I Want (Most Everyone) to Live

By now, I suspect everyone who is reading this had heard the news about Carrie Fisher. If you haven’t — she died. It sucks. It REALLY sucks. I’ve already blathered about it elsewhere, but man like… *waves hands* It hurts. She was important to us Bipolaratti for being one of us, and for being out there and unashamed of it (I also admire this in Demi Lovato like woah). I’m actually kind of worried that I’m going to see some of my friends offing themselves in response. I seriously hope not, but like… of all the horrible, horrible deaths in 2016, and they have been legion, this is the one that hits closest to home for me. I called her Momma Carrie. I dreamed of meeting her and getting a hug. I sincerely believed that it would and could happen, as a lot of the Star Wars stuff is filmed local to me.

But really y’all, if you’re shaken up about this… reach out and talk to another bipolar friend. I don’t want us to lose any more of our folks right now. Even if bipolar didn’t get Carrie in the end, she was still one of us. :/

That aside, I’m mainly doing well. I pray that remains the case, as once again they’re threatening to close the psych ward I go to. My most local friend commented that they’ve been threatening to close it the entire nine years she’s been down here, but still. It affects her *slightly* less than it affects me. I’m just going to have to yanno, keep optimistic about it, I guess. As said, I’m doing mainly well. My biggest issue has been insomnia, but that has been mitigated by reintroducing one of my childhood stuffed animals to my bed. Not gonna lie — give absolutely no fucks about what anyone thinks about that. It helps. And makes me smile, because the name I gave that poor rabbit when I was little — George Jefferson Rainbow Brite Bunny Rabbit. I named him when I was five or so… you can probably guess what my favourite shows on television were at the time. Yes, I was weird even then, ha ha.

Right, I’m off. Just trying to make sure everyone knows I’m here and alive and like… stuff.


Death to Concern Trolls

It’s cold here. But not cold enough to snow. Ergo, the cold is unconscionably rude. *nodnods* It doesn’t help that I also *have* a cold. Having a cold always makes me feel like a whiny wimp, ha ha.

I’d forgotten to mention in my last post another localised drama we had been dealing with. Someone had reported us to the GP as having a dirty home and locking our kids up, which had to be passed on anonymously to the council. So we had a multi-agency council investigation opened up on us because of it; that includes the cops, social workers, youth services, the schools, and health services. The formal investigation was closed the day after it was opened because, oh hey, nothing to hide whatsoever and wtf to whomever filed the concern-trolling. But because the youngest child’s last check-up hadn’t been put into the system yet (easily found when we pointed out the date), they were a teense concerned that she’d not been seen in awhile.

Obvs, she had, but anyways.

The end result was that a health visitor came to check in on us this week. It was a pleasant and productive enough conversation, considering that it was brought on by the worst sort of half-fabricated Chinese Whispers. I probably was way too candid about my life and times and why I wouldn’t put my children into a neglectful environment after my own childhood. Like, I came out of it feeling reassured and happy, which I certainly didn’t expect. The end result of that was getting their sleep expert to contact us to set up a date to talk ways to get the littlest to sleep on her own, but really… that is our sole ‘problem’ and has been the only ‘problem’ for some time. The tl;dr on that is that she’s a stubborn little miss and likes to sleep attached to one or both of us. We’re confident that she’ll move to sleeping on her own when she’s good and ready. In that, she’s the opposite of her sister; big sis did everything else when she was good and ready, but was an amazing sleeper from the start.

I’m annoyed because insomnia is sneaking back in. I’ve been having to dripfeed myself from my melatonin stash to try and help fight it since I got switched back to extended release Seroquel… when was that? March? Long enough that you’d think my body would quit trying to default to insomnia. Though having said that, it’s sort of resurfaced again the past week specifically, which could be a product of maybe-hypomania. I don’t feel particularly high, and I’m certainly not trying to do all (or really, any) of the things. I feel a bit rosy in the way that I associate with being ‘up’, but that’s about it — a very minor dredge of fuzzy warmth. That could feasibly be the end result of successful social interaction, happiness at catching up with my sisters recently, or just yanno, the fact I’ve got cute kids in the house.

