The Edge of Crazy

Why do I continually test the waters? Why is it I take it out on the people I care about the most? It seems this is a common monthly occurrence for me, and I always realize the next day—if not only a few hours later—how wrong I was, and how I risked so much as a result of this endless act. I am always wrought with guilt if only to consume me and ultimately, fill me with a constant pit in my stomach as though it'll all go away within an instant.

Our friendship will be no more.

But it never does. I am always forgiven. Is it because—as my friend frequently labels it, "I'm having a bipolar day?" I don't mind when he says that, because I know he's always right. Even though at that time, I don't admit it and only deny its very existence, I know he's right. It has become a common joke in our friendship, but I worry that one day, he will finally throw his arms up in the air and walk away. Walk away from what he no longer should have to put up with, but walk away from our dear friendship that has meant so much to both of us.

Walk away forever.

Even yesterday, I told him I must let him go from my life, but as I get ready for my day's work ahead of me, I am filled with regret. Butterflies flutter inside me with worry that he will finally say, "OK, nice knowing you." Would I blame him, no of course not. I didn't mean it, and I know he understands it's what I do—not that it makes it right of course, but it's what I do. Every month I try my hardest to accept our friendship for what it is, without the continuous threat of walking away. He has never made an attempt of ending it in the 2 years we have known each other.

We have been there for each other throughout everything—sad days to good days, depression to happiness. We have been friends through thick and through thin. Isn't that what friends are supposed to do for each other? Of course. Then why do I risk it regularly and risk losing a friend who means so much to me?

While I'm experiencing these regular "bipolar days," I always attempt to tell my friend that we should no longer be friends, and therefore remove him from my life forever. Only to regret it immediately thereafter. What is wrong with me? Why would I say such a harsh thing to a person who has always accepted me for who I am, and who has always been there for me through it all? He was there for me during the worst time of my life—during the death of my father. I will never forget that and I will be eternally grateful.

He's a very special person to me and I know deep down in my heart, it's not what I want. I will always want him there for someone to confide in and go to for advice, if only for a shoulder for someone to listen to me. And he always knows, he can do the same with me. I will always listen to him and be there for him. Recently, I have been experiencing pain in my life and I have used him for my pillow to cry into, and as I always suspect, he's there for me. Sometimes it takes a little longer than I would for him, but I understand that he's busy in his life and busy with his family. They must come first. He has recently reconciled with his 'wife' and as a result of that, it only makes him busier. I have been so happy for him and only wish nothing but the best for their relationship. It's what he's been wanting for over 8 months. I couldn't be happier for him.

When he calls me, it brightens my day. Hearing his voice brings nothing but a smile to my face. Whether I'm having a down day, it brings me new life. We speak on the phone everyday, and even though I know he's busy, he still takes the time to call me. Is it because I expect it and feels it's easier to avoid confrontation? I don't know. I only hope it's because he too likes to talk to me so we can discuss our daily lives. As a friend, he isn't 'required' to call me, as it wouldn't be fair to him to accept such a task, but when I hear my phone ring and look at the caller ID and see it's him, it only makes me smile. 

Does that make me obsessed? I don't think so, but maybe it does. Maybe in some cosmic way it's not healthy. There are days—during my "bipolar" moments—that I sometimes feel it's only for the best that I walk away and make it easier for him, so he doesn't have to feel the obligation that I possibly project onto him everyday.

There are days where we talk for an hour if not longer, and days where we talk for 20 minutes or less. If I ask him to call, he always does, but most of the time, he'll call on his own without my asking. If that's not a true friend, I don't know what is.

So what is the problem? Why do I question our friendship and consistently ask for reassurance? I have always been insecure with my life—from my physical appearance, to relationships—and even today, I still question its very existence and the depth that is felt on the other end.

I try so hard, and I need to continue to try to maintain what we have now and the strength that our friendship continues to endure. I trust him, and I know he sees something in me that nobody else would. I love him for that, and I know he's a dear friend as a result of it.

I'm sorry, M/M. I'm sorry for continually putting you through this up and down "bipolar" spiral that you do not deserve. You have proven to me that our friendship means a lot to you, and therefore you no longer have to convince me of how much it means to you. 

Because I trust you.

