Holiday Blues.

I'm not sure if it is too much sugar, not enough veggies, lack of exercises and sun or just me (OK I know better it is linked to all of that).
But I feel a bit low. Sometimes I feel "depressed" at the prospect of being "depressed" and that is just stupid.
I still DISLIKE taking medication. Sometimes I feel a bit numb and I often wonder do I really honestly need this? And WHY?
I think I can fix it on my own... even still and probably more and more as I am "normalized." My smart little brain knows that there is really no such thing as "normal" so why am I medicating.
I'll be honest, I greatly dislike the depression and I think I am probably more willing to continue on medication to keep those nasty feelings away. Every now and again I get a little wave of it, and I can tell you that it is most certainly physical. I've waken with that dark, anxious, nastiness and just thinking about it makes me want to cry. I hate to say it and I know that life is not fair and also that I've got much that I am so blessed with (my list would be too long to publish) but my mind still is thinking it at the moment... it's not fair. I said it... I know that one really never knows but it is easy to know that some really do not know those demons of death and darkness.
blah blah, this my whining for the day.
But sometimes I feel sad at the prospects before me and some of my beloved family members (like my very intense five year old son who has already made references to death as an escape, and no, he has not heard it from us. He will be an entry focus another time). What will happen to me in the insanity of the world and my own mind? Must I be medicated? I just want to be free. But I am sure that is the desire of most people in this world, just for different reasons and trails.
I guess that is where some of the longing for death comes from. Though I don't feel it now, my logical brain recognizes it. It also recognize that though we have all sorts of religions and various beliefs of the after life we really don't know what awaits us and "freedom" in death could be nothing more then an illusion.

I feel better writing.
Thanks to anyone who cares to listen. Thanks even more to anyone that feels what I am saying.
I quite liked my blog background today... Maybe it will stay awhile after all.

The other side of the glass

I remembered that I really don't like pink that much. I liked the design but it was just too pink and hurt my eyes invoking a tiny bit of nausea whenever I'd return to my blog. So I had to change my blog background.

Probably if I was really cool I'd create my own thing, but I'm not. So I pick from what is already available and that works just fine for me. There is always something that goes well with "Am I crazy" anyway.

So though I don't love the one I picked and it does not seem to be super reader friendly I picked it anyway because it reminded me of a time (not so long ago) when I felt very detached from life. I had explained it to my doctor as feeling like I was watching life through a window or from the other side of the glass.

I'll probably change it again soon.

the realities of life

On another note. I miss my brother. The suicide aspect is a bigger struggle for me now then the first year. It may be because my mind and chemistry is straightened out enough that I am no longer relating so well.
I feel angry about it. It is helpful to know that is a normal and expected stage of grieving... considering my delayed development I may be angry at the forces that be for awhile.
Mostly I am sad, extremely sad about it.
I miss him and I hate knowing that he is not coming back. My heart aches because of how he died and that it was at his own hand.
I am having to face that it was not just a bad dream. I went through an extended period where I must have been half awake and half asleep because it really did seem like just a bad dream. I am pretty sure in my awake life; if it was just a bad dream then my asleep life would confirm as I dreamed about this bad dream that really wasn't so... I know, it's confusing.

But reality sinks further and further in. And my eyes well with tears often as I realize this new reality. I am so sad that I do not get to see him for the rest of my life. I am sad that even the dreams of him have become few and far between. They may just be dreams but it is always nice to see him. I was allowed a dream of him the other night... I woke myself up I was so excited to see him and hug him. I was sobbing as I woke and lost that moment.

I don't want to forget my brother...
I don't want him to get farther and farther away.

"I like munnee"

I like to write.
I find it to be a good outlet.
Sometimes I write big ol' long e-mails. Sometimes they are answered and sometimes not. I am ok with either (usually) because I like to write anyway.

Sometimes I write random notes here and there.
Sometimes I write in journals
and sometimes on the computer like it's a journal.
I jot down ideas and epiphanies in random places to better hold on to them.

