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.

Advertisements

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.

Once in awhile you blow your own damn mind

Today I was very productive more so than I’ve been in awhile. I managed to catch up on almost all of my blog post and a good amount of instagram. I started up the Bipolar Chronicles again and slowly but surely they are being released every couple of days. This is more my daily thoughts, moods and going ons. I have managed to hyper focus and get so much work done. I am very proud of myself for sticking to my goals and getting anything accomplished. I am very easily distracted so for me to put the time and energy in to focus is amazing. It takes a lot of work but I am definitely on my way.

Stats:

No workout

75 ounces of water

Mood; 🙂

I’m just going to put an out of order sticker on my forehead and call it a day.

Today has been the day from hell. I want to be with my husband and daughter and I can’t be plus everyone around me is sick and grumpy. I want this day to be over already. I am off tomorrow and when I get home I know there is going to be tension because my daughter has a project for school and any school work at all with her isn’t fun because she gets aggravated and starts to fuck it up on purpose. I just want to be done for the day and crawl back in my bed and go to sleep.

Stats for today:

100 ounces of water

No exercise

Mood is 😐 and 😦

Shoot for the moon even if you miss you will land among the stars.

I needed something uplifting after the day I had. I am so stressed out with everything happening around me. I haven’t had a chance to update everything the way I wanted to. I need a vacation from everything. I am trying to figure out how to manage everything and be there for people emotionally, mentally and physically but it is so hard. I can only be a good support system for so long before I collapse and need you more than you needed me. I am trying to do better drinking more water but it isn’t helping at all. I need guidance over this next year on exactly what I should do. I feel like I am lost completely.

The long awaited final part of Bipolar Outcast booty juiced filled 72 hour involuntary psych hold.

So as I’ve promised here is the conclusion to my 72 hour psych hold.

I lunged forward my clothes soaked I sweat my eyes adjust to the darkness as I look around trying to familiarize with my surroundings, my roommates snores are rumbling through the room and as I mentioned before the room is at 80 degrees. Her snores are almost deafening. I couldn’t sleep much anyway even with the klonopin and other sleep meds all I could think about was my daughter and my husband. My room is a small 6×8 room it was covered in ugly paneling, stained white tiles covering the floor. There are two twin size beds with plastic mattresses and pillows beside them is a small particle board dresser with two deep drawers, a sink and mirror jammed in the corner. We have one plastic window with a taupe roller shade that I am not allowed to open because it sends my roommate into fits. I figured while she was sleeping I could change the thermostat so I wouldn’t die of heat exhaustion (that is a bit of exaggeration.) I get up to go to the bathroom knowing room checks are coming soon and even though I am more relaxed all I want to do is talk to my husband. When the nurse comes in she is a little less of a bitch and tells me that they are turning the phone on before breakfast and she will make sure I get to use it, but I need to go back to bed to sleep so we don’t have another incident like yesterday. That made a world of difference and I was able to sleep.

As soon as they come in to wake us up I dart out of the room and straight to the phone. I think everyone knew about yesterday because no one got in my way. The second I heard my husbands voice I broke down. I gave him my patient number so if he needed to call they would know who he is calling for. I also got to tell my daughter good morning which made my day better. I think the nurses were hoping this would keep me out of trouble…..

After breakfast we went back to group therapy where we did more worksheets on how to handle stress (I still have them) and during break the drama lady got back on the phone. (She had a sheet of paper with numbers listed.) We did get the TV remote and watched part of “Bridge to Terabithia ” (I watch it every year on this day.) after this I slept through the majority of group therapy and after my spectacle they stopped trying to wake me up and let me sleep. I told them that either way I was going to sleep so it’s best to not fight it. We went to an activities class and played basketball then we made bracelets. I saw my fucktard doctor again who after I explained I was sleeping all day upped my fucking klonopin to .5 and had me take them twice a day instead of once day. That is how you stop someone from sleeping all day give them more benzos. This time he talked to me for 10 whole minutes and changed his mind again and deter,i Ed that I was in fact bipolar. He is still a fucktard who said antidepressants would be just as effective as mood stabilizers. So off I go again he upped my Lexapro and Klonopin even though it takes time for antidepressant to get in your system upping them was the right fucking idea. I called him a douchebag amongst other things. I had to fight to see him and that meant the constant threat of booty juice because he was too fucking important to see his patients and he took days off during the week without any referral to someone else while I was fucking stuck in there. I watched people go home everyday two or three people were going home and my anger kept getting worse. I was arguing and being combative with the staff when I wasn’t sleeping because I wanted to fucking go home. In this time no matter how many times I asked no one would/could tell me exactly what I did to get in there. When the candy cart came around the nurse would distribute pills she always checked your cheeks to make sure you weren’t checking them for suicidal reasons or as currency for cigarettes. I finally was taken off suicide watch (which until I was off I didn’t know I was on). We were in activities (by the way the counselor we had was the nicest and the only qualified person there.) turned on some music and told us to put our heads down and listen to the guitar instrumental he started talking about our family and friends the more he talked the more my mind cleared I thought about that day when they left me and I fell apart. For the first time since I’d been there I felt the pain in me I stopped being so angry and was ready to heal some. I also figured out this point how to figure out how to bullshit people enough to get the fuck out of there. I participated in all the group therapy started filling out the worksheets and finally the fucktard psychiatrist came to his senses and freed me from the horrid hellhole they locked me in. I remember seeing my husband shoes when I came out the door and my daughter yell mama. I was wearing green sweatpants a holy orange shirt I needed a shower a brush and food!!!!