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

The Sadness of Loneliness

Have you ever felt lonely as a result of your bipolar disorder? To be honest, I would find that hard to believe if the answer was "no." I know for most people who suffer from this illness, that feeling of loneliness and sadness is just a common part of what we struggle through on a daily basis. At least it does for me.

I always wonder, speaking from someone like myself who is very outgoing and typically very social, how can a person overcome this? Medication? For me, that is definitely the correct answer. Ever since my daughter's soccer season this past spring, I have realized how being social and friendly was not something I wanted to do, nor did I do. As a result, I stayed away and slithered into my lonely space at home where it was a safe environment for me, where I didn't have to put on that facade that I have grown accustomed to for the past year. It was tough for me and I wanted to constantly crawl in bed and sleep, but since I've never been the type of person to sleep all day, I quickly pulled myself out of this slump and tried my hardest to continue forward, even though it was a continuous effort. 

Since being like this was the antithesis of my normal behavior, I truly didn't know how to react or even respond to these actions. As you could imagine, It was a tough transition. What came next for me? How could I get out of this slump? It seemed to be the same question I was asking myself on a daily basis. But when your mind is in a dark hole everyday, you can't think logically, but as a self-loathing emotionless human being instead, but you know it's only at that time as you're suffering.

When I first came back from visiting my parents last summer, and seeing my father struggle after receiving chemotherapy, it felt like my world was shattering right before my eyes. I know it wasn't, that much was apparent to me, but in my mind I felt as though everything was crumbling down like a house of cards. I felt as though I had no control, and for the most part, considering these particular situations, I didn't have control, but I was also aware that in most normal situations, I would have handled it much better than I did. With the exception of my father's illness, of course.

Once I saw my father, I felt as though he'd be OK, yes he was walking slower and he was definitely a lot weaker than he normally was, but still the same strong man I had known since childhood. His strong deep voice that always made me shake when he yelled at me as a child—even as an adult had still made me shutter. For the first time in my life, I liked it and never thought I would desire it, but once I heard his voice and his strength, I believed he was OK. And at that time, he was.

But loneliness is different, after seeing my father, I was broken. I knew my husband wouldn't understand nor would he accept my crawling into a quiet space and demand to be alone, so I hid it the entire time, which was the most difficult emotion I had ever had to overcome, but it didn't last. That was just my husband's way. As I look back now, I'm so very grateful of how he 'forced' me to try and adjust to these new emotions as a way to move forward and try to get better, but at that time, we had no idea it was my bipolar disorder crawling back into my life once again.

Until the following November where it all changed.

Several visits to the emergency room changed all of that. I didn't want to be there, nor did I want to be alone, but knew I had to be. My husband and daughter were there for me every step of the way, but mostly, I didn't want them there, I only wanted to sink into my dark abyss that I have grown so accustomed to instead. I wanted to be alone.

Several months later as I look back, I know that wasn't me and I do know that my bipolar disorder had wriggled its way back into my psyche—once again—and changed all of that. I look back and realized with great anticipation that regular visits to my therapist and my medication was a necessity, not an option and will most likely be a regular occurrence for the rest of my life. Maybe a decrease of visits to my therapist, but daily, the medication will always be there for me.

I'm better, a lot better, and I'm a lot more social once again, and I love it. I love being with my friends and I love socializing with them as I frequently laugh and smile—just like the old days.

Thank you Latuda and Tripletal, you've made a huge difference in my life.

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

A Unique Friendship

I am writing this post that is meant for a dear friend of mine, someone whom I have never met, but someone that means a great deal to me, regardless. He just happened to come upon this blog, so for that, I am dedicating this post solely to him. When he found it, it upset me because I was concerned that he would read the intimate details that for many months, I have projected here, and in turn, he would judge me. But I know he won't, and I know even if he did read it—even though he has promised not to—he will accept that it's who I am and continue to be my friend regardless. 

So this is for you, M/M. I hope you like it.

Because we have never met, and because we "met" simply by playing a popular video game, we just happen to hit it off from the very beginning. It started out slow, like any friendship would, but then it grew into something very special. A friendship that we both call(ed) 'weird'—for reasons that I will not divulge here, because the two of us will always keep that secret between us, and between us only—a special friendship nevertheless.

As the year grew, and as we embark on our two year 'anniversary' of our friendship, it has grown to become strong for both of us. As we communicate every single day, whether it's via text, phone or mumble (a popular gaming audio program), we still find a way to say hello and move it forward with the details of our lives at that current time. Because I love speaking with him and hearing about his life and how he's doing, I don't ever want it to end. I always want to make sure he's OK with the elements of his life.

