Inevitability......

I knew it was going to happen. It always does. Not just to me but to everyone and for everything.  I spent a lot of time dreading it's arrival and planning for various contingencies . I put far too much mental energy into worrying about it. I knew When I was worrying that I would regret it later but unfortunately that thought pattern did very little to help.

 I'm certain that I am no longer on top of my (hypo)manic wave. How odd that as i type that I feel guilt over using the wave metaphor because of the recent events in Japan. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that inappropriate guilt is a mark of my shift.  'Shift', that's not a bad term. I guess I could think of my brain in terms of automotive lingo, my moods being a transmission of sorts.

Tomorrow I go to the doctor. I will ask him to adjust my meds, but I don't think it will change the Shift. I guess I need to sit down and write  it all out but frankly that sounds like a lot of work. I know that's my slow side talking. I'm afraid I won't like myself in this lower gear. More though, I'm afraid Richard and my parents won't like me in this gear. What if everyone just pretends to like me until the faster better me shows back up? Does that seem like a crazy idea to anyone else? yeah, me too.

i suppose i should mention that I have a new Puppy. She is a "chiweenie" meaning that she's a dachshund chihuahua mix. She is adorable and funny and doing an excellent job of keeping my "mom void" filled.  Prior to getting her, all I could think about was babies. I don't know if it's because it's spring, or because of my niece, or because i'm now 33, or because I'm with the love of my life, or because my dog KC is getting toward the end of his life... probably a combination of all of the above. I had/have baby fever. Roxanne, or ROXIE as she is called is a lifesaver. She has the "new" smell and sharp little puppy teeth and a pink belly and she does funny baby stuff and that keeps my brain busy most of the time. When things slow down and it's quiet, I think about how she is NOT a Baby.  Damn my biological clock. I always kinda hoped the clock was a bit of fictitious lore but it turns out to be very real. 

I've read about the biological and brain chemistry behind manic depression and it's quite interesting. I think of it either as a wave or a see-saw. You have a continuum of highs and lows, with a pivotal middle that represents a perfectly balanced mood. I have no aspirations of achieving homeostasis but I would like to spend most of my time in a reasonable margin around balance. I think of that area as Zen.  I've felt zen in the past couple months, less so the past few weeks. From my research, it seems that when I'm UP and running fast, I'm burning through neurotransmitter chemicals in my brain. Unfortunately, neurotransmitters are like fossil fuels and since I'm against farking and exploratory drilling, after the manic use of my neurotransmitters, there is a dip in production and usage while we wait for our reserves to refill.

Well, loyal readers, this entry is pretty much a rambling stream of consciousness which probably isn't a lot of fun to read. I hope to continue this entry after my doctors appointment tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed.

I've been thinking alot about driving......

I've been thiunking a lot about driving lately. I know someone who was pulled over and convicted of DUI. Not a crazy person, or a alcoholic person, or an irresponsible person. A person taking their significant other home because their significant other had decidedly had too much to drink. A person that wasn't pulled over for driving erratically, rather for expired tags and the condemned by the nystagmus test. But that is another blog altogether. What is important is the thinking about driving.

Tonight for instance. I'm driving and I'm sweating and my chest is tight. My heart is beating Way too fast and I'm hyper-vigilant. I know there is not a single line crossed coming to a complete stop. There is not a single turn unannounced by the liberal use of the turn signal. No, I've not been drinking, or smoking or anything else that conflicts with driving. I went out tonight. If you knew me you would know how odd that is. I realized it was the first time I'd gone out by myself, when I wasn't working in probably 2 years.

A friend's band was playing tonight and I'd promised months ago that I would be in attendance for this performance on March 2nd, wednesday night.. Well, at 8:45pm I was in my pajamas and slippers with my hair in this odd little knot on top of my head. I suddenly remembered it was march 2nd and that I was supposed to be somewhere and I literally threw on some jeans, makeup and left (no, it was not that easy)


I know I said I was going to stick to talking about driving but... I get to the bar and I'm just in time to see the band play their second encore. It totally rocks. The guys are great and the place is packed. It's sweaty in  the bar. Not just warm, but sweaty. But good, honest, rocker sweaty and reminds me of being much younger. suppose I look as normal as I ever do, but inside my head I'm bouncing off the walls, peeing my pants, sweating, I have toilet paper on my shoe, my fly in undone, and there is still a tag that says 16W on my jeans. I don't know if anyone else ever feels that way, but that's what's going on in my head when you see me enter a bar. The secret is out.


