phoenixravenclaw

[phoenixravenclaw]

#14

I love my family but there are some that I don’t feel as close to.

I don’t feel comfortable telling my dad’s side of the family that I’m living with Bipolar Disorder. They already forget that I’m vegan and can’t believe that I don’t eat ANY kind of animal.

As far as my dad, I don’t share my feelings with him. At all. The last time I dared to do so he was dismissive. If I say that something he said hurts me, the chances of him apologizing is slim to none. His Baby Boomer, Conservative, male-pride, “I’m right, you’re wrong” nature quickly gets on my nerves.

My sister has made it quite clear that she doesn’t want to hear my feelings or any issues I’m going through. So I don’t open up to her anymore either.

I’m much closer to my mom but the idea of breaking her heart and burdening her with all of my problems and dark thoughts, hurts me.

There’s one aunt who’s only my aunt by marriage. Quite frankly she’s a bitch. And I don’t really like calling her my aunt. I’ve never cared for her cold, mocking nature. She’s never really been nice or warm towards her now dead husband’s (my loving uncle) side of the family. So the number of fucks that I give about her is few. God forbid she finds out about my mental illness. *eye roll*

My dad and my sister are similar. Both annoyingly stubborn and not all that great at communicating. There have even been some times where they’re going on and on, bitching and griping about what THEY’VE done for others, how much they pay for xyz, how their problems are somehow above and beyond anyone else’s issues, etcetera, etcetera. I don’t have the heart (or patience) to tell them that times like that make me feel incredibly guilty for them helping me. It’s to the point where I don’t like asking for their help at all no matter how badly I need it. And the time when I have no choice but to ask them for help makes me feel as if I’m just one huge burden that they can’t wait to get rid of. And of course, like any proper individual with Bipolar Disorder, that feeling leads to me feeling suicidal and me reinforcing the belief that I don’t deserve to live.

That’s not to say that my family don’t have good qualities because they do and they can be very loving. However, these little micro-issues on top of doing this journey to mental wellness are starting to add up and I don’t always have a good outlet.

I really need to find “my people”.

#family #bipolar disorder #family issues

[phoenixravenclaw]

#13

I just want to do life with a guy that has:

• big muscles

• a big heart

• a big brain

• big faith

• big compassion for people and animals

• big humor

• big respect for everyone, including marginalized groups

• big love

Is that too much to ask? Where you at hon?

#wantsinaguy singleasapringle

[phoenixravenclaw]

#12

When it comes to celebrities opening up about their mental health, I get mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m glad that they’re helping destigmatize mental illness. Especially Black celebs and especially if the mental illness is something other than depression or anxiety. Not that there’s anything wrong with depression and anxiety but, sometimes I feel that the two are overused by many people and is as common as having a cold. There’s still a stigma about other forms of mental illness. Bipolar Disorder (obviously), Schizophrenia, Psychosis, Borderline Personality Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Adult ADD, Adult ADHD, Dissociative Identity Disorder, etc. 

Knowing that certain stars celebs that are very skilled in their crafts such as Pete Wentz, Mariah Carey, Demi Lovato, Jenifer Lewis, Macy Gray, etc. also live and struggle with this disease gives me hope. And then there are other celebrities that make me wish they weren’t part of this “club” that nobody asked to join: Kanye West, Chris Brown, Kanye West, Mariah Carey, Lark Voorhies, Kanye West. It’s not that they don’t deserve to come clean about their struggle with mental illness. Everybody deserves to be able to come clean about it and admit when things are not okay. However, their actions, words and appearances tend to become linked with having Bipolar Disorder. 

“She be looking that way because she’s bipolar.” “No wonder they’re always acting crazy in the news. They’re bipolar.” “No wonder he committed that crime. He’s bipolar.” “He just said that because he’s bipolar.”

Outsiders already have a stigma about serious mental illnesses. We don’t need the negative, headline-making actions of the few to put a nail in the coffin. Don’t we have enough to go through? One person in particular is already an embarrassment to the Black community.

I guess I just want to scream to the world that not all individuals with Bipolar Disorder are assholes, homicidal, abusive, jerks, attention seeking, drug addicts or alcoholics. And just because a person says something crazy to the news and social media doesn’t mean that “their bipolar is acting up”. It’s very possible that they’re probably just a jerk.

