art, bipolar, blogging, chronic illness, comics, depression, Life, texture

My week.

I was very depressed yesterday because of Chris Cornell’s death. I still can’t listen to Soundgarden or Audioslave, I’m afraid it would upset me more than i”‘m willing to go through right now.

My own depression is bad, my pain is difficult and I have something new to be afraid of. It”s a procedure that is going to be very painful.

I’ve been reading comic books like crazy! I found trade paperbacks aka graphic novels, aka comic books that are collections of quite a few single issues collected in one volume used which are half off the price listed on the book. Comic books are really expensive, so it”s a great find. They have a good selection of older Batman books.

I can”t wait for the Wonder Woman movie to come out and The Defenders on Netflix!
I enjoyed seeing whatever that King Arthur movie is called. I enjoyed it because Charlie Hunnam was the star. I have a big crush on him, from watching 7 seasons of Sons of Anarchy. The plot was all over the place, i didn’t relate or sympathize with any one, there was no character development, and even though it was fantasy, it still seemed like it was wildly unbelievable (not in a good way!).

I am trying to ignore what’s going on in my country. I live in a little bubble . Trump is ruining everything. Photos of him make me sick. So I tune it all out. I like to stay up late and close up everything…all the curtains and blinds. paranoid, maybe. Great need for privacy.

My neighbor complained about my dog’s barking. I don’t blame him, it’s a pain in the ass! I have to figure out how to shut the dog up!

I painted yesterday and today. It felt good,

I hope you have a creative weekend!

anxiety, bipolar, child abuse, depression, drugs, mania, mental illness, substance abuse

no more wire hangers 3

is anyone getting the titles of the posts in this series?

my mother knew she had mental illness issues, but she refused to see a psychiatrist or a therapist. we convinced her to go to a couple therapists to find one she felt she could talk with. she went to meet two and her excuses for not going was that she was sure one had ulterior motives and the other had an office that made her anxious.

when i had panic attacks growing up (we didn’t know that’s what they were at the time) she got angry at me. in retrospect i think it was it was because she was scared when she saw me going through that. i’ve seen her have panic attacks and oh boy have i seen her anxious.she was afraid that somewhere inside her was me. she didn’t want to  go through what i went through with my depression and mania. two psychiatrists told me, after long talks about my mother, that she was bipolar, too. i’m not surprised, but having a doctor say it shed light on things and made me feel validated

she even self medicated, like i did. she was obsessed with this shitty white wine. she drank glass after glass all evening while she watched courtroom dramas and true crime shows. after i went to university she bought a new house that she has since defaulted on. the house was a gorgeous Victorian in downtown St. Louis. it was in a neighborhood that was transitioning from a gutted ghetto into lovely restored houses. good old gentrification. her house was already transformed when she bought it.  it was gorgeous but it had three stories. she usually watched tv and drank in a family room on the second floor and also in her bedroom on the third floor. guess who had to fetch the wine?

drinking was her second drug of choice, the first  was nicotine.  by now, she will have smoked almost 60 years, two or more packs a day. she was a professional smoker. she chain smoked 24/7. she drowned her sorrows in wine, cigarettes, and taking it all out on me.

i’ve already said i’m a recovering alcoholic, i’ve been clean for 15 years. when i went home to visit (my dad lived in St. Louis and i was tied to my mother by a mental bond i had to fight to break, so i still kept coming back. she encouraged me to drink. she prepared by laying in a supply of beer, gin (she had cocktails after work, too; gin and tonics…one or two) champagne and vodka plus a few bottles of decent wine for dinners. she encouraged me to drink. pushed me to drink. i  jumped back into the hole of drunkenness to avoid having to deal with her. i can’t  put it all off on my. i was thrilled to have time away from my husband so i could drink my fill. i had to be very honest with him to keep our relationship working well and i wanted both he and I to be happy. i made the decisions to drink the alcohol she bought, but it was damned hard, too hard. i embraced it.

hangovers were hell so my mother gave me a bottle of codeine to use to take them away. i took a few in the morning. went back to sleep, woke and puked, went back to sleep and got up feeling pretty good.

we went out drinking too. she liked to show off my tattoos and piercings when we were bar hopping, hoping to look cool. at home she hated the tattoos.

