You ever have that feeling that something big is supposed to happen?
So you take a big deep breath and you just wait?
And then nothing happens? Or at least you think nothing happens?
Yeah, that was me for a while. Ya see, last year around December; Mr. Man, the kids and I were driving home from my parents house when I got particularly....blarg-y. Its a scientific term, I swear. Anyways, I was looking out the window at the beauty of winter and I said to the mistah: "Next year is gonna be a big year. Something huge is gonna happen to us."
Up until literally like last week? I've been waiting. Then it hit me. A lot of huge things happened in 2012. I was diagnosed with bipolar 2 disorder (paranoia sucks yo). I have moved into my first adult home (a townhome). My daughter and I turned a year (postpartum depression survivor y'all). I was diagnosed with OCD (know me personally, this is not much of a shock). Recently, I had a hysterectomy.
Those are some pretty huge things happening.
So I guess...I was right.
Don't get much solace in knowing those facts.
I would much rather have something else than bipolar 2. I would love that I could trust myself to have a cup of Starbucks coffee again. I would love that I could keep my nails long. I would love to be able to sit at a computer and not write because I am having a panic attack.
I would just love to hear the sounds of my kids playing and smile; instead of wanting to scream my head off. I want to be normal.
Sorry y'all. Just been having one huge anxiety attack after another lately. Paranoia high. I think I've been stuck in this house too long.
I hate this. But don't worry. I'm fighting. Will be my ninja self soon.
I dont know where this post is going. I just want to write. I like writing...empties my thoughts of the crazy. Ya know, of the few people that know of my bipolar - when they find out? They are in shock. They are like: Are you sure you have bipolar?
At first it was irritating, but as my husband ever so irritatingly (shhh, dont tell him I said he was right) reminds me - Its a testament to my strength.
I'm not so sure.
Sure I dont lash out and scream when every inch of me is telling me to. So okay; I dont punch walls and cry and fall into a ball for the simple reason that Monkey and Diva need me working and deserve oh so much more.
Maybe I get up and shower and take the kids out when all I wanna do is curl up into myself and push the world away.
Does that make me strong?
I still look at a knife (or really anything sharp) in a way that God intended no human to look at it. I pray constantly for God to silence my crazy thoughts (yes, actual prayer). I keep short nails just so you know, cause I dont trust myself. I run screaming from my kids when they are being too much....like kids.
Is that strength?
Or is that surviving?