Welcome to my sweet upside down world.
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Latest Posts by confessionsofabipolarbaker - Page 3
I hope my daughter someday appreciates this rainbow in her closet, and doesn’t loathe me for it…
This is called "word vomit."
I swear I had a draft from last week somewhere… Dammed if I cannot find it.
Oh we’ll. I’m not there anymore anyway, so no sense in trying to back track to then. I’m pretty sure I’m on the way down. I am home, alone, and have managed to eat four bowls of cereal (which promptly was eliminated back into the sewer… TMI sorry).
I had an awesome Friday therapy, had a nice but cold afternoon at the farmers market, Saturday morning was an okay yoga- I felt distracted but couldn’t put my finger on why. Went for an almond joy mocha at the square. Went to a consignment shop- bought a $3 necklace. That afternoon I was happy to entertain myself by working on my husbands car (side note- I’m a closet gear head). We worked on that for so long that it got too dark to work anymore and thunderstorms rolled in while we were cleaning up… Kinda romantic, caught in the rain with him… And then there was Sunday.
I was completely Up allllllll morning. I had managed to wash, cut, prep, store and set up a snack tray with all the market Fruits and vegis. I cleaned and prepped and set up a whole chicken in the crock pot (seriously thinking of going back to vegetarian after that… Ew ew ew.). I scrubbed out the fridge, rearranged all the food to fit in there, did the dishes. And then realized it wasn’t even noon yet. Managed to then prep a bunch of stuff out of my clothes for consignment (my new excuse for purging and rearranging my closet…). And then… … … The kid started to get neeeeeeeeeeeedy. My pet peeve. And when I am Up, it’s annoyance is even worse… Poor kiddo. I know it’s not her fault. It makes me grouchy and irritated… And I shouldn’t be. I should be patient. I used to be. I used to work with dozens of kids everyday, all day… Now I can barely tolerate my own child for a short period of time.
To remedy this, I went to the grocery store. Stay with me on this one. We needed milk, and chocolate milk, and I had a coupon for a free fro-yo and a $1 off my entire purchase, all expiring Sunday. And… Here’s the best part— they have FREE babysitting there. Hallelujah. Two birds- meet one stone. I dropped her off, took my walkie talkie and wandered the aisles for a good forty five minutes. And yes, I bought more than I was going to… But I needed the break. Thirty dollars later, I am a pleasant Mommee again, and excited to see the kiddo. I tease her to guess the frozen goodies I have bought. I treat her to not one, but two quarter gumball treats (she picks a bouncy ball and a ring- good girl). We skip out to the car, sing BINGO at the top of our lungs on the way home… All is right again with the world. I even fall asleep by her side after our nightly ritual of bedtime songs…
And Monday. Monday starts UP, with two capital letters. It is Memorial Day, we have a picnic, at one. I am up at 6:15. I feel like I need to take something, as a good guest I should bring food… Cupcakes are already being made by an aunt… I scour my online hoarding site - which shall remain nameless but rhymes with sin terrist… I find two recipes… I leave my awake little one with my still unconscious husband and again, head to the store — this time I get out with only $12 of exactly what I needed. I proceed to make over fifty strawberry-short-stacks and banana-splits on a stick…. Pics to come. All before we leave at 1230. Yeah. UP. When there, I chat nicely- not abiding to the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, skirting around the work questions, the how are you’s and the quizzical looks when I pause, mid-sentence to try to remember what I was just saying. Eventually, I fall into a good stride of —“shhhh…. Wait…. Listen to her talk…. Nod…. Wait…. Ask a question… Listen…. Don’t talk over her… Wait….” And repeat ad nauseam… I carry a beer, pour out a few micro inches each time I walk around the side of the house when no one is following me. It is a brilliant cover. This is tedious work I find. Pretending.
It must have gotten into my psyche. That night I sleep like a brick- so hard that my husband doesn’t even wake me at 615, or 700… He leaves at 745 and kisses me “it’s almost eight, just so you know…” His sweet way of saying get your ass outta bed… We are now late. After falling up the stairs, I slept on my right wrist wrong overnight, it throbs. Wearing my brace now we are even more disadvantaged to get to school and therapy on time. She is one hour late, “Class Junior Kindergarten- time 902- reason - just late.” I am only a half hour late to therapy today… I can already feel the need to slink in, under the radar, to ready myself for the inevitable “your turn”… I’m just not feelin it today.
