Category Archives: bipolar disorder

Well, that took awhile…didn’t it?

I finally snapped out of last weeks despair sometime this week. It coincided with Valentine’s Day for the most part. My hotband took me out to the beach hideaway that we love so much. We went for a very romantic (read: EXPENSIVE) dinner at another little hole in the wall that we don’t share with others. Then, we went back to the hotel and had absolutely incredible sex. No. Really. Incredible. I did something for him that I had not done in a very long time.

I played “dress up” for him. Yeah. Trashy lingerie. Big heels. Red lipstick.

The works.

Since being on my medications for bipolar disorder, it is not often that I feel creative anymore. Don’t get me wrong. Feeling sexy is a permanent condition for me. I have really good self-esteem and have always been proud of my body, no matter how big or small it has gotten over the years. However, the medications, while sparing my overly active libido, have completely taken away my desire to have fun with my sex life like we used to.

Ah, I remember the days of giving my husband lap dances in funky little outfits. Yep yep. The products of manic episodes. Alas, those manic episodes, while they still exist to a certain degree, no longer possess the punch of a Napalm bomb quite the way they used to. Plus, we’re together 10 years. There are only so many tricks you can pull out of your hat before you retire the magician, you know what I mean?

Anyway, after V-Day, he spent 9 wonderful days at home as the airports he usually flies out of were snowbound. I had this magnificent creature 24 hours a day for 9 days straight. What I have discovered is that he is a far better medication than anything I take out of a little brown bottle on a nightly basis. He’s fun. Even when he isn’t being funny…he is still fun to be around. He makes me laugh effortlessly. Even when I am being pissy and moody, he still manages to elicit laughter from me.

But, because he makes me feel so good…I tend to ignore my medications. I figure, I’m feeling pretty good. I don’t need them right now. So, I don’t take them. Three days will go by. Then, I will take one med here, another med there…not taking them steadily as I should and all of a sudden…

Thud. Depression.

I am trying to manage my brain. Really I am. I try to do the right things, but there is this little bit of defiance in my personality that doesn’t quite let me manage my care the way I should. Fuck the medicine. I WANT to be manic sometimes! I want the energy to clean my house, go shopping, make some dinner…LIVE a little.

It’s really hard having bipolar disorder. Really hard. Especially when you have the variety that I do, which is rapid cycling bpd. It’s hard to keep up with yourself. Right now, it’s nearly 4 am. I haven’t been to sleep. I’ve been up reading stories on serial killers all night. I am positively obsessed with serial killers. This is not a good obsession for someone with a mental disorder.

People like me should obsess over kittens or little fluffy things. Sparkly toys. Shiny things. Not mass murderers.

So, okay. I’m back on the game again, though not sleeping. But at least I am not in that deep, horrible funk I was in last week. Sometimes, I go back and read my posts and think…who the hell wrote that??

I will look at this one next week and wonder the same exact thing.

I have a really good post looming in the back of my brain. I wanted to post it yesterday, because the timing would have been great, but alas, my fingers and brain would not cooperate. But it is a good story that needs to be told.

In the meantime, a bowl of froot loops is in order.

Things you didn’t know about me…

and probably don’t give a shit about. But, I want to let some stuff out, and…it is my blog, so here goes:

– I won a spelling bee when I was 11 years old. I beat out all the “smart kids” because I could spell the word “onomatopoeia”. I even knew what it meant. That was the crowning achievment of 5th grade for me.

– I lost my virginity when I was 12 years old. I don’t know why I did it. I was just interested. It wasn’t a good experience at all. He was older than me and I thought I was in love with him. All these years later, I still have a crush on the memory, despite the situation not being ideal.

– I fell in love at 14 years old and haven’t found that kind of love in my life since…until I met the hotband in 1999.

– I was raped outside of a nightclub that I worked at when I was 19 years old. Two men held me down and the other sodomized me with a beer bottle. He cut me from the anus to the vaginal opening. I needed 27 stitches to close the wound. I went back to work the next night. Never felt like a victim about it. Still don’t.

– I had my first baby at 20 years old with a guy that I was casually dating. He didn’t want me to keep the baby. I got rid of HIM instead. That baby is now 23 years old, the light of my life and she’s on her second child. I never regretted my decision.

