Monthly Archives: March 2015

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It all happens for a reason they say pt. 2

So, I decided to try to carry forward with the intent I had of the last post. Granted, back on meds today, slept for like 14-15 hours, and my thoughts aren’t as “pretty”. And they feel more difficult to manifest, as though they must be dragged through gallons of ethereal sludge before they reach the forefront of my mind.

A decent amount has happened since my last post, maybe I’ll go into some of that too. But, it had occurred to me that my entire title of this blog is based on the thought that it all happens for a reason of some sort. “The Fortunate Misfortunes” is only fortunate as long as the outcome of all these disasters and issues settles into some sort of positive light. That is, despite all the problems, there is a reason for dealing with them and in the end it will be ok. A little more positive than I usually think, but, I evidently had the foresight to know the story doesn’t end a certain way just because I have bipolar disorder.

Being bipolar, that’s a thing that sucks. I have been hospitalized because of it, a total of 3 times in my life. The first time, I was introduced to Trazadone, a medication that made me very exhausted. When I was transferred to the less supervised wing, my roommate had sex with a girl while I was passed out in the room. The girl was another resident. She and myself were getting along pretty well. My roommate seemed kind of an asshole in my opinion, but groggified by the meds I couldn’t focus my thoughts or speech when I was awoke by this happening. Luckily a nurse came in and stopped it shortly after I gained a half conscious mind.

Next morning, they were both released, I had a feeling I knew why, and it wasn’t because they were “ready”. The girl invited me into her room while she packed up the very few items she had. She wanted to tell me bye and said she would buy me lunch sometime if I was up to it after giving me her phone number. She kissed me on the cheek and left, I never called or messaged her, but, I did see her the next time I was in the hospital. She was visiting other people and didn’t know I had returned, she seemed a little upset, but, had lots of positive words to say. Most of the time, people did have positive words.

That was where I left the draft a day or so ago, now I’ve come back to continue this post. That “new girl” I’m so fond of? The one I mention in most these posts now, I told her how I still felt affection for her. I’m not a big mess though. It was more or less she didn’t know how to respond. I mean how could she? How can I expect my best friend to say anything else? She doesn’t want to force that rejection on me, she’s too kind. I tell her I value my friendship and thank her for being so down to Earth about it. She tells me she isn’t going anywhere.

So, I push past the awkwardness, and just try to continue our friendship, despite my desire for it to be something more. I don’t beat myself up for falling for an engaged woman anymore, she’s really fantastic, any guy would fall for her if they got 10 minutes to know her. I’m doing ok, just wishing I could have got a little better closure. But, maybe this will suffice. At least for now.

I’m not doing mental hospitals anymore, I’m staying healthy, that’s a resolution. I promised my best friend some things and I aim on keeping those promises, even if we only stay as friends. She’s a great person, she’s got a great spirit and personality, not worth demanding closure and ending that friendship. I don’t know what I think anymore, but I’m doing ok, and I gotta aim to keep on keeping on above all else. It all happens for a reason, just got to find my own.

It all happens for a reason they say.

I didn’t take my medication last night. I felt great waking up this morning, six hours before my medicated daze would normally wear off. When I was first diagnosed with bipolar, I had been back but just a month from my little running away from home stint. I was living with friends, thinking I couldn’t tolerate it at home. I was 18 then. Still in high school, but far from normal.

I was, AM, brilliant, able to see or think things through in a flash that normal people seem to require some deliberation on. But, I had these voices, one actually, just singular. It would challenge me, my motives, my merit. It would talk about what I really intended or wanted from life, often quite unpleasant. It would challenge me to kill or harm myself, and when I didn’t, I would endure ridicule for being too weak or chicken shit to do so. So when this started leaking out in heaps, whatever the fuck psychosis I was enduring, a couple friends took notice. Suddenly, I’m leaving my friend’s home and entering the hospital.

“Manic Depressive Disorder with psychotic features” they said. Being ignorant to the whole real mental health thing, it took a couple days before I realized that what I had was commonly referred to as bipolar disorder. They put me on a med. It was soothing for a while. To be in that hospital. Mostly everyone was there for depression, it’s easy to form a community when most people have something in common.