And somewhere, sitting in there, listening to another person whine (my apologies, it is no one I know in the Real World and will certainly not invite to read this blog…)… Her depression is contagious. The day floats away. Apparently I called my mother, told her to pick up the kiddo today… I meant tomorrow. My mother in law calls, twice, then texts “I am here to get the kiddo, your mom already did” … My irritation is here again. I text a brief I WILL GET HER without care for hurt feelings. Then… I cry. Short, small, hot tears, but not chest heaving, sobbing. Just cry. And I feel like I need a nap, but I’m too irritated to sleep…how is that even possible? I try to read my Bipolar book… It irritates me. My stomach is irritated too, oh hooray. What is this feeling? Is is the Crash? No, not really. The Crash makes me thoughtless, motionless, powerless. Here, I am still creative, wanting to write more of my word vomit- the words that come to me in waves, unfiltered, almost regurgitated onto page. I am still thinking of things I should be doing, still understanding that I have to keep my nice clothes on to play the Good Mommee to go get my kiddo. This is not the Crash… it may be a Down. Apparently, there is such a thing, halfway between Up and Crash. Is this a sign that the medication is actually working? Or that it is not? I can’t read my book to know to find out… Right now, I am still irritated. Later, I will go to get the kiddo… Now… I will just write…
O.M.G. This just made my decade... Seriously, I love Graham Norton, and Wiil, but Carlton... Cannot. Be. Beat!
My epiphany for today: if you have a zillion hair thingys, and use them, you have a bad haircut... If you are, however, five years old, this is baseline norm. ...this is not counting the 1,800+ plastic hairband ties (separated by color in pill boxes- a mommy mania moment)...
How she sees me. Mommee with high heels on, with a coffee mug in one hand, and my purse- with money spilling out, in the other. Oh, and I'm at the beach. My kiddo totally gets me.
Pizza toppings
Daddy: what do you want for dinner Baby?
Baby: hock dawgs. (She is only two years old here)
Daddy: say again?
Baby: Hock dawwwgs, yesh please.
Mommee (that's me): or... Do you want pizza like Mommee and Daddy?
Baby: pizzaahh yesh pizzaahh. I wan pizzaahh and baloneyos...
Mommee: ...you want what?
Baby: baloneyOhs.
Daddy: what are "baloneyOhs" Baby?
Baby: (quite disdainfully) peeeeeetza wif bah-lone-eee-Ohs!
...
...
Get it?
Pizza with pepperoni.
She calls it that to this day. Love her!
Tomorrow is just another day right?...
Kind of… It is my first day at IOP (and for those of you not lucky enough to know the lingo, that stands for Intensive Outpatient, as in therapy). So, basically, I was discharged from inpatient at the hospital to my home - Yay real water pressure! Yay no cafeteria food! Yay home with my dog! Boo — holy sh!t what?! I’m on my own?!
Luckily, it was only for four days really… The return trip home, well now that’s a whoooooooole other post, remind me to share that someday. I also wasn’t alone for any period of time at length… My choice. I hate being alone, it’s part of my mania (ooo -more lingo. Mania, I have named mine “Up” as in how I feel, but not quite me, so somewhat of a separate entity, my mania has its own name). In making sure I’m alone as little as possible I can protect myself from The Crash — pop quiz, I bet you can define that… … … … Times up - The Crash - the avalanche ride from being Up to being Low. Got it? Yes? Good.
But I digress. So… Tomorrow. I had my worries, concerns, anxieties about tomorrow. They have lessened a bit- I chatted with some friends, some from “The Inside” (Hahahahah!) and another from The Real World. Yes, these two locations are both physically and psychologically as separate as they can be. I truly didn’t have any difficulty bringing the Insiders into my Real World, but rare is it that the trip goes the other way. This IOP is kind of like that backward integration for me- the Real World Me going Inside, only temporarily. So I am a bit torn. I know this will be good for me, I’m actually excited about learning more about my disease and learning from others that have it too. And still, I’m nervous about the pressure- the need I feel to fix myself…
I suppose the only way to move forward is to just… well… Move.
For my friend Cinnamon... Almost, there...almost! If you can make this you are alllllllllllright.
Seroquel side effects
New to this med- Seroquel XR… I have rotten heartburn, I think. If feels like a pill stuck in my throat… I drink, it doesn’t move. I eat, it doesn’t move. I lay down, it gets worse and feels like the “lump” moved up higher. Is this actually heartburn? I should be lucky, I guess, that I don’t know.
