I love self-deprecating humor, and as a result, I am really good at giving myself backhanded compliments. Here is a list of my favorites: I’m not ugly. I’m smarter than most 5th graders. I have a respectable memory. I write goodly. I’m talented at pissing people off. When compared to people who don’t know how …
I love my meds!
When I was first diagnosed as bipolar, I was not happy about having to take medicine. I didn’t exactly refuse to take it, but I did bitch and moan about it for a while. My sister is also bipolar, and she’d been on some medicine for several years that worked really well for her. My …
Please don’t assign my moods
Even though I’m prone to melancholy, I love to laugh, and I especially love making other people laugh. Oftentimes, the best jokes stem from self-deprecation, and I’ll be the first person to make fun of myself. I particularly enjoy making crazy and bipolar jokes. I typically don’t mind other people making jokes, as long as …
Self-awareness, or the lack thereof
The summer I turned fourteen, my sister had a psychotic break at church camp. She is also bipolar, though it took a long time for doctors to figure out the correct diagnosis. Her break was really bad, and she spent nine days in a psychiatric hospital. Two families from our church were going down to …
Medicine’s unjust stigma
Bipolar and other mental illnesses have a stigma surrounding them, but they are more understood now than they were thirty years ago. One place, though, seems to be stuck in the dark ages. The church. Thankfully, I haven’t experienced too much criticism from my church family, but not everyone there knows about my illness. I’ve …
Sight and readiness
How about a light-hearted post today? My family has the worst eyesight known to man. I’m pretty sure all four of my grandparents wore glasses, and both my parents wear them. My dad’s eyesight was so bad, he had to wear hard contacts. Then he got cataracts, had surgery, and now he doesn’t need contacts. …
Rest: A poem
The other night I felt like writing, but I couldn’t think of anything to write about. Instead of writing on my computer, I hand wrote a stream-of-consciousness poem that’s pretty morbid. It’s raw, but I want to share it because some of my feelings might be relatable. Sleep, is there no rest? Tired all the …
A book that inspires me
Several months after my psychotic break and after I had begun to accept my diagnosis, I went to Barnes & Noble with my dad. He’s always enjoyed going to the psychology section, and I tagged along. I found a memoir called Manic written by Terri Cheney (you can buy it on Amazon here). The cover and …
Dear me at 16
Thanks to a prompt from a trusty random subject generator, I’ve decided to write a letter to my 16-year-old self. Let’s see what happens. I’ve been wrestling with this post for the better part of a week, and I just cannot get it going. So, I’m going to try to write it in stream-of-consciousness. Just …
Choosing bravery
I am not a daring person. I am scared of most things, and wary of everything else. I have friends who skydive and voluntarily engage in other adrenaline-inducing adventures. Not me. I avoid adrenaline at all costs. Since I do not enjoy leaving the house after five o’clock in the evening, this is easily achievable. …
Between Two Poles 