My Bipolar Journal - Episode 11

So, I'm sitting at my desk, not intentionally eavesdropping, but when people sit right behind you having meetings about nonsense when I hear this woman start talking about how her son wants to major in music which she finds as the funniest thing she has ever heard of. One guy finally speaks up after the third time she is saying this between tears of laughter and says, "But there's nothing wrong with that. You're saying it like he wants to become a stripper" (which I'm sure there's a whole other conversation just waiting right there to happen). So, laughing, she asks him, "Yeah, but how many people do you know who make a living in music, besides if they teach it."

I don't know smart-ass? I probably know a many people who make a living at music as you do people who look at insurance policies. Jack ass. Bitch.

I pray that for every day that man majors in music he never regrets it and never has to go back to his mom and say, "You were right. I should be just like you." (draws small square with fingers)

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 10

So, I have this friend who is struggling with the evil ways of how others see her and being judged. We all want to admit that the way people see us isn't important and for most of us, it's truly not. It leads me to believe she's being judged by someone she cares about.

I never gave a rats ass what people thought of the way I looked or what I wore until I met my husband. Suddenly, I wanted him to accept me. That's where I should have realized that things were going to go wrong. I didn't change anything too severe, or so I'd like to believe, but I changed things I didn't really care about. He didn't like my shoes, so I threw them out. Not because I didn't like my shoes, but because I just don't really care about shoes. If I really don't care about shoes, why would I care about getting new ones?

She recently wrote an entry about how she was judged all the time and then followed it up with who she was. She tried to define herself. That got me to thinking. Why should anyone feel they have to explain themselves? There are things that should be explained sometimes because they only work in your brain. I have plenty of these things rolling around inside all the time. Sometimes I define them for people, sometimes I let them be. It depends on their importance to that particular person.

I think I am a true believer in not having to define yourself to anyone ever. Especially with this person. I don't want to know exactly who she is. What fun would that be for future conversations. I dont' want to know someone so definitively that there's nothing else to discover. That's what makes a person. There are so many people who say they know someone so well or that they are such a good read of character, but most of us are. It's not like a big mystery to figure out if most people are telling the truth or not. It doesn't make you a genius or anything.

I am a good judge of character because I'm a good person. Put crudely, I can recognize evil. I can recognize it when it is in me, so why would I not recognize it in others. Does that make me special?

Are there poor judges of character? Yes, of course there are. For instance, one of my best friends is dating a girl that everyone can tell instantly that there is something wrong with. I don't lead them to these beliefs. It just happens. Does that make my friend a bad judge of character? No. It makes him wrong in judgement because there is something he wants more than to be able to see it. He wants a relationship. He wants to get married and make icky babies and he probably will. He won't realize until it's much too late that it was the wrong decision. It will hurt more, it will be harder to get out of, it will be heart-breaking. It will hurt everyone that cares about him. In the meantime, it's hard to be supportive. I've made made decisions, poor judgements of character to the point that it's been hard to get the friendship back to where it was. It's important to me that he knows that I'm here and that just because of this I wouldn't judge him, it's just the way things are. It's the things in life we go through to make us into we are.

I don't know how someone can expect to define themselves. We all change too often to sit down and one day say.... here world, this is who I am.... take it or leave it. We fail to recognize that most people will leave it. If we're lucky, we come to realize that it's okay. It's okay that people leave it and don't understand it.

I don't care if the person wears designer clothes or not. Do they truly like the clothes they're in is the question? Same applies to our skin and our very souls. If designer clothes would make my friend happy and she loved them because of the simple fact that she did, then I can't expect her to want to go to a thrift store or Hot Topic because she should put off a different image of herself. If she decided to change her style, that wouldn't make me like her any less either.

PEOPLE CHANGE! That is the fantastic part about people. That's why we have friends, lose friends, make out, make love, skip down the street or sit on a bench.