I was also put on a sleeping pill in the hospital, Trazadone I think. When I was moved from the intense supervision wing to the more relaxed one, some interesting things happened. Wait, hold on let’s back up. This is a place where I fell in love with my now ex, maybe that’s a story worth archiving too.

She called when I was in the hospital, my now ex, let’s call her Jane for sake of anonymity. So Jane calls, says she got the info from my friend (the one I was living with) and was just worried and wanted to check on me. We tried a date a couple months before hand, but I was hung up on another girl and so I didn’t take her out again after that despite promising a second date. I was a jerk, but I was fixated on that other girl. Until this hospital trip. After I ended the call with Jane, I felt sort of silly, just light headed and well, flattered.

Backing up a little more, this girl had a crush on me, she had silly names for me and all that business. She drew me little things and made me little gifts. The Valentine’s Day months before my hospital trip, she bought me a pocket watch, one that was a gesture from my favorite anime show at the time. I hardly received gifts. It was nice. I had spent a little effort getting flowers for someone else that same day and it made me feel like an ass when I found that gift in my locker. But, I was hung up on that other girl, there was no getting through to me. Not all too unlike now I guess. That’s sort of amusing, heh.

Anyway, that evening after Jane calls, I dwell on this. The girl I was hung up on, let’s go ahead and give her a name, how about Kara? So, even though Kara had visited earlier in the week to check on me too, this phone call with Jane was all I could think about. Had I really given her a chance? Should I try to see if I can make something work? She did give me that pocket watch. No one ever really gives me gifts. But, she did. And it wasn’t just something generic. She took the time to know me and find out what I like…

Thoughts like that passed back and forth for hours. In the coming days they would only get more relentless. And I was happy for that. I still had some strong attachment to Kara. But, Jane, she was magnificent. I gave her another chance. When we first broke up a few months ago, I regretted ever giving her that chance. I even said some really hurtful things. I told her I was never in love with her and that it was just rationalized.

That was a lie. That was me shielding myself from how I really felt because I didn’t want to keep hurting. If anything, THAT was the real rationalization. Now I’m in a different place, I’m growing comfortable with who I am and she’s getting better too. I can’t say where I’ll be when I die, I know where I’m at now, and maybe I don’t like having feelings for someone who is unavailable, but it will work itself out one way or another.

Originally I was going to write about my first trip to the hospital and focus on that to show evidence of my experience with bipolar then relate that to now, as for why I’m on a med commonly prescribed for schizophrenia. The truth is I’ve been taking this med, and it’s been doing little. What’s been helping me is seeing my psychologist and working things out on my own with some help from my friends.

Everything happens for a reason. It just happens that the reasons they happen are only one in six billion chance that it’s for your benefit. There’s a lot of motivations in the world and a lot of people who have them. Maybe that’s why there’s so much difficulty in comprehending why things happen. I don’t know, I know that I’m off the med and I feel good. I feel active and alive, and this all too pleasant. Perhaps it is mania, but it’s nice to at least have thoughts again.

Manic Waffles and the Bearer of Slackerdom

Pretty sure I’m having a manic episode. Pretty sure that’s my thing right now. Not positive, at least not 100%, but, I mean, when was I ever?

Here’s the thing. I know I can be good, I’m a downright amazing person, I’m worth fighting for and loving. Recently I’ve been “waffling”. I flop back and forth about what to do with my life, or who to keep in it, or what to do when I wake up in the morning. And it sucks. That’s not an apt description of it. I lie in indecisive agony, because I have no direction in my life.

Some moments I’m ready to take on the world, knowing my full potential (I’m greatly intelligent and can have good people skills, and I excel at anything I get behind full force). Other moments, I’m ready for the world to just make some sort of end happen. My emotions are a whirlwind of incomprehensible thoughts and ideas.

Flipping back and forth between ideas like my ideas are some sort of boring television cable in the middle of the day. At moments I yearn for things to return, then *click* I want a chance with this woman over here. The options are not nearly so simple either, but they almost are always mutually exclusive.