Mommy Dearest.

bipolar, child abuse, depression, mental illness, writing

no more wire hangers!

day before yesterday, i got a card in the mail from my mother. it shook me to the bone. i haven’t had any communication in with her in 10 years, my choice. she was abusive, cruel,  a chronic liar, bipolar (not something to judge about, it’s just that i am too, and a combo of a bipolar parent raising a bipolar child is a disaster), OCD (same as bipolar no judgement on OCD, i have it too), a child of an abuser, alcoholic (me too), full of rage that came out all the time, and just plain mean.

as an adult i realized a lot of what i believed my whole life were lies. my mother told me that my dad still loved her (they divorced when i was 15) and that he told her he wanted he told me he hated her and felt like an abused spouse, and said they could have worked it out. what was i supposed to think of that??

then my father told me that my mother cheated consistently throughout their marriage and threw it in his face. i have always loved my father and wanted to be just like him when i grew up. when i found about that, i grieved for my father’s suffering. he’s a quiet, gentle man (he swears a lot though.  lol) how could i have not known? i lived with them both in a pretty suburban neighborhood. you could see the playground at my grade school from our house.  i thought we were the perfect family, honestly! i disassociated virtually everything about my mother, my father was great when he was around. our house was nice, my father was a university history professor and my mother taught at a high school.

i was confused my whole childhood and early adult years because neither my father nor i came clean about our life with her. she treated me nicely in front of him and they had raging fights that they hid from me.  she often said to me, we have such a great relationship, don’t we?! by the time of the divorce i knew things were seriously fucked up, i just didn’t know any of the specifics. when she said our relation ship was awesome i had to answer yes with glee or she would grab me by the shirt front, hold me up to her face and say, i know what you’re thinking, you think i’m a bitch, don’t you, don’t you? i had to agree with everything she said or boom, rage, screaming in my face. i still have have the feeling she can read my mind, even though i knew it’s not true.

i’m going to stop for now, i’m not staying on topic or putting things and order or whatever i should have done.

back to the card for a moment. her hand writing is beautiful, unmistakable.  i hadn’t looked at the return address and when i opened the card i saw the writing and the words, repair our relationship and threw it away immediately. i thought i was going to be sick. 10 years i’ve been trying to pretend she wasn’t alive and then i get this bullshit. i see my psychiatrist on Tuesday, so we can work through it.

this has been hard to write and i have so much more to say, but i’ll put it in chunks so i can handle it and so you don’t have to read a huge block of text!

i don’t think many people blog openly about child abuse, and i’ve never talked much about it to anyone  but my husband, my shrink, and my dad. i’ve told a few people that i hate her and didn’t explain. so here it is, at least some of it.

child abuse is something you never get over and for me,  it ruined a lot of my life.

anxiety, bipolar, depression, writing

Tid-bit of Trauma from the past

the homeowner’s association sent two men to look at the leak in the roof. i was the only one home and having strangers in the house, even when my husband was home, scared the crap out of me. rain was predicted for the following day so we HAD to have them take care of the problem right away.

by the time they got there i was already a panicky mess. they pulled up in the driveway and got out of a really ratty station wagon. i had expected a truck with a roofer’s logo and workmen in uniforms with their names embroidered over the pocket.

i ran down the stairs with a lump in my throat and let them in. they started going upstairs after muttering something. i started to hyperventilate. they carried a ladder in, opened the door to the attic, which was in the ceiling, and climbed up.

i dashed into the computer room and shut my eyes repeating “it’s gonna be ok, it’s gonna be ok…” over and over under my breath. when i opened my eyes, a couple of minutes later, the ladder was gone!!!! the attic door was shut. their car was still in the driveway.

i heard them walking around above me, in the attic. i felt like i’d been punched in the gut. i grabbed my phone and called my huz. when he answered i was already babbling, sobbing high-pitched hysteria. he tried to calm me down, but it was hopeless. i begged him to come home. he agreed and i went and curled up in the bedroom closet.

when he finally got home he found me there with my hands over my ears. he told me they’d been on the roof all the time i thought they were in the attic. he sent them on their way and hugged me tight.

