Relationships take two and they need to be tended. Some people think that any effort they put towards the relationship is done to establish it, but once established they’re finished. That does not work. It is like any other precious thing. You cannot starve it and expect it to thrive.
Some of my relationships are starving, but I cannot feed them myself. Relationships take effort from both parties. If I ask, repeatedly, for a relationship to be tended but it is refused, repeatedly, what am I supposed to do? My therapist says I should make new relationships, but that’s much easier said than done. I let very few people get close to me, so when I have let someone get close I am very loathe to give up on it. I try to save it long past the point most people would give up. My unwillingness to abandon relationships makes the other person value it less, I think. They take it for granted and assume I’ll always be there. But there does eventually come a point where I say enough is enough.
I don’t have parents, or any sort of normal relationship with my extended relatives. In fact, most of them on one side are actually enemies. I have my brother and my elderly grandmother. I have an uncle and a cousin I talk to. So I think I try to make family out of my other relationships. My friend T was closer to me than anyone in the world, but she betrayed me and it is broken beyond repair. The lack of that every day, lifelong relationship with someone I trusted completely has left a very large void in my life. I don’t think it will ever be filled. More than that, it shook my foundations, if that makes sense. I thought nothing would ever come between us. I believed she was family, and even after she did what she did, I still thought of her that way for years. It took a very long time for me to let it go. Now I no longer have that faith in other relationships, because if the person closest in the world to me could leave, then anyone could. That knowledge is in the back of my mind in my interactions with others and it makes me a little cautious.
My “adopted daughter” hasn’t been responding to texts. She has always been notoriously bad about keeping in touch. Her brother is the same way. It may be millenials as a whole, I don’t know. She hates the phone, so fine, text is good. But then she doesn’t respond to texts either, and I have to go find her on tumblr to get hold of her and it’s irritating. I do not want to feel like I have to guilt her to respond. She tells me she misses me and can’t wait to see me, etc, but then when I’m coming up she again doesn’t respond. So I wrote again and asked her wtf? She said she was in pain and hadn’t been using her phone. Well that’s all well and good but I messaged her five times on five different days and sent two emails with no response. I also haven’t messaged her for two months. I pointed all this out and told her how long I’d be up. She didn’t respond and I’m not going to chase her.

This is just depressing me more. I”m done for now.



I had therapy today and of course the topic was my manic episode. Apparently while bi-polar depression most commonly appears in early adulthood, it can show up at any age. I am still hoping for an isolated incident but I’m told that 90% of people who have an episode will have repeat episodes. However, apparently they aren’t all that common. He said that if you had four episodes a year it was considered rapid cycling. So that’s not bad, especially when my impression was that you’re on a constant rollercoaster of emotions. But again, I’m hoping it’s an isolated incident. If it does occur again I’ll at least know what it is.

The thing is, I felt great while I was like that. I knew something was wrong and that I was not myself but I was on a high and I couldn’t really be bothered to care that something was wrong. I knew I should have been zombified from the lack of sleep but I wasn’t, and that was a good thing. I liked having the energy. I was more creative and I was in less pain. However, the longer it went on the more I was degrading. I could see that, I just didn’t particularly care. It was getting harder to restrain my impulses and my thoughts were all over the place, skittering away from me any time I tried to pin something down. My inhibitions were down. Then there was the physical toll with it driving my blood pressure so high.

If it is bi-polar I should expect a major depressive episode next. That’s the not so fun part. I was going to quit the meds now that I’m level and so I didn’t take it last night. The Doctor thinks I need to take it at least through my upcoming trip. I am about to go home for a visit. My grandmother just turned 93(!!) and Mother’s Day is coming up. My brother wants us to go visit her together. I dread the trip up there and back. It’s a long way and it kicks my ass every time. Once I’m there it’s always nice to be home among the trees and river. It’s Spring and the bloodroot, fritillary, mayapple and other early flowers will be blooming, or so I hope. I may have missed them, especially the bloodroot, but we’ll see. I wish I could mash up the environment of my home town and the people of where I live now. My hometown is gorgeous, with all four seasons, forests, rivers, wildlife and rural charm. Unfortunately it is populated by hillbilly rednecks. Don’t get me wrong.. hillbillies are good people. But they tend to be close minded and I have never fit in there. Where I live now is absolute horrid weather, at least for me, and it’s crowded, but the people here are nicer. Go figure.

My first stalker

When I was fifteen I got my first job washing dishes at a yacht club. I got about 30 hours a week and they took advantage of me. I moved to another restaurant, also washing dishes, along with various other kitchen duties, but working with much nicer people. When I was sixteen, I got a job full time, working 4-12 after school. The job was at a convenience store/deli in town. After school I would take the bus to the trailer park behind the mall. From there I’d cut through the mall, then across the highway and past the gas station and bank to the store. To get home I hitch-hiked. This was my routine five days a week. I should probably note now that I have always been too naive for my own good. I know better, but I tend to want to believe what people tell me, even though I have no reason to.

