I’m proud of her

My husband is proud of me but not in the way others might think. Of course he brags to people about my blog and Instagram accounts but he is proud of me. He is proud of how strong I am when I need to be, how weak I can be and the ability to show when I’m vulnerable. He is proud after years of hiding my emotions I tell him now when I’m overwhelmed when my anxiety is so bad I can’t actually communicate properly. He is proud of me because I communicate with him and even the tiniest detail can make a huge difference. He is proud of me for being open about my illness and sharing even the hardest of stories. He is proud to see the person I’m becoming and being a part of this amazing person he’s always known was in there but waited to come out. He understands when I don’t want to eat or shower but encourages me anyway with simple things that will make me happy about it. When I hear him say he is proud of me I get tears in my eyes because I remember the old days. He is proud of me and while he can’t combat things like my wife ran a half marathon with my wife took a shower for the first time in days. I know he is proud of me.

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Home screen

Someone asked me one day about my home screen and so this is my home screen. There are pictures of my husband and I because he is awesome there were pictures with my daughter but because I am posting it I changed it to myself and my husband.

This is almost like showing you my diary, it is kind of strange. I just want you to know I DO NOT LIKE NOTIFICATIONS ON APPS. If you hand me your phone that has like 34243242 notifications I will hand it back to you, just take 5 minutes and clean it up PEOPLE.

First row:

  • Text messages- I don’t get many of those anymore because I use messenger for almost everyone.
  • Photos- Here is the deal, if I hand you the phone to show you a picture. DO NOT SWIPE LEFT OR RIGHT. There are and will be photos you do not want to see. I google weird shit and save pictures that will make you question many things.
  • Camera- One of the most used apps on my phone. I take picture of everything (which is why you shouldn’t swipe)
  • Calculator- This is my sad app. I use this app when I get paid to calculate how poor I am.

Second Row:

  • Photo & Video: These are all photo editing, collage, filtering apps. My personal pictures especially of my daughter are here. I love these apps. If you want more info about any of those apps just let me know.
  • Calendar- The only purpose of this being on phone is so I could see the date because I can never remember what day it is and check it regularly because I forget.
  • Google- Google is google and it is another one of the most used apps on my phone.
  • Utilities- It has my clock which is my alarm clock, settings just for WiFi, Safari when Google wants to be stupid.

Third Row:

  • WordPress- Well this obvious my blog lives here and as much as notification numbers can irritate me I love looking at the number of likes I have.
  • Instagram- This is the same. These two are my lifeline to the career I’ve always wanted so those notifications are never bad notifications.
  • Hashtag Pro- This is my best friend I always use it before I post on instagram because it is so much easier to find the hashtags and make a list before posting. It is so simple I can do it. Just type them in copy and paste and you are done.
  • Follow Track- Keeping track of your stats on WordPress is much easier than keeping track of your stats on Instagram and also breaking down those stats and insight to help you grow equally as complicated. This as my daughter calls it is an old persons way of understanding social media.

Fourth Row:

  • Facebook- This is mostly my private account everything from my blog or instagram automatically posts on the Bipolaroutcasts page.
  • Messenger- The only real way I communicate with people unless it is a text message. I despise calling people. I ignore almost every call and have my phone blocked to decline numbers that aren’t in my contact list.
  • Timehop- This is my weird superstitious app that I have. So I love looking back at my facebook and instagram photos but I have to check it everyday and never let it lapse. I am really weird about it. It is a cool app and it is free so you should download it,
  • Pinterest- I got the app back when you had to send you information in and be approved to join. That tells you how long I’ve had it or just how old I am. This is where I get ideas for decorating, workouts, food preps, things to do with my daughter, fun quotes and I do none of the items listed ever. It is a fun world of make believe.

Fifth Row:

  • YouTube- When I am looking for a way to distract myself (not that I need any help) I am a YouTube junkie.
  • SnapChat- I never actually post anything on my SnapChat I just use it for filters and to make silly videos I save and send to my friends.
  • Tumblr- Still learning how to use it though I do have an account linked to my Instagram and blog.
  • Google + – I just realized I needed to log in again. It just post from my blog on there. I don’t use it like I need too.

Sixth Row:

  • Holy Bible- Yes even with the things I’ve been through and my filthy mouth I am a Christian. We take many different forms and obviously I am one of them. I do believe in God but also believe in other peoples right to believe what they like. I just want to add this: I will never disrespect you or your beliefs but you do not disrespect mine. I won’t judge you so please don’t judge me.
  • Notes- There are so many blog ideas in those notes if I went through them also there are conversations my husband and I share when we are in church or someone else where we can’t really talk
  • My water- This is my attempt to keep up with and hold me accountable to not drinking enough water everyday. It notifies me all the time by vibrating and asking have you had water today. Which I ignore and continue on with my business.
  • Scrivener- Is a kind of expensive app I use to keep track of and work on my book. It is a great app but it is $20 and I need to send more book for editing.