Bliss in a cup- a Greek coffee frappe. <3 Love.
Wishys... For my friend...
Peace in fire form.
My Drishti.
Drishti (yoga) Drishti (IPA: [ dɽʂʈi ]; Sanskrit: दृष्टि; IAST:dṛṣṭi), or focused gaze, is a means for developing concentrated intention. It relates to the fifth limb of yoga (pratyahara) concerning sense withdrawal, as well as the sixth limb dharana relating to concentration.
Theory
The source of dṛṣṭis in yoga is limbs five and six from the eight limbs of yoga. The fifth limb of yoga pratyahara concerns sense withdrawal. The sixth limb of yoga dharana (concentration), includes maintaining dṛṣṭi during yoga practice in order to ensure dhyana meditation will occur.
. From Wikipedia
Om shanti, shanti, shanti.
"Any resemblance to persons living or dead should be plainly apparent to them and those who know them, especially if the author has been kind enough to have provided their real names and, in some cases, their phone numbers. All events described herein actually happened, though on occasion the author has taken certain, very small, liberties with chronology, because that is his right as an American."
The memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers, because of its autobiographical nature, features the above play on the usual disclaimer... If you believe I have used your character without proper recognition, please feel free to sulk about and stew on the idea that either 1) I didn't know your phone number, or 2) I didn't know you well enough to notify you of said use of your character, or 3) that I believe that you are mature enough to get over it... Consider that last one a compliment. Thank you!
Welcome to my sweet upside down world
There is a saying in yoga practice when doing inversion asanas (upside down poses): inversions help you to see your world upside down in practice so you know how to deal better with upside down moments in life.
Let’s just say that I’ve been doing a lot of inversions lately.
Hello, I am the self-titled Bipolar Baker… And welcome to my sweet upside down word.
I was only recently diagnosed, as of May 9th, 2013… Not even a week now. And yet, it feels like I have lived with this disease all my life. I’m already comfortable with its company. My official diagnosis is Bipolar I, rapid cycling, with mixed mania, and Anxiety Disorder. Sounds like fun, right? Actually, it is quite fun…
When I’m in my mania, I am a hoot! I am the social butterfly, the Carrie in the city, the instant best friend you just met. I am super over productive: writing a 1,450 word paper for school in three hours- in APA format, with citations and five references, without an outline; baking 48 cupcakes from scratch, with homemade raspberry soufflé icing, individually wrapped in lace and prepped for the bridal shower that is less than ten hours away which I then co-host with flair (constantly having to remind myself, of course, that I am NOT the center of attention for the next two hours… A difficult feat for me). I am the organizer of clothes into color coordinated rows by type from left to right, separated by specific hangers into three sections- pants, tops, and dresses/skirts, even coordinating my underthings in their drawers by color.
Color rules my world most days. I get caught up in feeling the deep, cellular green of the late spring-leaves inside my head. I watch the wispy feather white clouds drift in slow motion across the infinite Carolina blue sky. I study the amber and coal and hematite hairs on my dog’s coat as he lays beside me, head on my thigh. I see colors as moods, and as auras. It is my gift and my burden as an empath, only adding to the complexity of my mind. In my mania I see starbursts of yellow and honey gold following little children, chasing their worries away… Luckily, the downs don’t stay as long… “The Crash” I have named it… The free fall after the mania. It is quick and steady: a ride down the steep side of the roller coaster, G-forces pulling at my heart, then a quick upturn to baseline, stomach churning, to wait for another incline, steady again climbing up up up. On grey days baking and my yoga pull me up. I have never found baking difficult, which is how I know it is my “out” when I have crashed. It is the one sweet thing I can lose my mind in, both figuratively and literally. My yoga practice I revel in… Morning yoga to invigorate, day yoga to stay motivated, evening yoga to be thoughtful, and night yoga to burn off the stored energy that wasn’t released in the day. Usually the night yoga involves the inversions- head stands, bridge pose, arm stands, wheel pose… Feet high above my heart to remind me: be grounded in the air, let that which is real rise above your wounded heart, and let your heart rise above your head.
Again, this is simply the walkway, the entry to my world. I hope you can join me for a few, or maybe just one spin... Either way, I hope it's a sweet ride.