Gone mental

Notes from my Black
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2023-05-15 03:41:29 (UTC)

Push ups/ Bridgerton/ BiPolar

I have something to talk about regarding Bridgerton, the show, but I can’t talk about it without giving a spoiler. So this topic will be at the end.

St Jude is a hospital that runs completely on donations. The kiddos that go there and their families are never asked for anything. I’m a dad of a boy that has messed up medical issues and although he never went there, we contemplated making that trip many times. Their donation drive may be the same every year, I don’t know. This one, the one I know about is for push-ups. I signed on… and I’m doing them. The goal is 3,000 in the month of May. Tomorrow is the half way mark and today I hit over 1,500. At the beginning I was not believing I could do it. I missed 4 days in total for different reasons, like soreness, noodle arms, travel and more travel. Anyway, I’m plugging away and it’s making a big difference.

The result so far is, I can do 200 in a day. Not all at once, but I do them in 30’s and 40’s. My chest is stronger, my shoulders are firmer. I stand taller. My core is tightening. I showered tonight and noticed I’m getting a 6 pack again. So, um… ok! Bonus. I’ll probably never have an ass… it’s just not going to be in my lifetime I think.

Next subject. I started this iteration of journal to be even more open and honest about everything. I’m still finding myself moderating myself on occasion but I’m working on being unfiltered and I’m also aware of it now.

Growing up with mental issues seemed normal to me. My mom would cry herself to a stupor in places she thought were private. They were not. I slit my wrists, rode my bike into traffic with my eyes closed, took drugs, drank amazing amounts, drove like the world was on aderol and I was on speed. I wasn’t actually on speed, I have AIW and my mind can warp time like I’m on acid. It was more prevalent when I was young, but if I’m really really sick and run a fever, it can still happen. AIW is the generic term for it. Alice in Wonderland syndrome. There is a technical name for it. I promptly forgot it and don’t care to know… google it if you care. I routinely use part of it in my life. Hyper focus and critical hand eye coordination make woodworking easier for me than it should be probably.

Starting the Bridgerton stuff…

I was diagnosed with bipolar in jr high. I was led to believe I was absolutely different than everyone else. I was supposed to be ashamed… after all, my parents were and I was never to speak of it. In fact, after the diagnosis, I never saw another mental health professional. It was a one time thing that included an IQ test. The results of f which I was never privy.

We started watching Bridgerton’s new season. We’re in episode 4 I think. The king loses his shit and hallucinates. He becomes confused and confusing. He undergoes 17th centrury medical treatment which seems barbaric and cruel… and he does this willingly to try to be ok enough to deserve his wife. It’s quite sad. I asked what he had, since She knows psychology and told me she read up on the real life history parallel. She told me it was bi-polar. Obviously this got me thinking. I don’t hallucinate. I don’t go scream at distant planets. So how could this be?

Obviously there is a range of different ways the episodic effects manifest. Also the degree to which they present varies… and I have had some spectacular down turns… and I’ve told myself and everyone that I control them with diet primarily. The thing is… and I absolutely don’t talk about this out loud, that shit never leaves you. I may not feel like crying over a cloud in the sky anymore, but I can feel that deep sadness easily. How I handle myself during it is vastly different than the razor wielding pre pubescent half pint I was. I had no idea why I was like that, but I know now that I have depression on both sides of my family. I have suicidal tendencies peppered throughout.

In high school and college I told people I wouldn’t be alive at 30. I KNEW that was my cut off line. I was so positive I talked freely about it with those I was closer to. It probably freaked people out or they thought I was begging for attention. IDK. I just thought it was part of knowing me, and if you are going to know me, you should know that the summer of my 30th birthday, I was supposed to die.

I didn’t. It kinda messed with me for a minute. On my 30th, I was married and deciding to have a kid. Hmmm. I thought I was in a far better place. Maybe I was. I thought I was in a place where I would not mess up a kid if I had one. Truthfully, I think one of them is kinda ok. The other one worries me. My biological messed up dna mixed with her own messy dna stuff… I should have stepped back and really thought about it harder. I love my kids, but really they were born into a hugely disadvantaged situation.

But now it’s late.
All you moms out there, last call for mommy day alcohol. Be well and love your kids. Love them like there is literally nothing else that matters.