New Job?

Anyone love AC/DC? Malcolm Young died today. The co-founder to AC/DC. Thoughts and love goes out to Angus Young and Malcolm’s family. Another crushing blow to rock. Tom Petty died last month.

Today is Saturday and my only day off. What have I done? Sleep! I now work for a warehouse. This is something I’m used to doing. I’ve worked at another warehouse for 8 years. So, this is like going home for me. They have the same concepts as the other one. Both are for major online companies which I’ll leave their names out.

First, a customer orders something online. You find clothing, makeup, jewelry, game systems, coffee, or what have you. Well, as soon as your payment clear, it goes into this magical bucket in online space. The order drops into what we call an order picker’s scanner, and that picker picks that item for you. A picker’s rate can be anywhere from 120 items an hour to 250 items an hour, depending on which company they work for. Some warehouses are hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. But if you’re picking, you don’t notice it at all. You’re always on the move. After the picker picks that order, it either goes on a cart sectioned off in bins or a tote. Most of the time, that order goes in a tote. Then the tote goes on a large conveyor belt. Now if you suffer from Bipolar, this is a job for you. It kills two birds with one stone. It keeps your mind busy, and you get to shop until you drop. I LOVE picking items. I find it a challenge. But I forgot to tell you that you walk at least 20 miles a day. That’s the downfall to picking. Your feet will be sore as fuck. Your legs will hurt. You will be tired and exhausted. Good for people who have anxiety as well. You’ll be so tired that you can’t think of anything. I’ve had blisters on my feet. Eventually, your feet will become used to it. I suggest getting a pair of good running/walking shoes and cotton socks. Compression socks if you have arthritis.

When the tote/cart comes down, it goes to an order packer or sorter. From there the order goes into cubicles and we wait to pack it out until the other items join that one item. Normally, it’s a single item and we put it in boxes or plastic bags. After we package the order, we put on another belt that goes through a tape machine or the shipping label is slapped on the plastic bag/box. Then it goes down another belt, where it’s sorted by date it’s due out. Then the  order goes on a semi-truck for delivery.

Where am I at? Since I reign supreme, I’m what they call a “problem solver.” This means that there was a problem with the customer’s order. I go in and fix the problem and find the missing pieces to your order. I can do it all. I’m a jack-of-all trades. I can pick, pack, and ship. So, they put me there. Time is money, and I’m sure you as a customer wants your order on time. There are times where we had to send part of the order out and notify the customer that the other part of their order had to be canceled or diverted to another warehouse if we don’t have that item. The customer gets a refund for their missing item or waits.

I can move really fast. Here’s the thing about picking. Normally it’s one floor, but other companies use 3 to 4 floors. Those floors start either in numerical or alphabetical order. Great for people who suffer from OCD. It’s in order. The picking area looks like a football field with floors stacked on top of floors. If you’re afraid of heights, not a good place to work. I’m terrified of heights, but I focus my mind on the customer and their order to combat it. Like I’ve said, it’s a LOT of walking. And you can’t go slow either. Time is money. People paid a lot of money for their order. They want it to be correct. It looks like you’re working for an over-sized library. I scan the item out of bins where items are stored based on numerical/alphabetical bins. It’s a holding area for popular items.

Well, you don’t need a gym membership if you’re a picker. You go in overweight, six months later, you come out skinny. You’re always walking. You can’t sit on the floor because it’s a safety issue. Others will run your ass over. You have to move really fast.