I recently had a friend ask me if I noticed how moody another friend of ours was. I said that of course I did. I loved that about that person. He said that he didn't. My thought was, "And that's what makes you special." We both still love our friend to pieces, but we love him differently. Because of that, we're able to meet different needs for him. Because he's moody he meets different needs for us, but we all fit in the puzzle of life somehow together. I love emotion. I love moods. I love that people have them whether they're happy or sad or angry or confused. To me that is what makes someone human. It's what makes you an individual. The firrst friend had no need for that. There's something else that draws us all to each other.

It's so fucking beautiful in the end.

To my friend who is struggling with the judgment, if ever you should read this and know who you are, know that you are perfect the way you are. I don't need to know who you think you are because to me you're something else entirely and I accept it and think it's wonderful.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 9

So, the word "vermin" actually came to mind today as I was nearly run over by a three or four year old kid in the workplace. Why do people bring their kids to work? Am I interested? Am I supposed to tell them their cute as they run over my toes and nearly knock me down, making me have to wait another minute to open my Diet Coke so I don't spray it all over myself?

Anyway, today I blogged that I write this. What's the point? I don't know. I think everyone wants to think they have something significant to say. I guess somewhere residing in my delusions of grandeur I think I do too. Well, let's be honest, everyone has something to say, it's the significance that's key. Thinking your significant somehow to at least one person or another. Maybe somehow something you have to say means something or helps one person. Wouldn't that be fucking cool? I guess as long as it doesn't mean, "Pick up and axe and kill someone" we'll all be alright.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 8

For real. Babies. Why is everyone trying to get you to hold them all the time? Is it like, "Look what I can do?" or are they trying to make me jealous or am I supposed to be happy for them? I can understand sort of when it's my friends, but when total strangers come around and act like you are supposed to fawn over their children it just makes me sick.

"Congratulations! You've just squeezed out a big pile of goo that looks like a raisin. You must be so proud. By the way, when was the last time you had a thought of your own. Oh, probably right before you said, 'Hey! Where'd I put that condem? Oh, well, fuck it, let's do it anyway.'"

I cannot feasibly understand the concept of kids. They're obnoxious, can't do anything for themselves and you're not supposed to leave them home alone. Why not? What are they going to do? Poop? Cry? They can do that while you're there. I think you should watch them more when they're teenagers and not leave them alone then. That's when they get in trouble.

Upon enlightening some friends on my thoughts of children I was asked, "I hope you keep some kind of birth control in that bag."

So now, everyone presumes I have sex with boys? Now, it's a reasonable request. I appreciate that they would at least ask such a question, but I responded, "I don't have sex with boys, so I figure that works pretty well for not getting pregnant." As far as I know, there's only been one reported case of pregnancy without sex in the history of the Earth, so I think I'm good. I think if someone were to ask God to give me an immaculate conception he would slap his knee and laugh and say, "Have you ever met Jenn? I mean, I know I have a little insight because I created her, but I thought I made her fairly obvious."

The thing about people who want babies to me is that for some reason they feel incomplete themselves, like it would take some whole other person to make them who they are. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, but I dont' understand it. I remember when I was married too and my husband was overseas I was worried about him all the time because I'm an over-worrier (another reason I should keep away from kids). I thought that if something did happen to him on a flight or something that it would have been nice to have something that much a part of him. At the same time though, we're both so crazy, why would we want to make something that has a little bit of each of us in it. I just can't fathom it, especially now.

Am I saying I'm immune to children? I would like to be, but I know to never say never. If I had one, hopefully I'd do the right thing. Hopefully I wouldn't have a heathen such as myself running around making everyone else's life miserable. Given the choice to have a hysterectomy though, I would take it. One less decision to make. If women can pay to have their boobs enhanced, fat sucked from their bodies, staples inserted into their stomach and chemicals injected into their face, surely they should be allowed to decide at any given point if they want to have their ovaries removed.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 7

Yeah, so I guess I jumped my own gun on that one. Yesterday I found out nothing has really ever changed about people. Didn't realize it until today, but still, found out about it yesterday.

