Mental madness pt2

its a strange thing when you lose your mind. people make fun of you when they see the visible signs that you are weird. i make fun of me when i act weird. sometimes i can feel myself being pulled towards things i have no knowledge of. sometimes i make fun of myself for the boys to laugh at.i do it as i am on the very edge of delusions or hallucinations, or my mind just shuts down. if i dont engage people with funny stories and incorporate some very real information about me or my illness.i have been physically sick for 4 months now and i i am gain clarity of thought . i thought this recipe was a winner. make fun of the serious subject that affects all 3 of us, or slip into a catatonic state a place where my quirks are welcome to celebrate or understand those that care.its too bad that my kids arent old enough to appreciate me when i am working the mental illness gig. having a mental illness is bad enough but while i've been talking gibberish and getting more and more feedback from the kids. its either "you're an idiot mum" or "i've had enough, why dont you try talking to yourself". what the kids dont know is that there is method in my madness. when i engage people in conversation, usually its the kids, i am pretty tuned into the kids and i think sometimes thats a good thing. other times its just plain selfish. the selfish behaviour of the mad woman. i get tired doing head laps and i forget to introduce my truth and explain their role in that. 
if i dont connect with someone soon i start to shake, my head tremors. i cant string a sentence together.i feel so embarrassed. i was a very intelligent person, interested in the world i live in. now i'm interested in orchestrating the next day so i make it through to the next.
i get tired , like i am now, jesse called me an idiot.if i was refreshed from sleep and in good physical health i would lap up any indication that we were in fora battle of the familiar mind games. after jesse called me an idiot tonight i ripped into him about name calling and how inaccurate it usually is and i never want to hear him call me names. i really lost it, it was like i snapped. i am so tired of mental illness. i didnt realize that the kids wore so much of it and the only thing holding them togather and dragging me along too, is the knowledge that i wouldnt make it by myself in the real world.
i feel really sad and i have a lack of direction. kobe is home with e. he knows that i am fragile right now.from about 3 months ago until no the kids have been making fun of me, i dont begrudge this strategy, i taught them how to be a smartass and get away with it. i look back 3 months and i dont see much, fever, pain i couldnt alert the nurse of as i couldnt talk. i have my voice back now but i struggle for words. plain, simple words. i dont know if this is my make fun or die recipe or if its a symptom of one of my illnesses. in the back of mind i have a possibility that scares me. i wonder if i am unable to be an intelligent person after i flushed 300 xanax down my throat 18 months ago.i wonder every time i open my mouth if what comes out will be intelligent or will it be immature and irrelevant. and i wonder if jesse jokes will be a source of entertainment. i think logic tells me that i not only explain to the boys that we are living a life full of manic expression or trying to survive through another depression. depression where its a struggle to feel nothing or to be still and as i scan my room, as i often do to try to remember who i am. another fucking talk about mental illness with the kids. and jesse needs some indication when he is unable to tolerate my weirdness. and i need to not snap. i created this life, so i better get busy fine tuning it. again with the references to mechanics and engines. i have a thing for mechanics. maybe its all those t&a calendars. i like to think its because they are so masculine. everything has its place in a work shop. they move with purpose and precision and they know exactly how many turns of the shifter are required. mechanics(the surgeons without god complexes).
joxoxoxo

what's in a name

everyone knows how i love my boys. jesse, who at the age of 7 became our lookout as he knelt up facing the back window in the car , saying things like he's three cars back mum, we're losing him, faster mum, he's gone, i cant see him. jesse , mine and kobe's protector and jesse the 7 year old kid who demanded to be like the other kids,

i've been transparent with everyone, including my boys since the day we left mark. as they grew they seemed stronger for the truth, their truth, not mine, not their fathers. music and art kept me sane and it helped the kids just as much. i remember kobe walking through the dining room one day and he stopped at my current painting and he looked very intently, looked at me and said "mum you really are angry" kobe had been diagnosed with Asperger, adhd and odd, all of the meant nothing to me, he could read me like a book. he watched me every day singing and dancing and shopping the thrift stores looking for supplies. when he went into himself and rocked to soothe himself , i sat down gently beside him and sang his song, eventually as i rocked to the rhythm of his body i could feel him let go of his anger. time for cuddles, so i ask him if he wants a cuddle and if he did i rocked him like  little baby and watch him go from furious raging to calm soothing hugs from mum. i watched as kobe included himself in activities. he needed me frequently, to guide him and love him.

 decided a little while ago that i was going to tell the boys exactly what illness i had and what the symptom were in case they ever need the information and they were on their own.i am trying to be non confrontational as i write this blog..jesse is pretty reliable and in tune with me. he gets to my side quickly if something is wrong and he deals with it. kobe on the other hand, i think he is scared. when i lose control of my mind he frets and is visibly scared.i try t talk to him afterwards but he goes back into himself and becomes invisible. this week i have calling out to tony, my nephew who  shared my life with until about 11 years old.  all week i have responded to kobe by the name tony. sometimes i call out for tony a dozen times and its really hard to access the name kobe in my memory,it feels good to remember tony and my memories seemed to have clarity. i wish i could go back sometimes and stand up for him and be nicer to him, not cruel and mean.he was like my twin, blonde hair, blue eyes, same big head. i am sorry i didnt take a protective role in tony's life. sorry for tony and sorry for his mum.my dream today is to come across tony and he has a successful career and a happy life.

kobe is fed up with me calling him tony, so fed up he challenged my authority over my own body and mind, i can't let that happen.i used to think that i just needed to get well. i am still waiting for the illness to go away. i know its hard living with a person with mental illness, but think of it this way, its hard for a person with mental illness to live with themselves. kobe left home this morning and hasnt come back. i wish he was in my arms again, like he did when he was 4. little kids <little problems>big kids bigger problems. this problem goes back generations, different people, different spin on it axis. just come home kobe and i will love you and make it better.

love mum xoxoxox  

things you can say to talk down a mentally ill person; are you ok,if you need me i'm  right here, its ok, i am with you and if you can tell me what you need. theres no need to be ashamed, everyone on this planet has something different from the next person. some ppl keep their secret about themselves until the grave. not you and i, we will always be vocally standing tall for inter generational PTSD, crimes against women and children, and the use ot enrichment programs to express them selves safely in the company of peers,

work that brain

i've been so negative lately. i tell myself that it's my physical health swaying my mind to a place i have no control over. i started on anti biotics 4 months ago to treat cellulitis, it's a diabetes related skin infection.i could go to hospital and have it treated with iv antibiotics but my agoraphobia is strong and i feel scared , terrified of people when i leave the house. i have not stepped outside this house in 5 years. i have been living like this for so long , and i am such a strong willed person. i have let some heath care workers into my home. at first i did it out of desperation, i was having a bad day i think.then over the period of about 2 weeks i had a GP, an occupational therapist, a physiotherapist and we are waiting for a psychiatrist and a psychologist to return the request favorably.

i had an argument yesterday with jesse as he was telling me what to do and he wanted to distribute my meds like the do in hospital. i am in fight or flight mode. i am on about 35 pills a day and i can manage that myself. 35 pills, 5 injections of insulin a day and its not the pills that are troubling me today and the last week or so. my brain feels like mush. i forget words, little words. i get stuck when i try to describe something. a lot of the time i dont speak unless i know i can do it. my doctor is going to look at my recent bloodwork and trying to take me off some of these meds. i had him at a home visit last week and i told him that i fear my brain isnt functioning well because of the overdose i had not too long ago. 300 xanax i thought i was smart because i've never od'd on a benzos before and i really dont think its possible , unless you take a lot more that i ever have.

i explain to the kids that i was being hideous because i needed to be treated for illness and they are a part of that process by monitoring me a little bit and to be encouraging. one thing i want tolerate is someone taking my meds and distributing them as they see fit. treating me like a psyche patient and talking to me in simple, loud voices and words. i think that my brain isnt working as it should because the last od left me with some brain trauma.

its difficult to image being healthy and able to not be many of those labels that go with the diagnoses. but i am gonna give it a red hot go. i heard a saying once ,it was something like, the end is not what matters ,but the journey in between. i think i will be facing more demons as i embark on physical therapy, i just have to keep my cool and maybe use a safe work with the kids, a word that enables them to tell me to stop.i did that when my brother had dementia and it worked a treat. so i will do it.

