Come As You Are Party: Wired Differently or Just a Flake?

Image by Wolfgang Eckert from Pixabay

This is my response(s) to a post on The Mighty.

It is my hope to back away from apologizing for who I am and instead explain about myself so that those I interact with might develop an understanding of those of us who are wired differently.

I have type 2 bipolar disorder and ADD as well as complex PTSD and OCD. I wasn't properly diagnosed with bipolar disorder or OCD until I was almost 40. I didn't know I had ADD until I was in my 50s. I was just always scolded for being forgetful and distracted. I have always vacillated between being Ms. Wonderful and being that flakey a-hole that everyone hates. I understand why it happens now, but I can't change the past. I wish people would try to understand me a little better, but I'm not going to hold my breath.

My son will be 30 this year. He is high-functioning autistic and has ADHD as well as anxiety issues and major depression. He is very intelligent and has read the entire Amber series (Roger Zelazny), much of Tolkien's writing, The Count of Monte Cristo, the works of C.S. Lewis, and the list goes on, but he can't learn from a textbook to save his life. I think the current educational system does a very poor job of addressing the needs of those who are not neurotypical. 

I technically also have a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, but it is my opinion that borderline personality disorder is actually a form of complex PTSD and is an outdated and sexist diagnosis. It is almost exclusively applied to girls and women. Everyone who has it has endured some form of trauma, whether physical, psychological, sexual or a combination thereof. 

~Cie the Ornery Old Lady~

Image copyright Open Clipart Vectors

Come as You Are Party/Catching Up With the Ornery Old Lady

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

Hiya people! I had myself a little bit of a mental breakdown over the past week and went MIA, not, I'm sure, that anyone missed me. I came to one of those crossroads points in my life where I needed to make a critical decision. I'll just let this tentative introduction that I wrote for the book I'm currently working on tell you all about it.

A NEW TAKE ON AN OLD ISSUE

Here's how I will introduce my longer, more involved books from this day forward.

The chapters in my books can be read as standalone short stories or interpreted cohesively as a longer novelette/novella/novel. During the first half of my life, I had a lot of people tell me that my writing would never be good until I was able to make it conform to their ideals. Now that I am in the second half of my life, I refuse to apologize any longer for the way my mind and brain work or to force my writing to conform to rules decreed by others.

I have ADD (attention deficit disorder), type 2 bipolar disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. These factors affect the way my brain processes information and the way I write. While I strive to make my writing concise in its own way and to continually improve my skills, I will never be able to write novel-length stories in a cohesive fashion. My mind simply cannot stop developing subplots.

It came to a point where I realized that I must either stop sharing my work or start sharing it without apologies for the fact that I neither think nor write like other people. I have chosen to share my work with an explanation but no apology.

I write the way I see the Universe as working: in a sometimes seemingly haphazard and disconnected fashion with an unseen thread connecting aspects in surprising ways. As the Tenth Doctor once said, “People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective point of view, it is more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey...stuff.”

My stories are a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff, and I will no longer apologize for that. I will simply issue the warning that you are now entering the Zone Where Normal Things Don't Happen Very Often, as was once revealed on Johnny Bravo.

If that sort of thing really is your bag, Baby, then welcome! Leave your expectations at the door, and come join Team Netherworld for an adventure like no other! You may at times be baffled, but I promise that you will never be bored.

Cie the Ornery Old Lady with a Mind Like a Maze

I would dare you to try and figure me out

But that wouldn't be fair

Because I've never managed to figure myself out!

Check out the latest and greatest from Team Netherworld

Tanka Splendor: Vernal Equinox

Image Source

vernal equinox

fifty-fifth year of my life

will I find some peace

or will the dark curtain fall

as it tends to do in spring?

~cie~

notes

I created the Tanka Splendor badge with a free to use stock image on Pixlr. Please feel free to use it on your own blog. No credit is necessary.

I was not correctly diagnosed with type 2 bipolar disorder until I was nearly 40 years old. I was diagnosed with "depression and anxiety." I have both of those, but I have bipolar disorder rather than unipolar depression as my son has. My restlessness was sometimes blamed on ADD, which I have as well, but the restlessness becomes magnified in a hypomanic state.

My baseline mood is moderately depressed. Some of my depression is situational. Living in poverty is very stressful. I try to ameliorate the way I feel about it by the fact that I keep trying, but sometimes I feel like all my trying adds up to one big ole heapin' helpin' of horse manure and I become despondent. 

I live with suicide ideation. I think about offing myself a lot. Ideation is not the same as planning. My planning levels tend to be low regardless of how strong the ideation levels are. Generally speaking, I'm probably too much of an asshole to commit suicide because then I wouldn't be able to piss people off by existing in a corporeal fashion in their presence. But sometimes not having to struggle sure sounds like a winner.