I like to read.
I sometimes like to read the things that I wrote.
I can see in the things that I wrote how I was feeling and who I was at the time of my writing.
I like to read the level me writings just fine. Sometimes they are interesting and sometimes dumb but they are easy and sometimes fun to read.
Sometimes my writings are very down and depressing. Sometimes they are angry or dark. I don't mind reading those. It often helps me feel good about where I am and the progress I have made. I can enjoy and appreciate life more knowing that I am not down like that.
Then there are the overly excited happy or anxious writings... The up writings (a bit of a manic undertone... or would it be overtone?)
I can't even make myself read those.
They are incredibly embarrassing... Though I find it hard to destroy or dispose of writings or pictures (it just feels wrong) I do occasionally throw those out in a thousand tiny pieces or even burn them.
...
And yet I felt so hyper, happy, obsessed, excited, spiritual and/or alive when I would have written such things.
...
That is all I have to say about that.
Except that sometimes I am an idiot and I hope that people can be patient. Maybe even understanding.

huh? (is it God versus mania)

So I don't write so much lately. That would be due to the fact that I am now officially pretty darn boring. My smiles are week and my eyes hardly glow when I want to radiate that smile that helps people realize they are some one special. My angry reactions are mild and easy to recover from. And that intensity that people can't help but see written all over my face is seldom there and only a blush of a transcript when it is there. I hardly have any good stories to tell or much to talk about at all other then the weather, my jobs and the kids.
... so I am boring I guess, although very busy.

Now I hope that I don't sound to disappointed because the reality is that I am pretty darn OK with it. I've said it before and I will say it again, It is a fair trade off.

I feel rather stable and sane. I might even be kind of normal.

But still at times it is a struggle to figure out what is what.
And today I am really only writing for a hurting friend from a forum (I still think everyone should be friends, at least in some form).

The forum subject mentioned is titled "Is it God... or is it Mania"

I recently googled bipolar and religion (though I do not claim bipolar, my Dr. is treating me for that but he has yet to officially "diagnose" me with anything... Which is probably why I like him so well. I hate diagnoses and have done much to avoid such things. Things are going well so really, truly there is no need.)
Back to my point. I googled the afformentioned because my most recent struggles have been with religion.
I care not to mention my religious affiliations, but I am seriously at a loss, once again trying to "figure" that whole thing out... again.
I am not so sure what I believe or what I should believe. God is no longer speaking to me and when He was I was going crazy (literally). I don't feel those spiritual highs and eternal truth of understandings but I can't entirely discredit the "light and knowledge" I was inspired with. I find that when I really start trying to "understand" it all (especially in regards to doctrines of religion) I start feeling pretty crappy about a lot of things and there is so much confusion that it almost always turns to frustration. It is not my lack of intelligence that causes this. I do in fact understand that one plus one equals two. Rather it is likely due to one plus one not always equaling two in some religious aspects and literature's (and that is not just in my current religion) as well as the idea that that is all now due to a lack of faith.
SO when God is speaking I am crazy and when he is not I am not good enough or not doing/being good enough as well as lacking in faith.

I dare not let my thoughts delve to deeply. I'd hate to undermine the current balance of medication and chemistry that I am so happy with. The balance that allows me the liberty of restricting my thoughts. Though depth has attracted me some attention, it is at a price and I am just not willing to pay that at this time in my life. Sometimes I wonder if that is "right." According to much of what I have been taught it is not and there in lies the perpetuation of the problem.

In summary. I have no idea who God really is and sometimes I am not sure if I want to know. However, I see absolutely no point in NOT believing in God and that can be explained if you wish but not now. I believe strongly and solidly in being good and having high standards and values. I see the importance of those very traditional core "family values" and I in no way wish to deviate from those. I would also like to see more of it in the world and I am quite confident if people would stop letting go of those and get back to some solid (old fashioned) values then we would have a much happier world. For that I am confident that religion is a good thing. But where do I draw the line and how do I know what the real answer to my prayers are?


What has been me and what has been God?
Well now, this turned into some rather guarded confessions of my heart.
Good night Big Big World of the Web.