anxiety, bipolar, chronic illness, comics, fatigue, fibromyalgia

the lie or the cold shoulder

today when i went to get my coffee the clerk asked how my day was going. i couldn’t help but answer with the truth i told him i was really really tired. he asked why and i told him, i have this disease and it makes me tired. how long have you been sick? it was clear he thought it was a cold or flu. i was embarrassed that i said it to a total stranger.  i just mumbled that i had a disease that was forever. there! i said it in public, even if i did mutter it!

it’s so hard to deal with situations like this. one option would have been to just say, oh i’m fine, thanks. that’s what i say when i’m nervous, or i’m actually doing really badly. i hate it. why does everyone have to ask. sometimes if it’s an internet person that i only know a little i say, do you want to know the truth or do you just want to hear i’m fine? i suppose that’s kind of rude, but that’s exactly how i feel. if you must ask how i am, be prepared for a lot of complaining or the cold shoulder.

sometimes i wish i didn’t have an invisible illness, that i had something you could see, or at least something people know about, but who knows anything about fibromyalgia? spinal stenosis is even worse. even fewer  people know what the hell that is. it’s not as invisible as fibro. i limp and walk with a cane. but the pain in my back and those awful flu-like symptoms of fibromyalgia don’t show, not does the awful nerve pain in my legs, not to mention the arthritis in my knees which doesn’t really affect my walking, it just hurts a lot.

i really wanted to explain fatigue to the guy i bought coffee from. of course he’d never get it, and in truth, i’d never actually say it, but it’s tempting. fatigue motherfucker, try it sometime! sometimes when i’m getting into to bed, for a nap,  or for the night, i have to sort out the covers, arrange the dog. get myself comfortable, etc. part way through all that, i’m hit with a flare of fatigue. i just fall back on the bed, none of those things done, i was just overwhelmed by frightening tiredness. sometimes i want to cry when i feel like that, but i’m too fatigued to even do that. i just laying bed for a little while and slip into sleep very easily.

i want to look fuss with my tablet and maybe even watch some Arrow, but my arms hurt too badly to hold it up. i have to sit at a table to do it. sitting up at a table or desk is hardly  comfortable with my ouchy back and hips.

i’m almost desperate to communicate. my sweet  husband is a very quiet introvert, he really doesn’t like hearing about things like my chatter when i’m nervous, or manic like right now. he’s not like my best friend; we don’t sit around and discuss problems or advice or support. his favorite thing right now is Planet Money podcasts. i shouldn’t complain, but sometimes i wish for a warmer, fuzzier partner.

i read the the first volume of Wonder Woman in the rebirth series (DC). it was really good. in terms of the art, most of it was great, showing her as the Amazon she is, tall, ready to fight at anytime. her costume is a little more stable, lol, it doesn’t look like her boobs are about to fall out at any moment and you wonder, how can she fight with a metal bustier on? she has a regular human lover! she’s been with Superman in the past, but this is intriguing and new.  the thing that i liked in every drawing of her was her hair. they (there are different issues by different artists contained in the volume i was reading.) all drew her with gorgeous flying and floating and curling hair in a great wavy, black and massive mane. i wish my hair looked like that! 🙂

abstract, art, bipolar, depression, drawing, mania, medical marijuana, psychedelic, trippy

My furious toe.

Some shit head from the ASPCA called me to ask for $$$$, I thought they were hitting members up for money. He kept telling me facts. I asked if he knew I was a member ALREADY. no? then STOP trying to convince me to join! Since he kept reading his script as fast as he could. I said stop talking! But he kept going so I hung up. I never talk to people I don’t know unless they’re something like workmen, doctor’s offices, the pharmacy etc. I was totally stoned, so I had a weird chat with the silly man who did care if i was a monkey or a bot, or someone who actually financially supported the cause he didn’t give a damn about.

I was so stoned because my angry toe is furious. The doctor I saw about it, the split in my toe that won’t heal, was worried because it hurts so much and because i’m diabetic. She prescribed antibiotics. she told me to put antibiotic ointment on it and leave it uncovered. Ha! She should try walking around with a painful open wound just hanging out, waiting to get bumped and I dunno, the problem is dry skin, it’s not like I need to work to keep it open and dry! Right now it’s hurting worse than my back is.