I have experienced spring depression almost every year of my life since I hit puberty. My puberty was somewhat precocious and started coming on when I was nine years old. Thinking back on things, the first time I can remember seeing a strong manifestation that could have been identified as bipolar 2 was on my tenth birthday. 

Bipolar 2 can be sneaky since it presents with hypomania rather than full mania. Hypomania is like "mania lite." However, it can be just as destructive. I've learned to recognize the magical thinking that comes with the condition and to try not to act on my impulses during periods of hypomania. By magical thinking, I don't mean believing in fairies or even believing something potentially fatal like thinking I could get up on a roof and float down. Hypomania does not create that sort of delusion. (The delusion that jumping off a roof is a good idea. I like to hope that believing in fairies is not a delusion.) It does create the sort of delusion that I should buy into an MLM program for a thousand dollars and will make a butt-ton of money and be able to live happily ever after. I don't have the focus to be successful at such a thing, even if it is one of the few programs that is legit.

By the way, Watkins is not that sort of program. It is legit, and the "buy-in" for a year is only $30. I'm only saying this because the -666 of you who follow my blogs might be saying "oh, Cie, have you done this again with this Watkins thing?" No, I actually only signed up for Watkins to get discounts on my own merchandise but after reviewing the material felt good about recommending it to others.

I am trying to learn to forgive myself for sometimes really awful and personally destructive past decisions and to stop belittling myself for having a brain that works differently than the brains of the sort of people who tend to be held up as examples. Nobody will ever say: "why can't you be more like that ornery old hag cie? I mean, she's simply all over the place, and she's easily distracted except when she's laser-focused on one of her ruinous plans? Now there's someone you can look up to!"

I will be fifty-five in a month and a day from this writing unless I go tits up in the meantime. I have no hope that "this will be my year" as I always told myself on birthdays in the past and was inevitably disappointed. This will be a year. There will be no significant shifts. I will remain me and the world will wag on.

Carpe Diem #1774 Renga With Jane Reichhold ... apples for lunch

Image Source

dad on high

dropping from his trees

apples for lunch

I walk to the chicken coop

to visit my friends the hens

southern sunset

filling the apple bin

a deeper red

thinking of a time gone by

when the sky was beautiful

applesauce

the cinnamon glow

of a kerosene lamp

we didn't need to have one

my mother liked how it looked

windfall apples

palaces for worms

American pie

I started getting to know

worms eating into my brain

straight falling rain

tiny lakes upon the tree

stem hollows of apples

I have always loved the rain

but it's the snowy season

baskets in a row

overflowing with apples

on one a sweater

was it my mother's or mine?

Dad goes on picking apples

~Jane & Cie~

Notes:

The Hokku stanzas of these Tan Renga were created by Jane Reichhold (1937 - 2016). The Ageku were created by me.

When I was writing my Ageku, I was remembering my childhood in New Mexico between the ages of four and ten.

It wasn't idyllic by any means. We were very poor. But we did have a half-acre of land, and we had chickens and fruit trees and we grew corn and beans.

We also ate a lot of stuff like boiled soybeans and buckwheat groats. I still like buckwheat groats. You could put a bit of butter and honey on them and they tasted good. However, to this day, I loathe boiled soybeans. I would eat my shoe before I would ever eat another boiled soybean.

I knew I was weird and different from a very young age. These days doctors would probably put me on Ritalin and antidepressants. One did try to put me on phenobarbitol when I was a year and a half old because I didn't sleep for crap. My mother said it had the opposite effect and I was awake for three days straight. 

It probably put me into a manic state. It may even have been what triggered the onset of my bipolar disorder. Any doctor who would instruct a parent to give phenobarbitol to a child needs a damn good whacking, and nothing will change my mind about that.

OctPoWriMo 2018: Day 24: Out of the Attic

Outside

Unlock

Fling

Freely

Gape

The madwoman has escaped from the attic

And cut through the red tape

Unlock

Fling

Freely

Gape

Outside

She stumbles out into the sunlight

No longer will she hide

Fling 

Freely

Gape

Outside

Unlock

The people hide in the shadows

To see her in the open is quite a shock

Freely

Gape

Outside

Unlock

Fling

How dare she try to approach the good people?

She's such a hideous thing!

Gape 

Outside

Unlock

Fling

Freely

Surely she doesn't fancy herself equal to us

Who does she think she is really?

Outside

Unlock

Fling

Freely

Gape

The madwoman has escaped from the attic

And cut through the red tape

~Cie~

Note:

I have type 2 bipolar disorder which was not properly diagnosed until I was 38 years old. I first noted symptoms of bipolar disorder, then termed manic depression, in myself when I was taking a psychology class in high school. I approached the teacher with my thoughts, and she told me that I couldn't be manic depressive because manic depression was a psychosis, and I evidently wasn't psychotic.

