Swelltide.

I have been thinking a lot the last few days, about everything. The course of my life, and where my life seems to be going. Childhood. School. Money. My relationship. Everything.

I've been in a really weird mood. Unstable, and off-kilter. I messaged a friend the other night, and completely broke down. I just lost it for about about ten minutes, which is kind of pathetic considering that there weren't any real words exchanged. I wanted something from him, and I still don't know what. I just know that I didn't get it.

This brings me to revelation one. No one really cares. Everyone has this idea of who you are, which is only meaningful in a context to other people in terms of who they are. If what you are going through, if your experience isn't immediately relateable to someone; they don't care. I don't mean that in a way of they willfully choose not to care, but more of in a way because their experience isn't like you're own, they do not understand it. Empathy takes real effort, a kind of effort that I am not sure that most people are capable of. If it does not effect them, impact them, affect them-- do not expect a reaction.

We are alone. This is an ideal that I struggle with constantly. No matter how you frame it, who you surround yourself with, who you are involved with-- you live your life by yourself. What you go through, you go through on your own. Maybe you have people around you to talk to, to bounce ideas off of, to gain a kind of perspective-- but life is yours to lead and only you.

What a terrible, and equally empowering thought, when you really think about it. So, why then do I allow myself to be so influenced by the past? Not by the things that happen now, but by the things that have already happened? I don't really understand it.

Since I am being honest, tonight. My sister is pregnant. I am excited for her. The freak-out that I exxperienced the other night has everything to do with this. And, it is kind a long story...

My mother was sexually abused when she was younger. Because of this, and maybe some other things (she says as little as I do), she is emotionally unavailable. I cannot have a serious conversation with her without her breaking down, crying.... I cannot talk to her about the things that other kids can seem to talk to their parents about. And my sister. My mother has taken a kind of pride in 'protecting' her. Including, borrowing money to put my sister through school, buying her a car, talking to her every day.The kinds of things that a parent should be doing. Only she doesn't, for me or my brother.

And so, the announcement took me by surprise and threw me for a loop. I have been like this since. Full of energy and anxiety. Questioning everything. I hate it.

When something big happens in life, I always seem to do this. Evaluate everything. Question. Why me?! I am getting kind of sick of it. Sadly, I no longer think it healthy for me to expect my parents to be parents. I will never get from them the kind of things that I want. Not material things. Support. A real, working relationship. I just want to know they give a shit, and I never will.

Swelltide.

Likely this will be a long and rambling post, for which I apologize in advance for those who continue to read.

I am still off my medication. I still have not found a new psychiatrist. I still have not put in the effort to meet with a new doctor, to discuss cheaper medication. I am still off of my meds. This seems to be the best way to start, to frame how I've been feeling or thinking lately. Maybe manic. Maybe depressed.

My sister arrived for a few days to visit with my parents-- and to announce her pregnancy. My mother seemed usually ecstatic (concerning any news that involves my sister). The guilt I have now... My immediate reaction aside from envy, was the thought that I cannot remember the kind of reaction from my parents when my brother announced that him and his girlfriend were pregnant-- five years ago. My mother standing beside my sister, glowing. Her dear daughter, pregnant... I was baffled, happy for my sister, and equally furious.

There exists no concern about my well-being, or my brother's. There has not been any discussion about my mental state beyond that initial conversation that I had with mom about being diagnosed with bipolar, beyond  a few passing remarks about how I 'seem' so much more 'stable' now. How difficult it is not to take such remarks as a kind of insult. She does not know, of course, that I haven't been taking my medication.

My mother, who was sexually abused as a girl, never seeking professional help. Knowing her, she thinks that this is a kind of testament to inner strength. Getting through life with all this baggage, on her own... I think it is kind of pathetic. She looks down on me, I think for having gone to counseling. She looks down on me for actually trying to deal with the issues and hang-ups that I have.

She made a remark, while we went out for lunch a few days ago, about a cousin of mine who once went on a national TV show for being promiscious. "A girl sexually active at such a young age, it is a sign of sexual abuse." I asked her who in the family... "I don't want to get into it." Why? What a white-trashy, southern thing to do. We must keep quiet about those things. We must never talk about those things.

Whatever. I am not like my parents. At all. I want to think about everything. I don't think there are things within a family you should not talk about. And, that is the ironic thing. My mom is fine discussing other people's problems. Never her own.

