I'm starting this blog to let out some thoughts about me, my bipolar condition, thoughts about others, etc. This is a story I wrote one night when I couldn't sleep and had too much on my mind.

        It was late at night and I was trying to sleep, but couldn’t relax enough or something. My boyfriend had moved in with me and I was getting used to sleeping with another person. He told me that he was here to help me get things back in order so I wouldn’t lose the house and be there for me when I had episodes of bipolar disorder. I think it has become my bane as it reared its ugly head when I tried to work a 3^rd shift job and couldn’t do it. It messed with me sleep wise and with my medicines.

          Now Eleanor was my hallucinated baby…what do I mean? Well, one night I was deep in a hallucination thinking that me and my boyfriend had a baby and it was in a crib in my room.  This is impossible as I have had my tubes tied, yet the doctor’s tell it could happen, and two…there’s no room in the bedroom for a crib. This was all told to me the next day by my mom when she came over. I was thinking she had come to see the baby, yet it was disproved to me.  So here I was thinking I had a second beautiful daughter named Eleanor Rose.  Apparently I was destined to having hallucinations which were to be false by anyone who cared about me.

          My daughter, Arianna had a hard time believing that I was having another episode of bipolar disorder. She assumed that the episodes just go away and never return. I hadn’t had any problems in a few years, but I discovered from my doctor that it happens all the time and can reoccur in different points of your life.  I don’t like being ill, having hallucinations—some are pretty nice, but then there’s the side effects from the different medicines. It’s a catch-22 situation at best. I’ve been told by both my family and my doctor that I have to take the medicines to be well or better, because if I were off them I’d be having much worse problems.  So I deal with it.

          So how do I deal with my situation? Well, I have lots of projects that I work on intermittedly. I crochet, weave, draw, or paint with a little housework. I did have a job for a short while, but it didn’t work out for me, so I’m back to looking and going for interviews. Some people wonder how I can work. I need a job to feel useful and to earn a little extra income. I like doing things; it keeps me pleasantly distracted and challenges my brain.

          So back to Eleanor, I think I thought her up to fill an empty space inside me. My daughter is moving out of the home to live with a friend while she goes to school and works. I guess I’m dealing with “Empty Nest Syndrome”. I didn’t think my daughter was really mature enough to handle the stresses that adults go through everyday.  So filling my days and nights with another child made me happy. I wanted to see another child grow up and became this creative, wonderful person like Arianna. Maybe when I “get things back in order” again, I can think of adopting a child and raise him or her. Course I may feel differently when I reach that point.

          I believed Eleanor would be my musical child; the one who pursues my interest in music either with voice or instrument. Either way that would be her natural talent to share. Arianna’s was artistic with drawing and design. She could create the most unusual or unique pictures or designs for things. And she would make things and places really nice. I would have my two girls create things together. There would be a big gap in ages, but they would love each other, because they’re both loving people.

          Eleanor may have been a figment of a desire that was buried deep in me, I don’t know. Today, I have mild to full blown hallucinations. Some I mention to my loved ones, others I let pass. They come and go and I have learned to accept them as part of my illness. They don’t interfere with every day activities or interactions with others. I guess you could say they are pretty mild. They are nothing like you’d see from a homeless person talking to them or an imaginary person. I don’t vocally talk to my hallucinations, but rather whisper or mentally talk with them. I try not to draw focus to myself.

Most days are good ones without any hallucinations or voices. And I go about my business like any other person. My meds keep me regular and mostly up beat.

          I’m writing about this to either explain or share what it’s like being bipolar and having depression most of the time. It’s not happy. A lot of times I focus on life without me, but then I get drawn back into the world by loved ones. I need focus and distractions that are pleasant that attract my attention. Just now, my boyfriend is spewing nonsense rhymes and making me smile. It doesn’t matter that it makes no sense; it just helps to know I’m loved and cared for. This helps me to carrying on without the gloom and dooms a lot of people with my affliction deal with. I could be in bed, sleeping or not, not caring about what goes on around me and get up only to go to the bathroom or maybe eat. I wouldn’t talk with anyone and I wouldn’t socialize. My instinct is to hide away from the world and not come out. Instead I portray an interested person who wants to be part of the world and care about others and do things that are interesting and fun.  I like to do stuff that stimulates the mind and senses. So being bipolar isn’t crippling or shameful.  It’s a burden that has to be carried, yet it can be lightened by being around other people and pushing oneself to do what you want to do. I want to live a happy and fulfilling life just like anyone else would want. So let me sing Eleanor’s song and direct Arianna’s beauty into wonderful stories and titillating masterpieces, because that’s what I want most in this world. It’s to express myself in whatever way that springs forth from my hands or lips and is shared by others. Bipolar disorder isn’t going to cripple me or make me a recluse, because I’m alive and I want to stay that way.