True.

Partial hospitalization is weird

You're not IN but your stuck. You have things to do every hour, break, lunch, talk BLAH blah blah ... But you're NOT stuck either. You leave at the end of the day. I'm not sure how to take this. I keep asking myself- What do I wan to get out of this? What are my expectations? What do I hope to learn?... And I absolutely have no idea. I want ... I don't know what I want.

Yup

I promise I will try...

Share your story so others know they are not alone

Toasting a still alive garden. Salud!

Mental Disorders

Wishys... For my friend...

So I never told you

Long ago and far away, in a blog about an eon ago, I said someday I’d write about the evil things my mother in law has said to me that certainly we not warranted nor appreciated, rather encapsulated exactly the kind of self righteous person she is.

…About five days into my ordered detachment from my three month old daughter after having delusions of grandeur within my postpartum depression, I asked said MIL if she could bring my daughter to come see me. With the load of Zoloft I was on I was neither able nor legally allowed to operate any machinery. In my case, the microwave was difficult enough.

phone Can you bring her over please? Maybe a little later, just so I can see her today.

*Heavy SIGHhhhhhh*… I just do not understand whyyyy you. are. not. capable of caring for your. only. child. I *indignant as all hell IIiIiIiIiiIiIii I* had no. problems. raising threeeee boys, practically on my own. And you can’t handle this sweet child? She’s not difficult, you know. It’s you that’s being difficult.

*inhale- realize painfully that she HAS MY DAUGHTER.* Never (fucking) mind. …I’ll have my mom bring her tomorrow. Thanks for your help. *CLICK*

Good stuff right?

Then there was that time, four years later, when I was leaving Inpatient… 1- My loving (read: what the hell was he thinking) husband sends HER to come get me. I don't think that "misunderstanding" will ever come to a close there. 2- she is told I need two hours notice, I’ll be ready at 3/330. She shows up at noon. Goddam NOON. I’m not even processed to leave yet, nor packed, nor did I finish my exit interview, nor say goodbye to my now Insiders… nor was I in any way psychologically sound enough to handle HER let alone HER EARLY. Then 3- she brought my daughter. She. Brought. My. Daughter. To my Inpatient Psych Discharge. Because, well, *heavy sighhhhhhhh*. Traffic will be so much worse at three, NOW is BETTER. … … …

And so with hot tears brimming, I say my hasty goodbyes, and spin around to my sweet, adorable, innocent baby girl rushing through three inch thick triple locked rebar enforced metal threaded glass paned doors to my arms… Her energy and force and love knock me to the ground. I never wanted her here, in this place, part of this memory. But now she forever is, in this place.

And all I want is to not be in this place.

At the car, the fresh air is beautiful- the view truly is pretty. An open pasture to the north, a steep upgrade of rock ledge to the south. Baby girl says Someday Mommy, when we come back here *my throat catches* can we climb these wrocks? The words tumble out, wanting to make her happy now no matter the cost Yes, Love, of course we can. Enter stage left *heavy sighhhhhhhhhhhhh* NUH UH, NOooooOoo. We are NOT coming back to THIS place ever again. Get in the car, I am taking you home.

My daughter, my saving grace in this moment, refuses to allow me to sit upfront- no mommy- wif me heeeeeerrrrre. In the back. I remember holding her tiny hand the entire fourth minute ride home... Just don't let her go... Don't let her go... Don't let go...

I just wanted to be invisible, at that moment more than any, I wanted to disappear. Somewhere in my heart, I knew I’d be back again.

Truth.

...so, it's been awhile...

i've been encouraged to write more.  i will do my best.  i'm starting late tonite, but i promise to try to get back and write more tomorrow.  i will have to test how long i can handle typing - long story, torn ligament, right wrist.  have to go put the kiddo down to bed.

wishing everyone else bunny dreams too.

blessings

namaste

Where I am... Where am I?

You know that feeling of foreboding?... I mean, if you're bipolar or depressive or anxious or have panic attacks you get that feeling, like, the other shoe is gonna drop... Any minute now. I'm there. I think. I don't know. I wish there was a guide book for the emotional roller coaster that is my life. Not your life or her life but MY life. I wish I could look into the future and see Yes Dammit, I'm headed in the right direction... You'll see, you'll get there. But no. No book. No instruction manual. I split our account two weeks ago, into a hers and his. It was my first step at "detachment with love" they call it. I took my name off all the credit cards, which I already regret... What if I need to buy medicine or pay for a copay?... I suppose I will have to figure that out. Right now, I'm paying for myself and my daughter to live without fear of not having money. So. Yeah. No credit cards. Dammit. I was High as a kite on Friday, not sure why. Probably just the excess built up passive aggressive anger coming out in a ball of misplaced energy. I was singing and laughing and felt like I was in a good place. I don't know where i am now. This bipolar thing for me was pretty stable there for a long time, but the past month or two I've been rapid cycling ... Like sometimes morning to afternoon cycling. So strange to have the Black thoughts at ten am, then be Rainbows at two. I don't get it. I suppose there will be years of learning ahead. For everything. Learning how to lean on myself and still love him. Learning how to cultivate a relationship between my daughter and her father, but not allowing her to get hurt. I'm inpatient. Learning should come to you like math facts - 2x2=4. Got it. Done. Never changes. This learning curve is so long and twisted and it dives off cliffs and parachutes to rolling greens then skids you off to an iceberg. But no map. No instructions. And that other shoe- it's hovering. My break downs are minor compared to losing my ever loving fucking mind two years ago. But no less scary. A panic attack three (3?) weeks ago was enough to rattle me for days. I don't wish them on anyone. I felt it coming, like now. I felt it in my skin, in my ears... It was humming, right there in my brain. The vibration that stirs all the shakes and tears and cuts off my voice. I felt it coming. I tried, honest, I did... I washed my hands and face. I plugged in, loud as I could get it. I sat on the floor- what can I see? what can I feel? what can I smell? what can I taste? Grounding. And it didn't matter. The wave swept me up, the whole stick of a human I've become, and tossed me over its shoulder into the rolling ocean ... No lifeguard. No raft. Just deep, drowning, tumultuous waves of ... Of what? It wasn't truly sadness. It was this odd combination of relief and terror. Finally, FINALLY it was here and I could drown. Who wishes that they could drown?... I suppose only those of us that are most scared of the water. Because if we come up for air We've won.