Bipolar disorder has since been recategorized as a mood disorder rather than a psychosis.

Bipolar type 2 can be difficult to diagnose because it presents with hypomania rather than full mania. Bipolar 2 does not have psychotic features. Bipolar 1 may or may not present with psychosis.

I have experienced mania and psychosis when they were triggered by SSRI's, the darlings of the psychiatry field. It was terrifying and upsetting. While taking Effexor, a patient in the long-term care center I was working for at the time asked me why I was so happy. I wasn't happy, I was manic as fuck and felt completely out of control. I never experience mania if I don't take SSRI's. 

Just another reason why people suggesting that I should "try medication" makes me want to go all Norman Bates on their ass. I did, and the cure was worse than the problem. Having a psychiatric anomaly does not make a person stupid.

I realize that sometimes it can be difficult when dealing with people who do improve with use of medication and who then feel as if they have been cured and quit taking the medication. Psychiatric dysfunctions are not one size fits all. 

I do best using a low dose of Lithium Orotate. It short-circuits the irritability that is part and parcel of my condition.

I once had a doctor tell me to "just stay on" a medication (Zoloft) which made it feel as if my brain had developed tiny hands and was trying to pick its way out of my skull. To this day, I would like to know how the fuck he thought that was an improvement. That was a psychotic reaction to the medication. I normally do not experience psychosis. I knew it wasn't really happening, but it sure as fuck FELT as if it was really happening, and who the hell knows what I might have done to stop it if it kept on. 

These medications are not "happy pills." They change the brain chemistry. Some people are helped by them. For some, they don't work at all. For others, the cure is worse than the disease.

I think that one thing which desperately needs to change is the idea of making people who live with neurological or psychological differences into "normal" people, and to stop acting as if those of us who live with these conditions are "broken." 

It would have been nice to learn how to live with a brain like mine from the time I was in my youth rather than being told that I had to be "fixed," to be "normal." 

I will never be normal.

I will only be me.

Stop the stigma.

Haiga copyright The Real Cie

You are welcome to use it with a credit back to me.

30 Days of Haiga 2017: Day 8: Little Lost Loves

Photoshop manipulation by The Real Cie

Click to enlarge

Notes:

Lafayette was born July 17, 2009, according to the Adams County Animal Shelter, which is where I adopted him from in March of 2010. He was eight months old when I adopted him and had spent all but one month of his life in a kennel at the shelter. 

He was initially terrified and for the first week he lived with me, he hid under the printer table and slipped out at night to attack my hand while I was sleeping. He wasn't being aggressive, he was a big kitten who hadn't been properly socialized. The vet trimmed his claws and I taught him to play with soft paws. My arm and hand were no longer shredded after the first week.

I lost Lafayette on his sixth birthday, July 17, 2015. He was in chronic kidney failure which had been going on for some time but I wasn't aware of it until he started losing weight. I thought he might be having trouble eating because his feline stomatitis had returned and his remaining teeth would have to be removed. I wish that had been the case. It was one of the worst days of my life. I have never gotten over it.

Trinity was a dump-off. I'm not sure of her exact age, but she was less than a year old when she wandered up to my porch, crying, in the summer of 2006. I thought she was pregnant. Evidently, her asshole former owners did too as they left her behind when they moved. It turned out she was a cat who had false pregnancies when she went into heat. After she was spayed, the problem was solved. 

When I took her to the vet to be spayed, she was terrified and leaped up onto the window screen. After I brought her home, she was furious with me and gave me dirty looks for a week afterward. Normally she was a very affectionate cat. Luckily she eventually forgave me. 

I lost Trinity on November 9, 2016. She had brain and lung cancer. She was a big girl who suddenly lost a great deal of weight within the space of a month and she started staggering when she walked. Sometimes she would take deep, sighing breaths. Scans revealed that she had a lot of fluid in her lungs. My son and I knew that it would be for the best to let her go.

I don't think I will ever have any more cats after the ones I still have pass from this world. It's too heartbreaking. I plan to get rid of a lot of things and move to a much smaller place. I don't see a bright future for myself. If it weren't for my connection to my son and my obligation to my remaining cats, I would already have taken the exit option.

For the love of anything that might be holy, don't cheapen my pain by telling me to "seek counseling" or "get on meds." Having lived with the roller coaster of type 2 bipolar disorder since I hit puberty but not being properly diagnosed until I was nearly 40, having had a life that is far from a fairy tale dream, and having left youth and innocence in the dust many, many years ago, I most certainly know about the existence of those things. Lithium helps a little bit, nothing else really does. 

