A Bipolar Checks in during March

Not everybody knows or will admit that mental health is connected to bodily health and spiritual health. Last year, I was looking and feeling good about myself. This year it's all gone downhill. Last year I weighed about 165 pounds and I liked what I saw in the mirror and in photographs. This year in March 2021, I'm up to 200 pounds and I hate myself.

It wasn't the Trazedone or any of the other drugs they put me on for Bipolar that I can blame for making me fat. The simple truth is I just sat around and ate too much. I sat around because there is nowhere for me to walk or exercise where I'm staying. I'm currently living in a very small and crowded RV in a depressing part of town that doesn't even have safe sidewalks. I can't work out in the RV. I'm not inspired to go for walks because the view is pathetic and the sidewalks unsafe. Most days it's too hot to be comfortable. I've just been waiting to go home to New Jersey, while I hate Florida for so many horrible things that happened here. Everywhere I go I'm reminded of a good memory followed by a terrible memory. Oh yes, Florida, I graduated high school and college here. Oh wait, that's right, my education doesn't matter because Florida considers me a Felon and I can't get a job. Oh yes, Florida, this is where I had my beautiful baby. Oh wait, that's right, this is where DCF stole my baby from me. Oh yes, Florida, this is where I found a man to marry and where I got married. Oh wait, that's right, this is where the law took him away from me. Yeah, location is another factor of mental health. I was not this depressed and/or angry in New Jersey. In New Jersey, my main thought is simply, oh, this is where I was born. It's much easier.

The shrinks (or therapists as they like to be called) recently prescribed Abilify for me to deal with my symptoms. It's no big deal. I only have a month's supply though, so I have to deal with getting a refill next month. God only knows where I'll be next month. Next month I "celebrate" my 50th birthday. I don't really celebrate birthdays anymore. I don't really celebrate any holidays anymore. Not since 2018. I think that last time I smiled on a holiday was in jail at Christmas time. Salvation Army gave us "criminals" a gift and a magazine with lyrics to Christmas songs. We were all going to sing the songs together, but some girl started screaming as if we were torturing her. I guess she wasn't Christian. I guess she didn't want to celebrate Christmas in jail. Or maybe she was just an unmedicated Bipolar. Who knows?

I'm on a lower dosage of Abilify this round. The first time they prescribed it to me, I got 30 milligrams. Now I'm only taking a 5 milligram pill each day. Honestly, I don't know if it will do any good or not. I really don't care. I'm just trying to follow directions. It's easier to talk to the shrinks if I follow their directions. I had wanted to get Raylar, a new drug for Bipolars, but it's not covered under my insurance and it costs about $1000 for a month's supply without insurance. Isn't that insane and hilarious? I suppose you have to have a wacked out mind like me to see the humor in it.

I have been in a very bad depression since Christmas 2020 which was absolutely pathetic as far as Christmas time goes. The only memory of it was decorating two trees and having a nice dinner with "family" people. Besides that, I hardly noticed it. Nothing at all happened on New Year's Eve. I did not see my son for his birthday in January. For Valentine's day, my husband and I enjoyed some wings at Winghouse, but the voices in my head kept telling me that we are both "screwed". I'm sorry. I looked for a better word than that, but the voices didn't put it as nicely.

Now it's March. Nothing exciting happening. Still hanging around eating and smoking cigarettes and getting fat. I am so upset about putting the weight back on. Forty pounds back and I had worked so hard and was so proud of the weight loss. It was my great reward for so many hard walks. Now I only have the memory of the walks and no reward to show for it. Even better than the medicine is hope. I still have hope that I will return to New Jersey and take my walks again. I still have hope that I can and will lose the weight again. I still have hope that even though I'm a criminal and Bipolar, I can live a semi-normal life and be happy.