jo xoxoxox

Don't blame it on the health, oops i mean boogie

i am having a week from hell. my bipolar has me sleeping for 2 hours at night. it doesnt feel like bipolar or psychosis. i can seriously say that it feels like my family is falling apart. i left the kids father 15 years ago. i left to break the cycle of violence. the way i feel today, its a cycle bigger than me, smarter that me. like Godzilla big, smart with a very low IQ.if there is unrest in my home it always revolves around jesse. he lived with mark and i and he felt the trauma as much as me. so did kobe. he was just a baby. he had PTSD from experiencing beatings and shouted at and kobe felt all of that, he was born raging with anger and it has taken a lot to get him to a happy life. jesse on the other hand, a lot more work.i dont feel comfortable with anymore disclosure about my kids.

my mind is still out to lunch. i can be looking at something and i want to, but say its a broom, i can stare at it to try to fined the name in my head, but it doesnt work.the whole situation is really worrying for me. the kids see me struggling and they jump into 
action, but the thing is that when i am feeling a mental illness or a brain injury, usually i want to do what i can for yourself. i know my kids mean well but they do take over sometimes. its very frustrating. my doctor said he thinks some of these mental problems could be due to the drugs he prescribes me to treat my illnesses.. anyway i dont really feel too good this morning. every time i do something i put a hold on my feelings and the kids jump on top of the situation. its a fine line we cross. i want to have help when i need it and i want to have support from other people with disabilities and or mentally illness. when i first became bipolar i was still ok. i think the antypsychotics have brought me undone. if i had my time over i would never convert,

what's normal

i really dont know how i feel. blogging seems to be a way to undo the bad and see the good. but i am starting to feel like closing my bedroom door and staying there. i have enlisted the help or a case manager, an occupation therapist. i am trying to find a psychiatrist who does skyp appointments and bulk bills, i'm pretty sure i wont find that. i've got two chances, buckly's or none. my kids got really aggressive with me last night, telling me i had no capacity to see or remember the truth. i was so shocked that all the things i wanted to say were tightly wound and in no way would all of my anxiety and PTSD can possibly take what they dished out.

i am trying to think of it as their way of letting steam off after dealing for weeks with my erratic personality. i dont know how to educate them further regarding my mental health. i have to allow for their mental illness's too.but for all 3 of us anxiety and rage take over and more often not i am the focus of the rage.i have been this way for so long now, i just dont remember what sort of lives other  people really live.

i.m really getting tired of this bullshit. the kids have had all the right counselling and they've played sports in heir spare time. when they decided to be musicians i bought a guitar, a drum kit and they already had a keyboard. that didnt take long to be ignore. i know my life has consistency. my life has almost all about mental illness and trying hard to give my kids a good life. i feel like i have failed miserably. it feels awful, i used to have such passionate vision about o many things that i became aware of in this world. now i never go outside, never answer the phone, if i get a bit sassy and am on the opposite side from jesse in debate all hell breaks loose. i really cannot take even one more terrorizing attack on me, especially while i am sick. i am gonna try to ease the anxiety and various forms of shock.have a nice day xoxoxox 

Mental Madness

I'm gonna try to talk about mental illnesses. PTSD makes you silent as you tear your memory apart trying to establish who you really are. and questions like "Did I deserve it, how should I have played that, possibly receiving far less injuries." Dissociation, for me is a part of PTSD. sometimes I just go blank and its not just my mind, its my face. I can feel my eyes rolling back. This is the first symptom that I cant hide from. what i believe is dissociation is the appearance of Michelle my little twin known and seen by only me and when there's trouble I used to take her outside and run to my little shed and seat us right in the corner, hidden and protected. another offshoot of dissociation is to run away sometimes with my hallucinations some time without. If my safety was compromised and it looked and sounded like he was going to make me hurt and scared.

Bipolar is surely a dominant force in this race to fuck up Joanne. it can go lots of ways and change over the years. for a long time i could be around men unless alcohol was involved. More accurately I didn't remember the argument at all as i'd slept it of, I remember one day when he beat me and then demanded with the intention of making me pay for him. so I went to the party with a black eye. you can be obsessed by someone when you have bipolar and you don't see the circumstances or intention of this illness. I really cant think of anything else I have that I can talk about today, I feel exhausted and I want to deliver my message carefully and succinctly.

there is a lot of grief in my house at the moment. I froze at Jesse as he said something. it was like arguing with mark.then he would grab Jesse and shake him while screaming, he had Jesse under his iron grip with enough ability to frighten. i used to escaped to Jesse's room and through the window I could call me. Once Jesse was inside and we were silent I was able to tend to my wounds and keep Jesse safe.

A few years ago I was finally ready to fess up to what had been. She sent me to a psychiatrist. Then he put me onto antipsychotics, whole different story. They were the worst drugs. They rendered me zombie like and compliant. I have to go, I think I have covered a little insight into my illness. I have the need to tell my story is because I am currently quit pretending, safe to speak for once and for the continuous breaking down of the cycle of abuse. but I'm sorry because I have to leave you hanging. I'm going to hide, count to 100 and come find me. Here's a clue, I'm in my bed. For some strange reason, they would always find me there and there would be hilarity and warmth and I would make some toast and we would eat it in the bed.....I hope the fucker slept badly that night. ok. off to bed i go. g'nite and xoxoxoxoxox
kobe did most of the spellchecks and finding the words i wanted to use. i hope to be articulate, interesting and fun one day.bye xoxoxxo

i am so tired of all this bullshit

i can feel bipolar has a little bit of depression waiting around the corner.this morning i cried for so long and about stuff that matters, some stuff causes me so much pain, i absolutely know it'll be coming to the grave with me. so every day this week i have been trying to asuce, with my case manager, a physiotherapist, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, thats it i think.   the thing is, i dont think the amount of care matches the the amount of bad blood wherever i go. up until now i have been stoic and ready to do all that i can to break the cycle of violence with my two boys. it feels like it cant be done. i have spent 25 years either defending myself against mark, my ex, and then about 15 years trying to give all that i could to son #1. i felt so guilty for what he'd been through.. you know that saying "give me a boy aged 7 and i'll show you the man...and the next line is something else" i know i am being vague and annoying, i dont know if depression is coming or is it coming with my body under duress thx to a bad case of cellulitis. i know i am out of any sort of routine. i know i am on too many pills. and i know i spend too much time in bed. the only reason i dont top myself tonight is kobe. he is only 16 and hasnt had much of a life, i want to watch him go on his way in life happily, unaffected by all of my sickness, all of his brothers sickness and his fathers too. you know if i was a betting woman i would have put all my cash on getting these kids out of the cycle of violence. i think i failed. i really cant talk anymore, shit is hitting the fan, i dont cope PTSD. in fact all 3 of us have PTSD. its not a go past go and take $200 please.its serious shit, with serious events that their issues are so enmeshed. i gotta go. 

when's it ever gonna end?

i suppose my kids have had enough of me being ill. i don't think they think i am unwell. something changed during the last 36 hours and i don't know what it is. i am so tired and hurt. i have an appointment with my case worker today and on one hand i could tell her whats going on in the hope that she can help us or on the other hand she could blame my mental illnesses and have me involuntarily put in the psyche wind and kobe would go to foster care and i don't know what would happen to jesse. i must be sick coz to be brutally honest, i really don't care, i want to get well. i don't want to be called an arsehole, bitch, cunt, idiot, stupid. i really feel like telling my case worker and maybe she has access to residence for recovery for me and foster care for a couple of weeks for kobe, that would teach him a lesson in life, and right now  have no feeling for jesse. yesterday he brought my wheel chair, i am wheelchair bound now, and he stood there and had an arguement with me and then he walked away with my wheelchair, i needed it to get to the toilet.he left the chair right down the other end of the house where there is no way i could have got it. so i waited about 2 or 3 for kobe to come home.he did come home but rather than come and hugging me and talking about his day . he walked straight into jesse's room and there were words exchanged and then they were friends again. it really hurts, i just wanna take some pills and go to bed. nothing ever changes, violent, loud and a house full of egotistical, then i went on to mark, my partner for 8 years. i cant begin to talk about him right now. and now i have 2 sons and i feel like i am an uninvited, schoolyard joke and all can do is either use my forked tongue back at them, stay out of the way and cry silent heavy tears like i used to do with mark. i don't know which was to go. wish i had a crystal ball. one thing they both said to me is that i am a shit mother. they didn't say it actually , they yelled it my face. i am gonna go now coz i am sure there will be repercussions for me because of this post.