Immediately upon entering the bar I see several people in the band that I know and I give/get hugs and tell them how great they are. I feel guilty as all hell that I missed the majority of the show. My shoes are new and they have a very odd sole that is supposed to tone my calves but only a portion of the bottom of my shoes is actually touching the ground. I painstakingly make my way into the back of the bar, the casino portion, without tripping over or insulting anyone. The casino is lined with mirrors, which may be why I hate the casino. I get to the bar, where I'm facing a much calmer looking reflection of myself than I feel. I see Alice, my friend, the bartender. Alice is awesome. Some of you may know Alice, in which case, no more needs to be said, you already know how great Alice is. OR You don't know Alice, in which case, you're missing out.. Alice brings me a drink and allows me to vent about my internal craziness. She's busy and I can tell I'm keeping her too long. The guy next to me who is really just a kid, either tries to strike up a conversation with me in attempts of humiliating me by calling me a "fat, cow" in front of his friends (yes, that's what's going on in my head) or he's hitting on me. I don't know why he'd be hitting on me, he's much to young and He looks like I could toss him into the air like a child. In either case, I shut him down quickly and head outside to the porch.

While outside I smoke my electonic cigarette while everyone around me smokes real cigarettes. I test myself, do the deed,.. I take  the last drag off someone's smoke. It's terrible. I have absolutely no desire to smoke a cigarette or take another drag. That's a good thing But I'm still going a million miles an hour in my head. I find a spot at the back table where I can observe the other people outside but not be in the middle of it. I talk to a few people, meet a interesting fellow from the Ozark Mountains with a firery beard, a nasel septum piercing, and a long criminal history. We have a rousing discussion about pirates and republicans and how much I hate the state he grew up in. I think he's hitting on me too because he doesn't want to talk much more after I start singing the praises of the love of my life. Eh.

I meet a nice couple who are from some unknown area, that isn't local. They are agreeable enough and they are interested in my electronic cigarette. They say they were smoking and talking and they saw the green LED light on the end of my e-smoke and that prompted them to come over to introduce themselves. The guy pulls out a small glass pipe and offers to get me stoned. I will not comment about whether I took him up on the offer but suddenly Boom... I'm back to square one on the paranoia front. I know I can't drive home and I'm cold and tired of sitting outside, making conversation with the pirate and second guessing everything that comes out of my mouth. I get involved in checking the news headlines on my phone. An older man wearing the carcass of some sort of canine critter on his head (fox, coyote?Unfortunate mutt?))) comes over and says something entirely unintelligible to me. I answer "YES!" and go back to my phone until he leaves. at which point I decide that I've been there long enough that I'm sober, aside from the craziness inside my head,

It's time to go home. After fighting my way back through the throng, I place my 3/4's full watered down cocktail on the bar and go outside. There is a couple outside on the sidewalk arguing drunkenly and loudly about the merits of their respective best friends. I get in the car, put on my seatbelt, turn on the engine and the headlights and then it strikes me. We casually accept the responsibility of driving multiple times a day. We are known by our cars, often definded by them. Everyone wants to know what everyone else is driving. We want the newest model and the newest features. Miles per gallan, miles per hour, etc. But shit, driving is basically a human being given a giant weapon with which to travel about at high rates of speed. I realize that sounds a bit extreme but really that is what driving boils dowm to. A single mistake could lead to deadly disaster at any time when we're driving. Good lord. Think about that.

I drive home particularly carefullly and probably below the speed limit. I make sure to stop before each stop sign, use my blinkers, travel in the center of the lane, look out at where I'm going and check for deer. I know I automatically do these things whenever I drive but I do them without thinking. I'm careful not to talk on my phone and drive, or drink and drive. I try to be conscientious and aware when driving.I think of my sister and my niece and all the idiots who have driver's licenses. By the time I get home I'm fairly sure I never want to drive again. But I know I will , tomorrow.

