Tag: dreams

AFSP OUT OF THE DARKNESS WALK 11/4/18 (kind of a long post but great pictures and videos attached)

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This year makes 3 years I’ve participated in the walk. This one meant more.

For one year:

I was sober.

I stopped drinking soft drinks

I stopped self medicating

I found a healthier outlet for my problems

I wasn’t suicidal

I learned how not to be selfish

I learned how much I hurt the people around me when I was self medicating.

Wayne doesn’t have to worry about me being at home by myself.

Wayne doesn’t have to worry about that phone call.

I finally let go and let God.

I learned how to love myself. 🖤

I learned I am worth it.

I’m trying to be the mother my daughter needs me to be.

Cami wants to be with me.

She doesn’t worry as much

I let go of toxic people.

I learned boundaries.

I’m amazed by the support that has always been around me and I hope to help them the way they helped me.

I had an event to raise awareness of suicide.

I raised $667 😮😃

I started a blog bipolaroutcasts.com (self promo)

I have a fairly large Instagram following.

People know what’s caused so much pain in my heart and I’m finally open about the struggle I’ve dealt with the last 5 years.

I’m becoming the advocate for mental health and suicide I wanted to be.

My voice will be heard and we will make a change to the way the world sees us.

🖤Forever a fighter🖤

They give us beads for different meanings and when they told us to hold up our green beads for people who struggle you can hear me crying because I’ve fought so fucking hard to make it here and survived times when I probably should’ve died. The horrible things I did when I was high, manic or in a depression so deep I didn’t know if I wanted a way out that wasn’t death. I was so angry and hated watching people function without worried about triggers, mood swings, psychosis or how much you learn to hate yourself because you feel like you did something horrible to have this. It took 5 years for me to see the other side and that my life wouldn’t always be grayscale. It’s been a long year but I made it.

Bipolar Schizophrenia psychosis vs. Hollywood film industry’s version of “Horror films”

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Let’s start with this none of these “Horror Films” actually scare me but they do mess with my brain. I don’t do blood, guts and gore just because my stomach can’t handle it, but as far as movies like The Conjuring, The Nun movies like that I love watching them not because it scares me but it starts to make me about paranoid. I think a lot of them have good story lines and I enjoy them but they do mess with my head especially with my dreams. There isn’t anything in any of these movies that are scarier then what is already in my head and if filmmakers want some seriously fucked up shit I am willingly to share it with them for the right price. People seem to enjoy these types of fucked up things.

Here is what happens; I watch/listen to the movies and don’t think much of it meanwhile the man finds this as ammunition to use later. He takes the images and distorts them into something that no person who has never experienced these, could ever write about. I struggle everyday with dreams and I know I am making it worse on myself tonight. My dreams are already fucked up. The man started talking to me yesterday and I wonder if he is egging this on right now. He isn’t a good person the man. So let’s see what happens tomorrow.

🖤Day 31 🖤 Weird Quirk of Mine

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First let me say I DID IT!!!! All 31 days it was challenging at times but I did learn something’s about myself in the process.

Ok…. weird quirks of mine. My illness does that count??

~ I bite my lip when I get anxious

– I hear voices and sounds all the time

– I hallucinate almost every night

– I can swallow multiple pills at once

– When my anxiety gets really bad and I start to hear the man I pace back and forth talking to myself