jo

Depression

i am feeling myself going under. all my ideas, all my attention directed at self mockery and funny jokes, some not so funny. yeah probably most not so funny.not so funny or as much funny today. i don't know if i am in for a big depression. depressions like a party guest who drinks all the alcohol in the bathroom, using the both to put the alcohol and tons of ice. day 1 of depression is all about how i can cope with this. i need a tidy bedroom, because i am going to be in there for a while and i don't need physical reminders of why i am the way i am right now. day 1 is also making sure you need supplies like drink that satisfies both my body and mind. i need sugar even though i am diabetic.and to those who wish to chastise me or judge me about drinking while on meds, you can fuck off.

i miss my younger years, not really the drugs that i miss. i just miss the opportunities and having contact with my old girlfriends. i cant do that anymore as i have agoraphobia. i miss doing what i want to do. this week i had a huge argument with Kobe . you know i cant even remember what it was about. i realized sometime in the last week that i have sped through stages, relationships, with men or without. no fucking wonder really, 2 parents, 1 an alcoholic and the other a pill head. they were both pretty non entities. my elder sister raised me and she was a fantastic mum. when she found a man she loved she left the family home, she found a new role to fulfill her new life and she dropped me like a hot potato. she left me when i was 11, she left me to live with the old people who had not much to do with me. bingo and beer down the bar. it was then that things went pear shaped for me. i was 11 went 2 different instances of sexual assaults occurred. they just touched me very inappropriately and they were definitely in control of the situation, obviously seeing me and grooming me for probably more than they got. that's the thing with me. i may not know whats about to happen and i try to be positive about people. and then instead of being stunned and unable to move i run, i run and don't look back. its hard to run away in front of a whole lot of people, i don't know, but i just ran.the man who copped a good ole feel of my 11 year old body in a split second changed his demeanor to anger in his face and him and a couple of his friends that he'd brought with him, they all stopped joking, not at me, at my dad. i my guess is as good as yours. he was a 2 pot screamer. that's slang for a couple of beers and you're drunk.
i definitely believe them to have been laughing at him. it would have hurt him and shaken his cage but in my mind , i loved my dad and i love the way he took care of me. sometimes he made me feel really special and i didn't want that to change. i didn't want to be one of the kids who he growled or ignored. i didn't feel any resentment for his shortcomings.i just wanted to remain a daddy'd little girl. so anyway, that's when the drinking started for me. one of my brothers had a recent 21st so it was easy to drink as the drinks fridge was in the garage. vermouth and beer for me until it was half gone.

i need to stop thinking about certain topics and this is one of them. the worst thing about depression when you are on lithium is every thing is dulled down, or pushed down to the pit of your stomach so you don't have to feel it. i don't know what lies ahead foe me and depression this week. in someways i don't mind my depression. sometimes it feels like the arrival of an old friend. i can count of it turning up and it feels like a stabilization. i don't do any acting out during depression. there are no surprises during my depressions. my need for allies turns me into a sorry machine. at the top of the list for understanding or listening to what its been like for them and what its like for them when i go into depression. they fill up on my jokes and anecdotes and stories and general silly talk. when i am depressed, really depressed, bed bound and silent. they look after me, with practical things like making me food, doing my laundry keeping the house quiet and sitting with me, knowing that i can't reciprocate the laughter and the sparkle and the unity between both of them. although i can not move i love them keeping me company. i think it weakens and shortens my depression, much like skin on skin touch and massage is more important to me and i can feeling the healing straight away, instead of throwing back some pills.i have to go...my mind has said "enough"

jo xoxoxox

This is the end, my friend

I am having a fucked up week. i thought i was getting healthier but I am not so sure now. i get up slowly and painfully out of bed when I truly need to be up. rheumatoid arthritis means that the longer you spend in one position, i.e bed, you wake up in a lot of pain and for me it means I need help to get out of bed. i am really tired, exhausted. i am arguing with the kids. i tried to explain the when i am crossing the line between hyper-mania and mania, I need to talk to them. talk to them in an immature manner because if I don't talk to someone close to me then i start to fall backwards and withdraw into myself where i reach dizzying heights of crazy talk, delusions of grandeur and hallucinations. I have told all of this to Jesse and he's cool with it and can talk me down sometimes. but Kobe. hes 16 and just starting to make a life for himself, friends, minimum sleep and maximum partying. i told him that if there was alcohol there i want him to stay away from it. we have a code that both boys held onto for their social uncomfortability. if things get out of hand or he just needs to get home for whatever, then he needs to call me. i told him to tell whoever he is with and if they ask for details then just tell them that you forgot something from home, meds, sleeping bag, anything really. as soon as he calls me he is to say "mum i forgot my Ventolin" and when i hear that i know that he is not comfortable. i have told him to use his phone in private and give it 10 minutes and then walk out to the driveway and i'll be there. 

i need to go in a sec. i am really exhausted and just had enough. i have been struggling with cellulitis on both legs for 4 months. my brain is taking advantage of my body's weakness and i am in not coping. cellulitis, arthritis in the knees, hips, spine and hands. and of course there is my mental bullshit. bipolar, schitsoeffective disassociate disorder, PTSD and diabetes. it theirs anything i am missing then so be it i guess. i rely on the pills at the moment. i think if i wasn't as sedated than i have been i would have killed myself. i fantasize about suicide and have plans for about 4 different ways and places to do it. but i cant. i believe that your life is not just your own . everyone you come in close to, when you look at your day think of all the people you have interactions with. i think that if i followed through with throwing myself off a bridge than not only do i leave the boys in a world or trouble for the rest of their lives, but i would hurt the people that are close to me.and for the boys, i imagine them thinking during hard times that mum took a drastic action and took control when she jumped, and i don't want one of my boys to feel that and think that.

anyway i posted way more than i intended today because i'm feeling petty low. so i'll catcha round like a donut.     Jo  xoxoxoxo

ps, the song i am going to play is this is the end my friend. i am plying not out of desire to suicide . i am posting it because the end can also mean a new beginning, and good by to certain repetitive, annoying banter at the kids and not able to stop because i don't want to revert back to hallucinating, unrealistic fears, the thing that always brings me down to a safe place is talking to like minded people and being understood and witnessed to my situation. which includes the boys. its like i am waiting for a disaster,
well i am going. thanks for reading if you did. and i'll catch you later.

shine on you crazy diamond

i've not been reliable self for some time now, but the last two or three months have been a roller coaster and the haunted house in one. i feel out of control of my mind. i could practice mindfully the things that i do and think. but by the time i realize that i think i am two far gone to change my philosophy. i feels like i am in deep water with who knows swimming below me watching every panic stricken movement my heart rate is racing so hard, the shark takes all this into consideration biding its time for the perfect strike.and like i imagine a shark bite i am feeling thoughts and feelings, and mood swings, and bad dreams,and hallucinations and out of touch with reality.

the other day someone called me on the phone and asked how i was and i went on to tell her with a lump in my throat and trying to sound assertive instead of hysterical. i asked her if she could help me assertively straighten out my brother andrew's fear and panic of dying. i cared for  andrew for some time when he was in melbourne. he was very sick.and frightened. i i was with him every day and when i went home he would call me on the phone for reassurance i told the woman on my phone if she would help me make his last days as calm and gentle and loved as he should have been.it was hard for me to imagine speaking to those nurses because , being 1995 discrimination toward people with AIDS was tolerated and people felt it was their right to treat these people like 2nd rate members of society. the woman who had called me ,she listened and tried to reassure me and when i told her about andrew and how i need to help him, she said to me "how can you go to the hospital. what about your agoraphobia. my heart sank and my mind shifted gear as i said "its not 1995 is it. i didnt have agoraphobia then. i dont what i felt, i was panicked and numb. i told the phone lady that i'd just woken up from a dream and thanked her for understanding and trying to talk me down. she knew it wasn't a dream. i knew it was a dream, but thats where we left it. a couple of hours later the phone rang and it was another health care practitioner. she told me that she had spoken to her colleague and she had to speak to me. to see if i was hallucinating, delusional, emotionally stable. my survival skills quickly kicked into gear and i told her not to worry as it was only a dream. i dont really care if she believed me or not. at this stage, i have enough experience with institutions, i know what to say to keep me out of the psych ward. 