When I was eighteen, I made a decision. I was not going to tell anyone I was bipolar anymore. The thing about it is that while it makes you extremely immature at times, it makes you grow up too fast in a lot of ways because none of your friends are mature enough to handle it yet. They treat you like a leper. You can't cry for the sake of crying any longer. You can't be happy without being hypo-manic. You can't "just freak out" like a normal person anymore. Everything is because you're nuts. That's just the way it swings. I can't say I blame them. I guess I presume that anytime a cancer patient has a cold it's because of they're chemo. I haven't been very fair myself.

When I was nineteen, I realilzed it didn't matter. I tried to just not hang out with my high school friends that went on to college with me, but it didn't stop them from talking about me. I still hung out with them, but just not the same way. I needed to expand out and find out more about different people, plus, all my high school friends had pretty much too normal to hang out with my crazy. They were still immature enough though to spread the rumor of my crazy to all of my new friends, turning those poor saps into the strange and unusual people that I had hung out with in high school. One of them, Derek, even went as far as to tell a guy I like that I was a stalker. So, what does that make the guy do? Analyze every phone call, every time he runs into me in the hall, every other guy that I made out with while I was in college becomes some sort of target of humiliation and interview. Didn't really matter in the end, because that guy really was crazy. Nearly sociopathically. I ended up in the same situation I had been in high school in the long run though. They won. I quit college and left them all alone. Still went back and hung out, but it just wasnt' ever going to be the same.

After going home, it didn't really matter that I told people or not. I only tried to bring it up when it was relevant, but after a while, I just told people whenever I felt like it and such has been my pattern for the past ten years. I realize I can't change this pattern because it turns into a vicious cycle.

I realize how truly fortunate I am to have the gang even though I annoy the hell out of them at times as well. It's just the nature of the beast. All of them are either just as crazy and insane as myself (and yes, guys, I mean that as a compliment) or they're mature enough to handle it and don't just give up when the going gets tough.

I'm truly frustrated though because I've been blamed again fro something I didn't take upon myself to do. I had one conversation with one person and they're now using it as an excuse to write me off. I think that's what people do when they're uncomfortable. They sit and stalk for that moment when I truly lose my mind and instead of being a friend and seeing it through or trying to forget it happened and move on to the next conversation, they use it as an excuse to say polite things like "if our paths should ever cross", henceforth, making them more sane again because they aren't as angry as you are. They find polite ways to tell you that they're better than you and always will be. Funny thing is, the people who are truly hurtful about it are usually just as crazy, if not crazier than you. I guess they can't be troubled with more crazy or they're in denial of their own nature.

I like people as crazy and moody as they are. That's what makes them real! Someone who is happy all the time is always repressing something. They spend a lot of time begging for understanding, but when it comes to them having to understand someone else, it's easier to just forget about them altogether and pretend that however long of their life you were a part of never even existed.

I cherish every moment I have that has been crazy or sad or angry. It's how I know I'm alive. When people don't get that way, there's no way of telling if they're even real. Do I like sitting here in my cubicle wiping away tears in front of near strangers? No, but if I were somewhere else, in a more acceptable world of emotion, would it be so hard anymore?

Sometimes we don't always know when we hurt people's feelings. Sometimes we're oblivious and selfish and just say exactly what we say all the time without any thought to how the person feels. When I do such things, I'm ready to go with an apology. It may not change anything that I said or how I feel, but there's no need to just be cruel about things. People who are avoiding you for your crazy never apologize for hurting your feelings because your feelings aren't real to them. They're emotions based on a chemical imbalance that triggers some sort of over-reaction in the emotional part of your brain. The news flash is, that they are still real emotions, whether they are justified or not. Now, I do my best to recognize when I've over-reacted, but this world, these people, have caused me to think that I'm over-reacting to everything, so why shouldn't I over-react to everything! Those who think they're normal are certainly going to behave in a manner that thinks they owe no crazy person an apology. It's not their fault I'm crazy, now is it? They all bide their time and say they should just wait it out and the episode will be over soon. Maybe it is an episode, but what if it's how I really feel? Then what?