– I can’t take Ativan which is odd

– I am terrified of heights

– If you start to tickle me it turns into an anxiety attack

– I can’t hide in places because of anxiety

– I have crippling anxiety

– I don’t like to use the word hate it is a waste of an emotion

– I can’t stop swearing it is part of my everyday activity

That’s it unless you want me to go through everything with my illness

It’s been real 31 day challenge

🖤

🖤Day 28 🖤 Last time I cried

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The last time I cried…… I try not to cry often mostly because I am an ugly crier and when I say ugly crier I mean it could be a Halloween costume. I don’t cry in front of people because I am weird about crying. It seems like an intimate version of yourself that shouldn’t be publicized with strangers. I don’t know if it is because of everything I’ve dealt with or because I’m just genuinely weird about these things. Please note I will not make you cringe by saying things like, “I don’t cry because it makes you weak, I am too strong to cry, I have no feelings, I’ve dealt with too much in my life to cry….” You get what I mean. I don’t believe any of that shit those are just things you tell yourself to justify your feelings because you are a little bitch who won’t man up and deal with your shit…. yeah that is the pot calling the kettle black but I don’t avoid crying for those reasons. I think it is okay to cry sometimes we need to cry it’s like releasing a valve in our body so it doesn’t overheat and kill you. I don’t want anyone to snap because I’ve snapped before and it wasn’t healthy at all. I’ve tried to learn through all of my years of therapy healthier ways to handle my shit, but I guess I didn’t pay attention because pills became my best friend. I am working on it though, writing to you guys always helps a great deal.

Now the last time I cried, it was in my sleep it is usually in my sleep because I have fucked up dreams that scare the shit out of me almost all the time. I wake up crying and that is always fun to do. The sad part is I can’t always remember why I am crying the good part is no one sees me ugly cry. The last time I actually cried for something other than my fucked up dreams was around my birthday when I was dealing with my mood shit and my husband had stuff to do that day and we were going to celebrate a little and then do something that weekend but I was dealing with mood shit and completely exaggerated the situation. (If you are reading this then I am in no way saying you were right.) I kept crying and I have no idea why probably because I just needed to cry, but I can’t always just cry because I need to I need to have a reason so I can’t always blame it on my illness. My illness isn’t as special as it thinks it is. I struggle with this version of myself a lot. I wish I could make heads or tails of it but I get confused most times. My illness is a bitch.

This is me after crying. I have a picture of me while crying but sometimes you don’t need to see something scary. Why did I take a picture of me after I cried because randomly decide to make myself cringe with stupid things such as this.

🖤 Day 27🖤 What makes me feel better, always

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What makes me feel better?

🖤 Sweatshirts and hoodies- Who doesn’t love a big comfy sweatshirt to snuggle up with.

🖤 Family Guy- When I’ve had a rough day turning on Family Guy will always make me laugh no matter how many times I’ve seen the episodes.

🖤 Music- This sounds so cliche but it does. I have a playlist of songs for each emotion. Sometimes it doesn’t help the mood then sometimes it does just kind of depends on how I am feeling at the moment.

🖤 My car- I feel bad for my steering wheel it has received a lot of shit over the years. Whenever I’m mad I beat the shit out of it or I hug it if I am crying. It is also my swear box because whenever I get mad I let it all out in my car. There have been so many times that my husband has told me to leave because of a mood and I get in my car and fly off usually to the same places, but not before losing my shit in my car.

🖤 My hiding places- No one knows where they are for a reason. I go to them when I am suicidal mostly because there is no cell reception so it is harder to track them. I also go to them when I am not suicidal because again no cell reception so I can chill the fuck out and let the rage wash away.

🖤 Peppermint- I love peppermint and it is good for anxiety also good for night terrors.

🖤 My book- I can live in that moment with Lauren for awhile. When bills are piling up and I don’t know what I am going to do and my world feels like it is falling apart going to her world makes me feel better but I don’t think it is very healthy.

🖤 My husband and daughter- When I’ve had a bad day curling up with them watching a movie or helping cook always make me feel better.

🖤 Writing- I’ve learned that I am better expressing myself writing rather than speaking. I get mad and all my words jumble together and I make no sense, but if I write it down I can make sense of it all. This would be why my husband has so many long texts from me.

🖤 Snapchat- My daughter and I playing on Snapchat always makes me feel better I guess it has something to do with those weird filters and making her laugh. I love when she laughs. It makes my soul smile.

🖤 Bathrooms- It is the damndest thing. I have a paranoid anxiety about public bathrooms but when I am anxious I will lock myself in a bathroom to calm down. I don’t know if it is the safety of the space or the fact that it is pitch dark but it works.