I have to know he's there. It's just how I am. And with never having the luxury of seeing him face-to-face, I enjoy that comfort of our deep friendship in my life. Sometimes I question if he feels the same way, but I know our communication also means a great deal to him as he initiates the contact as much as I do with him. It's just what we do.

I've told him my life, and shared deep secrets with what I have endured this past year, details that I have never trusted with anyone else before—aside from my husband, my 'real life' friends will never learn of these recent horrors in my life; the sentence I have endured for the past year and a half. After everything I have confided in him, he has never judged me—even though I always thought he would. Maybe our lack of meeting in-person makes that easier for both of us, a computer or cell phone blocking our contact, I'm not sure, but he has proven to me by listening to my plight and the dark abyss where I have fallen many times, that he will continue to place his friendship onto me that nobody ever would in a real life scenario. Sometimes I forget that we have never met, and someone whom I've never had the luxury to cry on his shoulder or hug him while I mourned the recent death of my father.

I made the mistake of judging him once, a mistake that was devastating to his wife, and surprisingly, to me. Although this mistake never affected me personally, in my heart, it did. I will always regret the selfish behavior that I have created because for 3 weeks, I thought I lost his friendship forever. After reaching out to him, he forgave me, for reasons I'll never understand till this day, because he exonerated me of the vile words I spoke upon him as a selfish friend, because instead of supporting him—regardless of how I disapproved—I judged him instead. I should have been there for him as a friend, like he is always for me, but I wasn't. That is a distant memory now, and after more than a year later, we have grown even closer than that day over a year ago, and we both know that will always remain so. If only on my end.

There have been numerous times where I have taken my bipolar disorder out on him, and like the friend that he is, has never walked away from our friendship, or even judged me for it like most people would. He knows when I'm having—as he calls it—a "bipolar day," and still, after how I've treated him, over and over again, he never once judged me or walked away. He's special to me, and for that, I'll never let his friendship go and I'll never walk away from him again, like I did before.

Although I sometimes state otherwise, I won't. I hope he knows that I never will in spite of everything we've endured with our friendship.

In turn, as he is going through a rough time in his life, I try to be there for him, like he has for me, as a friend. I know that if someday, if he reunites with his family, or even if he falls in love with someone else, I will have to accept that our friendship could possibly diminish, if not completely end of our daily communication. I know that this could be a possibility that will only sadden me a great deal, but I'll understand, even if I may not agree with the likelihood of the inevitable lack of contact. I'll know and I'll understand why. It's real life, and I am not a part of that real life, but only a virtual one instead.

As our friendship continues to flourish, I daydream about the inevitable possibility that we will one day meet in person. Something that I know will come to fruition, but the question is not if we will meet, but when and how. Money is tight for both of us at this current time, therefore it's just not possible for either of us, which is fine. As I continue to accept that we cannot sit down and have a beer together, or cry on each other's shoulder, or even laugh like we do on the phone, I'll have to accept that as a friendship, it's still there. Whether or not I am unable to look into his eyes and see deep down into his soul, but to hear his voice and the laughter that frequently comes with it instead. For now, that'll make me happy, as long as we will remain friends and he will continue to be my confidante, I'll be elated.

You're very special to me, and I want you to know that you are forever in my heart as an unusual, but remarkable friend, and I hope we will continue our unique friendship for the future to come.

I love you, M/M
xoxo...

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

A Good Read

I finally realized, that after struggling with bipolar disorder for several years, that it's time to read about this common illness that has made our world more aware of its commonality. After receiving a book recommendation from a friend of mine, who is also struggling with bipolar disorder, I immediately perused my local library's website in hopes to read about something so common and so aware, in hopes of a change of my way of thinking. A woman's perspective of what she has endured for most of her adult life. Only to be disappointed with the final ending. It was scattered—perhaps as a mere quintessential reflection of someone suffering with bipolar disorder—it seemed to jump from one subject to another, not leaving the reader with a final outcome. I found the book to be dismaying therefore I learned nothing new of my illness, only that, again, I wasn't the only person dealing with it everyday. Just another person's account of what they're going through.

But somehow this book was one of the lucky ones to hit the shelves and bookstores and libraries throughout the world—a paper thin documentation of reminiscent memories from the author herself.