My bottom bitch:

  • Phone- If I actual need to call someone
  • Music- All of my music lives here. I will delete other apps to keep my music if I have to.
  • Bills and what little money I have is tracked here
  • Mail- I have an email Bipolaroutcasts@gmail.com if you ever want to send me an email.

So this concludes the complete waste of 20 minutes that could’ve been dedicated to a good post that I wasted.

Weight loss journey start date 1/7/2019

Here we go…….

The last time I got really serious about weight loss I took weight loss pills like they were candy, it made me extremely manic and a lot of bad decisions. I got hooked on those and laxatives, it was just horrible and in the unhealthy decisions of mine I lost over 45 pounds in a little under 3 months that isn’t necessarily healthy especially the way I chose to do it. I am giving it a try again except this time without the use of laxatives and diet pills. I’ve made my list of exercises to go by a good time to do them and working on my cardio. I have pictures I took this morning but I am not comfortable sharing those yet. My Snapchat filters can hide a lot and also that you will never see a picture of me below my neck. When I lose some weight and notice a change I will definitely post a picture. So today is day 1 and I am not super excited but I have to change my habits for my health.

I will try to update daily in my gratitude post about my weight loss. I am using those as a daily journal though some of it is limited. I am keeping track of my moods too.

Bipolar Chronicles- Death

The first time I dealt with death is when my Granddaddy died when I was 6. We found out about his death on the way home from a family vacation from up north. My mom got in the back seat and told my sister and I so we were prepared when we got home. I never got to say good-bye the reason he died was because of a doctor error so it was unexpected (as most deaths are.) I didn’t cry and I wouldn’t look at pictures of him for at least a year. I never went to his funeral and I don’t regret it. My parents got a book about death to help me understand but I didn’t so they got me a dog and his name was Buddy. I loved Buddy so much but then they told me he ran away. (When I got older I found out he was hit by a car and died. My dad buried him on a dirt road somewhere.) I would come home from school and ask about him everyday and nothing. When I cried about from what I was told they think that is when I finally cried for my granddads death. (We don’t tell our daughter that animals ran away we just say they died.) I love you Grandaddy.

Who knew what would happen 2 years later. It was February of 1993 and we are all sleeping when my mom gets a call/knock at the door (I can’t remember which) letting her know my dad was in an accident at work and was at the hospital. He was there all through March. I know my mom tried her best to take care of us and stay with daddy and it wasn’t easy for her. Athens is 45 minutes to an hour away and she was constantly going back and forth. My granny and my grandma helped take care of us while my mom was in Athens with my daddy. I never understood how she did that or why she didn’t just stay home with us until my grandma got sick. On March 25, 1993 my daddy was supposed to come home from the hospital. My mom had one of my friends parents pick us up and they were watching White Men Can’t Jump (I can’t watch that movie to this day.) and she came to drop us off at home. I remember how excited I was when I got out of the car. I ran up the ramp they made on the porch for daddy until he could walk good again and the bed was empty. The hospital bed was empty and even though I knew already my mom told us. He died in surgery due to an air pocket/blood clot I don’t remember which one now. My mom sued the hospital and the doctors which I never understood because no matter what happened it would still never bring him back. I remember when everyone came over to our house bringing food and giving condolences and love to our family. I didn’t go to his funeral either. I thought by not going to their funerals it wouldn’t make it real. I went to a birthday party instead. I love you daddy.

When I was 12 or 13 my nana (my mom’s grandmother) died. She was an alcoholic and not really involved in our lives very much until she moved in next door. We would go over to her house but it was always stuffy and hot, she never really spent much time with us. I don’t have much to say about her because I don’t remember much. When she did die I remember someone telling me they were sorry for her death and I said, “Why you didn’t kill her?” And ” I didn’t know her well anyway.” To think at 12/13 years old I was already so jaded by death that I completely made myself numb. There is a funny kind of morbid joke about my Nana’s death. My grandma brought her back to Canada to spread her ashes and when she got to the border they asked if there was anything she would like to declare and she said, “My mother is in the trunk.” It still makes me laugh.

When I was 15 (yes this keeps going.) my Nanny died. ( my dads grandmother.) I am just numb to everything at this point, it is almost to the point where I don’t even care I was happy to see family we hadn’t seen in awhile. My Nanny was a sweet lady one thing you could always guarantee on a hot July day in Georgia the weather outside was cooler than the weather inside her house. She had cancer on her nose, tongue and somewhere else. I always liked visiting my Nanny she was feisty before she broke her ankle. She drove herself everywhere in her big purple car even in her 70’s. She was always going but then she broke her ankle at church and her age caught up with her. She had the coolest garage and back yard. I loved playing out there with my cousins. I still miss her sometimes. I try to find pictures to show my daughter of her. My sister was closer to her than any of the other great grandchildren.

