Tag Archives: confusion

The Thunderous Distraction

I think I have mentioned on here how I have an internal dialogue much like that of a conversation between two people. I fully acknowledge that’s my own self though. I don’t think that makes me crazy, I’ve been told that’s relatively normal and I’ve done it all my life. It’s simply how I think or address thoughts and ideas.

What’s particularly odd, is that my other self when speaking to a hypothetical idea likes to smoke cigarettes. Now, you are probably rereading that to make sure you understood what I said. Let me provide an example.

I think of having a conversation with a friend and am listening to a complaint that I have an answer to. Don’t ask why such thoughts happen, hypothetical conversation are constant in my head and I don’t know why. But when I listen to my friend’s complaint and prepare my response, I incidentally imagine myself smoking and taking an inhale right before I tell them something. Sometimes instead of an inhale, I’m stubbing what remains of the cigarette out in an ashtray.

I don’t know why this is. I also don’t know how to properly explain a visual in my head.  So I think the “other me” is a smoker. It’s probably no surprise I inhaled second hand smoke since I was a tiny thing and only recently get a break from it in the past few years. I have no idea if that relates. But it is certainly an odd thing to get caught up on in my head. Every time it surprises me.

“Why the heck am I smoking in this thought?”

“Eh, just deal with it” I get in reply.

If it weren’t for such distractions, I might actually get some work done. Also, related I am currently at work. So yeah.

Anyway, happy mid day thing, if I remember later I will write again, because it is my anniversary of dating with my fiance and would like to write some positive things too.

Better Hop to It

Better get started. Don’t procrastinate. If it’s not worth doing now, then why are you doing it at all? For the grade? The job? So you can say “I told you so”?

When we want to work on something, no one has to tell us to “hop to it”. Besides what are we hopping to? It’s not a mad beat. We aren’t rabbits. Kangaroos? I wouldn’t mind being one, but unfortunately not the case.

Anyway. You start what you’re working on. You do it well. You do it right. At least if you have pride in your work, another lesson we repeat from our parents but may not have the convictions to match.

I don’t like it in here right now. I have to start my work, but my mind is abuzz. I guess some people have linear thought. I don’t. When I started my new job today, I walked in the door thinking “If we can just stay awake enough to get through the shift, our first class canceled, so we can sleep a bit then.”

We? It doesn’t bother me. And it shouldn’t I reckon, just chalk it up to quirks. Still it makes me feel abnormal in a bad way. I have to remind myself the things I do that others can’t. The things I’ve done that others didn’t. That I (we?) will do and others won’t. Some good, some bad. I’m smart. I’m also unstable though. I’m a mess, but I sure do like to organize and plan. There’s two of me in here. And I don’t mean that in a conflicting sense. He and I, we are the same. We don’t compete our ideas don’t conflict. We just think and talk. It’s just me really, I know that, you may not, but I do.

Sometimes though I get lost in “his” thoughts. They bleed over and I can’t figure them out. Then I lose my own. I mutter to solve problems to keep me on track, but professor calls you out sometimes for talking to yourself and suddenly you shut up.

I want “normal”. I’m not talking nuclear family, American dream, middle class. I’m not talking of normal personality, whatever the Hell that is. I’m not talking about getting rid of the other half. That makes me, well, me. What I want to be normal is function. I see people function on a couple hours of sleep, I need at least 14 to be mostly in the green. Anything else can be a risk. Despite all my noise, my hypnagogic hallucinations, my quirks and ticks, all I want fixed is the ability to work. I want to be able to go to school and stay awake. Not feel weak and konk out right after the shower in the floor. To be looked at weird when I try to articulate my symptoms in a way that isn’t computing.

I simply want to hop to it when I tell myself to. Not wonder what’s hopping where or why they don’t simply…..and the socks, they go……no no no no, that’s not how you….OH, that’s right I was doing something. Some say it’s discipline, but when you have my problems, whatever the source, neurological or otherwise, discipline means nothing, luck does. To hoping all this gets resolved some day, because I’m simply too exhausted to go much longer.

How to Be Bipolar

Oh boy. It’s been a while since I’ve put words on the screen. Between my emotional fragility and inability to sleep and/or focus enough to do school well, let alone process thoughts effectively, I’ve all but abandoned spending time here. I once was set on finding community. I’m not sure what happened to that. I once was set on making an example and showing people how they too could survive life with mental illness. I’m not sure what happened to that.

