suffer in silence while I can still moan, whimper and complain.

**Joan of Arc heard voices, too.

**I am grateful that I am not as judgmental as all those censorious, self-righteous people around me.

**When someone hurts me, I know that forgiveness is cheaper than a lawsuit, but not nearly as gratifying.

**The first step is to say nice things about myself.

**The second, to do nice things for myself.

**The third, to find someone to buy me nice things.

**As I learn to trust the universe, I no longer need to carry a gun.

**I honor and express all facets of my being, regardless of state and local laws.

**Today I will gladly share my experience and advice, for there are no sweeter words than "I told you so!"

**Who can I blame for my problems? Just give me a minute... I'll find someone.

**I am learning that criticism is not nearly as effective as sabotage.

**I am willing to make the mistakes if someone else is willing to learn from them.

Hmmmm....

Kim: What do you think about that, Self?
Self: Only crazy people talk to themselves Kim.
Kim: Sigh.