The warehouse I’m working at, I can take my headset and listen to music. I’m jamming out and picking away when I’m solving problems for orders. I move up and down all four floors for that order. I’m like a junkyard dog. Remember, I used to pick over 2000 items in one day. I still have it in me. I can do circles around pickers. That isn’t me being arrogant, that’s just me being an asshole picker. I want to make sure that customer gets their order on time. I have no time for bullshit or talking. Also at this warehouse, we have heat in the winter and air conditioning during the summer. I love this job so far. It keeps my mind busy. I don’t have a million thoughts running wild. When I get home, all I want to do is sleep because my mind stayed so focused on the job itself. I’m awake for five minutes and then I drop. I’m out until the next day. Of course, I shower. But man, the sweat stuck to my body is disgusting. I’ve already dropped another 10 pounds. I have enough time to eat and sleep. I never eat at work because it’ll make me sick. I drink plenty of water. They always have water tanks in the pick aisles with ice-cold water. It’s all fresh water, not tap water.

We are in peak season. I’m ready to bust it out. We are working 50 hours a week, but I’m working 60 hours a week. I love it! I’m already in OT by the time I hit Thursday. We’ll eventually go up to 70 hours a week after Thanksgiving. We don’t have Thanksgiving off this year. We do have Christmas off. It’s time and a half for Thanksgiving.

As for my pain, since I have psoriatic arthritis, I tune it out. I turn into a different person once I hit the floor. It’s so weird. It’s like I flip my hat on backwards and become a vulture. Thirsty to solve problems and help customers with their orders. I never see the customer because they order online, but I enjoy making sure they have what they ordered on time. I may feel sore, tired, and feel like I ran a marathon, but I love it! Like really love it. My stomach is tightening up along with my arms. Let that weight fall off my body. Others are saying that I move too fast. I don’t care. I’m losing weight and getting paid to do it. I started out at 267 pounds. I need to lose half of me. I’ll let you know how much I’ve dropped in a few months. It’s my elliptical, treadmill, and weight machines all rolled into one job. And the runner’s squirts do exist. It lasts for a couple of days. Drink plenty of water and eat bananas to combat this.

My mind and body benefits from warehouse work. Shop until  you drop! Run for your money! 😉 And I’m getting paid a lot more money than the previous warehouse. Even as a production lead, I’m still getting paid twice as much as I used to make at another warehouse. And as for my plaque lesions? They are disappearing quickly. They’re off my hands now. And the ones on my knees are disappearing. It’s like my body is repairing itself from the exercise, I’m doing. I probably weigh less than 267 pounds. That was my last check-in in the beginning of October. I have no idea how much I weigh now. My husband said that my face is slimming down again along with my stomach. And my thighs are firming up. Remember, you gain weight from muscles before you lose the fat. I feel more muscular than flabby at this point. It’s going to take a while for the rest to drop. It won’t be an overnight fix. This is what depression is like. It makes you not want to do anything. I love the way my body is starting to take shape. I’m starting to get a thigh gap. It’s awesome! When your panties start falling off your ass, it’s time to go shopping.

One more thing, you can wear capris, shorts, or jeans. You can wear tanks as long as it’s an inch wide. So far, I’m soaking my shirts. Since it’s wintertime, I’m doubling my shirts. I’m bringing in the money, and my kids are adding to their Christmas lists.


Borderline Setback…

In case you’re wondering, I suffer from a healthy variety of mental and physical illnesses. When you say Borderline, people think you have DID or dissociative identity disorder. Nope! Not even close. It doesn’t mean tomorrow, I’ll become a completely different person or an alter. It is also a very critical mental illness. The only movie I think that comes close to borderline are Girl, Interrupted and possibly Gothika. It really isn’t that accurate of a portrayal. I don’t know, I’m flip-flopping today.

When you say mental illnesses, they think “future serial killer” or “killer.” Or they think you lick the walls or windows all day with no mind. As soon as you mention, “I have a mental illness,” people are either supportive, or they want to get as far away from you as they possibly can. Or… the third option; especially, with my dad’s side of the family and my dad… They believe you are plagued by demons. It really isn’t a brain malfunction. You need to be exorcised and that will cure you. My older sister and brother also suffer from Bipolar. Only one of them is diagnosed, the other is in denial. But anyway, my dad and his family literally tried to have an exorcism performed of my sister at a funeral. They cornered her, suffocating her while quoting biblical scriptures. To many, this would be funny. And even I admit that it was a little funny. But when my sister started crying and asking for help, I got her out of there. She was really upset. She’s older than me by 7 years. She has the mind of a 16-year-old, where my dad beat the shit out of her. Her mind isn’t all there. She’s slowly coming out of it. But my husband and I got her out of there.