🖤 Water- There is a song called Water that I am obsessed with also staring at a shower head or soaking in the tub in the dark makes me feel better.

🖤 Fans- When my husband gets really pissed at me and tells me to “CALM THE FUCK DOWN” I go lay in the bedroom turn the ceiling fan on fall asleep and then I’m fine.

🖤 Not food- My anxiety keeps me from eating, usually because I get bubble guts or the need to vomit.

Here is a picture of my keys in my car because well…. it is my safe place.

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, If I shall die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

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I’m trying to eat lunch. I really am even though my body disagrees and it feels like I’m forcing it down. I have salmon for lunch and I love salmon but every bite I take makes me feel like I’m going to vomit. I am trying to force the rest of me to believe that I need to eat. It is hard to force myself and maybe I shouldn’t but I know I will feel sick later if I don’t….I mean I will feel sick no matter what but it’s worse when I don’t eat. I want to crawl into bed and go back to sleep and maybe I will sleep for a little while without the dreams coming back. The dreams are almost unbearable and I don’t want to call my doctor because I’m scared of the inpatient conversation. My husband says I sleep like a rock, but it feels like I sleep in 45 minute intervals waking up constantly confused and upset. My moods wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the dreams. I have to call him I know I do. I tried the increase of Seroquel like he told me to do but it isn’t helping. I just want to stop dreaming. It only manifests to my anxiety and makes my anxiety worse and then I don’t sleep. My dreams aren’t useful and problem solving just a nuisance.

I called my doctor about my dreams and they are supposed to call me back but they didn’t. I appreciate my husband for making supper but I can’t eat still. I’m just not up to it. I am scared to go to bed tonight I’m scared of what I am going to see. I’ll try to keep up on my issues as they unfold and what works and doesn’t work. It reminds me of a prayer I was taught as a child.

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, If I shall die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

It is kind of cryptic but right now feels true.

🖤 Day 16 🖤 My dream job

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If you haven’t kept up with anything to this point, my dream job is to be a writer. I wrote a story when I was 4 years old about why people shouldn’t do drugs. (I probably need to go back and read that again.) I wrote a lot of poetry over the years and long winded stories about some dramatic incident I made up in my head or something I was going through I needed to work on. There was always something to keep my interest. When I was 13 my mom bought a Brothers computer (Yeah how many people remember those.) It had no internet because there was none a few applications everything was in black and white, Tetris and a word processor. I had a stack of floppy disk with different color labels and secret word combinations so my mom wouldn’t know what was on them. I also password protected all of them and could still not tell you what the password was. This is where my dream of writing started. I would write a ton of different stories that I never finished, but I had a desk and computer in my room so officially I was a writer. I always wanted one of those lamps with the green glass on top of it like they had in movies for true professionals. I also had a three ring binder full of poems and stories along with an overflowing amount of notebooks.

When I was 13 or 14 I went to summer camp and brought my old worn out maroon five star binder full of cringeworthy teenage issue poems and one night two girls in my bunk got up and started reading them out loud as a joke. I cried. I took my work so seriously and that ripped my heart out. After that I became completely hidden in my work. I never let people read what I was writing for fear of that happening again. (I tell my daughter that girls are horrible people and it doesn’t get much better as they get older.)

So until now I’ve never really shared my writing. I am happy that I found a following and either you are enjoying it or finding amusement in my bad grammar and my odd content. When I was younger I always dreamed of being in Talk Shows going over the complex issues detailed in my book and I will but you will be the first with a signed copy.

🖤

Photography/social media feed back wanted

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I love taking pictures! My memory is fading so I have my pictures to trigger a memory both good and bad. You can see them all on Instagram I feel like my pictures are gaining more popularity then my posts. I am trying to post more. I did 3 posts here today. YAY!! I have so much to talk about. I feel like I am not posting good content. In less than a month I’ve gained quite a following and I love and appreciate everyone of you but I feel like there is more I could be doing to make it better. I’ve put so much pressure on myself to post repeats everyday I even have a list of topics but I’m not living up to the potential and gift I have.