I know, wah wah, poor Raesie has it pretty good as per relative norm. I don’t take it for granted though. I went through much too long of the baseline being shit + boozed + sleeping pilled + sleep paralysis + insecure schedule + you name it = soooooo soo not okay. If the worst that I deal with regularly is a bit of anxiety and depression on a Sunday night, I’ll take it (though I’ll admit I’d like to not have to deal with that either ¬¬).

Right, that’s enough word vom. Hopefully will continue this trying to get back into posting (and liking/commenting on peoples’ posts) more frequently habit!


Still Around

I know, I haven’t been around here much. I went from not having much to say to having too much to say to just being super busy with life in general. The overarching picture continues to be good, though I had a period of a couple of weeks where I was crippled with anxiety and paranoia and sadness due to a negative interaction with a ‘friend’. The long and the short on that relationship is that I thought we had one where we could be candid with each other, and I was horribly, terribly wrong. It’s someone that I can’t avoid because she’s part of my meatspace social group, but at least I know now to smile blandly and not trust her.

The irony about that incident? It happened the day after my first psych appointment in a million years. I *think* I’m roughly pencilled in for like, February now. Hopefully things will be mainly good between now and then, though I am thinking I might ask whether or not I can get a prescription for some sort of benzo for spot anxiety. I’m normally fine, and yes, I ‘survived’ that stressful post-incident period, but my quality of life and level of functionality was very low.

I also started thinking about an aspect of my mental health life that I’d not though on much — delusions. I realised I had to admit to myself that I suffer from a few. The biggest one is that my brain is convinced I was married once before, and the reason nobody knew about it was that it was short-lived and I was ashamed and didn’t tell my friends. I know I wasn’t married before, but tell that to my brain. Similarly, I was convinced last week that my sister was engaged. I don’t know whether it was something that I had a dream about that stuck or not, but it was a relief that I was scheduled to Skype with her within a few days of that implanting in my head. Having her straighten that out ‘face to face’ was really good for getting that one in check.

That’s really the main bits, I guess. I’m here, I’m mainly doing well. And while, yes, I’ve been rubbish about blogging here regularly, I am blogging here daily. So if I’ve gone quiet here and any of y’all want to make sure I’m still going, there’s the quick and dirty way to check. I will try to get myself back into gear in regards to writing here, and *groan*, hopefully finally get around to sorting through accumulating Bipolar Blogger Network emails.


Clearer Waters


Last week, one of my friends was committed. It turned to to be totally voluntary and she’s out now, but the two people making the announcement about it were very thoughtless in their word presentation. One person said that my friend was asking for prayers ((because)) Satan was messing with her head, while the other said that my friend was ‘fighting for her life’. And then both of them were deleting comments and ignoring people making ‘angry’ comments when both of them had written highly inflammatory comments that scared the bulk of said person’s friends to death. Like, you don’t say someone is fighting for their life unless they’re dying, and more so when that person had expressed concerns for their actual physical safety.

The whole thing ended up a big nasty mess with a lot of people thinking that our friend had been committed against her will — because there was absolutely no consideration taken for the fact that most of my friend’s friends are neurodivergent like herself. I know here amongst the Bipolaratti and friends, we care deeply about our community, even the ones we might not like or be friends with. I was proud of everyone for the handling of Ulla’s death; it was caring and sensitive and above all empathetic. If those two people had actually taken a second to think about what they were saying and how they were handling it, it would have gone a lot way towards assuaging fears. In the end, it took one of our mutuals who runs a bit more to the NT side of life calling our friend at her care centre and confirming a few things, and the two of us disseminating it to her wider friend-base. I hope to be able to catch up with my friend soon, but I told her to drop me a line back when *she* felt like chatting about it. I’ll probably even apologise for the furious response I wrote before I had the facts, if only for how it could possibly discomfit her and her recovery.

What do you guys think? Have you had to deal with this sort of thing before, either as the patient or a friend? I’ve never been committed and will fight tooth and nail to because of stupid reasons, like not being able to knit or game, or losing my current daily blog posting streaks — 7 years on one, 3 and a half on another, and a few months on the public one. These are my self-care things, and sitting on my thumbs socialising when I’m massively introverted would not do good things for my personal healing and sanity. But I would hope that if I did end up having to go in-patient that my husband would be clear and open about it with my friends and family. But then, I don’t care who knows I have Bipolar or how it affects me, so.