Maybe I just need to be more confident in my abilities. I know I'm not a bad driver, I've never been in an accident. Perhaps all the worrying will make me a worse driver. Hmmmm. Maybe if i were more confident in my driving, I'd be more confident when I went out by myself and was stuck in social situations. Perhaps just concentrating on confidence would be more pleasant as well as more effective. Maybe if it didn't shock me that people seem interested in talking to me, or that I made it home perfectly safe, I'd be better off. There is also a slight chance than I overthink things in general. The morals of the story are "THings are not always as calm as they appear" and "Drive Safely".

I'm NOT SICK again. aka Happy Birthday to Me ...

Happy Birthday to Me... Happy Birthday to Me.... Happy Birthday dear lady I'm getting to know ... Happy Birthday to Me!!!! (and many moooore.....)  It's my party and I won't cry if I want to... LsLaLa

Ok, I'm sorry you had to bear witness to that, but it's out of my system now and that's what's important. I am 33 today and I'm happy about it. Not only am I happy, I'm excited. I could not say the same on my 30th or 31st or even my 32nd birthday, which makes this one even better. Richard and I got a room at the Stevensville Hotel tonight and it has truly been a great night. We had mediocre Mexican food for dinner (the gas is stellar though) and then came back to this amazing room. *Quick overview of the room* King bed with earth toned bedding, a deep soaking tub in the bathroom, huge picture windows and a hardwood floor from the turn of the century.* We took a nap at 7 o'clock and didn't get up til nearly 9, and it felt incredible. We took the dog outside and ended up walking around the block in the cold and laughing until I coughed myself silly. We watched a couple episodes of South park and giggled like school girls at a sleep over. Had a long bath while Richard read to me out of the travel guide in the room, (we found an error where it says that Marcus Daly was a COOPER king, rather than a Copper king). Made love in the sort of way that has you smiling and giggling during and snuggling afterwords. We talked about the fact that I know I have type 2 diabetes that has been uncontrolled for the past 3 years and that I need to put an end to the uncontrolled part. He is such an understanding man. I tell him things that translate into "Hey, this is a life changer" and he smiles and rolls with the punches like a champ. I also came to several mental points that I think are important and a big reason I'm writing this at two in the morning.

I've not mentioned  yet in my blogs that everything in my life currently is rotating around the central theme of a recent diagnosis of Bi-Polar type 2. I've been trying to figure out how to put everything from the past month into sequence, for the ease of my readers (potential readers), but there is no good way to go about it and the process of going about it, is getting complicated. So.. A month ago, after having what I call my "awakening" I went to the doctor because I felt that I had bi-polar disorder type 2. The doctor confirmed it and I started on medication. I do not advise self diagnosis of mental health disorders but this is a little different. I guess it boils down to my mother's favorite adage "Do as I say, not as I do". I had been operating under the diagnosis of depression, generalized anxiety disorder and OCD for a long time. When I wasn't actively battling those demons, I was UP... WAY UP and hyperfocused on something. Turns out that when you take all of those things together and mix them up in a bowl, you get a steaming batch of Bi-Polar type 2. The type 2 means that when I'm UP, I don't require the men in the white coats with the butterfly nets and straight jackets. I don't break with reality. I just move, think, speak, type.. FAST and I am able to hyper focus on things. I know, it sounds great, but don't go running off to whip yourself up a batch of bi-polar just yet. When you run that fast and hot for a period of time, you burn up all the important little neurotransmitters in your brain and then you head for the DOWN part of manic-depression, and trust me you don't want that.

I've been thinking about the DOWN side of this diagnosis a lot lately and it's been terribly frightening. I know what the severe depression feels like and it's an ugly, empty, dark, scary place that I have no desire to inhabit again. It's difficult to enjoy my newly found insight with the depression monster lurking over your shoulder but it seemed to me there was no way to avoid it. The medication is suppposed to take off the highest part of the UP mood and the lowest part of the DOWN moods, but the prospect was still scary. I have been associating UP with Good and DOWN with Bad. I realized tonight that I don't have to do that. There is nothing inherently good about being UP. Conversely there is nothing inherently bad about being DOWN. I need to replace those labels with FAST and SLOW. Like 2 speeds on a transmission. Nothing either good or bad about either, just useful in different ways. Right now I'm running Fast and I know in my heart of hearts that I can't keep running this fast indefinitely. I have to Slow down at some point. However, the sky need not fall in. I can be happy, and productive and SLOW at the same time. This concept is only a couple of hours old but it brings the comfort of a security blanket. I can embrace the FAST feelings I'm having now, knowing the the SLOW feelings will be equally good, just different.