My brother shows up to the house today, probably stoned. It was a lunch organized for his birthday. My mom had some things to say about it. My sister had some things to say about it. His 'drug' use seems to confuse them.

One of these days, I will remind my mother that while she was ever vigilant in my sister's affairs, growing up she could care less about what my brother and I did, so long as it didn't involve court or the police. I will remind her that my brother's real father never has expressed interest in him. Never sends so much as a birthday card. My brother, who has been described as 'willful' wasn't interested in school until you suddenly decided, when he was seventeen that it was unacceptable that he didn't care if he graduated from high school. Never mind that you could care less the other sixteen years.

God! The anger. The resentment. The pity that I feel for my parents. Living here, so close to them is a mistake. Something that I need to think about....

Swelltide.

The isolation is killing me.

If I were were younger, attending school, maybe the social aspect would appeal to me more. Fraternity. Parties. Clubs. I wish I had been mature enough in my early twenties to tackle school, registration, financial aide...

Now, I rarely say so much as two words to anyone for most of the day. The days that I'm not in school, I spend studying alone at the house. Watching Youtube videos about physics or chemistry, or doing nothing. Daydreaming about what my new job will be like... Thinking about what it means that when I get back into the workforce at thirty-something, will anyone want to hire me? What does it say about a person who waited so long to get an education?

Still off the medication. Still haven't done much about it. Searched for some psychiatrists in the area, and there really aren't any. So, I'm going to have to make the drive to see someone. Called the old doc a few more times and left a few more voice mail, nothing. I think mentioning to her that I would like some more inexpensive medication may have been a bad idea.

I haven't been acting liking a crazy person, but I haven't been exactly stable either. Can't sleep. Moody. Either sleeping all day or not sleeping. Scaring people with the level of energy that I have, or having no energy at all.

Yes. So... That is it really. Still school. I haven't even popped into the office at work for over a month. Which feels really good, actually. I will probably work there over the summer and go back to pretending that I never did once school starts back up in the fall.

Going back to community college. I can't keep borrowing all of this money, getting nowhere. The supposedly sub-ivy league school... The teachers aren't that great. The administration isn't that great. I'm not getting any help when I need. So, I'm not giving them my money anymore.

Swelltide.

In the mood for a quick post. 

I have been in a terrible mood the last three or four days. Irritable. Anxious. Tired. Typical, normal bi-polar off his meds stuff. I have attempted to contact the psychiatrist, several times actually, without getting a response. Which, is fine. I need the medication, which is becoming more obvious, but I also want to have an honest conversation about the cost of drugs, and whether there is a generic or combination of generics that I could be taking. Doctors don't really like having to have the conversation about the cost of drugs, in my experience. So, I'll be finding a new doc soon.

School is going much better. I've been busy, but feel like I'm finally catching up. I feel far more hopeful about it than I have since I started. Been hitting the books really hard, and am finally getting to grades that show the amount of effort that I've put into it. 

So, I'm well. Busy. Still off the medication. Still fighting with myself to get things done. That's it really. 

Swelltide.

Still, no medication. I have attempted to contact the shrink, a few times, and haven't gotten a call back. Has everything to do with me not having insurance at the moment, I'm sure. Figures. I have been fairly well. Busy, but still fighting with myself to get things done. I procrastinate, and it seems harder and harder to get myself motivated. To study. To clean. To do what needs to be done. We went for a night drive last night and inwardly I was fighting the urge to be at home. I manage to do it. Just seem to fight myself along the way.

Went up to the house to visit with mom and dad for a bit, tonight. Which was okay. Mom and the girlfriend started talking about the mother of my nephew. Apparently she called mom and started talking about her daughter, who is no relation. Being combative. Being difficult. Teenage stuff. A girl that my mom has knocked since she split with my brother. Suddenly, mom is defensive about this girl-- who is completely self-absorbed. Immature. Overly-dramatic. Probably not a great mother.

Now, I have made a lot of progress on the family front, but with my parents-- thinking about parenting in any way gets me going on this semi-obsessive cascade of... rawness, emotion. Something. I guess that is what it takes to get into my mother's good graces. Seeking her to be motherly. Allowing her to feel superior in some way? Reaching out? Of course, mom would be defensive to this absurd girl. They are a lot alike.

