The Wiccan Christian

There is no such thing as “Just a little Bipolar “. Either you have bipolar disorder or you don’t.

And I certainly can’t judge for anybody, but myself. Though, I did not diagnose myself. I was diagnosed by a doctor, when I was about 25 years old.

I don’t know if it’s my upbringing that brings this up, but I feel like I’m in some kind of tremendous ruckus that’s going to lead to a money making deal for me.

That may have sounded ludicrous, but it was in my head to speak it, so that’s what I did. I spoke exactly what I was hearing. And the word “me” certainly does not specifically mean “me”. It could mean “me” for any of us. Any of us can be “me”.

I’ve been working on my memoir. Working in PE therapy has been a great help in nudging me out into the public. Without fear of judgment, ridicule, but I can’t say without fear of running into my abuser. That’s how we started talking again.

When I was on that two year addiction I was not myself at all. When I look back I see the brokenness I was feeling. As well as feeling so paralyzed by fear. I felt incredibly dependent on Joe for several reasons. But my main reason: he was one of only two people I had in the area to help keep me on track with my mental health.

Unfortunately, both failed, so I learned that both people that were in my area are not support people. They only want to be around for the jokes. Nobody likes to deal with people that have bipolar disorder.

That was actually an untrue statement. I believe each of our significant others deal with changes as they arise.

That’s just what I’ve experienced in my life. I can add to people’s stress, because of the stressful things I do when I am manic.

My childhood and growing up years were enough chaos for me. I feel I am definitely done with chaos. If protecting my peace loses me more friends, then, as the old cliche says, it’s their loss. They weren’t really friends.

But the chaos continued on into my adulthood. I won’t say I was ever physically abused by any of my pursuers. (just one in high school) But when I look back I see the results of choices I made in mates; I see the big word – controlling.

I do not regret the birth of my one and only daughter and child. She is now 🤔 37 years old and she’s rocking in her life. I remember being her age. That was about the time I threw all my medication in the garbage and started jogging.

I won’t say I jogged immediately. I had to work myself into a jog.

Nothing was more satisfying at times than jogging myself right into a manic, or hypo manic episodes, which, for me, is fine if you like “fun gal Cindy”.

Lots of people like that gal. But when Cindy is falling short on any given day, nobody seems to notice. Maybe they just don’t care. No. They probably just don’t know how to help.

As far as I’m concerned Joe made a very good decision for both of us. There was way too much baggage between us. He says he’s forgiven me for what I did. But I’ve also known Joe for a while now. I know his actions don’t match his words.

It’s hard to find someone that truly understands about mental illness and just how paralyzing it can be at times. Especially for those just like me, I have a lot to say, until a camera is in my face. Then suddenly I ….

Well, I won’t lie. I have flashbacks of those days of trouble with the law. How confused I was with what was going on. The whole situation with me was a well crafted trap. I remember calling Joe, looking for some support from somebody. And he was now all I had. My family had disowned me as long as I continued to stay near him.

I became afraid of him, eventually. I don’t believe he himself would do it. But he would craft another mental breakdown for me The mental abuse alone has caused me, my family and friends tremendous suffering.

I just can’t believe a person, or group of people could be so cruel to think it’s funny to mess with a disabled person’s head like he/they did. For well over a year. Him and I were together a lot. He was a witness to my behavior. Along with a female friend I have as well. And my brother.

My brother was more like a mediator between what was real and what was not. I listened to him pretty well. Whenever I heard something new from the tarot readers I would run to him and tell him what they said. He never argued with me, and was probably the best thing people could have just let me get caught, like I did. I admit that arrest was traumatic, I ended up wetting my pants I got so scared. And because I was doing that “nasty’ drug so heavily it made my urine Oder very very bad. I just remember 4 police officers, one at each arm and each leg gagging over the smell of my urine.

You would think I’d be embarrassed telling y’all this. Normally, I maybe would be embarrassed. But I thought “Heck, who cares”. And that’s how impulsive behaviors start. When a case of the f**** it’s come it’s time to put the blog down and just go take a nap first.