The mall is an outdoor affair, with individual stores crowded around in a circle of parking lot where seagulls wait for dropped french fries. I used to buy an order of fries and hold them up through my car window, one by one, as the seagulls came and took them from my fingers. It was exhilarating and a little bit frightening when the entire flock would surround my car, or when one would nip my hand. Anyway, walking through this mall on my way to work was part of my routine at sixteen, and it was noticed. I have no idea how long the guy watched me before I noticed him, but I eventually became aware of a middle aged guy in an SUV that would do slow drive-bys as he stared at me, then circle around and come back for another look. In my teenage eloquence I dubbed him Creepy. Creepy graduated to stopping and talking to me. I was brought up to be polite, and when an adult asks you something you answer. So when he first started talking to me I answered, politely, and excused myself for work to get out of the conversation. His next step was to offer me a ride to work. I refused, of course. After I crossed the highway, there was a bank I walked by before getting to my job. Creepy began popping out from behind the bank like some fucked up, horny jack-in-the-box. I began to get concerned.

One day on my way to work, he did his stalker rounds and tried to talk to me like he had many times before. I had quit stopping at this point and would just keep walking while he would try to chat me up. But this day the pervert tried to grab my arm to pull me into his stalker-mobile while ordering me into his vehicle. Luckily, he was not subtle and I was on alert. I pulled away from him and ran through the mall. This was probably about 3:30 in the afternoon when I went through the mall, btw, but apparently no one was paying attention to the creepy dude trying to pull a girl into his SUV. I figured he would show up at the bank again, and sure enough he did. But I was young, wary and quick, and did not give him the chance to try it again. I remember fearing that he would be waiting when I got off work, but he never was. My guess is that he was married and creeping on me while the wife was away.

So, Creepy had upped the ante. Why didn’t I tell an adult, you ask. I didn’t tell adults shit. The last time I had trusted an adult was when I had just turned eleven and tried to talk to my guidance counselor about my mother’s death. She called my father, which of course was the correct, responsible thing to do, and absolutely the worst thing for me. So that was the end of trusting adults. Plus, I was working to save money to get out of my house asap, and they did not know I was hitch-hiking to do so. Adult intervention was out, but this dude was becoming a real problem. I had asked him to leave me alone, I had refused all offers from him, and he was just getting bolder. I talked to a guy friend of mine from school about it. He and several other guys I was friends with decided they were going to handle it. The next day they had me walk to work like normal, but they walked with me. Like clockwork, Creepy came cruising by slowly, and seeing my company he drove off. My guy pals ran off to watch from an alley between stores as Creepy circled around and came back for his second pass. Seeing me alone, Creepy stopped his truck to try to talk to (or grab) me. My guys came running out threatening to kick his ass up behind his ears for him and Creepy drove off in a snit. I had told them about his jack-in-the-box impersonation at the bank, so they went there next. A couple of them were riding bicycles, so honestly, I’m not sure how threatening they were, but there were five or six of them ranging from 14-16. Creepy was waiting behind the bank, and started to drive over to me when my guys pounced. Rocks were thrown and threats were made. Accusations of pedophilia flew thick. And I loved it. Creepy drove off and my friends escorted me to work for a long time after that. This was my first stalker. If it hadn’t been for my friends it may have ended badly.

Hitch-hiking put me in a lot of dangerous situations, more dangerous than some pervert trying to pull me into his creeper-mobile. But the bright spark of fear when he tried to pull me into his truck stayed with me. The belonging I felt when my friends defended me stayed with me too. They were ready to battle for me and it meant everything to me. We lived in a twilight world unseen by adults and we watched out for each other. I would have, and did, go to bat for my friends the way they did for me. We were fearless and immortal and I miss having those kinds of friends. I don’t know if you can get them as an adult.


I took the damn meds. The Dr said the meds had a short half-life, I just didn’t expect them to work quite so quickly. It’s only been a couple of days so far but the euphoria is mostly gone, which royally sucks. The first night I got about 4.5 hours of sleep, the most I’ve gotten since this started, and about four hours last night. I’m still shaky as hell and the sex drive is still working overtime, but I’m thinking clearer. I’m sure sleep helped. Most nights I only got 2-3 hours of sleep, and there were a few nights where I didn’t get any sleep at all.
I didn’t know what to expect, with this being new to me, but I was afraid I’d crash all at once and I knew that would be rough. I guess the meds are supposed to prevent that. After I get leveled out and get some sleep I’m done with these meds. If it’s an anomaly or doesn’t occur again for years, then I won’t worry about it. If I’m wrong then I’ll reconsider. My hope is that it was stress induced.
I liked feeling like that. I felt good, I had more energy than I knew what to do with, I felt like I could pursue multiple trains of thought at once and I felt more creative. I was elated and bouncy. I felt like I was walking a knife’s edge and that one turn of the foot could send me over into the crocodile pit. Instead of concerning me though, it was exhilarating. Of course it is not sustainable. The longer it went on, the more I was degrading and the more my judgement was becoming impaired. The center could not hold; or, entropy is a bitch.