Right now, I feel entirely functional, but broken. I’m here, but I’m not. Nothing is wrong, but it’s also not right. I don’t dislike where I am, I’m just here.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been in a dark or bad place, and this isn’t it. If I had to characterize, I’d say I feel lost more than anything.

I don’t sleep well. I remember almost all of my dreams. I close my eyes when I park the car and immediately weird films or songs start playing in my head of my own creation. Neon light headaches wash over me and then 5 minutes are gone, maybe 10.  My responsibilities are very little all things considered, but I feel like I’m being crushed. It’s been weeks since I actually felt rested after sleep, only adding to the chaos of my mind.

How to be bipolar. Is that how to get bipolar, or rather the qualities that make you bipolar? Or maybe it’s simply how to be (when you are bipolar). I’m not sure which I started wanting to write about. I definitely want to write about both, if only my thoughts were known to me. Since I can recall, I have had thought in dialogue. I don’t know if this is common, I know that it’s not its own issue inherently, but it’s an odd quirk and it wasn’t until recently have I even considered that people don’t do this.

Let me explain it simply. Where my girlfriends thinks “Did I remember to lock the door?” I will think towards myself “Did you remember to lock the door?” Replay the course of events and say “yeah I did remember”. But it gets far more complex than that. I once thought which is the “main” me in my head. But it’s pretty simple actually, there’s the first person (“I”) me and the third person (one asking me questions) me.  And when the conversation is more than a binary answer I lose myself in it.

I don’t know how to describe what I endure on a mostly daily basis. Sporadically body parts feel wrong, or I somehow get confused when I’m driving my actual car instead of one that flashed in my mind.  I sometimes stagger because my body stops being mine for a few seconds. I endure flashes of pain, which my doctor says sounds like some sort of neuropathy, and is mostly successful in medicating me for. I close my eyes and I’m somewhere else frequently. I can sometimes recognize that I closed my eyes and force them open or even enjoy the view and tell myself to leave them closed a little longer. Sometimes I even open them and the image takes a bit to blink away, like when you stare at a lightbulb directly. Sometimes I fall asleep in the floor, somehow convinced that it’s okay. Other times I fall asleep at the wheel before having to pull over and turn off the car in a parking lot, trying to summon myself to consciousness even hours later as the car’s temperature goes above a 100.  Other times I have thoughts that are just noise, another doctor tells me it’s just noise that most people’s brains filter out. Kind of like playing scenes in your head from your favorite movie, you know they aren’t there, but recalling it can be quite vivid if you commit to it. My favorite remark I’ve recalled in these states is hearing a gruff man shout if anybody knows who threw up on another man’s head. I get these random bits of audio or pictures like that, and I don’t have anything more than bipolar, even though I was afraid I might. I’m mostly functional and incredibly stable all things considered. But I don’t always tune in to my radio, sometimes I’m stuck listening to confusing, butchered pieces of scenarios that would never exist.

What am I supposed to do with that? That’s not even the bulk of my issues. That’s just the entertaining intermissions that run in between the main features. I really wish I knew what was going on with me. It’s been a struggle to get in for a sleep study and no one seems to really consider these as issues. I don’t know if people think I make it up or what. Maybe they aren’t serious, but it doesn’t mean I want to have these symptoms. I think I just want to be where I can think and not have some radio or tv blurting out things louder than my own thoughts.

Maybe more another day. It’s not been a pleasant day. It likely won’t be a pleasant evening. It likely won’t be a pleasant tomorrow. And I would accept all that more if I could just get sleep where I actually felt like I slept and not like I just spent hours hallucinating.

 

A funny way to show it

It’s odd when I’m doing well. Everything falls into line. Instead of coming on here to rant and rave and detail something that happened. I talk to my girlfriend, my friends. I make plans. I go out.

As much as I want to write consistently, I don’t. I would love it. Maybe I’ll get the hang of it eventually. Interesting problem not writing caused though.

Yesterday a post went up. It was password protected and all that, but it is supposed to go live in the event of something like my untimely demise. Obviously. I’m still alive and well. Perhaps TOO alive. Obviously I got problems from it.

You know what though? Things are looking up even more. I just nailed a job I really wanted that I thought I missed out on. Considering I had a felony charge, it’s amazing I passed the background check (I sure as Hell didn’t when I applied to work at the other Target in town).

