many things

April 9, 2013

I’m not dead. Yet. I’ve just been knitting and watching documentaries.

I have also been slowly recovering from a spike in rapid cycling, which sometimes happens. I distanced myself from people and gave myself some time alone. It helps me to become reclusive. People tend to set me off, and I don’t want to hurt them by saying something ridiculous that I didn’t mean to say.

During these times the dumbest things come out of my mouth. For one, I can’t speak straight, so my words are jumbled, and sometimes I stutter. Once one of the new hires at work got very suddenly too close to me and it frightened / unnerved me so much (because if there is one thing I hate with a passion, it is people getting too close to me without prior permission) that I started hard enough to gasp for breath and immediately hit a s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s. I had been trying to say the word “six”.

She giggled and asked if I was okay. All I could do was mumble yes and get back to what I had been doing, as far away from her as possible.

See, all of this comes back weeks after it happens. I couldn’t have written about this instance directly after it had happened; not even days afterward. It had to settle and boil down and be analyzed from top to bottom. I think I hurt her feelings, because she seemed to approach me gentler after that. Anyway, she only showed up for one more day, then quit.

I was relieved. I could not have dealt with extremely sudden invasions of my personal space. Work is stressful enough and my manager doesn’t have any understanding of personal space because she is affable and touchy and grew up in a house where you reach out and lightly smack another every time you say something you feel is remotely funny for some reason. One more closing in on my space makes me feel sick.

I’ve been known to say things that are entirely inappropriate. Hell, it’s my specialty. I don’t say these things in a comedic kind of way, though–oh no. I have to be awkward as hell. I have to turn a shade of puce when I talk and look suspicious because I fidget and lose eye contact.

Facepalm.

But, it’s okay. It happens. The best thing to do I have found in this situation is to just keep your mouth shut and try to think what it is you want to say rather than actually say it, even if you do feel it is relevant, because it probably is not.

It helps, it really, really helps, to have a conscious rein on things. My rein is “okay it’s time to go hide inside and knit for days upon days now.”

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derp

March 20, 2013

And fuck if I don’t feel like I fit in anywhere. Is alienation a symptom of bipolar disorder or am I just paranoid right now? That “no one understands me, baw” feeling. Ugh, I hate it, it is pretentious, but fuck if I don’t feel like I fit in anywhere.

But you know. Bawww, whine, whatever. I was raised to believe that nothing I said had merit and people don’t pay me any mind anyway, so I don’t feel as if talking about this feeling is–well, let’s just say that when I feel this way, another voice tells me “shut up, cuntface, who the fuck gives a shit” which is true, completely true, wholly true.

surprise

March 18, 2013

I just had such an enormous and heart-hurting pang of emotion that tears sprung and a sob escaped before I had even realized what had happened.

decisions

March 4, 2013

Mania will lessen in emphasis over time. Eventually it will turn to a middle ground, and soon, depression. Thankfully I’ve just gotten over a big depressive turn, so…here’s hoping the depression is still on vacation. Mania isn’t gone so much as it is not as present in the forefront, which is appreciated as much as it can be. There are so many things I can get done when I’m in this mood, but my biggest challenge is deciding on what.

At work, it’s easy to make this decision. There are always things to do, and they need to get done before a certain time. At home, I’m surrounded by an endless complexity of arts, crafts, books, musical fascinations, video games and movies, things that tear my attention away from the last thing and get it focused for something new. I can even go outside and entertain sidewalk chalk delusions on the front porch, take a walk, take pictures. Hell, I want to do all of these things. But which do I want to do most? And first? Can I make a list? What if making the list takes too long and I don’t get around to doing what I wanted to do?

Sometimes, I just start somewhere. Anywhere will do. When I end is when I end.