If you know of a counselor who has an open-minded, esoteric approach to things and whose services don't cost an arm and a leg, I might consider employing zir. Otherwise, I will just keep walking down this rocky road, wondering where my life is leading, rolling on to the bitter end until I can be reunited with my friends again.

~Cie~

NaPoWriMo 2017: Day 30: Zero Chance of Escape

Without fail

The black dog

Comes around again

There is no escape

Bipolar 2 is 4 Ever

Without fail, someone tells me

To just cheer up

To just stop feeling that way

To just thank their god

That I get to live another day

Bipolar 2

Is 4 Ever

There is zero

Chance of escape

~Cie~

Cross-Posted to:

Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp (Blogger)

Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp (Tumblr)

Dark Hearts Love Too

My Eyes Have Seen Me

My Eyes Have Seen, Version 4

Photoshop manipulation by The Real Cie

Model: The Real Cie

My Eyes Have Seen Me

51 and still wondering why life hurts so much

Lost dad, became half an orphan at 45

Diagnosed bipolar, borderline and obsessive-compulsive at 38

Divorced at 29

Mother at 25

Married at 23

Met son’s dad at 18

First suicide attempt at 16

Troubled teen

Ghost whisperer

Alien, born 1965

~Cie~

This shaky selfie actually is a pretty accurate illustration of what it's like to be inside my soul on a bad day. Today was a pretty bad day. This has been a really bad spring for my depression.

 

Prompts Used:

 

NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 23: Luck of the Draw

Luck of the Draw

Mania

Hypomania

However you want to call it

Burns magical through the synapses

Every moment unfolds

The greatest story ever told

Magical moments where you think you can fly

You feel so high

Wondrous burning that you never want to end

Like being at a party where the music never stops

Like being the hero of your own amazing movie

Being

Hyper-being

Fire burning

World turning

Every bit of news is good news

Nothing can go wrong

When the song in your head is wild

Real wild child

Every moment is hot

And you

Are just too

too

too

cool

It's like cocaine

It sets fire to your brain

The rain is made of diamonds

Your heart is full of soul

You can do no wrong

This song

And every song

Is your song

Heart beats wild

Real wild child

But when the chandelier comes crashing to the floor

You need to run damage control

But everything has gone to hell

Your brilliant mind reveals you to be

The butt of the joke

When you see yourself clearly in the mirror

You know that no-one could love you

You are the ugliest thing

Not the belle of the ball at all

Just another loser

Lost in the illusion

Brought on by mania

But now the party's over

You're home with Mother Depression

And she's one hell of a bitch

~Wanda~

Notes:

If you were lucky enough to draw the Bipolar Disorder card in this life, this poem needs no explanation.

The Prompt:

And now for today’s prompt (optional, as always). Today, I challenge you to take a chance, literally. Find a deck of cards (regular playing cards, tarot cards, uno cards, cards from your “Cards Against Humanity” deck – whatever), shuffle it, and take a card – any card! Now, begin free-writing based on the card you’ve chosen. Keep going without stopping for five minutes. Then take what you’ve written and make a poem from it. (Hat tip to Amy McDaniel for the idea!)

J is for Jeffreys Sonnet

Visit the Artist

Jeffreys Sonnet isn't necessarily about someone named Jeffrey. 

I'll start with mine, then you can read the description, and what is probably a better example.

Broken Brain

Is it only my heart that is

Broken into pieces and bits

Could it be that it's my soul too?

Or is it just my brain that cries?

Is it just that my brain tells lies?

Which make my heart think that it's blue

What's really true I don't know

For my mind tells lies to my soul

It's like an abusive lover

One day pretend to be a friend

The next day in hell I will spend

The truth I cannot discover

I will smother in my soul's grief

My mind the thief won't recover

~Gunnar~

Jeffreys Sonnet

A Jeffreys Sonnet was created by Scott J. Alcorn. It is isosyllabic (only 8 syllable per line), 2 sestets with a cross rhymed couplet (the cross rhyme is in the 2nd to 4th syllable in each of the two lines of the couplet). Also there is a cross rhyme in the first line of the 2nd sestet (between the 2nd to 4th syllable), tying the 1st sestet to the 2nd. So the rhyme scheme would be: aabccb, (b)ddeffe, (e)g (g)e. The letters in ( ) are the cross rhymes.


Example #1:
Miles Away

A thousand miles away- I hear,
your soft whispered voice so clear.
The gentle hush, of evening’s sigh-
Yet alas, you’re so far away.
My heart yearns and drifts where it may,
a longing I can not deny.

So down I lie- night slowly falls
and in dreams I restlessly call.
Yet, you’re not there to hear the plea.
Oh, how my heart weeps in longing…
Pervasive, tangible, yearning…
You’re still a thousand miles from me.

Distance I see- in between.
My love, unseen, and miles from me.

Copyright © 2006 Scott J. Alcorn