When I was 17 my granny died (Dad’s mother) She too was an alcoholic, but I don’t resent her for it anymore. I understand now how easy addiction is and how you would rather numb the thing that is hurting you instead of dealing with it. When she was really sick in the hospital I was at summer camp and I remember calling home and no one answering and then calling my moms work and being told she wasn’t there and I knew something was wrong. We came back from summer camp early and I got to see her one time again before she died. Her funeral was the first one I ever went to. I saw her in the casket and then remember why I didn’t want to go to funerals. I was never completely sad about her death because she did drink herself to it. Whenever I hear the song “Whiskey Lullaby” I think of her. She was a good person other than her drinking and I know that more so as an adult. It is sad how it takes all of that to realize the truth about people in your family. I knew that for her I was hard to look at because I look liked my daddy (and acted like him sometimes). I always said I was the forgotten grandchild. (This is when we cringe.) My sister was the oldest grandchild, my cousin who is 3 mere months younger than me was the first grandson and my youngest cousin was the baby and I was just in the middle somewhere. My husband came to her funeral wearing a suit he borrowed from his uncle. I remember my sister had these amazing things to say about her and while they were true that wasn’t how I remembered her, she was an alcoholic who was embarrassing to go out with in public, always had a screwdriver in a Gatorade bottle, almost completely burned cigarettes because she was drunk, falling in the fire, a nuisance and then a bit of hatred because I never understood why we weren’t enough to keep her from drinking. I wonder if she knew how much I disliked her at the time how ashamed of her I was. I feel horrible about it now. I know she can hear me when I tell her I am sorry for resenting her so much and I knew why she drank so much and I wish I understood more when you were alive to help you. I love you Granny.

Now lets fast forward to 2017 and I am 33 years old. We got a bit of a break in the middle of death when my grandma was sick. She’d been sick for awhile but she was a tough woman and survived a stroke, heart bypass, drs that sucked she was a fighter, but I remember when my mom called me crying saying they had to intubate her and I called my sister and rushed up to the hospital. This is when I learned how hard it was for my mom when my dad was sick. I called out of work just went on leave and stayed with mama the most I could. I took my meds late came home randomly to shower and see my daughter and my husband but mostly I stayed at the hospital with my mom. I wanted her to go home and do things she needed to do knowing someone was sitting with her. My aunt and uncle from New Hampshire came down and while that was a complete cluster fuck they sent grandma home. I stayed with her and mama to help as much as I could. It wasn’t just because she was my grandmother it was also to help my mom deal with this. She’d taken care of my grandma for many many years by herself. I was there when she took her last breath and then helped my mom and aunt clean her up with the nurse before the funeral home got there. I saw way more than I needed to and that fucked my brain up. I tried to help do everything I could so it was all on one person. I even had a Priest come out and do her last rights before she died. They weren’t practicing Catholics but I felt this would ease everything and I do believe in God so I felt it put everyone at ease. We had her service at the local community center and once the dust settled I couldn’t go back in her house. I just couldn’t and I think it is hard to this day for people to understand. I watched her die in her living room and helped take care of her after she was dead in the room. It really fucked my head up and now 2 years later it still fucks with my head. My daughter has pictures and things of hers that I hide because I can’t deal with it. My daughter knows where to find them and not to show them to me. We still talk to my aunt and uncle in New Hampshire and I am glad my daughter had a chance to meet them, but the whole ordeal is something that is still processing and until I am ready I really don’t want to talk about it too much.

This is the conclusion my brain doesn’t process death well. I have random moments when I bring someone back up and talk about a memory with them, but my husband knows not to push it with me and to let me share when I am comfortable. I tell my daughter stories sometimes and she loves them and one day I hope I will be comfortable enough to share more of them. This almost felt like therapy but again I probably need a therapist.

I am proud of many things in my life but nothing beats being a mother.

Today I was off of work. It is the first Saturday I’ve had off in a long time so I slept in. It felt so good to look at the clock roll back over and continue sleeping until my daughter came in the room and woke me up. She put her face near mine her blue eyes shining, “Mama can we watch The Simpsons?” she asked smiling her freckle face still next to mine. “Of course we can.” I smiled back at her. Her face got really serious for a second and she said, “Can we have popcorn and ice cream?” It was 8:30 in the morning and I said, “Of course.” We laid in the bed swapping bags of popcorn for a container of BlueBell mint chocolate chip ice cream. Her face was beaming with excitement and even though I ended up with a horrible stomach ache she had a blast which is the only thing that matters. We don’t get to spend much time together like this because of my work schedule so I will take these moments when I can get them because before I know it she will be 16 and off with her friends.