If you’re religious, don’t do that to someone who is mentally ill. You’re not helping us. I appreciate your prayers, but I’m not possessed and neither are my siblings. The torture that our dad did to us as kids and the genetic disposition, did us all in. 3 of us have Bipolar. It isn’t the end of the world, but it’s a battle against the ignorant. I’m not possessed by any demons. I’m not an evil person. I can’t even kill a bug without feeling guilty. I’m more of a danger to myself than others. Like Pink’s song. “Don’t let me get me.” That’s me. I’m a hazard to myself. Aaand I have kids! 4 of them. How are my kids doing?

Well, my kids are doing great despite having a “crazy” mother. They keep me afloat. They keep me going, and they inspire me. They are better human beings than most people I know. They are extremely sympathetic, loving, loyal, and awesome people. I never did great in school. I’m a flunky to be honest. My oldest son is being tested in the “gifted” program for social studies because of his grades. He almost made the honor roll, but he scored a C+. He was a few points off from the honor roll. Our second son is finally on the honor roll. This is the kid with social anxiety. When the teacher told me he’s coming out of his shell, and he’s doing beautifully. When she told me that, I cried. I worry about my kids all the time. I literally balled like a baby. My youngest son has scored high in every category at school. They don’t have grades until next year. I fell to my knees. These are my kids! They come from this crazy ass. And for Halloween, my daughter seems to catch every crack in the pavement. My oldest son held hands with his baby sister to make sure she didn’t trip over her feet again. I teared up. I didn’t think I could create a beautiful human, let alone 4 of them. As for my daughter, we are complete opposites. She is beautiful and somewhat graceful when she isn’t stumbling over her feet. They all use their manners. People were shocked that my daughter was already saying words like, “I’m perfect, I’m fabulous, I’m amazing.” I build her up as much as I can. I know what it’s like to have someone beat you down into dust. She looks in the mirror and says, “I’m so pretty and beautiful.” She can run in toy heels. I can’t wear heels at all. She’s all about makeup and dresses. She’s all about dolls. Hair, nails, and makeup. We are total opposites. But I can respect our differences. She’s an amazing little girl. And she is the most social human being, I’ve ever met. She’s always happy.

As for me, I resigned from my job for another high-paying job. When you tell me that my job comes before my health, I have to leave you with your ignorance. Never ever tell someone that shit. I value my health because if I’m not well, I can’t be around for my kids and husband. They mean the world to me. Your “heart” model isn’t working for your workers. That isn’t a company I want to work for. When you put an employee’s physical and mental health on the back burner, you shouldn’t be in business. And I don’t enjoy working for a micro managed company. When someone sits behind a desk and dictates what each store should do, when they’re not in the first line of attack. Sorry, not a job for me. I found a job that’s double the pay and a whole lot less stress. When you fail to treat people like humans, there’s a problem.

No, I won’t reschedule my doctor’s appointments.

No, I won’t reschedule my psychologist and therapist’s appointments for you.

No, you don’t tell me what I should do. You ask me if I can do it. I’m not a child. I’m a grown woman with four kids and a husband.

If you can’t be honest with me upfront, I will NOT work for you.


No amount of money is worth jeopardizing my mental or physical health. I’ve done those jobs. I won’t do it again. Because at the end of the day, I have four kids who need me. Me being dead would destroy my kids. You try explaining to them why you think my mental and physical health isn’t important. They will hate you for taking their mother away from them.

Luckily, I found a much better company to work for, better pay, and less stress. Just to be clear, it wasn’t Jeff that was the problem. His underlings were the problem. They are getting ready to back-stab him soon. They are trying to get him fired. I feel for Jeff. Fuck people like that. And there are catty people in every job. Not just the one I experienced for three months.