Lack of interest becomes stupidity. I believe in creation, but do I really want to discuss the terms of creation vs. evolution? No. I have faith and have been taught enough facts throughout my lifetime to know that I believe it, but it's really boring to me. I don't want to discuss it. I'm pro-life which being pro-choice is nearly a new way to be popular anymore, but I don't believe in stopping any life from forming. Why do I think cells are a life? Who cares! I do think that. That should be all that matters. Why can't pro-choice people let you choose to be pro-life. I'm not personally trying to shove any kind of beliefs or facts down your throat, so don't do the same to me. If you can hold a unbiased conversation (which most pro-choicers and political types can't), then maybe I'll entertain you for a minute, but do I really find these sorts of matters enthralling? No! I'm not here to judge you. I'm not here to judge anyone. It's not my place. It's not my job. If you flat out ask me if I think something is wrong or right, I will tell you. I'm close-minded in those matters because I believe them strongly. I'll listen to your argument and if I come to a conclusion I'm wrong, then I'll admit it, but I'm pretty much a standard individual. Yes means yes, no means no. Right is right, wrong is wrong. Who am I to be right about everything though? When I go to meet my Maker I will have Him to answer to, not you, oh normal one. And I'm pretty sure I'll have plenty of stuff to answer for which will keep me very busy, so I don't really want to waste my time here explaining things to you.

As for the matter at hand, it just fucking hurts. It doesn't hurt because I'm crazy or because a certain chemical is either firing rapidly or not rapidly enough in my brain, but because you would be hurt too if someone implied you were too stupid or lame to carry on a conversation with you any longer. You're not the only reason I'm crying, but you're certainly a part of it. I'm crying because it hurts, not because of this thing in my brain. I'm depressed because now I feel more alone in the evening, not because you're not there, but because you don't want to be. You have found your ten minutes of glory that give you the out of being associated with me. Congratulations. You're officially just like everyone else.

My Bipolar Journal - Episode 6

I just figure it's been a while since I wrote. I'm still plenty crazy, but there have been no milestones of crazy thought, I suppose. I did have some crazy dreams last night though. My craziest dreams are strangely enough the most normal. The strangest part about them is how clear they are, or if they reoccur. Luckily, they weren't reoccurring because that's a sure sign that I'm having a nightmare. They were pretty basic.

Kyle's moved out of the house now, but my friend, Beth (Betsy Fay) is moving in. I've been friends with her since I was six. I haven't got to hang out with her as much since we've been all adult-like, so it will be good to have her around even though her nose will be stuck in her big school books the whole time.

I'm moving into the living room because that's where I spend all my time anyway. I really, really like that room. It was very comforting when I left Chris.

Chris and I talked last night which was a bit odd, but okay. We fought, we cried, it sucked, it wasn't bad, but we're in for a lot of hell with this house. I hate that he has to move, but it was a bad move in the first place. Doesn't change the fact that we bought the house though or that we need to take responsibility for our actions. It's not so much the financial responsibility. I can't just come up with $8000 just like that anyway, but it's just wanting to get this huge thing out of our lives that still joins us together in some stupid way. He's stressed and upset a lot, but hopefully he's really kicked some of his habits. If that's the only thing I get out of leaving him and supposedly being "the bitch", then I guess something really good came out of it.

We moved up eleven floors at work yesterday. It's a very odd feeling. I can actually seem to feel the air thinning. The elevator ride up to the 19th floor is motion sickness. Too many stops and starts now. You have to drop everyone off, pick people up.... it's just obnoxious.