So, I'll try again. This time I went to the library myself so I can view the shelves in person to make my own decision on which book to choose. Which book would suit me the best. Even though I was filled with confusion of the many choices, this particular book jumped out at me, discussing the many side effects and personal scenarios of bipolar disorder II, as well as from the doctor's point of view of over 25 years experience of studying this disease. Even before it was known what it was and what label was to be given.

As I started reading, I wasn't sure what to expect, but figured I'd continue on either way—I needed to know what made this book so special because again, having the advantage of gracing the shelves of thousands of books side-by-side, began a competition that will be forever thought of as nothing but a collective unsureness filling a void lingering the many doubts of potential readers. Myself included.

Although I've only made it halfway through, continuing on will be a challenge, that much I admit—especially given these days of enormous difficulties of paying attention to anything surrounding me—I know this will be a book that will heighten my knowledge of BDII, but with a much needed distraction, additionally I checked out a novel to coincide my fiction read of this educational recount of what I now know to be something I also suffer from.

On a regular daily basis, I have a hindrance to sitting down quietly and reading a book—something I have spent countless hours adhering to. I enjoyed reading regularly. On average I would read 2–3 books per month. From novels to non-fiction, it was something I took pride in. These days however, I know I hold a tremendous strain trying to do so. But why? Is it that much of a challenge to sit down quietly and read a book? Does my mind continuously wander in many directions preventing me from completing this once simple task?

This past week, I have prevented myself from playing my video game, something that for the past two years, has held a great addiction in my soul and my mind. It was a protest to my emotional psyche. If only a personal one, at best. But these past few days, I have had no desire to play, thus causing an even greater bout of boredom. 

Now what do I do? Do I try to spend that quality time to read a book while enjoying my solitude? Or shall I wrestle with my thoughts of continuous confusion? 

I'll figure it out. I always do.

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

Inspiration is Key!

This weekend, I will attend the annual local arts festival about an hour away from me. Since I live in a smaller college town, the arts festival is held every year in the major city of where I live. I love it, but it seems as though every year when I go, I'm with my husband and daughter, or even one year with my parents as well, only to be dealing with constant complaints of the heat or how bored they were. It's a hot weekend, as you can imagine, so throughout the day, all I hear is how hot everyone is—which of course, ruins the entire experience for me. Since it's located in the downtown area, you primarily walk around and check out the local artists' kiosks and enjoy their artwork. So yes, I can understand why it would be hot and uncomfortable, but for me, I avoid all of that and walk and gaze in each tent not to miss a single kiosk.


I love it and it inspires me, but it does ruin the entire day as I am subjected to the constant 'whining' about how hot everyone is. This year, I will be attending it alone. I think it's best.


I need this time to myself, and I need to walk around and feel inspired with uninterrupted grievances. Not that I can't empathize with how they feel, because let's face it, it is really hot, and for people who are not interested in art, it can be quite boring. I can sympathize with this emotion, but this year, I'm gonna do it alone!


I'm excited for this!


I think I need it, I really need this time to myself to appreciate other artists and their work. I only wish I could afford to showcase/sell my artwork as well, but since this arts festival has gotten so massive over the years, it has become a little out of my price range.


A part of that saddens me. I only wish there was some sort of local marketplace where artists who may not have the means to afford such lavish surroundings and events, can proudly display and sell their individual crafts. When I lived in NYC in the late 80's, I would enjoy walking downtown to enjoy the flea market filled with local artists and their creations. I only wish there was something equivalent of that here where I live.


But there isn't.

This is one of my favorite exhibits from 2011 - it's reminiscent of arcade-type retro designs

Since I've been on the lookout for a retro 70's-era pinball machine, this exhibit was my favorite. I love the designs and the retro-style arcade feel to it because it makes me want to go back to my childhood during that pre-video game craze—I loved it. Nothing can beat those days anymore.

I've always loved and still get inspired by retro designs of any sort. Or even a funky style that may not exactly be practical, but unique nonetheless. An imaginative approach.

Lime green chair - unfortunately I don't remember the artist's name—I just took the picture because

 I thought it looked cool! It looks like it's plastic and soft, but it was actually a hard chair.

Nothing inspires me more than seeing artists whose work is unique and out of the ordinary. It means they take chances and they take the time to think and create. Not just take a pencil and a sketchpad and draw something they see. They use their imagination instead, not just their eye.