#celebrities #bipolar disorder #thoughts

[phoenixravenclaw]

#11

Social media. It’s either a bitch or a great motivator. As of now, it’s starting to feel like the former. People my age (and younger) are moving forward. Getting married, getting engaged, finding love, buying a new house, having kids, getting careers, collecting degrees, new tats, new hair, traveling, getting pets, getting a new car. 

And me?

I’m almost 30 with no career, no degree, no friends, no love life, a bitch of an illness called bipolar disorder, no pets, no car of my own, no money. I live with my sibling who doesn’t really hang out with me anymore, most likely looks down at my pathetic life all the while thinking that they know how to fix my life and wants to tell me what I’m doing wrong according to what works for them. That last bit is besides the point.

I don’t envy my peers. I don’t want what they want. I want need a positive change. Something new, something fun, some kind of success to call my own. The desire for some sort of major success is eating at me and the idea of staying in this slow, stagnant, tiny box that God has placed me in makes me want to claw my skin off.

All I have is fitness and a desire to tell stories by way of writing. Neither one of those pays the bills, one of them could be better if I had the money for better opportunities and the writing part is such a slow process.

I’ve tried gaining some momentum on my own and some things I still am working on. It’s hard to do anything when so many basic things are missing from your life and are co-dependent on each other.

What about all of this is so important? Out of all the infinite paths of life that God could’ve made my life to be, why this path? Yes, yes, I know about the cliched thought, “it could be worse.” That’s not helpful right now. It only makes me feel as if my thoughts and feelings aren’t valid.

I go through all of the things that I’m dealing with and that stress me out and think, “God, all of this could’ve been prevented if you just answered that prayer at the time that I needed it. Now things are worse and undesirable.”

I don’t like my life. Every time I go to try and make things better, they’re blocked and I’m knocked back 10 steps when it took me years to move forward 1. Every. Single. Time. I don’t see what’s so beautiful about it and it’s so difficult to imagine anything getting better much less believing it.

*sigh* It’s not like anyone is going to bother reading this but I’ll still ask the question.

Now what?

#bipolar blog #mood episode #desperate for change #bipolar disorder

[phoenixravenclaw]

#10

There’s a war in my brain and it’s been going on nonstop ever since I was an upperclassmen in high school.

“Go for the career that will pay well.” 

Me: “ Well, today, that sounds like programming or cyber security”

“Go for the career that will make you happy... what you’re called to do... the one that will enable you to contribute to others.” 

Me: “Writing... duh.” *thinks* Does anyone really say “duh” anymore?

For so long I’ve been told that writing doesn’t pay the bills and that I can always write on the side while pursuing another long-term job that does pay well. Heck, I’ve have some people suggest that I put writing aside and go for whatever job that pays well. “Chase the money while you’re young.”

I know from experience that the second approach will ruin my mental health, emotional health, cause problems at work or school, strain my faith and screw with my physical health by way of stress. I don’t wan to go down that path again but at the same time, being poor can be just as damaging.

I like technology, programming, coding, web development, the internet, cyber security and all of that stuff. I want to learn more and I know that the demand for experts in that field is increasing. Imagine all the job offers I could get! HOWEVER... I don’t know if this is just another passing interest like many others (bipolar disorder symptom!) or something more. I’m also not 100% sure if I can truly see myself in this field at all much less being in the field AND being happy.

Writing. It’s my calling and I’ve known so ever since I was a little girl. My desire to dig deeper into the craft, study literature, explore techniques, learn from peers that I see regularly and are willing to hold me accountable when necessary, develop discipline in a different manner, be “forced” to share my works with others, etc. has never waned. In fact, it’s only increased.

The answer is glaringly obvious I know. But money.

Sometimes I wonder why God called me to write and not a profession that’s guaranteed to make six figures a year.

[phoenixravenclaw]

#9

I’m so tired of being me. I’m tired of looking at my meds and being reminded of my shattered mental health. I’m tired of not having enough money for meds, transportation or anything else that isn’t rent and bills.

I just want to be okay. I just want everything to be good. I just want everything I touch or work at to not fall apart. I just want people to not point out my flaws or me constantly worry whether or not what they think of me will affect my life outcomes.