It’s storming here and I left this post for a while. When I came back to finish, I had this written:

I am very glad it takes me off thing thing or sure,

Um.. what? I don’t even know where I was going with that or what that even is. I’m off to bed. There was an especially loud crack of thunder and now two of my cats are hiding under the bed so I suppose I must go protect the kitties. 🙂


Don’t want to crash

Well I had to go back to the Dr again today. He is still rather worried. I did pick up the medicine and I suppose I’ll take it tonight. I just really don’t want to. I like feeling like this and I know when I crash it’s going to be bad. I’ve been up for 2.5 weeks now. I’m probably getting more exercise than I have in quite a while between the walks, dancing and everything else. And I’m not tired. I would rather stay like this, but then there’s the blood pressure thing.  I’m not bi-polar and have no business being manic so I had no idea that it affected your blood pressure like that. Apparently not sleeping can do it too though. And I know that the longer it goes the more I degrade and the more likely I’ll be to give into impulses. I’m fighting them now. It just doesn’t seem all that important to bother fighting them. And I think that’s the Dr’s biggest concern. It’s a hallmark of being manic.

Man, how hard am I going to crash from this shit? They gave me seroquel. I do not want to take it and it is my hope that this is an isolated incident. From what I’ve read today, seroquel has lots of side effects. But it is supposed to help you sleep. Dr says it is possible that stress tripped this incident off. It’s also possible that I have a really long cycle or that I usually only get the lows. And how much does that suck?

My grandmother is about to have a birthday and I wanted to go up to visit. But I have to wait until I level out again. I really don’t want to crash when I’m trying to drive all that way. It’s a difficult enough drive without having to deal with this too.

Ah well. I guess I’ll take the shit. No idea how long it will take to work. I might even sleep tonight.


So apparently I’m having a manic episode. It’s been two and half weeks now. Thing is, I’m not manic depressive and haven’t had something like this for 15 years or more so this is extremely unusual. I went to therapy today and was not able to sit still and haven’t been sleeping and all sorts of fun things I’d rather not get into. The Dr went through a list of symptoms and said he’s only seen actual manic episodes a handful of times with this being one of them. So yay me. I haven’t taken any new meds or anything so I’m not sure what set it off, but you can tell from my blog. My entry on the 17th was the first in this frame of mind and it had already been going on for a few days at that point. I suppose that’s one thing the blog is good for.

I’m not sleeping but I’m not tired. I actually feel pretty good. So I’m not in a big hurry to come down from it. I’d actually like to stay like this a while longer. Unfortunately my Doctor has different ideas. He is somewhat alarmed, apparently, and called my GP. My GP’s office was calling me every 15 minutes and I was doing my best to ignore them. But alas, I eventually picked up and tried to set an appt for tomorrow or Friday but it had to be today.
So my blood pressure usually runs between 120-130 over 78 or 80 or so. Today it was 167 over 96. So there’s that. She wrote a prescription that I have yet to pick up. I do not want to take more meds. So she said she’d just give me a few to help me get some sleep. Meanwhile I have to go see the psychologist again tomorrow. I have been running all day in an effort to wear myself out but the most it does is lets me sit.

Currently in love with this Hannibal fan vid

Insomnia II

The insomnia seems to be getting worse rather than better, so if I’m incoherent, that would be why.

I still feel like I either might shatter, or possibly go rabid and bite someone if I lose my composure. I’m gripping it with both hands. I try to stay busy during the day and get more exercise but it’s not helping. Masturbation isn’t helping. Sometimes I’ll blast something deep on the speakers and dance, reeling about the house, eyes closed, screaming along with the song, and during those moments I can blot everything out. But it is only for the length of the song or until I remember my various pains are not compatible with this shit. I thought I was past this sort of thing but maybe you never get past it, it just hibernates for a while. By evening I can at least sit still, and do some work on the shop, watch a show, read for a while. My Hannibal obsession doesn’t seem to be subsiding either, so I’ll read the reddit forum and fan fiction. Yes, I read my first fan fiction ever. I had managed to avoid it until now, but I checked some of the recommended Hannibal ones out. Some of them are quite good.

In spite of my emotional state of distress and my lack of sleep, I’m not feeling that badly, which is surprising. Lack of sleep usually makes me nauseous, and I have had some of that, but not nearly as bad as I would have expected for so little sleep. Whatever the reason, I’ll take it. So here I am, listening to dubstep with the headphones and babbling on my blog. I need to make a trip back to MD soon and I’m sure the insomnia will catch up with me then and I’ll have no problem whatsoever falling asleep – while I’m driving. FML, Not even sure why I’m blogging except that I’m trying to continue this habit and write more. But really, maybe I should just pick a random topic and opine on that instead of my personal shit.