I’ve been feeling both up and down lately. I don’t think it’s a mixed episode, though yanno, any feeling of elation is going to make me suspicious… thanks brain, you’re a douche. I mean, it makes sense though. Death is not an easy shadow to shake off, even for someone who takes it on the chin like I do. I’m both over it and still hurting… grief isn’t a straight line, and I think we all agree that those two states can co-exist. At least I’ve done my little bit to permanently remember Ulla and Wendy on the network… it’s not much, but it’s something.

I think the main thing that’s eating me is that my anxiety has been on the up and up lately. I’ve been really freaking proud that I’ve been able to operate in silence the last couple of months. I’m back to a point where I need the radio or the television on for background noise or else I start to panic. Does that make sense to anyone else, or is it just me? I don’t think it’s a bipolar thing — I’m pretty sure it’s an ADHD thing. But it’s still there and it sucks. The only thing I can think of that is feeding anxiety specifically is that the little one has a check-up next week. And there is 500% no reason to be anxious about that. It’s a developmental check. We’ve done it before with her big sister. It’s even ‘easier’ this time because Littlerbit is really on the ball with a lot of her skills. The ones she’s not so hot on, we’re not worried about. But every time I think about the appointment, my heart clenches and my breath shortens. Stupid, isn’t it. Having said that, that’s sort of my generic reply to All Appointments Medical™®.

Still, it makes me worry that my meds are starting to not work right. I’m pretty sure that they are actually fine, but how much is denial, and how much is natural feelings. I’m still not to a point where I am bone weary having to weigh up each of my emotions and feelings to try and figure out if it’s bipolar or natural, seeing how my bipolar life is only ‘officially’ four and half years old. Well. It’s actually more like 20 years old, but anyways. As the bulk of being healthy~ is a fraction of the unwell time, I’m still willing to make the effort to monitor. I’m sure it’s going to get old in a few more years. For now though, I guess I can hope that things continue to work as well as they have been and probably still are. Breathe in, breathe out.

Really though, things are fine. Honest. 🙂


[[radio edit]] This is apparently my 1,000th post on the blog. I am very pleased by this!

Her Name was Ulla

I found out yesterday that we had lost another member of our tribe, pseudonym blahpolar. I also found out yesterday that her offline name was Ulla, and I am certainly in agreement with the rest of the Bipolaratti that said name should be remembered. You should join us in remembering her and her name on the 10th.

Heh, off to a disjointed start. That’s pretty much what I expect this to be on the whole. I feel like I should be full of words and meaning and memory-sharing, but like… I guess I’m just in shock. I knew she wasn’t doing that great, even if I wasn’t the best blog poster or commenter. I’d actually been debating emailing her for some time to check in, since she’d gone unnaturally quiet. That was the opposite of my concern when I brought her into The Bipolar Blogger Network — I told her she posted. A lot. And that it wasn’t a bad thing per se, because it wasn’t. It was just a bit overwhelming to pick through to vet her blog properly. And it was a good blog, headed by a talented writer and artist with her own slant on life. They say that on the internet, only about 1% of its denizens are net contributors, and she certainly was.

Aaand that sounds stilted and formal. Good job, brain. ¬¬

But really, what do you say in these circumstances? If Ulla had been my BFFFFF, would stand up and say, ‘What a magnificent bastard’. I’ve told bat that — he isn’t allowed to die unless he can pay for me to come to his funeral to say that. I think that Ulla might have liked that as well. I didn’t know her as well as some other folks (read Dyane’s amazing tribute here), but I certainly liked her. But I feel really really awkward when people tell me that they are sorry for my loss. Much like Wendy before her, I cared in the way I care about all my fellow Bipolaratti… but it’s not like they were my BFFs. I mourn their losses because they were people. I mourn their losses because people I know and like, and people I don’t know and/or don’t like are suffering. Sometimes mourning seems all that I can contribute. Is there an afterlife? Are our lost comrades looking down, knowing that they are missed? I’m somewhere in the agnostic-apathetic range and not really sure that I believe in gods and God and an afterlife. I guess I hope so, if only so people can go to a place where they don’t hurt anymore.

Anyways. Ulla. You magnificent bastard. You were pre-missed, and now post-missed, but never forgotten. In your honour (dubious as that might be), I’ve started an In Memoriam link section on The Bipolar Blogger Network, right under the main bloggers category. I’m half-tempted to add Wendy’s url, even if she deleted her blog before her death. Because you’re still part of the family to me, and well… just want to do my bit.