so i waited for an hour so to straighten myself out and i thanked her for all that she has done for me but i wont be needing hers or any other health care workers for now. its very stressful when someone listens to you or sees you having a hallucination. it is draining and theres a lot of pressure in handling someone like me. i can be talked to to calm me down and back on track. and if they cant manage to do that then they are trained to get psychiatric nurses to come to my home and choose whether or not i need hospitalisation. unfortunately my time to parcipate in the conversation is last, and its all about debunking the health workers in a calm voice, watching them watching me for any sight of my mind running on running on empty. i used to think that i would never go back to the psyche ward but this week i am nit so sure.

this week i have noticed that i am shaking twice as much as i used to. i can be in conversation with one of my kids and in the middle i forget where i was going. that happens to everyone i hear you say, not 10 times a day. yesterday i called my son to my desk claiming that my mouse doesnt work. he had to show me which buttons do what. the friggin mouse only has 2 buttions and a scroll wheel and i've had it for about 5 years. i  am having these things happen to me everyday. i forget how to use everything. cannot find the name of what i want and i try while getting a gut clenching urgency to get it together. i have been talking absolute rubbish to my kids, some of it they stand there explaining that what i am saying , dont listen to it , its in your mind. just sit down and take it easy and it will go away. it does go away.i feel so sick with remorse at my kids childhood. caring for their psychiatric unwell mother. i try to make them laugh as much as i can to take the edge off and for my own sake too. if i engage 
someone else into my thinking then it leaves no room for the mental jo to shown up and take over. 

when andrew was very sick he developed dementia. he was taking about 40 pills a day and its my belief that all those drugs, heavy drugs too, i believe the drugs contributed to his dementia.i have shed tears this week, every time i try to say or do things right. and i have been thinking of andrew, wondering if dementia is in store for me. i too am up to about 30 pills a day. i have to let the phone ring when it calls, if someone knocks at the door i never answer. i am in my own bubble. when i am sick i have all kinds of things to do and say if the psyche team turn up, which they might considering the fact that  more or less sacked the 2 heath care workers.  well, i have to go. but i very gratefulfor being able to type this blog, even though i need to use spellcheck just about every line. thank goodness i can work the mouse now haha. 

jo xoxoxox     

p.s. i hope syd barret was happy tending to his garden and being a recluse. i cant help but thinking about him whenever i play pink floyd.

I can smile about Andrew, it took me 15 years.

i feel like the sky is falling and all i can do is run rabbit run. i have nightmares most nights and my kids wake me up if they have to. i am so embarrassed by my actions on Thursday. i was sleeping and Jesse came into my room with the telephone. i took the phone and started to talk. i was talking a million miles an hour and good job to her for talking me down and through what was essentially a break from reality.

my brother Andrew died in 1995. he had dementia for a while before he died. he came to Melbourne because he believed our mother was dying. he was behaving erratically and very confronting. so we made a word as our "you've gone to far" word, it was kumquat. i am so grateful that my big brother who was my hero and protector , he connected with me and he he just knew that i'd be a good carer. it felt natural to look after him after years of him looking after me, getting through school, picking me up from work. the first time he arrived with his motor bike he bought an extra helmet, fire engine red. i loved it, the same colour as my hair.

i think i am going off on a tangent because i don't really know how to write about this without tears dropping from eyes, big,heavy raindrops. i didn't really cry when he died or at his funeral.  some years later i was seeing a psychologist and i said "I've been crying all week, sobbing and i don't know why. i cant remember what she said to trigger the reality and reason in my head. when i realize what i was doing it left me stunned, with grief, shocked, my big brother was never gonna be with me as i am passing the age that he died on. 

Andrew and i had an unwritten understanding that i would be with him when he died. i spent my days with him and when i went home he called me every hour because he was so scared of dying. it makes me so mad. he gave his Sundays to be an alter boy and it raged inside of me that this man, who is responsible for participating in the first of many programs, he spoke with such passion and awareness. my rage is toward the medical staff at the hospital he was staying at.i called them and i wanted to know that Andrew was calling me every two hours and all he needs is some care and talk him down gently. stop spending your time talking about your week end and do your job. when my dad was dying they gave him a beer every day. Andrew got more pharmaceutical drugs and not even a "how are feeling today, do you want to talk?" i dot know why one of them didn't take the situation in hand and comfort him, touche him, a stoke of the hair, a hand massage, they could have got him the latest Sydney star observer (a newspaper for gay people). i told her to bloody well do it. and the state of his mind is a medical problem, not a direct ploy to interrupt your gossip session. she got it and she went on to change her ways and those of the medical staff on his wing of the hospital. 

i knew that death was just around the corner for Andrew. about a week before he dies the father of my kids called me. he had spent all the money on gambling and the horses, and he was telling me i need to come back and help him . there is one thing you need to know about mark. if you say no to him he will be in your ear talking about it, following you around the flat. and then it escalates with throwing objects, grabbing me and cornering me and saying the most hideous, hurtful, abusive things ad it would be then that most of the time. with the stability of my mind and trying to lesson the physical damage to my body and face i am submitted to the coercion i really don't want to speak about what came next. what i really want to say is this man is not a man, he is an animal. and a useless animal .   

anyways i decided , to more than gathering rent money. i came back for Jesse who was only 2 years old. i was for the first time frighten for Jesse. he didn't have me at home to protect him. so i went to see Andrew and told him i had to go. and he said nothing because the look in his eyes expressed everything. i still cant believe that i let him down with something important. i have a few regrets in my life and that would be at the top i think. i should have been there. i hated mark for what he did, i should have told him to straighter out the mess he'd made but i wasn't their to protect Jesse and i was afraid mark would be one of those men who take their children and either take the far away and raise them or he would find away to kill the 3 boys , but he wouldn't have to guts to do the same to himself.

the last two paragraphs i rambled on about to a woman who is helping me get it together. she's got a big job to do i'm telling you.i answered the phone to her and she asked me how i was and i want on and on about the treatment Andrew was getting and how he called me every two hours. i was happy to help him and mark made a statement like"Andrew needs to know that you have a family here" Jesus i hate that man. i take full responsibility for my choice to leave Andrew to die without me i will never ever not remember his eyes as they seemed to sink into his skull.i took him in my arms and i felt his love and my love for him.the world can be truly awful sometimes. and i hate mark. some people say you shouldn't hate as all you put out there with what you say is there forever and may be stuck in that groove,hate poisons your body and mind and spirituality, even us atheists have spirituality, if you don't get that , drop me a line and hi''give you the mail.                              

anywho i have to go. i cant talk about mark. 
thank you for reading my blog.

Jo xoxoxox

I can't believe this is me

i need to write all this down to understand it and take some control while i still can. i think i am quite sick. i don't think i sound sick on the internet but in person i know i am weird and confused and anxious and emotional. i haven't stepped foot outside this house for five years. i have agoraphobia. i fall to pieces when the boys start getting aggressive and throw each other around. i don't know if they are being violent or if they are being normal brothers play fighting and antagonizing each other. 

i also have bipolar, schitzoeffective disorder, PTSD and i dissociate when confronted with anything threatening, and because I've kept myself in a cage for 5 years i think i have encouraged my mind to see my hallucinations most days and some of the hallucinations, they are not so frequent but have taken on a sinister approach. i always had voices in my head. i can remember at the age of 4 i had an imaginary friend, she was my shadow and i called her Michelle. when there was trouble in the house and the whole house seemed to shake under the weight of screaming voices and loveless commands for me to go to my room. sometimes my big brother Andrew would come and talk to me and play with my toys with me so i didn't have to listen to the fighting. when Andrew wasn't at home i would sneak outside, trying not to be seen or heard or asked where i was going. when i got out into the sunlight i could see Michelle, she was my shadow, to me she was someone i needed to look after. if i could see her in the sunlight then so could all the shouters and blame shifters and people who were to far gone to love with generosity and dare to be taught by the children how to soften your approach and treat the children like they had something to offer. 