There’s a crap load of bad things happening really. But it’s all I can do to not get caught up in them. Focus on the positive. I got a job despite terrible odds. Also, my charges for the felony got dropped.

Ok, so I’ve kind of been waiting for this to happen so I would feel okay writing about it. I was concerned it might reflect poorly to write about it in anyway while the case was still ongoing. But now it’s been dismissed. Although now my potency in presentation will be lacking, let me try to dazzle you.

If you’re a reader (or a friend) you might know I had a suicide attempt back in April. I took a lot of pills. I apparently got way closer to death than I thought. I started to lose consciousness shortly after admission to the ER. I remember being handed a a drink and told to drink as much of it as I could, as fast as I could. It tasted like chalky chocolate (chalkolate?) milk. I then remember trying to say words, and only slurs were coming out. There was a rush of noise and discussion and activity. Then nothing I guess.

At some point my consciousness surfaces. I reach down and pull a urinary catheter, and the pain alerts me. I should clarify, I didn’t intend to pull it, it just happened and when it did happen, I was temporarily alarmed and alerted.

There’s shouting. A man is telling me to relax. There’s some sort of effort to reassure me of something. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t think I’m doing anything. It should also be noted I was a point away from being considered in a coma on their scale (although, my research indicates the scale they used was inappropriate for the context).

Next thing I know. Pain. Everywhere. Screaming. Someone Angry. Feels like I just got tackled. As best I can tell someone is standing on me and thrust my face into the ground. I get terrified. I think I’m dying. In pain and minimal faculties to comprehend the situation.

And then I hear it. Like a bad dream I cannot forget.
“You deserve this! You did this to yourself!”

I tried so hard to cry out. I tried so hard to be heard. But my face was just pressed more and more into the floor and I felt like I was suffocating. Then. Nothing.

I woke up a couple more times because of the catheter thing (no idea why I kept doing that, it hurt). Eventually I briefly came to fully and my mom was on my left. The last thing I remembered surfaced and I tried very hard to whisper to my mom.

“Mom. I think someone assaulted me.”

She thought I was joking. She convinced me it was a bad dream. She said the doctors did say I fell out of bed though and that’s how I got my black eye. Can you see where this is going?

So I spend a couple more days recovering, go to an observation center voluntarily. Sleep most of the time I’m there, then I go home. I get back in touch with work and friends. Give some excuse to my leaders about being in the hospital. Tell only my closest friends the reality of the situation. I even wrote about it here some.

Still. I couldn’t get that odd memory out of my head. The really terrible dream I must have had.

Fast forward 3 months.

My mom is driving and she gets caught speeding. She gets pulled over. I kindly show my license to the officer and am ribbing my mom about speeding. I get asked to step outside of the car. If I have any weapons on me. I comply, and had no weapons.

I’m a little confused at this point. I get asked to empty my pockets and remove my watch. Now I know where this is going, but I have no idea why.

“Would you step over here with me sir?” The officer asks while leading me towards his car. “Want to tell me what happened the other day?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The other day, you punched and bit a cop.”
“No sir. I think you might have something mixed up”
“No, it’s you, I ran it right.”
“I really don’t know how”
“Well I’m going to have to take you in. Do you understand that?”
“I guess. I didn’t do anything though” (I’m sure he heard that a lot).

I put my hands behind my back. Got in the police car and took a ride to jail (More on that jail visit another time). The entire experience was frustrating. I was so certain it was a mistake and that something was going to clear up at any moment.

After I got out of jail, I got access to things such as the indictment. I was told about the police report.  I realized that it happened in the hospital and that encounter that was a very vivid and yet somehow cloudy dream was real. I was whipped out of bed after biting an off duty officer who for some reason was trying to restrain me and I had no control when I ended up biting him.

The summary of his police report indicated he was following procedure to restrain me. I would argue that he wasn’t if I managed to bite him. I can’t imagine I was very dexterous or sudden in my attempt to do so.  He interviewed no body. No one was listed as a witness. It was him writing up his own report and getting it signed off on. His report included a description of his visit to get his hand checked out because he was certain I broke it. The skin was not even broken and there was no visual bruising as informed by the doc he saw. I’m sorry, I really hate to insult people, but he also caused a huge issue for me. And I’m sorry that I hurt him, I am, but he didn’t handle it appropriately. He was wimp. I want to use a different and more derogatory word there, but maybe I have to good graces to avoid that.