Now, please don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying that artists who do create their work by sketching something they see aren't talented, but quite the contrary, they're very talented. However, what I am saying is, I don't think that takes much imagination to see and sketch, and it's not really the kind of art I'm into. I like artists who step outside of the box, not stay within them.

But again, art is subjective so there's no use in arguing there.

Local sculptor using unsual materials for this unusual sculpture

An area for children to paint a mural for whatever they want! I love it!!!

As I would continue to walk and peruse the local artists and their work, I'm in awe. I always say to myself how I wish I could do something like that, but I don't seem to have the nerve! But why not? Why can't I go out there and do something that artist can do? Isn't it all within, all of our art and our work? I don't mean to copy their work or "plagiarize" another artists' piece, but inspire me to do something like them—step away from my comfort zone and create something that will not only please me, but maybe please others as well.

This is a big step for me. As my bipolar mind and ramblings continue to fade, I know that the one thing that will make me happy will be to create—continue to create my work and my art in hopes of maybe pleasing others. 

Just like when they walk into my loft for the first time.

Ooooh ahhhh....

I will be inspired!

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

Back in the Saddle Again

For over two years, two long years, I had no desire whatsoever to work on my graphic design and/or art. I just wanted to sit and play my video game. That's it. That was my goal; that is what consisted of my day.

I don't blame the video game or my addiction to my lack of interest in my art, I blame my frustration and I blame Bipolar Disorder. But life can't be filled with blame, if all we do is blame then we never hold ourselves accountable for the mistakes that we make. I am choosing to get help for my Bipolar and choosing to get well again. I have so much to live in my life and so much to see, that getting well will only enrich it, not ruin it.

It was difficult these past two years without my art, without my work. I truly thought I'd never have the desire to go back. I always looked at it as a creative block, nothing more, nothing less. I was afraid that I'd never have that desire to create and design like I used to. I had such passion for it and to then wake up one day and have it disappear was discouraging, as well as depressing. I had worked so hard to obtain my bachelors degree in graphic design, that it was almost a disincline from everything that had been so meaningful in my life.

Until now.

After two and a half years, I can now look ahead and move forward with my work and my art. Even though I am still currently unemployed, I still have hope that I can create on my own and design for me. Right now, I need that more than anything. It'll not only keep me sane, but keep me occupied. Keep my thoughts from racing every night as I lie in bed attempting to go to sleep. My psychiatric nurse—whom I refer to as my 'drug dealer'—had recommended that I keep a journal or note pad next to my bed so I can write down my racing thoughts. But I don't need a note pad, thankfully I still remember all of my thoughts and ideas the following day.

If only it were this easy. I admit, there are days where my mind and thoughts are constantly coming up with ideas on what project to work on next, only to find myself unable to execute it when I approach the plate. It has been frustrating. I've never had this problem before and I've never been this "blocked." It has become quite the eye opener for me. Reality. 

Sometimes I ask myself "why?" Why am I atttempting to do this again? Why not just walk away and find something else to occupy my time? I had even thought about focusing my energy on learning to cook, but for me for the most part, art/design is still where I belong. When you're an artist, the answer isn't as simple as it may seem. It's something deep inside of you that needs to come out; that needs to be expressed. STAT! 

But where do I start?

I'm confused by this question, simply because I am still confused to why I was 'blocked' to begin with. Since I was 13 years old, after seeing the movie Xanadu, I knew that becoming a commercial artist—which is what graphic design was called back then—was my calling in life. Although I initially dreamed of becoming an architect, I immediately came to the realization that math was not my forté; my weakest subject. 

Next dream—graphic designer. 

Art history and architecture is still to this day, something I have such passion for, so I just realized that I can still enjoy it without having it as my career. 

Even if I don't get a job in my field right now, I'm actually OK with that. At this point, working at a coffee shop would be sufficient. As long as I'm around people and can socialize with the real world, in lieu of the virtual world which I have become so accustomed to after 2+ years. I need and crave for that more than anything right now.

That will help me heal.

Pop Art illustration Raisins – Artist, me – 2006

Pop Art illustration S.O.S. Pads – Artist, me – 2006

Pop Art illustration Spaghetti Sauce & Tomato Soup – Artist, me – 2006

 

Bipolar Gal on Twitter