so i saw Michelle in the sunlight and i ran as fast as my little 4 year old legs would take me. there was refuge for Michelle and i in a small little shed made out of fence palings and it was dark in there. Michelle was safe there, in the darkness, out of sight. we both sat in the corner of the shed, away from the doorway, and we talked to each other. i would guarantee her safety and reassured her and comforted her. all of the communication between us was always in my head. but i could communicate with her safely. she had access to they goings on in my head. when it was overcast and raining i still went to that shed and talk to the walls waiting for Michelle, worried about her because she is so delicate and she needed me.  i don't think Michelle was just your run of the mill invisible friend. we had very definable rolls. she was frail and terrified and i was brave and resourceful and my priority was looking after her, talking about fun things and making her laugh but not vocally, always in my head and she responded by being quiet as a church mouse and trusting of me. i believe Michelle was the beginning of my dissociation. my dissociation has developed over the years. whenever something traumatic happened i left the shouts and threats and anger away from that situation and i would find somewhere safe to be still, be quiet, be insignificant to these people who communicated like they hated each other. i have taken this part of my life as an adult. if i am experiencing a serious fight between the boys i start to cry an stop them if i can and the i go to my bed, sometimes for day and i am unresponsive, negating to take my meds and just fading into silence.

i really don't want to talk about that any more today. and i totally bypassed the topic that is troubling me at the moment. myself and the kids have decided that Jesse should be in charge or the money.my money.i thought i had assured myself that this was a good solution . i now the last few months have been ridiculously incapable of doing small things. it feels sad for me to lose the Independence i have managing my money. i am having a really hard time and i don't really know how to fix it. i dont know if i am getting ready to mourn my job of providing the kids their financial needs.if i am to be honest, i have had to ask for assistance occasionally from a charity that deals with fresh food donations. i haven't done that in a long time, probably since i stopped leaving the house. anyway, the problem is i feel myself slipping some days. i slip into my hallucinations. i slip into dissociation. i stay up all night and sleep during the day and if i do too much of that my bipolar kicks in. i don't want to be one of those mentally ill people who you know cant come back from when they were healthy. these things are very sad for me but i will shit twice and get fucked before i submit to the life filled with these disorders, i managed to get a physiotherapist to come to my home and give me excersizes to gain strength. i am trying to do them every day. and its excersize that's not punishing. i find it motivational. every time i do them i think to myself "this is another step to being who really am, for me, for the boys". for everyone who has helped me when i needed help.

i have to go. thanks for reading. 
jo   xoxoxoxo

i believe i've had a break through. for the last 15 i've slept with lights on all over the house and each tv left on. the last words my ex said to me all those years ago were "i am gonna find you and when i do i am gonna blow your fucking face off your head. and when i get out jail i am gonna come back and do it again" after eight years of violence from this man i believed his threats. 

so i was diagnosed with PTSD. i used to sit on the edge of my bed half the night and make myself ready for him to find me and do me harm. 15 years of that. i was consumed with how to ensure my family's survival should he turn up. i put a jar of ammonia on a shelf next to the door to splash his face and buy me some time. i had the car keys on a hook by the back door and slip on shoes for me and the kids. i took some nails out of the back fence so we could fit through and run to the car. most of the time after the kids had gone to school , i would sit on the sofa with a clear view of the driveway, it was like i was in a trance, i couldnt move. i was so sure he'd find us.

anyway, back to the break through. i decided it was time to turn the tv's off and the lights off and get into bed and try to sleep. 7 hours later i woke up. i haven't had 7 hours sleep since i was a teenager. i was impressed with my efforts. another symptom of PTSD gone.  i feel like i've made a grown up step forward. right now i tell myself that it's my PTSD, my mental health , not his anymore to hit and throw things at and all that he did. so its my diagnoses, not his. and with that awakening i tested out my thoughts and thats when the 7 hours of sleep happened. i am really happy to know that i can take my mind off those frightening, mind fucking days that i spent giving him my energy, my time, my fear, my obsession with keeping the 2 kids safe .

to anyone who reads this and has PTSD, i want you to know that it gets easier with time. hang in there and stay safe.

jo xoxoxox

oh shit, the cops caught me naked on my skateboard, damn this pancreas.

i need to get something off my chest. i read somewhere yesterday about someone trying to convince a mentally ill person to take meds, and they likened it to a diabetic staying on their meds. this argument always makes my blood boil. first of all the 2 disorders are nothing alike. i have insulin dependent diabetes and i have bipolar and some other nutty diagnoses and the psychiatric disorders have absolutely nothing in common with diabetes.

bipolar, if medicated takes away so much of my life. i am not as quick witted as i once was. not as articulate and succinct, which i loved about my writing. when i am medicated i am dull. when i hear music it has no power to transport me to a happy place. when i watch movies i forget i have seen it about 20 minutes after it ended. i can remember what happened 35 years ago but i have to ask someone what i did yesterday.when i look at my paintings they don't make the connection for me anymore and i have no motivation or clarity. i cant see colours like i used to. i just cant feel. i thought the world was an amazing place once. i was excited to be apart of it. i felt connected to every one on some level. lithium may stop me from being manic and it might help my suicidal plans and thoughts . sometimes it gives me appropriate perception. lithium makes me acceptable to other people, and intolerably boring to myself. my mind was important to me, i felt so free and capable as i spoke or read my own writing.taking lithium takes my spark away, my understanding of how i got to this place. lithium robs me of my experience of a colourful, exciting, full of wonder, thrilling life instead of fearing everything. lithium took away something deep inside me that made me who i am.it took away my feelings and for a person who used to look at my feelings to process a situation, i mourn every day for what has been traded. a drug to keep me robotic-ally convenient for people to deal with me  or no lithium and anti psychotics and then all the pills to counter-act the side effects of the other drugs. 

my mind is who i am. its everything to me. i live my life transparently so people close to me can make me aware of symptoms of bipolar kicking in. my mind used to be so active and full of origin thoughts and it was fun to play innocent mind games with those who appreciated that and thought it fun as well. when the kids were younger i used to teach them to explore everything that interfere, drawing, painting, story telling, swimming, dancing, drama, i wanted them to be experiencing boys, not thinking and analyzing robots. now it is their turn to keep me from being a robot. but it's lucky i talk to them so much. they are 2 of the most capable, interesting, supportive kids i have ever known.

anyway, diabetes huh? some people obviously don't know the difference between a brain disorder and a pancreas disorder. last time i checked your pancreas does regulate your sugar intake and it has nothing at all to do with you mind, your identity, you capabilities to see the world so colourfully, no excitement, 

wouldnt it be great if we could take some of the parts of indigenous tribes. the mentally ill probably were the medicine woman or man, or hold some respected place in the tribe. i think they had the right idea. i firmly believe in enrichment as therapy. inclusion with people who have experienced similar traumas as you. activities so far removed from the origin of the trauma and safe to bring out some of the memories with people who could really see you and see it in themselves as well. through enrichment therapy you get to bypass the mind and where it stores you pain , instead it explores your experiences that dictate your feeling, your thinking, your behavior, you mind.

anyway, i came here to talk about the comparison between bipolar and diabetes. lots of people live successfully without meds and bipoar is a fucking disease of your pancreas, not your mind. so quit telling me that meds are compulsory and judging me as having an episode if i try one day to stop taking meds. even if i am walking down chapel street with a sign saying "the end id near, repent now". anywho, the only thing bipolar has in comparison with diabetes is they both SUCK.

see ya later alligators   

Delivering joy and hope

i lived with a man for 8 years who was abusive in every way. i left him carrying 2 children and a bag of clothes. i then found abusive man number 2. he stalked me and constantly criticized me. i escaped from his game like i escaped from marks fist. during the stalking with number 2 man i became catatonic. its not new to me to be catatonic. when i was a young teenager i completly stopped talking to my dad as it was his friends who frightened me and touched me. i froze, my dad was drunk as usual and if i opened my mouth to say what happened , there would be no shortage of angry, beer swilling men to to get stuck into him for having a trouble making daughter. while they molested me they laughed at me and my dad. it hurt the most that they laughed at my dad and all i could think to do was shut my mouth. i didn't come out of my room, i layed in bed suffering stomach pains and flashbacks. after some months my eldest brother decided to take things into his own hand and he began hitting me. it amazes me that people think violence will draw out truth. kids exposed to violence usually have a well inside their bodies that is there to play a part in staying safe. i relied on this catatonic state to get rid of abusive man number 2. i sat at the kitchen table with a radio and listened to music to try to connect with something. i don't know when i stopped sitting at the table but i know i put on lots of weight. i remember driving to my therapists house and stopping on the way to buy some food, any food and i ate and could feel the food travelling down to where i keep my anger and the food suppressed the words of rage and sadness i wasn't ready to talk about yet. 
any way , i judt watched a yutube video aout one womans journey back to health after a chronic illness. the exsersizes theat she had to do are the same i have to do. i am trying, my legs are so weak, i dont have bad upper body strength so thats a bonus. i am gonna put one of the kids in the wheelchair and push the up and down the hallway so i have support with their weight keeping me stable.