– My father left us when I was seven years old. I practically packed his bags for him. I hated him. I was thrilled when he left because I knew that my family would be better off without him. I spent the rest of my life looking for a “daddy” figure in every man that walked in or out of my life.

– I married my first husband because he accepted the fact that I was a single mom. And, he was really good looking. There really wasn’t much more to it.

– I was arrested four times in my life. Two were for assault and battery. One was for welfare fraud. The last time was over a clerical error. I am a convicted felon and I have no problem with letting people know that.

– My children know that I stabbed my ex-boyfriend in self-defense. I don’t believe in hiding things from them. They know their mother is a little fucked in the head. I’m okay with that too.

– I dislike my mother. I love her, because she is my mother, but if we weren’t related, I wouldn’t choose to be her friend.

– People think I am a real bitch. I don’t even have to say a word. It’s just something that my face conveys. I do very little to change anyones perception of me. However, when you get to know me, I am actually very warm and loving. I don’t give that side of me to a lot of people.

– I don’t think I want to be a nurse anymore. I believe the passion has disappeared from my life when it comes to taking care of others.

– I watched a woman fall from 15 stories when I was 9 years old. She was raped and thrown off the roof of the building I lived in back in Queens, NY. The image of her head hitting the ground and the sound it made has stayed with me all these years. If I think about it long enough, I will cry. I never found out her name. I wish I knew her name.

– A babysitter of mine was murdered by an infamous serial killer back in the 1970’s. It stole a big chunk of my innocence and made me feel afraid for a long time.

– I am hysterically afraid of roaches. I know they can’t do anything to me, but they absolutely terrify me to the point where I cry. I do have a reason for this. I think I will make a post about it at another time.

– I have been in love with more than one person at one time. Sometimes up to three people at one time. No one person has ever fulfilled me completely. I feel empty inside about this most of the time.

– I cry in the shower sometimes for no reason.

– I am a cancer survivor. 8 years in remission.

– I have a secret that I will never share with anyone, even my husband.

– I had a two year relationship with a woman. It was probably the most spiritual thing I ever engaged in. She really understood me. I was never able to commit to her because I enjoyed the company of men too much. I hurt her terribly. I chalk it up to confusion…and college.

– I know certain family members have “discovered” my blog and think that I do not know they are reading it. I prefer to act like I am oblivious to that so it doesn’t interfere with my ability to write here openly and honestly. Just want them to know that I am aware…and really don’t give a shit.

– Most of the time, even when I am in a crowded room, I feel extremely alone.

– I was a self-mutilator for a long time. I never regretted doing it. I actually enjoyed the pain.

– I have a very deep love and admiration for my husband. I don’t think he realizes how much I admire him. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like him. It makes me jealous sometimes.

– I am not a very good listener. I am usually preoccupied with my own thoughts. I sometimes feign great interest in what someone is saying, while in my mind, I am not listening to them at all.

– I give great hugs.

– I yearn to break free sometimes. Just pack my bags and run off somewhere to be alone. I love my husband, my children and my grandchild…but sometimes, I just want to go explore places on my own. The perfect gift for me would be a weekend away, alone. I am still waiting for someone to be selfless enough to give that to me.

– I have no respect for authority but try desperately to instill the opposite in my children.

– The best sex I ever had in my life was with the person who battered me and beat me within an inch of my life. It was intense, frightening and overwhelming. I sometimes think there is something desperately wrong with me for feeling that way.

– I have spent 40 years of my life trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I still have no clue…and time is running out.

– I love being bipolar. I feel it makes me more interesting. I don’t like taking the pills that I take to make the symptoms subside. I feel they deaden the real me.

– I don’t think I would know “normal” if I tripped over it.

– On more than one occassion, my blog has saved my life.

Where I have been…the dethroning of a Princess.

This is a very hard thing for me to talk about. It’s going to be even harder to write about. I have always prided myself on being brutally honest on this blog. I am not going to lose sight of that while I post now.

One year ago, this week, I was fired. No, this isn’t the first time I have ever been fired. It’s hard to have bipolar disorder and not lose a few jobs along the way. I am very bad with authority and tend to come and go as I please. It doesn’t make for happy bosses and it certainly doesn’t fly while being a nurse.