Recently I had been talking with my ex about my situation mentally. How I desired to be with someone who wasn’t available. I know, clearly a bad idea for both of us. I know so little else though. And she knows me the best, I just wanted some insight. I tried to talk to an older friend who knew me pretty well too, I wanted her opinion because I had doted on her some time years ago with a manic nature driving me to write poems and give her gifts. She passed on talking to me, it made her husband uncomfortable, which is just fine I guess, that’s not out of reason.

I just let so few people in. Like really in. This new girl, the one I’ve mentioned time and time again, she caught me off guard. She was gorgeous and nice and funny and caring (and quite the nerd). I found myself spilling my problems to her before I even knew what they were. There was a lot of natural comfort there and I ate it up. She made me feel worth something or at least started me with an incentive to make myself feel that way.

And it’s still hard, I don’t always feel that way. Especially now, when I’m switching in between motives and decisions so fast I could be on a grid iron about to be served and covered in syrup (Blueberry please!). She helped me to feel normal. Something I sometimes had with my ex. Usually with my ex I was embracing being a little off. That wasn’t a bad thing, it was quite good. But somewhere in all the chaos, my heart fell out in this new person’s lap.

And so I tell her eventually, “Hey, I got a story, and I just need you to know…” that kind of bullshit. And she at first declines. Probably in denial or not wanting this to be a thing (who could blame her, she was, IS engaged). But, she comes out of it, “I’m not going to stop being your best friend” she tells me. And my mind tells me this is a dead end, but I can’t quite quell the desire.

So I waffle. And I dote. And I threaten my very few existing friendships. And I sit around, waiting for ideas to come, and they do. In a great number. Some to show my affection to my off limits best friend. Some to carve a path for a future. Some to have confrontations to get a sense of closure. I don’t know what to do. But, maybe that’s ok, I’ll just be me for the time being until I’m ok with one path or another. I’ll risk what I deem necessary to achieve my own values. I can ask nothing more of myself.

And neither can anyone else. So, as I waffle, at least I do so on my terms. When this boat stops rocking, maybe I’ll get some placid seas for a change.

Why I’m awesome (amongst other things)

Yeah, that’s a kickass post title. I’m diggin’ it. Perhaps it’s mania, perhaps just a good spell of energy, who knows? Not me. But, let’s go with it, let’s keep up the positive energy on my behalf.

Why am I awesome? Because I have heart, I give people honest and raw words, and I think that they appreciate it. And if they don’t, then they’re just not my kind of people. As I reflect on what I am, I only see it positively when I’m considering through other’s eyes. Much of this is based on feedback I receive from them.

I’m the treasured friend. The one that a lot of people want in their life. And it’s not because I give gifts (though I do that a lot!) but because I’m real, and a good guy to boot. And Hell, I’m not even hard on the eyes for the most part.

I’m a catch, it’s dumb of me to think otherwise, even briefly. I have my downs, yes, I sure do, but I’m not letting those be my defining attribute any longer. Even if I can never sway her, there will be love in my life at some point, because I’m awesome. My good is more impactful than my bad, and my bad is a lot less now.

I could spend some time sitting here and listing positive things about my character and reinforce this energy I got, but, I have this vague notion of something to write about.

As though I have weight on my mind despite the repelling medicinal side affects otherwise.

I’m not normal, the “odd one in” as I have recently stated. I oppose a lot of parts with social media, but I’ve been reforming my thoughts on the matter of my philosophy regarding people. For the most part, I’m very withdrawn, I don’t like people, as much as it looks like it, because I treat everyone with dignity and respect, regardless of my disposition towards them. They get that as part of being my species.

The reforming bit is making this less absolute. I can dislike people and not judge them/still respect them. But, there are plenty of people I can like, I just have to be open to finding them, in whatever hiding places they hole themselves up in. This is part of the catalyst effect introduced to me in my latest lovelorn special.

And I gotta say, I’m diggin’ it. I don’t have to be friends with everyone, just the people I like, I can still be a good person if I dislike somebody, I’ll still respect them, it’s just a matter of preferences, I’m not wasting what time I have in my life trying to befriend people that rub me the wrong way.

Maybe I’ll write again soon with something creative, more poetic or some sort of prompt. I should start finding writing prompts. Until then, I’ll be kicking my own ass, working back towards getting into school again and spilling my heart out to strangers.