i think its time to start being a grown up and stop living in the past. i want to know who grown up jo is and what she can do. with ever left of the dumbell i will reward myself with the prostect of freedon and victory, and the pursuit of happiness.

here is the video that has inspired me.http://www.littlethings.com/holly-gerlach-journey-v2/?utm_source=SOCH&utm_medium=Facebook&utm_campaign=inspiring

pineapple

its nice to be back on planet earth with the ability to convey information and receive as well. i didnt realize how sick i was until i started to be better and looked back at myself during the last 2 months. i have been so scared of hospitalization in the nut house. my every day M.O. is to make fun and be fun with my boys. its something i do in my every day life. the more i stay connected in conversation with the boys, the less inclined i am to shut down my ability to receive input and instead i am left to manage hallucinations, i keep quiet about my delusions, dont wanna scare the kids. i've been feverish and unbalanced for such a long time. i am still fighting cellulitis. 

my kids have been champions. so considerate and thoughtful and called to aid my situation time and time again. for about a month i think i was like one of those crazy street people who yell religious ramblings. my kids didn't understand me and all i could do was sit very still, take a deep breath and focus on the words i needed to say what i wanted to say. they took control of my meds because i couldn't. they listened gently with encouragement to what i was trying to say and eventually we got to the bottom of the situation. 

i wanted to convey some important information for carers of mentally ill people. keep a calm and gentle environment so we don't have to be loud to be heard. stick in there with us and just the knowledge that you are there with us and trying is comforting and helps us concentrate and make sense. keep engaging in conversation with us, we may not respond easily but we know you are reaching out to us and that feels good, takes away some of the fear of being locked up in the psyche ward. try to manage our relationships with minor changes from the way we are in normal times. please remember to not take my choices away. i know its not easy to do when my medication has to be managed and i am not making sense. when i am very sick i still need my choices. you can offer me a choice from which to choose an option, so its not overwhelming. keep me involved in how you are doing and together we can piece this jigsaw together and accomplish successful communication, there is great joy in that, sharing each others abilities and keeping faith that this will not last forever. don't take over what i can manage by myself. there's not a lot i can achieve on this planet, except to continue to raise you two beautiful boys. i have taught you some skills in the last 2 months. skills you can apply to any relationship. listen quietly, speak gently, work together, and keep giving me power over my own choices if i am able to manage, if i cant manage some aspect of life by myself please keep me informed of what you have in mind to help me, allow me to be a part of those decisions. don't take my power over my whole life because its easier, i know its easier but inside i mourn for my mind to work because i am spiraling out of control.

i gotta go. its hard to remember and talk about being sick. pineapple is the safe word. PINEAPPLE...cya 

jo oxoxoxox

Feeling helpless

I thought mental illness was a breeze to work with once i'd had time an energy to get used to it an accept the way I've chosen to live my life. it's not. I've been on antibiotics for over a month to treat cellulitis which is a diabetic related skin infection. i believe that all illnesses live on a continuum, some may be slightly depressed if their partner dies or they have to move house or something violent happens to them. I got mine from spending 8 years with a violent man. 

i cant think straight so this will be brief.  I've been so physically ill that i get around tripping on cords. i hold my breath until i reach my destination for fear of falling and breaking a bone, which would be a nightmare and mean a hospital visit. i see hallucinations all day and all night. some are people i've know. some are animals, both harmful and friendly.

the latest symptom ha been obsessive thoughts about dementia and Alzheimer. i watched my brother endure dementia before he died and it scares me.i have bad spacial recognition, i struggle for words and sentences when i used to be a very articulate person. i cant remember things , i cant communicate with my kids without making myself into a joke so they don't get too scared.but it doesn't work, it seems like overnight my kids have become my careers. I have raised two very robust and physical boys and now they gently move around me, stroke my hair to calm me, listen intently to what i am trying to say so they can understand me. if i need them they come quickly. i need them 3-4 times a night to help me deal with nightmares, bathroom trips, and sometimes just plain old company. i have gone from being an energetic, resourceful, responsible mother to a terrified, out of touch with reality, dependent psych patient. not fair on my kids.

cant write anymore 
xoxoxox

a bit tired of being sick

i've been sick for about a month. being a diabetic with various mental illnesses, its a long frustrating experience to heal. first i caught the flu from the kids and then i wounded myself on the upper thigh, then i started a course of antibiotics for a month and after a month the wound has still not cleared up.i have noticed a massive change in my physical symptoms being more difficult to heal since i developed diabetes. i have fallen over twice in the last two weeks. i have arthritis in my knees, hips, spine and hands, and i am obese so combining these issue means i cant get up from being flat faced on the floor. i have had to call the ambulance twice in two weeks. they have been really professional and respectful and non judgmental which has helped me in the vulnerable position and dependence on people i don't know for what i consider an embarrassing problem.

my doctor added steroids to my list of pills and the pharmacist added a pill that helps speed skin problems and support good skin growth.and then i think another pill for something else. i feel really emotional and teary. and forgetful and really scared of disgreeing with jesse even though i asked him to be present at every health appointment i have . my mind tells me to control my thoughts without disclosing much and yet i have less and less power of independance every day. it feels like i am getting worse, i forget everything, i cant move around like i used to. i am so aggoraphobic i haven't stepped outside the front door for over five years, i get used to my mental illness, the hallucinations i recognise pretty quickly and i ignore them, the insomnia is pretty bad. i haven't slept in two nights. anyway i cant blog anymor, its does my head in to disclose so much but in some repectsits a blessing, a weight off my shoulders to share.

Jo xoxoxox 

I went to mental land and all I got was a t-shirt

I've had a visit from the mean mental health fairy as well as the just as mean diabetic fairy....i think she's a monster actually. i think it started about 2 months ago but i just didn't notice. i was hyper and laughing and joking and having fun, the rest gets blurry. i know that somewhere in there i became dissociation. my dissociation takes many forms. sometime i will be so animated on a bipolar high and my brain just can't keep up and i black out for a minute or so. i can usually tell when one has happened because the person i am talking to looks really concerned and asks if i am ok. i think my eyes go blank and i am in a state of being unreachable.

i guess i should have noticed the bipolar and the grip it had around my throat.i try to pay attention to the kids for guidance. they are my canary in the mine shaft. only thing is i don't see brutality as a threat or something to be feared. part bipolar and part due to the life i've lead. my dissociation can leave me catatonic for days on end. i don't speak, i don't focus on anyone or anything. it can leave me consciously aware but unable to process thoughts and feelings. i usually leave the room if the boys are being aggressive towards each other, even if its harmless banter, the testosterone is palpable and i am allergic to it.

the symptom that distresses me most is when the kids are unaware of my illness and they ride the fun part out , then they pay far less attention to the dissociative part, in fact this is where the anger begins with them. it is at this stage they become fearful and resentful towards me for my behaviour. the mad laughter, the unreachable state of dissociation. and the bipolar. this process of mania and depression accompanied by some delusions of grandeur.the depression usually takes its place with the dissociation. the lay me down together in my bed and keep me quiet and still while i try to not think about my process, my cycles, all the while i drag the quilt up to my chin, layng on my bed with my tears dropping slowly with the weight of my thoughts filling them so fat and slow. sometimes i choose to see them as a rejuvenation process.easy to do unless of mind won't listen because i have a book to write or a painting to rely on to show me the truth and give me some peace. and the kids wanna slow me down, i can see that now. i used to see a battle for supremacy. both boys are over 6 foot and its difficult for a browbeaten ex wife to see clearly in a time of flashbacks to looking up at people while they corner me and stand over me and shout me down before the punches begin. i have to have it drummed into my thick head that just because my ex had the emotional capacity of a 3 year old and the rage of a 2 year old, he is not my kids, standing before me trying to show their fear over my illness.

i do wanna write more to help understand how mental illness can become emmeshed and trigger each other , its lie putting your hand into a bag of fishhooks and wondering if you'll get stabbed straight away or have time to find a straight line.

gotta go, can't write anymore. check yas.