This is a response that I gave on a forum I found online awhile ago. I did not publish then because I do not like to label myself as bipolar especially since, as I have stated before, I have gone to great lengths to NOT be "diagnosed" (even if it is just that the Dr. I see knows that I don't want it so he won't outright say it)
But anyway here it is:

"I just googled bipolar and religion because I am going through very similar to what you are (or were) going through. I wanted to know if that was normal.
It is nice to hear that I am not alone. I am glad you posted.
It gets hard when some serious instability has some religious/spiritual roots. Stabilized on medication I no longer have the spiritual highs and divine inspirations/understandings that I once did, sometimes I miss it, but I also do not drop into the depths of Hell either. So I also tend to relate it all to mania. It is hard for me to know how much religion has played a role in that, especially being born and raised in a very strict religion that has extremely high expectations of it's members (not that that is "bad" it just has been a struggle for me personally in dealing with a disorder that I don't want to accept anyway).
It is hard to know what God wants of me.

I have also found some comfort in Buddhism, coming across it before medication this last time, but I to can still see links to that and some manic issues.

I am having some serious aversion and I am actively involved in my religion. Sometimes I find myself thinking "they are all a bunch of crazies" and yet I can't deny the good that being raised with high moral standards has been, which I know have helped me and saved me from a lot of pain (especially being mental the way that I am).
Anyway, I guess my point is that I appreciate your question and your own concerns. I also appreciate the comments that people shared, especially manic faith.

So I relate to your aversion, only since I have stayed actively involved in my church I am just finding it harder and harder to keep going. I just want to break away for awhile and try to come to terms with what I feel and not with all things that are swimming in my head of what others feel and believe and their convictions and fears... and yet my whole life I have been taught how dangerous that is so I am wracked with turmoil. But at least with the help of medication it is tolerable and I likely will not go "crazy" thinking about. I guess I just need to decide what is right for me right now and be OK with that. Who knows what the future holds.
I also agree it is not "all bad" but rather there is a lot of good maybe it is just hard to find the balance (especially coming from such an imbalanced state).
So thanks again and good luck to you."

suicidal default 101

It's one of those mornings. So many thoughts have been swimming around in my head that I'd like to write about but I just can't find the time. Plus I am a bit unorganized and chaotic...
And today when I feel such a pressing desire to write I can't think of the things that I really wanted to write about anyway.
So I'll just start writing.
...The other day I was chatting (on-line) with an old high school friend. Conversation came around to my mentioning that my brother had died of a mental illness (I still don't know how I feel about that term). The friend asked "how's that?"
Now I was chatting online which means I could not really read the question or the friends understanding of what I had just said, but the particular wording later got me thinking.
"How's that"
I think that it is likely what many don't know or understand that a mental illness or even disorders can be fatal, can actually be the cause of death.
Totally a hard concept to wrap ones brain around.
But when I think of my friends from high school who lost their dad in a very dramatic and tragic suicide. When I think of my friend who I worked with when my brother died and her dad that committed suicide when she was very young. And especially when I think about my brother I know that though technically it was their own hand that would have been the cause of death that their physical chemistry was the cause more then anything else.

My brother was a good person (and the other two men mentioned). He loved life even though he despised it. He was loving, kind and generous. He was so fun and very intelligent. But he had a suicidal default that is not "normal" and, just like a cancer that is not being treated, can only be fought for so long. We don't know who gives up and who gives into death when fighting an illness but many die from things that are not considered major or serious illness's, while some "fight" for a lifetime (or what we culturally and socially accept as a lifetime and a fight).
However in such cases chemistry/physiology over whelm either the body or the soul or both and it is time to let go. In a sense Pain trumps. And with a suicidal default (I believe I have previously written  a definition to that self coined term) one can easily commit a fatal offense with out really meaning to "kill them self."

Here is one silly little simple personal example that I can give (and I may have given before) about how an out of whack chemistry that seems to cause said default can cause a fatality.
Once, just a couple of years ago, I was driving along the freeway while my beautiful little mind was racing through my newest brilliant life plan. But it was not just formulating a plan of how to achieve a goal that my mind insisted on working through but imagining the course of my whole life in addition. When I got to the end, which took a matter of seconds to maybe a couple of minutes at the most (racing minds work quick), BAM I was done and slamming my high speed car into the cement barriers on the side of the freeway was a flash that was almost overwhelming in the quickness and intensity of such a delusion.
I didn't, but I have experienced varying degrees of intensity and dellusion (I am sure most people have really), but had my chemistry been that much more off I could have easily and instinctively responded to the demand before I realized what I was doing and where I really was.
I was not down and there are many fortunate things to my situation but a suicidal default is something that can over ride the sensible systems and truly has to be attributed to a screwed up chemistry. Because, seriously, it is just stupid to think that under a healthy and properly functioning brain chemistry my body and mind would do that to me. Wait, they don't, when I am on an even keel. Which as of recent, has once again, had to be achieved with the assistance from the miracles of modern medicine. But I do know first hand the reality of the chemical difference.