This weekend was beyond shitty and right now I just wish that this existence didn’t actually exist. That I’m actually some healthy, well off, happy individual in an advanced virtual reality program where it lets you life the life of some other poor soul before you judge them. In a world where 45 never gets to the presidency and life for black people, other people of color and other marginalized groups isn’t so crappy.

I had a post planned out but my mind is going so quickly that I no longer remember what I was going to say. And it doesn’t help that I’m so antsy and the act of sitting still is irritating me into the beyond.

I didn’t ask for any of this yet, I’m expected to be happy, make the most out of things (damn this trippy gif in my background is weirding me out), always see a silver lining and see all of this as some kind of blessing.

I just don’t want to be me and I’d be surprised if anyone good would ever want me and all my messed up glory.

(I swear, I’m almost afraid that this gif is gonna move right off the screen. How do I make it go away?)

#bipolar disorder #late night thoughts #mood episode

[phoenixravenclaw]

#8

Relationships. Lately I’ve been thinking about the kind of relationships I’m lacking and all the ones that I’ve screwed up because of my Bipolar Disorder. Roommates, potential dating partners, friendships.

It’s getting to the point where I feel as if I don’t deserve to find love or friendships.

She’s too quiet. She’s too mean. She’s too moody. She doesn’t share. She’s not open enough. She won’t sit still. I don’t know what her problem is.

There’s always been a lot of rift between me and almost all of my past roommates. For some reason I’m alway stuck with someone overly messy or someone who expects me to become their new bestie. In the end, they get pushed away and we’re no longer friends in real life or on Facebook. I don’t like to share certain things, I’m not always super friendly or talkative. I like my quiet time and I don’t like having to sacrifice my happiness or wellbeing for their comfort.

With all the guys that I’ve had feelings for, I always fall hard and I obsess and scrutinize every word or action towards me. In the end, I realize that I’ve been blind enough to not realize that they’re never checking for me. That I’m simply the “good friend” that they don’t want to touch. The guys that are interested in me, however, are creepy older guys that give off a vibe that makes me wary and want to avoid them at all costs. Oh fun.

Friendships. I’ve had friends but after a while, they become better friends with each other and somehow I get edged out. My depressive periods and anxiety always created a wall when people tried to get to know me the most. The last group of friends I had was suddenly ripped away from me when I had to move back in with my parents in a different area of the state... and with no transportation of my own. That was almost 4 years ago.

By nature, I’m a quiet person. I don’t talk a lot around people I don’t know and I don’t like small talk. It takes an insanely long time for me to trust someone enough to open up to them, even as a friend. If there’s an inkling of something about a person that doesn’t sit well with me, I’m not going to open up. Even then, there are some parts of me that I don’t trust anyone with. That includes my mental health.

I’ve also been thinking about who I consider to be part of my support team outside of my therapist and meds doctor. My mom. That’s it. I would like to say my sister but she doesn’t talk to me, share her life or even bother to ask me how I’m doing anymore.

On top of all of this, I don’t like being told what to do. Period. I feel as if when people look at me they see someone who looks small, innocent and who needs to help me navigate the world because I somehow don’t look like I can. They look at a small part of my life and conclude that in order for things to work out, it’s my job to shut up, take their unwanted advice and live out a life that they approve of. And when I don’t, anything that goes wrong is my fault. It feels as if people look down on me for some reason.

One of the hardest things that I’ve have to do when I’m in a depressive episode is to talk myself out of wanting to hurt myself or even entertaining the thought of suicide let alone thinking of how I would off myself. It’s so unbelievably draining. I shouldn’t have to do all of this alone and figure out how to make friends that will stay around. But hey, no one wants the crazy, quiet black girl, right.

#relationships #bipolar disorder

[phoenixravenclaw]

#7

You know what? I believe I’ve learned something new and (possibly harmful) about myself.

I hate making mistakes. More importantly, I hate making mistakes in front of people or having someone point out my mistakes. It makes me highly anxious and embarrassed.

I’m the kind of person where I’d rather practice, study or work on something before I make its presence know to other people. I thrive on getting things right the first time not so that I can flaunt it to everyone but because I think that’s how things should be. I don’t know why I’m like that. I just am.