Short note

Just a short note for today. I think I was in the midst of a mixed episode last week, maybe even the week before as well. I was hyper and thought many things were absolutely hilarious. I felt like I was working things out for myself and I was working on it from a higher plane of understanding than i could trust anyone else to be familiar with. This is delusional thinking and i never listen to anyone's advice when i am delusional, its gotta run it's course. I interacted with when i felt that i was bright and shiny enough for them to want to play with. I laughed at everything and shared my funniest stories with them. I remembered how much I loved them. I could feel it and it was as deep and as black as the ocean with nothing else in sight but me and them and a whole lot of faith needed to get us in safely.

I don't know when i crashed. Jesse says it was the day before i wrote my second last blog post. I don't really want to read that right now. I am having a hard enough time staying in the present. I don't need to go back and pick apart every word I said and examine it. Kobe came into my room this morning and spoke about what he needed today and he wanted to just say hi. I asked him if he was ok and he nodded his head. I asked him if he knew that i was ok and he just looked at me. i told him that I think I had a mixed episode last week and the weeks before and I wanted to know how he was in relation to that. His eyes welled with tears and he told me he was scared. He was scared it was going to be like it used to be; dangerous and frightening and risk taking and having a mother that was there in body but somewhere far far away behind those eyes. Inevitably that person would have been locked up on the psyche ward and jesse may be seen to be able to be responsible for kobe for the duration of my stay or it would be highly likely that kobe would have been sent to foster care.

Ant who...i am trying to recover so off  i go to recover. its a balancing act thats for sure. See you on the flip side.

The people in white coats

It's nearly 4.30 am and i haven't slept much, maybe 3 hours in total. This is becoming a habit of mine that i was hoping to break with my doctor's help. I started a new anti psychotic over a week ago and i thought it had kicked in sometime around the middle of this week, and then i received a letter from the local psyche team telling me that they will be contacting me to schedule an appointment for an assessment. That generally means that someone in a health care profession has highly likely to have listened to me on the phone and decided that i was not in my right mind and they've placed a fucking psychiatric fatwa on me because my voice sounds anxious and i am extremely forgetful right now. So now i must wait out the weekend and contact the psyche team and tell them to back off.My mental health is not perfect but I know I don't require hospitalization.

The thing with the psyche team is that once you've been under their microscope once or been locked up in a psyche ward you never really get them off your back. I have been working toward being off the psychiatric grid for about four years now, and i was doing really well, well for me that is. I am happy to manage my well being and medication with my G.P. but as a person living in poverty it is necessary to reach out to certain services for the welfare of the kids, the needs of the kids and the reassurance that in the event that you do need something you have a ally.Someone has taken it upon themselves to decide, without knowledge of my current medical situation whereby i am testing out a new drug to address some pretty heave issues. So I am not at my best. Making me deal with the psyche team is just amping up the anxiety and hallucinations.

I just get so damn angry at these people. I feel like I am an inconvenience to the world they live in and they lock me up and dose me up. I hate being doped up It feels like someone just punched into your body and ripped out what ever it is about you that makes you you.It makes me feel hollow inside. It leaves me unable to think. unable to feel. The first time i was locked up I was 19 and i remember sitting down , hunched over and not able to respond to my sister while she visited me. i remember looking up at her and she was crying and i was unable to connect with any feelings about that. The only awareness I had was when I saw her I acknowledged in,my mind that she was crying. and i looked away and dropped my head again. That was probably one of the worst days of my life. I was scared. I didn't know if I would come back from this zombie state. Enough blogging for today. I'm sure i'll have more to say about the psyche team in the near future. take care out there, don't go nuts, unless you are loaded with money. In that case you can call yourself eccentric and say all the things they want to hear and they'll happily send you on your way knowing that you will go and not be anyone's problem.

P.S. no picture today as I am not feeling the love.

I flew over the cuckoos nest

I want to talk about mental illness and the way it is treated. My general practitioner handles my medication choices and monitors my well being. I don't want to be in the psyche services as i was for a few years last decade. I have had some bad experiences with psych services and i don't want my fragile mental stability to be in the hands of people who , to them, you are just a number. I am happier at home with my kids...they help me be myself and be ok. Some times my G.P shakes his head and says "you are a very complicated person". I guess he is out of his comfort zone with me and believes a psychiatrist is required. I received a letter today from the psyche team wanting to make an appointment to see me. The psyche team have the immediate power to lock me up on the ward. 

My situation is this, i have bipolar, schizoaffective disorder, PTSD , dissociative disorder and agoraphobia. Many people with psychiatric disorders find that after some time they develop physical disorders as well. The instability, lack of genuine enrichment in their lives, often they are without family and friends, The massive amounts of hormones like cortisol attack the body quietly but effectively. I have insulin dependant diabetes and rheumatoid arthritis. So my poor G.P has the frightening position of treating all these illness effectively with medications that will work together.

I think my problem is just too damn big. i have all of these disorders which render me incapacitated and when outsiders in the health field see me and get to know me they soon come to the conclusion that I am too hard to handle and they refer me on to someone else. or they lock me up in the nut house and drug me to the eyeballs and once i calm the hell down and submit to their thinking , they will let me go. I do not want to go back to the hospital. I do not want the psyche team to refer to a private psychiatrist. I do not want the care of myself handed over to someone whose job it is to sedate me and make me compliant.

Psyche hospitals are not nice places. I've been to the ones with high white ceilings, whit walls and white floors and if you look down the corridor while doped up on largactil (thorazine in the USA)you will feel like you're in a giant wormhole. There is wire covering all windows and doors. so we don't kill ourselves I guess. These hospitals look like the set of one flew over the cuckoo's next. Then there's the newer wards. They have more in the way of creature comforts and they have carpet at least. No amount of creature comforts make a damn difference.Its all cosmetic. There may not be wire all over the window but the windows and doors in the newer places wont break or shatter. It is highly unlikely that residents will charge past you and hit you to the ground as they try to escape, there's no escaping the old state hospital as you too doped up to think.

The state hospital sent me home.The newer hospital sent me to a private psychiatrist. After a couple of sessions i decided to google this guy . He was recently before the medical board for drugging, raping and threatening to commit a patient. As i read the transcripts of the case i recognized in the victims words the grooming that i shared with her. he was certainly all of the things she had said that he was including very interested in the intimate details of sexual assaults. I was unable to go back to him after finding this information. As soon as i stopped seeing him, rather abruptly, he began calling my house and being vaguely threatening if i did't send the cheque for his last three sessions. I couldn't make myself send him anything so i gave the envelope to someone else to post, Anyway while i had been feeding a monster details of my own assaults the transcripts of his case read that he was to be temporarily relieved of his patients care while he has 18 months without a licence.And his victim gets life, a life of hell.

I can't finish this post. it takes me to a dark place when i remember some of this. So i will see you next time.

B B King

We all heard that B B King died the other day. A great musician who I had the good fortune of seeing him play live twice. Once with U2 on the Lovetown tour and again that same year I think, 1989 with his band at festival hall. I was 18 years old. I was at the U2 concert with a big group of friends when we decided to go back to the hotel that they were staying at.When we got there it became apparent that we were definitely not the only ones with such a plan. Lots of fans were at the Como and not long after we had arrive a couple of limousines puled up and out stepped the band. 

They played us some impromptu songs and mingled with the crowd. We took selfies with them before selfies were even a thing. As we stood around laughing, having fun and talking about how cool they were to us, a guy walked our way and looked like he had pegged us for something. He was about 70 years old with gold teeth and he was wearing a safari suit, blue, baby blue in fact.

He introduced himself as B Bop Pattison, B B King's manager. We told him that was nice while wondering what the hell he thought he was doing trying to warm up to chatting us up. There were about 5 of us standing around together at the time.We were polite enough to him but gave him no reason to believe that we aching to check out what was under that safari suit. He got the message and cleared off.

We hung out outside the Como for a few hours watching as lots of celebrities arrived for what could only have been a U2 party. My friend Georgia and I looked at each other with our invisible scamming hats on and said "lets go". As we opened the front doors to the Como and strutted through, everyone else outside went quiet and stood staring at us. We politely asked the hotel receptionist to call B Bop Pattison and ask if he would like us to come up. Of course he said yes, disgusting. So we were given a key to the Lift and we waved goodbye our friends with faces that looked shattered as we stepped into the lift.