Long post, I know, and I don't know that it makes any sense at all but I suppose I occasionally feel the need to defend my brother because we all knew (he had even promised us) that despite his intense and prolonged struggles with a suicidal default he would never do that.
P.S.
I don't think we realized how intense his struggle really was until he passed and then read his journal. There, it is very apparent that it was not just depression or a fascination with death but a default and a constant struggle, likely the only thing that made any real sense to him.

Which came 1st the chicken or the egg?

???

I am a giraffe

The night before last I was telling my husband that I think I would be fine to go off medication. I told him that I'm really fine and I really probably don't need it. That I really don't want to take medication so I was thinking about going off. If you have read any of my blog you would gather that I really do not like the idea of "needing" medication one bit. I want to be fine on my own.
I know that it is a typical response for many that take medication to get to the point where they feel fine and have enjoyed some stability to then think that they really don't need medication and stop taking it. I know this but still my response to my husband with all that he would say when explaining that he really didn't think it a good idea was that I was really just being a hypochondriac of some pathetic sort and that's all. Really I am fine it was just due to this or that as to why I was such a freak before but now I can see it for what it was and I am fine.

Well you'd think that I'd have learned by now.

But then yesterday I had an appointment with the psychiatrist. It went well and he was very happy with the result and how I was doing (I like that he was happy for me, not just for the results)....
But then we got to my giraffe patches.
What are giraffe patches you ask?
Well no one really knows.
I'll do my best to explain. In about March or so I noticed a circle on the side of my torso. It looked like some one had stuck a suction of some sort (you know how it works, suction on the skin and leave the red circle. A common gag that people will pull leaving a red embarrassing mark on the chin or what have you). I thought it weird because I couldn't figure out where it came from. So I watched it. It didn't go away. Then I started noticing other "circles" only some were oblong and they were various sizes. At that point I believe there were five ranging from about an inch in diameter to one that stretched from my shoulder blade to the center of my chest in front. They are a very faint red outline. They are not elevated, scaly, itchy, or anything else. Just a faint red outline. Oh, and they grow. As they grow there shape does not stay so circular but change to shapes that resemble something more like the shapes of a giraffe spots (not the color, color stays the same). But unlike a giraffe they will actually converge with each other. Now these lovely spots are rather faint and limited to being only places hidden by clothing on my torso. Like I said, they do not itch or bother me in any way. I did call the psychiatrist office when I first noticed them (per the medication disclosures request) but they did not recognize them as symptoms of any major problems due to medication but strongly suggested I see a dermatologist. Which I did and he was baffled (though he was a seasoned PA) but not super concerned. So I haven't worried. However they are reproducing and I have quite a few more.

Back to my appointment with the psychiatrist. He was concerned. Something about it possibly being an indication of other potential problems, I don't know. But he suggested that I go off the Lamictal very slowly, stay off it for a few weeks and see if the "spots" go away. I guess said drug can effect the skin and apparently he is concerned about it if it is obviously getting worse.

You might assume that I was happy to have permission to taper off. I would have assumed it. But after having the conversation with him about how well I was doing and the conversation with the husband the night before, I suppose I recognized a thing or two and I was not supper thrilled with the idea of going off... just yet. Rather I was quite nervous about it. I like the way that I feel these days and I guess that outweighs my desire to not take medication.
But the doctor said it would be the prudent thing to do.
He concurred with me trying to go off the antidepressant first just to see if it might be a combination of the two that might be the culprit. Though he didn't seem to think it was too likely I think we are both hopeful that maybe just maybe that will work (and I will loose my giraffe spots).
Well I guess we will see.
Here is to a new adventure!

a high schoolers longing for death

Sometimes when I start cleaning and going through things, finding new homes for stuff, I find junk from my past. Today I found a binder containing some Jr. high and high school English papers and other writing assignments.
In one particular high school project I mention death and dying at least three separate times. All three are obviously in reference to me dying and one specifically mentions my desire to die.
I know that nothing ever came of this but I wonder how common it is for high school students to write about death and their desires for it that it would not raise some concern suggesting to the teacher that maybe they should recommend the child to someone or at least mention it to their parents?