And a Word From Our Sponsors…

Right so, hi. If you guys haven’t picked up on it yet, I’m the one that actually runs The Bipolar Blogger Network. In spite of having a nominal co-founder, it’s been me behind the curtain for… eesh, four and a half years now. I’ve seen people come and go, I’ve had to be ‘mean’ to some folk, kind to others, and often make people wait forever for responses  — sorry y’all, you seriously have no idea how much time and effort each evaluation takes. It takes awhile for me to find the spoons to do them, but I try to do them and do my best for everyone because I value my network, its bloggers, and its readers.

So you might guess how I felt when one of my best friends messaged me this:

 GP found dead after being suspended over bipolar disorder blog

My heart clutched uncertainly at the headline — it couldn’t be who I thought it was. And then I read down… and it was. It was one of our network bloggers. Or former — she pulled herself from the network when the complaint happened. When that happened, I couldn’t imagine that it would lead to her death murder at the hands of stigma. I was merely sad to see someone who was sweet and friendly having to hide herself because of a silly person complaining (now a murderer).

According to the article, she died on the 24th of November. My last email from her was on the 11th of November. Of course, I’m sad. And angry. She, like so many of us, wanted to blog because it is great therapy. We have a great community amongst ourselves, filled with understanding and compassion, and freedom of speech means that we should have every freaking right to do that. Yes, she was a doctor, but how under the Light should that preclude her from wanting to write about herself? I’m soooo sorry it wasn’t something sexy or acceptable, but also, really? REALLY?! One thing that I love about the UK is that is generally a lot more tolerant of bipolar. We have organisations like Mind and Bipolar UK that do their best to provide support and spread awareness, and I have felt perfectly safe in my life and position.

But then, I wasn’t a doctor. I’m not in a position of ‘public trust’, per se. But here’s the thing — why should she as a doctor not ‘be allowed’ to candidly get things off of her mind? What possessed the person who thought that her ability to work should be questioned because she had a mental disorder, one that she was getting treatment for and doing her best to manage her work/life balance? Yes, bipolar can affect one’s quality of work, but so can a bad night’s sleep, a night on the drink, an argument with someone, anything. Should it mean she is incapable of being a doctor? Apparently, one out of one stigma-wielding patients says so.

I just. Ugh. This is part of why I write — I want to show that those of us with bipolar are people like anyone else. Sometimes we have it a bit (or a lot) worse because we have an exceptional set of circumstances to deal with. I have bipolar, yes, but I also have a beautiful and happy family. I have a job I can work from home. I have hobbies and friends. Wendy had all of these things too, less the job at the end. Someone let their fear rob her husband of a partner, her children of a mother. Someone let their fear rob a woman who loved her job of her job.

Someone has a lot to answer for. A part of me wishes I was an angrier, more vengeful person, one that would demand repayment in kind, Hammurabi-style. I’m not though. I hope this person, whomever they are, realise that actions have consequences, and that their actions rebounded severely. I hope that they think in future about stigma. I hope that people read about this, and think about how stigma kills. Because it does, and this woman’s only ‘sin’ was to want to write about her disorder.

Anyways, I’m going around in circles. I just had to get it off my chest because I’m flailing and upset. Goodbye, wychdoctor. Goodbye, Wendy. You are definitely missed.


*pokes head up*

Why, hello there,

Okay so like, I’ve actually been actively avoiding blogging here for a few weeks. Why? Because I went on vacation. It was a great vacation, fyi — I think I managed to relax for the first time in my life. But as Natasha Tracy points out, vacations can make bipolar worse. But I did everything right, and on the base of good health. I kept my sleep routine pretty close to normal. We didn’t change time zones; we ended up on the Isle of Wight, so still in the same country. My husband and I already had a pre-kid established vacation pattern of doing very little on a day to day basis, and that works well with kids. My in-laws were also there, but outside of dinners, we mainly did our own thing and they mainly did theirs. I hope that in future  years we do a bit more together, but we’ll see how that goes.

But yes, doing well! Which is good, considering that I have no idea when I’m actually supposed to see Dr. K next. I know nothing about where my ADHD referral stands. My prescriptions keep getting messed up; this has hit the point where I’m probably going to have to book in with my GP and go over the entire list together to figure out why it keeps getting messed up. I know my Depakote got bumped back up to 500mg twice a day because of a way out-of-date letter surfacing claiming it to be such; I got the GP to change it back to ‘right’ grudgingly by pointing out that the dose at that level gave me never-ending blinding headaches.