I know my mind is slowly going. We’ve done the test and proven it but I’m trying to push through it and make something out of it to either help improve my memory or a legacy when it goes completely. This is my gateway for my book. I love my book. It is my escape from reality.

This is a short post but I want your opinions. What are you thinking should I revamp this early in the game?

Instagram: Bipolaroutcasts

Facebook: Will it Reach you on time

🖤Day 6 🖤 3 Personality Traits I am proud of (This feels like one of those worksheets your therapist make you do)

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3 personality traits I am proud of… this requires a semi optimistic view of yourself, this is not one of my stronger traits. I’ve spent all day thinking about this and I’ve come up with the following: (I googled this for some inspiration and realized they are just adjectives)

1.) Passionate- This would probably be my #1 choice. I am extremely passionate as you can tell by my post. I believe that we can make a huge difference in the world if we are all open and honest about where we’ve been. I absolutely love all of us weirdos and have determined that the more comfortable we are to tell our stories the bigger difference we can make. I also want to help people who aren’t ready to tell their stories. I want you to know that no matter we our community stands by and supports all of your decisions (the positive ones not anything that would cause harm to yourself or anyone else.) We will change the world!!!

2.) Resourceful- Anyone that knows me will tell you I am one of the most resourceful person they know. I can make anything happen just give me 2 hours. I know ways around bills, rules and sometimes laws. I’ve unfortunately been through some severe circumstances but I don’t regret them. It wouldn’t make me the person I was without it. If you can put gas in 2 trucks, pay a partial light bill that is 4 months late and they are about to turn it off, water bill that is on the cut off list with only $200 in less than an hour. I also believe this has something to do with how poor you are growing up I think being poor you learn from your parents how to survive the struggle. I am thankful that these situations aren’t as common before but I always keep these options in my back pocket.

3.) Extraordinary- We all have this trait it doesn’t matter what you are going through you are an extraordinary person. You walk around with this Black Plague that can engulf you and you do it. No matter how hard it is you try, even when your trying feels unbearable. You do it for yourself, you family, your children and sometimes when we feel we can’t anymore we are still extraordinary because we lived a life that some people couldn’t handle in a day. You are extraordinary and you are a beautiful soul. You got this shit and fuck people who say you can’t do it.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

This is when the shit hits the fan. Anxiety induced dreams

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So I don’t know if I was asleep or awake last night, but all I saw was a sea of people with purple faces until they ripped their faces off and held me down in the water trying to get me to deny Jesus. Then everything went quite and the man beside my bed whispered, “I’m back.”

The next thing I know I’m in a tornado trying to grab on to anything that comes in my path but everything just slips my grip as I’m pelted over and over again, but their are no cuts and bruises just gaping holes across my chest and feet. I tried to catch my breath but each time I did I was drowning in a sea blood until the bitter blackness sweeps me away and my mouth becomes a desert that I can’t escape gasping for water until a waterfall falls on me and I can’t breathe again my hand raised above my head again grasping for anything trying to hold my head above water but being sucked down by a hurricane into a black hole and then the man beside my bed whispered, “Are you having fun yet?”

Finally my eyes opened and I couldn’t breathe my chest pounding too scared to get out of bed because what if this is part of his plan and I was dreaming? What is a dream and a reality becomes a 20 question game in my mind. My lip and cheek will start to bleed soon I’m biting for comfort and hope that I’m in reality and the tornado that has just started won’t come around again and start all over. That today I can concentrate at work with visions of ripped off faces in my head. when I tell people I’m not well they don’t understand what this means. This means that I was okay but now I’m not, this means calling the doctor and praying he doesn’t put me back in but instead adjusts my antipsychotic again. This means hoping that the darkness he has created around me doesn’t convince me to slit my wrist, OD on pills, sadly this is my reality until it passes again.

🖤