I imagine this is difficult for someone who is not in my size 10 shoes to read and grasp fully, I hope I've explained it in a way that is manageable. In the long run the important part is that i've documented it. i can come back to this train of thought and hop aboard in the future, because I've taken the time to write it down. I can turn the light off and snuggle up next to the two snore machines here in bed with me, and I can have good dreams because I'm not nearly as afraid of the future as I was last year, last week, or even this morning. Happy Birthday to me.

How it feels to get sick.

I have recently begun writing myself notes. Notes about thoughts I have. Notes about things I need to remember. Notes about things I need to remember to do. Notes about things I don't want to forget. I call these notes Mental Bookmarks, as I think that is what they are. As long as I document my intellectual place in time, I can return to my thoughts at any time. Think of the notes as a sort of mental GPS.

Before you go getting all excited about writing yourself notes, be aware that there are consequences to constant documentation. Firstly, you will probably have ink on your hands all the time. Secondly, if you are anything like me, you will lose your pens and your notebooks. Thirdly (does anyone use the word thirdly?) and this is a big one, you will feel like a simpleton if you write notes like I do. More on the thirdly consequence later, let's stick with the first 2 for now. *makes note*

In the spirit of documentation, I'm going to document the physical and mental progression involved in getting sick. My father and niece have been sick all week. My dad in particular has had a rough time; headache, fever, cough, sneezing, whining, moaning, sighing.... The whole plethora of flu symptoms. I have tried to battle the virus with positive thought, but it turns out that positive thought doesn't work worth shit. There are other less than useful "cold/flu" remedies and I'll list them as they come.

Coughing sucks. I quit smoking nearly 4 weeks ago and have been looking forward to enjoying a life free of coughing. This virus kinda throws a kink in those plans. It's a chest cough and at first I thought it was no big deal. At the first sign of getting the bug my dad has, I though to myself "You won't get as sick as he is" and "You're in a good mental place, and not overly stressed" and "herbs and positive thinking will help stave off the worst" . All of that is well and good but the fact is, I'm sitting here at midnight and my head hurts like crazy. I'm hot and every time I cough my head throbs a little. So far, this is no fun. Maybe I'll try sleeping.

7hours later... Well, sleeping didn't go so well. However, I'm a champ at sweating, tossing, turning, coughing and cursing. I was up at 3 again at 5 and finally out of bed at 6:30. Keep in mind that I don't like getting up at 6:30 when I feel good. I like it even less when I feel bad. My body is betraying me. My eyes, nose, ears and mouth all feel very hot and not in a good way. My chest hurts when I'm not coughing and even more when I am. Apparently my head is full of snot in fact it feels as though someone has taken some of that expanding foam insulation and applied it directly to my sinuses. In case you're ever tempted to put self expanding foam in your nose, DON'T!!

I'm going to the doctor in half an hour. I've decided that enduring these symptoms without the assistance of modern medicine will not make me tougher, or build character. It will just make me bitchy and bitter. Hopefully the doctor can give me something for cough that will allow me to sleep and keep this headache from making me insane.

More later...

The other side of the page.

The other side of the page, where I exist.

I’m always busy. Even when people have  thought I was doing nothing, being lazy.. I am busy. Busy in my own head. There have been periods of time in my life where I barely left the house for months on end. When I slept as much as I could. But still, I was busy. Either busy thinking and worrying or busy trying to run from my thoughts and worries.   Always afraid of being truly still and having to deal with my busy, frenetic thoughts.