Not a good thing for someone who wants to be an accomplished fiction writer. So... the greater question is: how am I supposed to go about changing this about myself? Or is it around to stay and haunt me?

#thoughts of a bipolar person #bipolar blog #self reflection #self-revelation

[phoenixravenclaw]

#6

I feel like I’m a cookie and someone is taking a hammer to me and bashing me up into little crumbs all while expecting me to not to fall apart and become a bigger, stronger, sweeter cookie.

Y’all know that life doesn’t work like that right? Constantly beating up someone won’t always make them better and stronger. Sometime it inflicts more wounds that take longer and longer to heal.

#bipolar blog #bipolar episode #mental health struggles

[phoenixravenclaw]

#5

If suicide isn’t the answer and self harm isn’t either, then what’s the solution? I need an out.

#mental health struggle #bipolar disorder #bipolar episode

[phoenixravenclaw]

#4

So my therapy appointment was this past Friday. I’m making progress and my therapist is really proud of me. Even though all went well, I had a “Oh sh!t I really am Bipolar” moment. She was asking me about my moods and I thought back to how I’ve been for the past 3 weeks. I still have depressive episodes and hypomanic episodes that are caused by sudden stressful events but, they only last a day or two and I’m slowly getting to the point where I find something that works. It’s better than being deep in depression and suicidal thoughts for a month and then heading towards feeling fantastic, sleepless and overly energetic for a week. Thank God for my meds and may they never stop working!

Here’s the thing, most of the time I don’t know that I’m in an episode until I look back at things, think about what I’ve said to people, where my thoughts were, my sleeping habits and how long I spend at the gym. Apparently those closest to me have seen improvement and believe that I’m learning to manage stress well. I see otherwise but okay.

I know there’s still some stuff that I need to work on and some issues that need to be addressed but I can only handle a little at a time. Right now I’m in a “being a black woman in America is hella hard but, I wouldn’t want to be anyone else except a black woman with slightly bigger boobs to match her butt” type mood.

I wonder all my peeps fighting mood disorders, how are you all handling the adverse news? (Besides wanting to send all the vile people in power on a one way trip straight into the sun?)

#bipolar type 2 #bipolar blog #stress #stress management

[phoenixravenclaw]

#3

1 hour of lifting weights and 1 1/2 hours of intense cardio later and I’m still angry. The only difference is that now I’m sore, hungry and too tired to punch a hole in the wall let alone walk or make dinner. 😤

#bipolar disorder #bipolar #bipolar anger #thoughts of a bipolar person #bipolar type 2

[phoenixravenclaw]

#2

One of the things I often find myself dreaming about is a world where vegan foods and restaurants, healthy and unhealthy, are the norm and animal-based products are difficult to find.

Imagine being able to go into any restaurant and order whatever you want almost all of the restaurants are vegan. Anyone that wants animal products has to find a small overpriced restaurant or cafe. Now picture this:

A person comes into to a restaurant wanting a beef burger with dairy cheese. “What can I get ya today?” The waiter asks. “A cheese burger.” “What kind of burger and what kind of cheese?” “Excuse me?” The person blinks. “We have soy, seitan, lentil, quinoa, housemade veggie, black bean and mushroom. We also have cashew cheese, soy cheese and soy-free cheese in American, pepperjack and provolone flavors.” The person scrunches up their nose. “What about regular beef and dairy?” “We don’t carry any animal products.” The person leaves in search of a meat and dairy laden meal not realizing that 99% of eateries in the city are all vegan only.

This doesn’t have anything to do with being bipolar. I’m just hungry. 😋

#vegan #thoughts of a bipolar person #vegan thoughts

[phoenixravenclaw]

#1

This blog was created on a whim. It took me all of 10 minutes to realize that I needed to do this and that it needed to be done TODAY. We’ll see how long it lasts.

As you’ve guess from the title, I have Bipolar Disorder. Type II. I’m also a black woman and I’m unapologetic about it. This is a space for me to talk about my BP and what it’s like from the perspective of a black woman. Some posts will be funny, some are serious, some angry, some sad, some rants and probably some (seemingly but, not really) random ideas.

Feel free to follow, interact, share, ask questions. Just be a decent human being about it or I’ll boot you. 😉