My story from this point forward only gets more fucked up but this is how my mental health story began.

Hello booty juice (part 3)

All night they do checks on the patients, every 15 minutes to be exact. It didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing they were going to find you. There is more to that story soon, but now after NO SLEEP they wake us up at 6:30/7:00. We all start to file out and people have made friends and they are all talking to each other and I’m just there. We all go to breakfast (the only plus is the food is good.) and then we are placed in groups. I was placed in the progressive group. This group were for people who had problems but could still function in the everyday world. Then it happened the most horrid retched thing imaginable. We were put in GROUP THERAPY for 8 hours. Yes you read that correctly 8 fucking hours of group therapy. We broke for lunch and dinner we also had small breaks in between but mostly it was GROUP.  The first woman in there who claimed to be a “psychologist” explained to us how alcoholism and drug abuse is hereditary and no matter what we do we will probably suffer form of it. Of course someone who has never experienced anything like this has now become more anxious. We are listening to her go on and on telling her all of her families issues (at some point I wondered if she belonged to with us.)  They would give us small 5 minute breaks and as soon as the break word break came out of their mouth they would swipe their badge and turn the phones on. It looked like a Black Friday sale everyone jumping to get on the phone. There was a middle aged woman who called everyone in her family and we heard her entire life story. (If you’ve ever seen OITNB she is the Hispanic lady crying on the phone. There are things I don’t care if you are a stranger or not you shouldn’t say in front of other people.) After the second break and another part of her life story the “counselor” came in and left the area to turn the phone on open and stepped back out to talk to someone and I ran over and flipped the button on so I could call my husband. I’d probably been on the phone with him for about 1.5 minutes when the “counselor” came back and said, “No one is supposed to touch that button who turned the damn phones on.” I just want to remind everyone at this point that I am sleep deprived, manic, confused and so fucking pissed off I didn’t care. “I did because this bitch wouldn’t shut the fuck up.” The “counselor” stood back her face turned red, her eyes begin to narrow as she pursed her lips. “We will calm you down. That is your last warning.” Her knuckles kept turning whiter and whiter. “I don’t give a fuck.” I said laughing. You could tell that she was frazzled like she had lost control of the group. So we talked some more, she glared at me the whole time I didn’t pay attention. Next comes lunch and after the candy cart came around. For those of you who aren’t familiar the candy cart is the wonderful nurse/pharm tech that brings around the pills. You know the good stuff that makes 8 hours of group therapy bearable. I went up and the nurse snapped, “We can’t give you anything because you haven’t seen your doctor.” She whipped around pushing the cart down the hallway.

I read via bathroom light the night before when I was unable to sleep that by law I had to see my psychiatrist 24 hours after the 10-13 was issued and according to the paperwork the 10-13 was issued at 9:30 am so I am well over my 24 hours and now I am pissed. I slam my fist on the desk and start yelling, “It’s been over 24 hours where the fuck is my doctor?” The counselor rolls her eyes and motions for the door as soon as I walk out there is another person waiting for me and again they trying to calm me down but all I see is red. “Do we need to calm you down?” Her brows crease and her eyes glaring through me and I decide to get cocky. “You keep fucking threatening me with that but you ain’t bout shit.” As the words slip off my tongue here comes a nurse with a needle in her hand. She grabbed my arm and drug me down by the nurses station the needle still in her hand. It was like waving a gun when robbing a bank. I sit with group that has the “loose girl” in it. I am sitting there while they are coloring still grumbling when I see the nurses station door open. I am inclined to mischief and not learning my lesson from the previous time I walk in the nurses station and sit down to use the phone. (I really wanted to talk to my husband to calm myself down and though I feel like I have expressed this it seems they would not listen.) Then it happened…..I got booty juiced.