She, mom, is such an emotional child. I feel guilty for even putting it that way. Granted, she has been through a lot of shit, and I acknowledge that but she refuses to. She refuses to deal with it in any way. When I went to her, told her about being bipolar (like other big talks that we've had) she just shut down. She doesn't know how she really feels at any given time. This is has been an enormous rift between us. I don't feel as though I can approach her with emotional stuff. Partly, because I don't think she would really understand it and partly because I feel like she doesn't really deserve it. What a terrible thing to say about your own mother...

Which, is part of a much longer story. My father? He is the overly-devoted husband. Passive. Peace-keeper. Bread-winner. I'm not a kid anymore. The truth is neither of them really owe me anything. Other than maybe an honest conversation, which is unlikely to ever happen.

I think that the healthiest thing that I could do for myself, and for my girlfriend, is to get away from it. Get away from being made to feel obligated, guilty and blah blah blah. I already feel a little better, just writing about it.

Swelltide.

This is likely to be a long and rambling post, because I am nearly drunk and because I've been doing a lot of thinking.

I'm in a weird, reflective mood, and I've done a lot of quiet, solemn thinking the last couple of days. About everything. God, who I am not sure that I believe in anymore. Friends, which I don't have many of anymore. Love. Life. The real value of things, and the real meaning of things.

As a teenager, everything seemed so full of purpose. Maybe, it was having the whole of my life ahead of me. Feeling like anything was possible. Feeling like anything could and would happen. A lot of things did happen. I moved away from home only a few months after I turned eighteen. It doesn't really matter that I moved back home only a few months later. I lived more in those few months than I have in the years since.

To be thirty (or almost thirty) and to look back on my teenage years still. It tells me that my life since has been mostly wasted, which is something that I loath to admit, and it tells me that I need to change some things. School has been a good start on that-- starting over, but I need more. I need to know that there is still  joy and meaning to living.

 I think of things like; if I were to die, who would come to my funeral? I don't know the answer and I'm not sure that I really want to. I haven't made any meaningful friendships in years. I haven't met anyone worth being friends with in years. I can't blame it on everyone else anymore. My girlfriend can seem to make friends at school, work-- wherever she goes. Friends and family. They can find people to connect with and mesh with. Why can't I?

I could say now, that I feel isolated BECAUSE of being bipolar. I have a hard time socially BECAUSE of being bipolar. But, I don't accept that, at all. If only there were another person that I knew that was a carbon-copy of myself. I would get along great with myself.

I used to meet people everywhere I went. I would talk to anyone. I would approach anyone. And now, I ask myself things like, 'was it because I was in a manic phase?' It robs me. Bipolar steals every bit of meaning. I have become, fore reasons I don't fully understand, so isolated. Socially awkward. Hesitant. Full of doubt.

And, I hate it.

I can spend all day at school without the need to talk to anyone. I can be around people for hours without feeling any need to talk to anyone. I can come home and waste hours doing nothing. Then, like tonight, I can keep myself awake for hours with worry and regrets. With a longing for some kind of connection with someone that I don't have.

I really don't understand it.

Swelltide.

Had dinner with the family the other night. The first time all of us have gotten together in a long time. Just mom, dad and the kids. I was so full of energy and had been feeling fuzzy, alternating between anxious and hyper for most of the day. Some woman at the table next to ours made some comment about every family having someone they just couldn't take out in public. It didn't bother me at the time. I just chuckled and didn't think about it. But, I've been thinking about it since. I am still not accustomed to calling this 'mania.' My girlfriend had noticed the other night when we went out that I was more hyper than normal, and was little too free with my money.

I have given up on the notion of being like other people. Sometimes, it doesn't seem fair. Living with the up-and-down. Sometimes not having the drive to get out of bed on time. Being overly excitable.  Being so full of energy that I can't hold it all in. Most of the time, I don't have any interest in being 'normal.'

Then, I think about what this is going to do for me in the long-run. Having to explain why my work performance has not been what it normally is. Having to make some excuse for why I am running late, again. Having those people close to me wondering about my mental-state. Living with the fear that I might not be able to make the kind of friendships and relationships that I want, knowing people don't really understand. I still don't fully understand.

I probably should make an appointment soon, get back on the meds.