To Write or not to Write?

Not

I mean to write more on this thing more often then I do anymore. Honestly lately I lack the motivation and desire, mostly because I do feel so normal. But I am being a bit of a bum right now getting sidetracked by the computer so I might as well write something right?

Though I know that I am really truly not normal and never will be (I say this with presumptious sarcasm because I know there is really no such thing as normal anyway) I must say I rather like feeling so "normal."

I like that I am stable. I am curious about my "lack of spirituality" but I am glad to not be floating so far off into outerspace and sinking down into the depths of hell as well.
Really I am rather boring any more and yet I am totally ok with that.
The other day I awoke to the slight feeling of darkness that I used to know so well. Then didn't realize how crappy it really was. It was slight and likely due to a few days of not going to bed when I should have and some of the stresses that are not ussual daily stresses.

It was a good reminder.

I visited my parents and the room that my brother died in recently.
It was hard.
It is hard to think about my brother and how he died. In my current mental state I have less comfort about what happened. I forget that I understand how and what can happen so easily. That little shadow of darkness helped me remember.
I know that what if's and I wish I had's accomplish nothing... Uneless you do something that may be able to help someone else suffering somewhere else with or from something similar. For that I really really wish that I could have somehow let my brother know how bad it was and how good it really could be. How some of those feelings and darknesses that we accept as part of who we, are and often attempt to self medicate in so many other ways, really are something else that we really don't have to tolerate or suffer through. I wish he could see, feel and know how much better, happier and so much easier life could be...

... it is sad to know that I can't.
It was heartbreaking to read his diary and see how much he really was suffering. To see the signs that now, knowing what I know, would seem so very obvious.
It had been such a long time that he struggled that he could not seperate it from who he was. Our lack of understanding and acceptance of mental disoders and illness's really did cost him his life in so many ways, more then just the physical end. He was not a depressed person but he did have depression and battled it tenaciously. And his pendulum would swing, whether that was due to a very strong solder who was fighting just depression or if it was something altogether different who really knows but he did fight the lows and he did still find ways to enjoy life and he most certianly had highs. He also had ruminating, possibly obsessive, thought patterns that were very obvious as well. But he tried so hard to be all that he could be and yet in the end he had no idea how bad his own illness/disorder was even though he was aware of it. He had no idea how bad it was becasue he had never come completely out of it. He had not had the opportunity to experience what I am now enjoying. He never got to completely loose touch with that suicidal default and realize how foriegn and strange such a mental state of being really is.

what more can I say?...

identity

Everyday, before I really start my day I take a pill. Every night before I go to bed I take another (different) pill.
Sometimes I am unsure if this is really who I am "supposed" to be or who I am. I have to look back and remember who I "was" and then I am mostly OK with it again.
I have lost some intensity. I care a lot less about many things. I have gotten lazy in many ways and my brain seems slow and more forgetful... But then again...

Yesterday a friend told me that I think creatively. That I seem to look at things at all angles and I can analyze things form inside and outside of the box. I told her that I felt like I was losing that. But the consensus was that though it has in fact lessened (the depth, frequency, and intensity of my thinking and analytical skills) she reassured me that I still think "creatively."
To me it is nice to hear people say "I never thought of it that way." Especially if it is ended with a "thank you."

Not what I thought I would write today but sometimes our lives, our hands and our minds take us places we did not intend to go and sometimes that is OK.

oh the places we will go

I feel inclined to write often. I intend to write on very good days, but that rarely seems to happen. It seems that I manage to make time and make it a priority on the not so happy days anymore...

So I suppose it goes without saying that I am not so up today (but I'll say it anyway).