I wake up a little later in a room that I’ve never seen before. I was able to sleep a little longer so I wasn’t so pissed. The nurse came in and said, “Are you going to follow rules?” I sleepily nodded and was escorted to a list of small glass offices. I sat my legs shaking furiously when a small Middle Eastern man walks in and introduces himself as the psychologist. I asked as nicely as I could for the psychiatrist and see said, “You have to see me first.” I will save you from the ignorant angry words I said. Finally this smug, douchebag walks in he looks like he is 20 years old and of course he is my psychiatrist who talks to me for like 5 seconds determines they I may not be bipolar but severely depressed. ( There is no way in such a short amount of time he could diagnose me.) He prescribes me Lexapro, Klonopin, and one other medicine to help me sleep. Now the candy cart will be my best friend and I am sent back to my group. I eat dinner finish up and head back to the common area to get ready for bed. I make it back to the room sit on the toilet when someone swings open the shower curtain. ( There were no doors.) “Leave me the fuck alone. I am trying to take a shit in peace dammit.” She gives me a smug look, “We are doing a count do we need to calm you down again.” “Bite me bitch.” I say getting up to wipe. “Are you going to help me out?” She frowns and exits the room. I take a moment and hope in the shower and here she comes again. ” There is no way it’s been 15 fucking minutes already. Leave me the fuck alone.” She stands there staring at me. ” Unless you plan on helping me you need to fucking leave.” She starts to giggle and exits the room. This is my first of a hellish 72 hours.

Property of the state… (part two of my story.)

They gave me my papers and told me I had to be there by 7:30. I went to SummitRidge in Lawrenceville, Ga, don’t go to Summit for ANY REASON!!! My husband and daughter walked me in as far as they could go, I handed my papers in and said goodbyes. The big wooden doors beeped as they swiped their badges and I was quickly ushered in. My world was crushed and I was still so confused and hurt by what was going on. They brought me into a room with 4 or 5 other people and I sat with my bag and my stuff shaking and crying because no one would tell me what was going on. I remember I love Lucy in captions in the waiting area. About 9:30 or so it was finally my turn. This small little bald white man who was extremely grumpy and unfriendly started asking me about my insurance and financial questions and I was a bitch and told him all I wanted to do was go home and he said, “You will but not for 72 hours.” He smirked and I called him a bastard. “If you can’t control yourself we will take care of it for you.” He meant booty juiced. I’ve become very familiar with booty juice. For those of you who don’t know, booty juice is when they take a shot of thioridazine or haldol and if the nurse is a bitch it is a bit of both and jam it in your ass to calm you down. So now it is after 10:30 when he finishes and I am ushered through more beeping wooden doors to a larger waiting room. This is when I met the on staff doctor. While I waited for my turn holding my stuff and more papers, a few people “got loose.” as the nurses called it. There was a woman there I don’t remember her name but she walked around and had touch everything and kept moaning something I couldn’t understand. I don’t think she could actually talk to you and if you went near her she would freak out and go the other way. In the process of her “getting loose.” her shorts dropped down and she was walking shorts around her ankles and the nurses were laughing. We are now after 11 pm and I am tired, pissed off, and still confused none of it felt real. When I walked in to the room to see him (there was no nurse or any woman in the room btw.) The nurses took my stuff and started rumbling through it. When I walked into the room the dr. who was an asshole as well asked me my name and birth date then says “squat and cough.” I’ve seen this on movies but it is real.  So I did what he said, even though I was extremely uncomfortable and expressed this more than once. He said pull out from under your bra to make sure there is nothing hidden. I am still extremely uncomfortable as he takes my temperature and blood pressure asked about tuberculosis (that is a common problem)  then sends me back out with no more conversation. Now it is close to midnight and I finally was placed in “a bed” They give you exactly 1 sheet, 1, pillow, 1 blanket a wash cloth and a towel. They also give you a small piece of soap, 1 bottle of shampoo and conditioner then 1 toothbrush and a small thing of toothpaste. You could not get another towel or washcloth until you turned in the previous pairs. I was handed all of this with my bag that was all out of whack and sent me to my room. It was separated into three separate wings, the men, the women, and then the teens. We had one common area to share. My roommate was already sleeping (she kept the room at 80 degrees and there was no negotiating with her. She had been there for almost 3 weeks.) So I wrapped my blanket around me and went out to the common area and sat on the couch crying. The nurse who was French…I think was very harsh and told me to go to bed or they would make sure my doctor knew and I would stay longer. I didn’t even know who my doctor was no one told me. I was sent back to fill “a bed” and as I am walking she reminds me that I am property of the state so now I try and sleep but it starts to get better…….

to be continued