My husband got off work late but we had such an incredible evening better than any we’ve had in awhile. I felt relaxed and an actual part of the family and my sadness went away for a little while.

New bad habit- Never hard for me to find another one.

I’ve discovered a new bad habit (I could make a career out of this.) I learned that if I fight off the urge the sleep 30 minutes after my meds kick in and can stay awake until midnight or later and I’m not tired. This is not a habit I need to use or has any purpose but reckless behavior which I’m prone to anyway. I did the right thing and told my husband so he will take my phone away.

Me: Thank you for helping me before I cause damage.

Also me: Fuck You im an adult not a child don’t baby me.

2019 Projects

Epitome Press

New Year, new projects!

A whole new year spreads out before us like a main thoroughfare with numerous branches and side-paths to explore and we at Epitome Press expect to bring you some much awaited projects throughout the year!

*The Illustrated Full Color Edition of Adaptation By CL Fors

*Reunion The third book in the Primogenitor Series By CL Fors

*Our First Picture Book titled Orion by CL Fors

*Dragon Queen By Jason P. Crawford

*Book 2 of the Evolved Series by Archer Miller

What can you as readers and fellow authors and publishers do to support Epitome Press in 2019? Join our Street teams! 

Read, review, and spread the word about our books and their talented authors. Its going to be a good year at Epitome Press!

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There are just days I can’t participate in life.

Today is one of those days. It is pouring down rain here and I can’t see well while I am driving and it makes me nervous I am trying to catch the dog because he is loose and I am scared he will get runover I am late for work, I forgot my umbrella then it happens…. I get a call from Georgia Power saying my prepaid account is in the negative and unless I cover the balance they are going to shut my lights off. I panicked and tried to make a payment but the prepaid card I keep for back up won’t work and I can’t get on their site or app to move money over and I don’t know what to do so I call my husband who again is a saint and saved the day with his debit card. I just to crawl under and a rock right now. I get to see my hubby and daughter for dinner so at least there is that.

Bipolar Chronicles- Mania

Mania or manic defined – A manic episode is not a disorder in and of itself, but rather is diagnosed as a part of a condition called bipolar disorder. A manic episode is a mood state characterized by period of at least one week where an elevated, expansive, or unusually irritable mood exists.

Mania/Manic -For some with a grandiose, elated mood, a manic episode is a pleasurable experience. They feel very good about themselves and engage in pleasurable behavior, like spending money or having sex. … For some though, and sometimes within the same manic episode, a person feels extremely irritable with all those around them

Why did you get a vocabulary/psychology lesson? If you aren’t familiar with mania this probably won’t make much sense and if you want to learn more about it for yourself or someone else you must first understand the root from which it exists.

My mania is like a house fire wrapped in a tornado stuck in a hurricane. I am bipolar type 1 which means I am more prone to manic episodes because when I’m holy shit I am up and in my mind I am accomplishing all of these amazing things but in reality I am doing nothing but tearing apart everything around me. I black out when I am manic about 99.73738% of the time and for anyone who thinks this shit is fascinating you obviously never dealt with it before. My blackouts aren’t like oh you passed out and went to sleep, nope they involve breaking any and everything in my path, screaming, swearing, punching doors and walls, trying to stab my husband, begging for and then tearing the house apart to find my medication because when I’m manic I want to be high so I want that Xanax (those damn blue pills.) I am also convinced that Xanax is the cure for everything. My manic looks like an episode of cops (especially if I don’t have my teeth in.) all we need is a double wide in a trailer park. (I grew up in a double wide btw and I also lived in a trailer park until I was 5 (I think I am probably wrong.) also trailer parks aren’t what you think the one we lived in was nice. We always had a lot of kids to play with too. So no shame there.) Mania is scary and they’ve recorded me before because I black out and don’t remember things and every time I want to watch it I want to vomit. It makes me physically sick to see all the damage I cause. There really isn’t much you can do once it happens you are just stuck in that spot until it passes and it doesn’t always last days or week. We have proven this theory on more than one occasion. We call those episodes which rapid cycling. Rapid cycling is a pattern of frequent, distinct episodes in bipolar disorder. In rapid cycling, a person with the disorder experiences four or more episodes of mania or depression in one year. So here is a new term for you. I rapid cycle a lot the longest manic episode I ever had lasted 3 months in you guessed it 2015. I keep telling you that was a shitty year. Most of my rapid cycles in with me lock in the bedroom with the lights off and ceiling fan on you. They wear me out quickly. There is a lot of adrenaline and emotions but when I sleep and wake up I feel better and usually apologize for the damage I’ve done even though some of it is permanent and their are too many scars to fix it. I am hoping to avoid rapid cycles for awhile but if not there will definitely be a post about it.