I am over all fine and happy enough most of the time. I am glad to have rather steady and much more consistent moods and personalities (yes, that is meant to be plural). But sometimes I wonder and sometimes I am not sure if this (my metal state) is where I am meant to be. Sometimes I feel anxiety sneaking in, trying to reestablish it's regular presence. Sometimes I miss the more intense ups in their various forms. Sometimes I am not sure if "this is normal" or do I need to up a dose before my brain gets too far ahead of me.

Over all I am glad. I think it very likely that my shorter hours spent sleeping and the way that I have been able to safely let my guard down in so many ways is starting to catch up as I may have let it down a bit too much (as it so often goes), but only a bit . I suppose things are always going to be a bit more complicated. But then again I think the psychology of every individual is very complicated and in that I am no different. I must say that, if anything, I am lucky to be so aware of mine and how to handle myself realizing my weaknesses and knowing the boundaries and when I am getting to close. I think in many ways I am probably ahead of the game. Maybe I am overly confident but I have had a lot of practice...
Yet, then again, who knows what age has in store for me.

Life is always an adventure. One Grand Adventure

and I intend to enjoy.

here today, gone tomorrow

I feel like writing, though it has been awhile and likely nobody reads this anymore anyway. that is the beauty of this world wide web, you can write to your hearts content, pretending there is someone out there listening, and hoping that maybe just maybe you will make a difference somewhere to somebody...
What a great outlet we have in the Internet. See I feel better already.

I have been thinking as well as not thinking and at times trying not to think. Anxiety is creeping back in. It may be that I am a bit tired. It is nice that I can stay up much later and not crash (or explode) multiple times the next day... but then maybe that is how it sneaks up on one. Hypersensitive at least keeps things from sneaking.

I am feeling rather hollow...
I think about my brother everyday. I went for awhile with out. There was a bit of time where when I did think about him I believed he was fine and when I would remember that he had died I was sure it was just a weird dream. It wasn't real and I liked it that way... Until I'd see the plants in the living room and the few little things that I have out, like the little framed picture my other brother gave each of us of him (deceased brother) as a boy on one of our family camping trips in a dry field holding matches (that was (name with held)him) and then it has to be real. Though I still really didn't believe, sometimes certain the plants had come from somewhere else. When I found the picture and poems that were a tribute to him for his funeral that is when I lost it. I put that out. I suppose I should live in the "real world" and remember what really happened. But I don't want to.
It bothers me.
Once a doctor said something about religion/my beliefs keeping me alive (instead of actually killing myself when that was really the only thing that made any sense at all). He said something about others of the similar backgrounds claiming that. But I am bit different (the Dr. has also told me that) and truth be known I believe it is said religious convictions that contribute as much as the detract from the desire to die. Sometimes religion bothers me. I see the need and understand and all that, I even agree with much, but lately I am tired of feeling like we live only to die.
I am tired of everything being about an afterlife. I am tired of feeling like I have to do and be so much more then I am.
I wonder if my brother ever felt any of these things. I wonder how much feelings of, being a failure and/or wanting to be done with it because we are merely living to die anyway and since he knew he was so far from "perfect" then what is the point and he felt done, contributed to his current condition.
I am not done. I am just tired of living to die.
I am mad that my brother shot himself in the head.
I am annoyed that I take drugs everyday just to feel like this and yet not taking them is so much more annoying or at least difficult.
I want to run away to my warm sunny beaches with mountains behind me and forget about everything and everyone...

well I suppose I feel a bit better now pretending that my voice and heart might be heard.
good night sweet Internet world.

Oprah and Bull@#%*

E-mail to friend turned therapy blog entry:

I read an article in Newsweek about Oprah. The title was something to the effect that "Oprah may not be so good for your health." I really liked it and was impressed that any one in the media would dare breath even a remotely ill word against the omnipotent Oprah. The article was basically about how all things on Oprah are not always completely accurate. They hit on the "Secret" crap she has pushed and endorsed and it was refreshing to hear that others out there realize that just because Oprah says it does not make it gospel and just because someone successful can market an idea does not make it true. I wish that we really could be and have whatever we want just by vibrating positive thoughts but unfortunately it just doesn't always work that way, no matter how hard you believe and practice and all the bull... I get annoyed any more at having that type of "conviction" shoved down my throat and held over my head telling me that all negatives in my life are a result of my lack of putting out positive thoughts, beliefs and energy. It is just the re-packaged idea that "you only have problems because you are a sinner" or "you lack faith." And if that be true then I suppose I really am just a pathetic sinner of a thing. But it is also quite possible that these ideas, when taken too seriously or held onto with extreme conviction can result in some interesting sanity issues for some of us...