STILL manic!

Thank goodness for pot! Extra NSAIDs , ice, and medical mj make it bearable. I feel disconnected from my toe. lol yay!  I’m listening to a radio station playing ’80s goth music. My youth! At that time punk and goth weren’t so far apart, at least here in the U.S. It’s strange to hear this music in this context. It makes me think of drinking beer in rooms full of inscence smoke and groups of angsty teenagers listening to Bauhaus and the Cure, Ministry, Skinny Puppy, Joy Division.

I didn’t  paint or even doodle a line or two today. Not good.

I went grocery shopping! Omg they packed the bags heavy and the store was huge. At least it wasn’t busy. All that walking on the furious toe and the painful everything else made me wonder if it had been a good idea. when I got home I started spending the afternoon and evening with a giant flare.

Ummm…..Something good today? I read a lot of a Daredevil comic. I didn’t like the crappy paper,and it had a drawing style that I wasn’t into at first, but I like the writing and now the art, too. It’s set in the same time and place as the show and the Kingpin is the bad guy, but the story is very very different. It’s more bleak and cruel. I’m about 2\3 of the way through.

I slept well last night! I went to bed at the same time as huz and dog, wore the CPAP mask. I slept until 6am. But being careful like that didn’t make things go better today. That’s a grim thought. I ate badly today. Ugh.  Let’s hope tomorrow is better.

checkered_past__study_for_a_larger_drawing

 

 

 

 

abstract, anxiety, art, batman, bipolar, chronic illness, chronic pain, comics, depression, dog, drawing, drugs, fibromyalgia, insomnia, mania, medical marijuana, mental illness, oakland california

still manic, still manic, still manic

i spent my day feeling too jumped up, a lot like being on meth. yes, i know a lot about being on meth. oh boy, i’ve never said that in public before. so yeah, i wish manic was like being on coke, but unfortunately it’s like being on meth.

i ate a big dinner which i am regretting because i haven’t been eating much so i feel bloated and gross. sometimes being really hungry for a couple of days makes me feel so clean inside. no, i’m not anorexic. my moods just throw me around a lot, and i’ve got that and all the meds i take and the fibromyalgia and spinal stenosis, and a nasty childhood all contribute to making me do, and feel, and act a little strange…a lot strange…  i do things that don’t make sense some of the time. i got hooked on meth because i was so depressed and it made me feel so much better, that i kept using it. untold energy, no appetite, no need for sleep, elevated mood, euphoria. sounds like being manic, too.  ahhh and delusions of grandeur, i hope i don’t get those, but maybe i’m not bill gates.LOL

i went to the comic book store today. alex the comic book guy was there, of course he was there, it’s his shop. hehehe actually, the only day i’m sure he is working in the shop is tuesdays, so i go about every other tuesday. he’s a cutie, deep, and really smart. not to mention he’s an incredible authority on comics! i bought two issues of batman all star, the rebirth reboot. i got an issue of jessica jones, but i really didn’t like the way it looked. bummer. i still don’t have money, so that’s all i got. i went to starbucks and only got an iced tea, but a cake pop was calling my name. but i averted my eyes and asked for no sweetener in my passion tea.

it was a gorgeous spring day, first one we’ve had this year. i actually drove around with the windows down in my car. a rare thing. i like to listen to music in the car, not wind noise. i am 100% out of mmj. i scraped up every bit, i used the kief in the bottom of the grinder. i am DRY. i hope it’s nice tomorrow because i’ll be driving up to Oakland to go to my dispensary. i call it “my dispensary” as though i owned it. it’s just mine cause it’s the one i’ve chosen to give all my business to.

i saw my psychiatrist today and she thought i might be manic partly because over the last couple days it got to be full blown and that when i had little or no marijuana. we adjusted the meds to, not take ritalin (that’s a no brainer), and to take less wellbutrin because it’s activating.

i saw a woman come home and greet her dog, who had been home alone all day, and they were both so happy to see each other. that’s the kind of thing that really makes me feel good.

Ant_Hills_by_merpagigglesnort