I feel guilty for things beyond my control. I’ve sought mind altering substances and activities in the past,  to put my mind at rest or to make myself feel less crazy. Obsessive habits and drugs take away the guilt and feelings of responsibility that I could not deal with. My brain is never still. I cannot command it to be still. Always thinking outside myself. Layers upon layers upon layers. There is clearly no omnipotent god. I feel like Jim , the resident with an inability to articulate verbally due to a stroke. I cannot keep focus on things, there are just too many things. Thousands of ideas but I have to pause them in order to deal with each one, and I’ve not been able to do that. There is not enough time.

I have always seen  myself in other people, crazy people, disturbed people, geniuses. I understand them, or parts of them and that frightened me. I’ve also always dealt with uber sensory dreams. Epic, emotional, extreme dreams. Trouble sleeping because of the thoughts. I’ve tried perpetual physical motion to help quell the speed of my thoughts, my constant ‘jiggling’ in bed, rocking, pacing, sniffing. The repetitive motion helps but also becomes it’s own group of potentially obsessive thoughts.

My whole life I’ve felt different and thought different, been different. Not in the way that we are all different, unique.  Been told that I’m over sensitive, over empathetic, too nice, too giving, too trusting, that I think too much. Never been able to distill (dumb down) my thoughts enough to communicate them properly to others and then I just feel guilty for being smarter than other people but less able to make myself understood. I don’t Mean to be smarter than I can’t help it. I DO Know what you’re thinking often, I DO get the joke, I DO get the irony. People often don’t get my jokes so I try not to make them. I know what they will think is funny and try to stick with that. I’m constantly suppressing my thoughts and feelings so I don’t hurt someone. This in and of itself  ends up hurting people because I withdraw. I have always felt like my dad could understand me, but now I’m not sure he can. He says I’m “needy” but I can’t help it. I just want someone to “get it”. I think maybe I'm going to have to "get it" for myself first.

A better day than most.

I imagine that in order to  follow my blog you will need some background information. This post will not contain that info. I have tried to decide where to begin my blogging journey, only to let indecision prevent me from actually starting. Today is Valentines day, so I've resolved that it is a better day than most to begin. From here on out, I will probably  post things in an order which will make them difficult but I ask that you bear with me. I also ask  my readers (assuming I attract any) to read and respect the following:

I AM JEN, WOMAN, DAUGHTER, SISTER, AUNT, LOVER, FRIEND. There is a smart, sexy, honest, quick-witted, sensitive, complex, genuine woman behind these and I expect to be treated as such. I'm kind but not naive. I love politics, science, debate, music, genuine people, and laughter. I hold no one to a higher standard than I hold myself. I will Not tolerate cruelty, bigotry, whining, or intentional ignorance. I am an unapologetic atheist, but respect the religion of others provided it is not pushed on me. I am happy to discuss my lack of belief in God, but only in a civil manner. I am involved with the love of my life, my kindred spirit, my one and only. I have no children, but hope to begin a family in the next couple of years. I will be 33 in a week. 

I believe the occurrence that served as the reason for sitting and typing this today is a call from my grandmother. My grandmother called today and asked me what day by birthday is, and how old I am. This might sound odd or even bizarre to someone who doesn't know my grandmother or my relationship with her. Honestly, it is a little odd, but probably not in the way it would seem. My grandmother has no acknowledged my birthday in 10 years or more. We have been disconnected for a number of reasons, some of which I am not privy to. I called her this morning to wish her a happy Valentines day. This was approximately the 6th time I've called her in the past 3 months, as I am working on being a better communicator. I have given up the notion or hope that I can change anyone but myself. I know my grandmother will never be the sort to knit me a blanket, or pay me compliments, or remember important occasions. She will probably always call me Jenny though I've asked her not to since I was about 12. All of those things are OK though. I CAN and WILL change myself and put myself out there in a way I can be proud of. After our first conversation, I received the return call from my grandmother. She said she could not remember when my birthday was but knew it was this month. I gave her the date and told her I'd be 33 this year. She replied "You're Joking!" and then "You really are all grown up". I replied "Yes, I am". I told her I loved her, which has been historically difficult for me to say to her and we got off the phone. A great sense of accomplishment, pride and peace came over me after hanging up. Perhaps by changing myself, I can inspire change in others. 

Dear reader, I will leave you on that note today. I'll be back to typing sooner than later. Thank you for reading this, I'd appreciate you coming back. 

Jennifer