I totally just broke into a "write for therapy" session. I think it is the relief that you are well coupled with my Oprah experience of the day that led me down the path to express and confront the feelings and idea that I think it bullshit that we are completely responsible for all the troubles ourselves and/or families may have. That and I still hate to take medication. It is always very tempting for me to think "all I need to do is think more positive." when the reality is that was kind of a huge part of the problem, thinking that I could think myself out of "it." Though I really believe in energy work and the power of positive thinking and so many more things all I can say is; can't we be realistic about it people? seriously.

and that is all I have to say about that.

PS, two and a half plus months and counting on what has seemed to hold as an even kill.
mood stabilizer appears to be helping.

out with old in with the new... over and over and over and over... again

Though December was OK, I think, once again, I thought I was doing better then I really was... though no shrimp in the closest. definitely on the high side of moods.

Christmas snuck up on me and was hard.

I found myself abandoning my in-laws a few times (in the three days we were there) just to wonder into the red rock.

Christmas day was melancholy for me. I went to find batteries and just couldn't head directly back and found myself driving aimlessly in the direction of the most uninhabited red rocks in the vicinity. I found a beautiful area with a canyon that was just a bit of a walk from the road. I had to hop a fence to get there. I tore my pants going between the barbed wire, then headed to to the hills...

I stayed for what ended up being a few hours. I found a nice little secluded canyon where I stayed talking to people who weren't there, God and Jason, the mountain and myself... I didn't feel that anyone but the mountain was around to listen. I felt as if Jason was aware of me but not close... it was OK though. Sometimes we need alone time.

I found a beautiful picturesque piece of sandstone with rough circles of different beautiful colors. Though I knew this was it's home it seemed so overlooked and unappreciated in it's surroundings so I accepted it as a gift from the mountains and/or higher powers.

I struggled. feeling flat, dull and boring for a couple of weeks. Realizing that I have been floating off into outer space and embarrassing myself many many times this past year.

I started having dreams about my decieced brother that were vague and distant (though it is still always nice to see him).

In one dream, probably the only one that I remember any detail about, he was alive. It was the past, before he had gone. We (his family) were all unsure what to do, what we could say, how we could stop what we knew was coming and yet hoping that by not mentioning it we could somehow do something to change the outcome... It was heartbreaking.



Since then I feel like I have finally woken up (though that has been much longer then just the past year). I feel grounded. It is nice to feel like I am part of the world and not like I am watching life and the world from the other side of the glass.
I am on a mood stabilizer now and it has just been within the last few weeks that I have increased to an amount that would make any significant difference. I hope that this will help me stay grounded a little... no, a lot, better.
Though it was filled with many grand adventures, I am glad that the past year is over. I am not a hundred percent sure where I am at in the grieving process, maybe a bit in denial, or maybe I am just accepting of it/about it. I am really not sure... Either way, they can both be productive coping strategies. I am sad, I might be a tad angry, and it is bizarre, but I am done with living to die. I am ready to live to live. I don't want to be worried all the time about how fragile life is and consumed with thoughts of the after life and what it may look like. I want to live today for today, for myself and whom ever may cross my path that day. I want to live for the adventures and enjoy all of them, big or small.

I hope that I may stay here a while... though one really can not know where life will take them...

And though I have likely been here before it all seems new... I suppose that is a bonus, it keeps life interesting if the same old things always seem new.

Cosmic Realms

Here's the thing...
Sometimes I float off into outer space
(you might call me a space cadet)
and when I return back to earth I am often embarrassed...
I have been going back and forth for awhile now...
Sometimes I am not sure who is feeding whose insanity.
I hope that people will not take this personally,
what ever that may mean.

I am finding the ground again.
I hope I will stay here awhile.

I am tired of living to die.
I am alive,
and that is where I want to be,
in the here and now.