So yeah. He was told nothing was wrong with his hand. So he filed assault on me. I want it clear, I didn’t even know there was ever an altercation.  I was the one who ended up with bruising, a black eye and head that hurt for days. OH, and get this. So the date of the incident report was sometime in April. They had footage of the incident. But didn’t request it. So it wasn’t in prosecutor’s possession. It was deleted 60 days following the incident. So let’s assume mid June. The indictment, that I had no idea was even coming to be a thing, was made sometiime early June. I never knew. No one told me and I had no reason to look for or follow up on.

Until the arrest. And you’ll recall, that was July 3rd. Well after the 60 day period that video would be held for. The officer and prosecution never sought the video. One can only wonder why. I couldn’t have access to it so long after the incident, so any evidence in my favor is now gone. It’s the fantastic police work here that makes me at least examine any criminal case.

We got my medical reports. Nothing about an incident where I fell. I think that should have been in there. Nor was there an explanation or an order for my restraints (also should have been in there). There is 2 pages in it that reference getting a CT scan. Why? “Acute head injury”. It’s not common practice to get a CT scan for an overdose. I needed one because I “fell” out of bed. But, there’s no mention of that fall anywhere in the medical records of my hospitalization. My mom was just told that I fell out of bed and they were concerned about a head injury.

Does this all click together in a very unique way for you? It does for me.

But you know. I’M the bad guy here. I also had to be turned down for jobs when I have a felony case pending. I’ve got evidence that happened. Wonderful. So it’s nice to have that dropped finally. Also I trust police a lot less (and I didn’t trust them much to begin with). I know there are some good officers out there, but from what I have pieced together, there was no reason for things to go that way.

Anyway. It’s behind me now. That officer can bite me (and then I’ll charge him). But I wanted to write for a bit, so since that’s over, I figured I could do it. Next time, I’ll write some about my actual night in jail. It’s not so interesting, but it did make me think some things.

Until then. Ya’ll keep your noses clean.

Why 80% of who I am is rant

Hi. I’m Grant. See my name? The latter 4 letters spell a word in their own right. Rant. You got it. And if you know me, you’ve probably heard this phrase or comparison before. But I’m also bipolar. I feel like that makes me prone to rants of sort in general.

Oh yeah, that show, Supernatural? I still have rant on that impeding my watching it. Stopped in the middle of season 7. Or government? Yeesh, don’t get me started.

More and more I start gaining real interest in the discussion of perception and philosophy. I want people to consider what motivates them. What they think motivates others. What they think is right and wrong with the world. No body is wrong, I wouldn’t argue everyone is right though. Too many variables in that.

The 40 minute rant tonight? What is communism? Heh. A good rant. I actually brought out my copy of “The Communist Manifesto” to back me up. I’ll give you the short version. “Communists”? Like the governments in China or Russia for example. Those aren’t communists. They are more or less, in my opinion, despotic rules performed under the guise of communism. This might be left over from some of the attempts at revolutions in the 1800s. Communism was meant to be a good movement. One away from militarized force and absolute rule. One where everyone contributed what they could and received just as much from the sovereign. In essence, communism is an entirely naive idea, one that could never be brought in true fidelity in this world. As a friend of mine said, “communism looks good on paper”.

But enough of that, I spent 40 minutes shouting about it. Pretty glad my girlfriend didn’t have to endure it. Just to be clear, I do not sympathize with the governments that identify themselves as communist. I just believe that to be a complete perversion of the idea. I go on to criticize current global economies and our role in them. In the end, it means nothing. I’m just getting from one angry place to another, with some strange sense of “this is just”. But again, I make no decisions, and I have no control in that regard.

I’ve been like that a little bit lately. I think it’s just an “episode” of sorts, still mostly mild, but still here. I don’t hurt people. I don’t like people that do anything that does. I don’t judge people either. And things I once thought I was above, are merely things I don’t like. I don’t need to be on a moral ladder or any position over another just because I disagree. It simply means I don’t agree. I do not tolerate people that cause others pain intentionally, whether it is the motivation or not.

But ranting as I do, also tends to reflect on my current state. Unsatisfied. Wanting justice to be present. So I pray after I yell about things for nearly an hour (ok, maybe not really yelling the whole time, I got quite a bit of normal voice in too). I tell myself I’m just passionate about some of these things. And I don’t really know if that’s true or just another rationalization.