We got to B Bop's room and knocked. He answered the door in his robe. There wear drinks already poured and porn playing softly on the tv. Jaysus H Christ on a unicycle, this guy is trying to punch a little above his weight isn't he. I thought a million things and asked myself several questions like "why doesn't this dude get a prostitute or at least someone closer to his age if he doesn't wanna pay for it. Well we got ourselves into this mess we better get ourselves out. I asked him where were U2 staying, on this floor? On another floor? He looked genuinely disappointed at the realization that we weren't staying with him and he told us they were having a party in the penthouse suite.

We couldn't have said "bye" quickly enough as we got away from that horny old geriatric and his 1970s suit and equally as 1970s porn. We tried not to run as we'd seen the tv monitors at the front desk and noticed CCTV cameras all over the corridors and the lift. So we walked, fairly fuckin fast, swinging our hips like those speed walkers at the olympics do. We got in the lift and pressed the button for the top floor. 

When we got to the top we noticed a staircase all lit up with the typical sounds of a party coming from inside. Drinks clinking, people talking and laughing and music playing. We jostled our way up the stairs, me, laughing out loud when Georgia sensed a little reluctance from me and got all up in face and said "think of the 60s, think of the beatles!" Good one George. We got a few steps up and checked each others appearance, no windswept hair, no raccoon eyes, no wardrobe malfunctions. Nope, we were good to go.

We walked into the party and did a quick sweep of the room with our eyes. Local celebrities, musicians, Hell's Angels members and 3/4 of U2. Adam was missing. I suppose it was around the time that he was partying on alcohol and substances and was probably out getting wasted and laid, who knows. We were making a beeline for Bono when their boring old fart of a manager got in our line of vision and with his big ape like arms turned us around and walked us out of the room. Ha! As we were leaving The Edge looked at us and said "i'll make sure you get an invite to the next one girls". We said "yeah thanks Edge, much appreciated" as we laughed and ran down the stairs, through the corridors and to the lift.

We dropped off our key at reception and walked as cool and nonchalantly as we could to greet our friends and the couple of hundred other fans that were waiting for another glimpse of U2. We were hero's that night for showing a bit of initiative and following through with it. We were grilled by many people about what had happened. We tried to play it cool as not much had really happened! but we were satisfied. Satisfied with ourselves for crashing their party. Satisfied with the fact that a couple of hundred U2 fans thought we were the bee's friggin knees and were pea green with envy.We were satisfied enough to go home.

So my final words go out to B B King. Rest In Peace. If you believe in heaven i hope they let you take Lucille in with you. And watch that B Bop Pattison, he thinks he's in with a shot with anyone with boobs and a vagina. 

When I became We

I would like to change the tone and talk about my beautiful boys. How i felt carrying them in my body and their delivery into this world. They were two of the most important days of my life. I was one of those women for who pregnancy and the motherhood of an infant suited me down to the ground. I have never felt as happy, healthy and alive as i did when i was expecting my sons. And I was so proud. So proud of my body for growing a new person inside of it. So happy to be connected to my babies within me, as i interacted with them and watched them kick and punch me with their little limbs.When they were born I was the happiest that I'd ever been in my life and I knew that i was meeting my new best friends and lifelong allies, for these boys would receive the best of me and i would stretch myself in life to teach them that that's what you do when you love someone with all your heart. You do the best you can and you teach, honestly, humbly, wholeheartedly and continuously.

My first born, Jesse.I had a dream when i was three months pregnant with Jesse. I dreamt that i was on an old rickety train out in the country.At the end of the line i got out of the train and began walking. I stopped when i came to an old weatherboard farm house. My dad was there waiting for me just outside the barn. It was 1993 so he had been dead for 5 years but not in my dream.I ran to him, so happy to see him and he was just as happy to see me. There were no words that needed to be spoken. We just smiled at this opportunity to be in each others company once more. He said to me "there are some people I'd like you to meet". Two old people walked into the barn. An old man wearing denim jeans and a flannel shirt and an old lady wearing a floral dress and an apron.They were lovely. The woman was carrying a swaddled baby. She approached me and said "Here is your baby. We want you to visit with him for a spell". I took the swaddled baby carefully from her arms and i met my Jesse for the first time. He was perfect. He was sleeping soundly and so at ease. He had fat little cheeks and a round soft little head covered in fine dark blonde hair. His little hands were fat and dimpled and clenched into fists up under his chin, i do that sometimes too i thought. I was in love instantly. My dad watched over me proudly as i found love with this new child. The old lady said to me "you can have your baby back in six months. We just want you to know that we are looking after him for you". She smiled sweetly at me and put her arms out to take my boy. I handed him back and her and her  husband and my baby walked off and into the house. I knew Jesse would be ok. My dad watched over the whole situation and he was happy so that was good enough for me. We said our goodbyes/ It wasn't sad. It was only a temporary thing, now that i knew i could see him in my dreams. I began my trip home with the sunlight warming me and a smile on my face.

Six months later my labour began on a sunday night. Small contractions but being my first baby i was so excited that it was impossible for me to sleep at all until he was born on the tuesday morning. I don't know what i expected of childbirth but i know now that for me, the thought that pops out to explain that labour is "i really did not imagine it was possible for a human to be in that much pain and live". I believe that people are so strong and their characters are determined so early that their births, their lives and their deaths are all typical of who they are. Their humanity is clearly there to see if you choose to look. My Jesse was sleepy and content and oblivious to other peoples' fuss. He was delicious. He still is. Strong, sturdy. contemplative, determined and unwilling to budge unless he sees love guiding him. Consequently he was a forceps delivery because i was too damn young and afraid and experiencing pain akin to burning alive, or so i'd been told and at that point in my labour, i believed. Needless to say I was glad that part of my mothering was over. He was so soft and gentle. i held him mesmerized by his dreamy chubby little face and i held him close to my body keeping him content.  So now I try to remember this first lesson that Jesse taught me, and I guide him with love and encouragement.And keep him warm and content and then i see the best of Jesse. His courage and wisdom and protective nature. I look forward with a mother's pride to learning more from him as the years go by and I will love him and shine a light for him to glow in and be the best he can be. I love you my Jesse. You have kept me on my toes and you have given me what I needed to learn to love well.

Kobe was born when i was 29 years old. I remember being fiercely determined during his pregnancy to be as healthy and in control as i could be. I was physically fit. I swam laps of the public pool every day for an hour and i walked everywhere. I ate all the right foods and tuned in to him as much as i could each day. I knew this baby was going to be big in character, i could feel it. Towards the end of my pregnancy he would swallow amniotic fluid and get the hiccups. Every day at the same time this would happen. You could see him jump with each hiccup as you watched my belly. I came to the conclusion that he was stressed at this time of day and sucking to soothe himself and taking in too much fluid, so i laid down in bed in the afternoons to give him rest and quiet time. That seemed to work. I didn't have any significant dreams during Kobe's pregnancy I did however just know that he was going to be ok. He had his big brother to look after him. He was fierce and strong, and I was in my prime and knew what i was in for this time.

Kobe's labour was fast, like Kobe. 10 minutes after arriving at the hospital and he was born. I was so focused on getting this little boy out of me that i did not say a word, just listened and concentrated. I don't remember it being painful as much as it was just hard work. So it was easier to focus and do what i had to do. When he was delivered i was amazed as he had a cone shaped head, like that movie with Dan Akroyd, the cone-heads. I watched his head round out right before my eyes as the plates of his skull moved into place.. The midwife put him underneath me as i knelt over him and welcomed my new boy into the world. He was spectacular. He had his little hands clenched and his limbs were flailing and he was not crying, he was raging furiously. I was amazed from the first second I saw him. I tried to coo at him and tell him that it was ok and he didn't need to yell so loud. I was crying and laughing at the same time. I touched him, kept cooing at him and i noticed his hands and feet were huge. He reminded me of a german shepherd we once had when i was a kid and as a pup we all knew it was going to be a big one once she grew into those paws. The paws and the serious displeasure at being out of his nice warm womb were enough to have me laughing as i enjoyed meeting and comforting my new, loud, angry, raging son..He remains a loud, fast paced, has no inhibitions kinda guy. He is always authentic and you never have to guess how he is feeling. He will let you know in 0.63 seconds. If i had one wish for every woman in the world it would be that they could have an experience like mine and Kobe's of childbirth.Kobe I love you my darling. You are a force and a comfort and everyone who knows you is fortunate for that gift.

The song that I want to play today is the song that I sang every day and night to soothe both boys and rock them to sleep with.