Here’s my story. *deep breath*

On June 8th of last year, I diverted narcotics from my job. In layman speak, I stole prescription drugs from my medcart. I did not steal these drugs to take these drugs. I stole them simply to see if I could “get away” with it. I wanted to see if I could buck the system. I stole 11 vicodin from patients who HAVE a prescription but generally don’t use their meds. I never took a pain pill from a patient who was having pain issues…just from the cards of those who rarely or seldom took pain meds.

Why did I do this? Can’t say really. I know I was in the throes of a manic episode. It felt exciting to me. Like I was getting away with something…

Obviously, I didn’t get away with it. Three days later, I was called into my bosses office and questioned as to why patients who don’t normally receive narcotics got them. They also wanted to know how on earth 11 different patients were having pain issues all on the same night. I knew I was caught…and even being caught felt exhilarating. It was so edgy, like a drama that was playing out in my mind as opposed to it being a reality. I confessed what I did. I even went home and got the 11 pills back. They were sitting in my top drawer. I have no need for them.

The boss was a bit taken aback that I still had these narcotics. I drug tested negative. Like I said, I wasn’t taking them…I was just having “fun”. And yes, for someone with bipolar disorder who is having a very bad manic episode, what I did would be perceived as fun. We thrive on risk taking behaviors. It’s simply the nature of the beast.

Well, as I expected, she reported me to the Board of Nursing. They suspended my license. This is where things got hairy for me. Eventually, you come down from manic episodes and it is back to reality. When reality hit me, it hit hard.

My husband has a prescription for percocet. I took some of his pills for a bad migraine and realized “Wow. These make my problems go away!” Two pills a day eventually turned into three which turned into four…etc. In one week, I had finished a bottle of SIXTY pills. ONE WEEK. I called my husbands doctor and told the doc my husband was having pain. He gave me an Rx for 120 more. Those were gone in a heartbeat. This continued for many months.

A year has gone by. A full year. I spent it in bed.

I told my psychiatrist what I had done. She adjusted my medications accordingly. I enrolled myself into a program that helps impaired nurses get their licenses back. As of today, I am one full month sober. Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it? It is. But, we reap what we sow, baby. I am no exception to the rule.

I am taking it one day at a time. First and foremost, I am trying to better manage my bipolar disorder so that I own IT instead of it owning me. I used to make light of the fact that I had BPD. It was almost amusing to me…

it’s not so funny anymore. I could have killed myself or someone else.

As of next week, I enter into a contract with an IPN program, a program for impaired nurses. They will monitor me with weekly drug tests and expect me to go through intensive outpatient therapy. I have no problem with this. Actually, I am lucky not to be in jail. I am too cute for jail. I’d be someones bitch in no time.

When I complete the two months of intensive therapy, my suspension will be lifted and I will be permitted to go back to work BUT I will continue to be monitored for the next two years. I also have to let any prospective employers know that I am in a program for impaired nurses. Yes. This should make for EXCELLENT job interviews.

The irony here is…I wasn’t addicted to the drugs at the time that I stole them. It was AFTERWARD, when I lost my ability to work. It’s crazy, I know. I should write a book…

or a blog.

So, that’s where I’ve been for the past year. Losing my grip, slowly regaining it.

I have celebrated my newfound sobriety in a few ways. I got a faboo haircut while in New York visiting Esther (see post below). I got my nails done again…first time in a long time. Tomorrow, I fall into a tanning bed. I started caring again and it is beginning to show. I don’t spend my days in bed anymore. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I have a disease. My bipolar disorder is no different than cancer. Left untreated, it will run rampant. I allowed myself to get so bad that I lost control. I didn’t take my BPD meds the way I should have taken them. I skipped doses because I didn’t like the way they made me feel. They made me feel sluggish and boring. Lord, some of the most fabulous posts I ever made on this blog were in the midst of manic episodes. I go back and read them. I wonder…where is that girl? She was so crazy and full of reckless abandon.

Now? I’m so…normal. And to be honest? Normal terrifies me.

I came really close to the edge. I didn’t fall. Teetered a bit, might have even bent…but I didn’t break. I’m here. I have a second chance to make this okay and I am going to run with it.

I hope to take some of you along for the ride.