I know that I can love people with dissent between us. My ideals need not align for me to wish you good health and a wonderful future. But these rants. They feed my anger in a way I determine is just. I don’t act in impassioned anger. I merely speak in it. As though I see too many injustices on a daily basis that my mouth opens and my brain just passes it a speech I was not aware I rehearsed.

I’m a great public speaker. In part because I can understand rhetorical approach. This bleeds through even in rants. But, do I embrace this side of me? It doesn’t seem to go away. But, it rarely leaves me pleased with myself after. Maybe I should take a more active role? I don’t know. These are all wonderful things to consider. But then again, maybe it’s just an episode?

Well. Just trying to gain some perspective. On another night where the meds don’t set in nearly fast enough. I think I’m still doing well. Just have a lot to comment on when I’m not at the computer I guess. For “rant” is 80% who I am.

I’m a little upset with that

I just spent 40 minutes spilling my heart onto here. Then randomly the page reset and it was all gone. Not deleted. My browser indicated an issue and it went poof. not even in my drafts. I’m a little spent and too mortified to try to write that again.

Funny. It was about stress. and escapism. And letting things go.

Maybe I’ll write soon. But just now having that happen was a little too extreme.

It’s a small blow, but one, I did not expect after pouring so much out.

Bedlam

I’ve recently fixated on this word, “bedlam”. Unsure why, I heard it in a song recently and since then I’ve been thinking of ways bedlam is represented. It means a scene or state of wild uproar and confusion. HA, why does that feel familiar?

I feel like I usually am coming undone at the seams, this torrid life shredding me apart as I struggle to piece others back together. Why? Why have I always done this? It’s something I admire in others, and even clearly see in myself, but it often brings more harm than good. Even when I know I’m valued, sometimes in part due to this on occasion colossal effort to do good for others, I still feel worthless.

One day I’m parading and confident in who I am and how I can do great, just a couple later I’m swallowing pills for a variety of reasons that I don’t want to really talk about with anyone.

I just wish I knew what I wanted, what I really wanted. But, I don’t. So each day I drain away energy doing various unproductive things, sometimes piecing my life together in the dull moments, sometimes scratching away the etchings already in my mind.

When I downed all those pills, I was absolutely confident I would live. I would tell my mom when she got home, drive down to the ER and the doctors would pump my stomach or whatever and I would be at most missing work for a day. So why did I do it? Also, not exactly how it turned out, I was in the ICU for a couple days mostly out of consciousness and under a full delirium, at one point I was at high risk of some interesting heart problems. But really, why? I was so calm about it, like it was just another part of my daily routine. I never once felt scared or regretted it. I also didn’t feel like I would die, but a small part of me was really shooting for it, like if I died, eh, so what?

What would be remembered of me if I just ended there? “Smart kid that leaped about when discussing social issues, he loved to do good, he’d give the shirt off his back. We don’t know what went wrong in his head, but we do know he struggled with some demons. Even so, he was a close friend to many and always strived to impact his fellow man in a good way. He will be missed…”

Maybe when they finally cleaned out my room, (my mom would probably leave it untouched for a really long time) they would find my “vices”. Methods of contraception, indications that I had sex, not that bad given that I’m 24 years old, that’s probably expected. If someone could crack my password or used software to get one of my computers logged in, they’d see I had a porn problem. Though in my defense, I hardly watch the porn, I kinda have some sort of data fetish, where downloading and storing it gets me off, I’m just a weird person. (A quick search reveals at least 329 Gigabytes of pornography in my main porn folder on my desktop alone) I’ve probably watched a despairingly small portion of it. I can also attribute this to manic cycles when my libido is really high.

But that would be all of anything incriminating. I’m a good guy. I do my best to make the world and people’s lives a better thing. I still wish I knew why… Especially if I end up hating myself at the end of the day.

Bedlam. That’s how I live my life half the time, a state of uproar and confusion. The other half is high energy and pleasant. I really do enjoy my manic cycles, I often feel like Superman in them. NO, Batman, because he’s better.

Anyway, really enjoy my new psychiatrist, he’s confident and funny, and makes me feel like I can get better again. To the little bit of hope that hasn’t been shredded out of me, that it may multiply in months to come.