That’s about all I can think to say right now, so I’ll pootle off and try to think bedward thoughts.


Medicated Mix-Ups

If there’s one thing to know about me, it’s that I loathe using the phone. Undiagnosed/untreated ADHD don’t go well with trying to focus on a crackly voice down a tube with no facial or hand gestures to help parse what’s being said, so it’s a huge anxiety-causing thing. Hell, even thinking about using the phone pushes my anxiety levels beyond the point of reason, and writing about it is making my heart flutter slightly.

So of course, and I’m not sure why, but half of my meds are suddenly screwed up. My Depakote got doubled based on the last letter from my psychiatrist (which I managed to get fixed for at least this month), while my Zoloft has apparently been halved when I go online to order my prescriptions (despite the fact the right dose was on the selfsame letter). Two out of three ain’t bad, most people usually say, but it’s rather the opposite in this case.

The phone comes in because I probably, likely, am going to need to call Dr. K to get her to sort this out officially. I could potentially ask my friend who works at my doctor’s office to fix it for me, but I don’t want her to get in trouble for helping either. It would be one thing if I hadn’t gotten a call from Dr. A at the surgery harping about the Depakote, but he did, so my paranoia is turned right up when it comes to getting my friend in trouble. Even if asking her would be the easiest thing for me because oh hey, no phones. At least Dr. K is awesome insomuch that I can drop call her and she’ll call me back,but still, still…

Anyways, writing this in the hopes it will spurn me on to call tomorrow and ask her to contact Dr. A or Dr. N about it so it’ll be right before we go on vacation at the end of the month. Otherwise, I’m going to be running short of my Zoloft and that would never do.

Hope y’all are well out there. And preferably, not on fire; it’s roasting here in the UK.


PS — I have a couple of other blogs that I do, and one of them I’m trying to get into the habit of doing as a daily with opinions and life and whatnot. You can find that one at Raeyn[Dot]Com. T’other is at the domain this used to be on, Digitalglitch. That one is crafts and hobbies, and I really need to do an update there as well!

Eye Twitches and Crazy Mail


Me being a not-morning-person

My body has continued to make sure that I understand fully that I might not be outwardly stressed, but inwardly is — my right eye has been twitching as if it were trying to take flight for days now, and I developed a huge fever blister. Thanks body, here I am trying to take the high road on something causing me anxiety, and you make me out to be a liar! Hrmph! Having said that, I decided to quit waiting for Instagram to actually engage in customer service, and set up a new account. I think the only one of y’all following it was Laura, but if any of y’all are bored enough to want to see pictures of me, my kids, and crap on my desk, you’re welcome to come join the party!

Anxiety aside, I’ve been doing really well. I’m relieved that the current medicine combination continues to do such a good job of keeping my bipolar in line. I feel pretty solid, you know? And it’s been long enough since the current combination was put into play that I, for the most part, have kind of mentally blocked/forgotten what ‘normal’ felt like. I prefer this normal, yanno? The normal that has me smiling and laughing and being involved in my family’s life (or as much as crippling chronic fatigue will let me be). Naw, my only complaint on that front is that I still have no idea when I’m going to see my psych next, but I’m not complaining at this second because it means that it’s increasingly less likely that the letter is going to come inviting me to attend while I’m on vacation!

Wait, was was the crazy mail then?!

Now, the crazy mail was unexpected goodness. Even if it didn’t have its usual private and confidential across it, I just knew it was a letter from the mental health ward. To my massive surprise and pleasure, it was a copy of a letter from Dr. K to my GP (Dr. N) asking him to get on the ball with my ADHD referral. I got myself excited and misread it as saying that she’d organised the funding as well, but still. It’s amazing to see that she’s working so hard to push this through me. Yeah, I know that she said she was going to do just that, but it’s still edifying to have the proof in your hands. It’s still not a pinned down, confirmed and paid for referral, but it means a lot to me that someone is out there trying to help me improve my quality of life in more ways than one.

Anyhoos, it’s Monday, and that’s my ‘day off’, so I am going to get back to zoning out while the littlest has her nap. Hope all of y’all out there are doing well.