One more thing, sexism is real. The guy that got hired the same time as me was making more money for the same experience. What’s up with that shit? Because of my gender, I was paid less than him. That’s bullshit. I was oblivious! Not anymore. We need equal pay for equal experience. If you are wanting to pay me less for my gender, fuck you.


That’s what I feel right now. Suffocated. I have ideas for manuscripts or books that I should be writing. I also have books that I should be reviewing. “You can’t write a book unless you read a book.” Good idea! But how many books should you read? How does Stephen King write so many books in a year? In his Goodreads, he doesn’t seem to be reading a lot of books, if many at all. Is there a certain amount of books that one has to read in order to write a book? That question lingers on in my mind. Probably a stupid question, but a question that’s plaguing me. I’ve read 66 books so far for 2017. I still feel like a slacker. I had the overly ambitious goal of reading 150 books this year with no DNF. Well, I DNF’D two books so far. Those goals are blown.

How do those goals make me feel now that I failed them? It makes me feel like a sack of shit. Like I haven’t accomplished anything. A Borderline trait. A Bipolar trait to have unrealistic goals. I hate them both. Now it’s November, and I’m panicking. Anxiety trait there. I’m trying to accomplish everything and nothing is working in my favor. I’m way behind, and I know it. I’m trying to be a great mother, wife, writer, reader, and content editor. Not to mention, I’m trying to be the best night shift supervisor in retail outside the home. I feel like the dam is about to break soon. I don’t have time for a mental breakdown. I seriously don’t. The problem is lack of sleep. Some days are better than others. Some days, I’m wide awake and nothing helps. Not even the Depakote. I have a therapy appointment coming up soon. I need it! A lifetime of therapy is what I need.

I did well this week so far. I still have this tiny bit of doubt that I could do better. I guess I’m expecting to wear my super cape and do it all. I took the kids Trick-or-Treating last night before work. My legs throbbed at work of course. We walked for a few miles last night. The kids were happy and scored enough candy to last them until next Halloween. At work, we had to take down Halloween and put up Christmas. That lasted all night long. It kept me occupied and my brain from bouncing off the walls. As long as I keep my brain occupied, I’m okay. It’s when I sit down and reflect, when the trouble begins. A brain that runs non-stop and a mile a minute. I curled up next to my husband after we took the kids trick or treating. I didn’t want to go into work. I wanted to stay home, curled up next to him. We watch the Hallmark Channel around this time of year. Corny Christmas stories, but my husband loves this holiday. I’m coming around and warming up to it. I still don’t care for Christmas as much as I love Halloween.

The stack of books keep on growing. I have Angie Thomas’s new novel, “The Hate U Give.” I also have Jane Austen’s books ready to read. I’m actually reading “Sense and Sensibility.” I finished reading Voyager and Little Women. I loved Little Women, and hated Voyager. Lithium… Lithium has been around for a long time. It’s one of the most trusted and tried medications. The author neglected to mention Lithium. It was around in 1968. It’s still around today. Just the blatant disregard for the mentally ill, ticked me off. “Oh, there’s nothing we can do!” Like, who gives a fuck about you! Maybe, I’m being callous but that’s the way she made me felt. And if I read one more, “The Chinaman,” I was going to scream. I have no intentions on finishing the series after Voyager now. If I do, it will be at the bottom of the pile along with Fifty Shades. I’ll finish them way in the future, but not now. Not with that many better books coming out.

I chose to participate in NaNoWriMo. It stands for National Novel Writing Month. It starts every November. As a writer, it is my goal to meet 1,667 words a day to make a total of 50,000 words. Well, I met the goal today at 1,723 words. It is a first rough draft and it looks ugly. I’m battling my OCD with wanting to correct every line. It’s a mess, and I hate it. This novel is a stand alone. It will include mental health because that’s my permanent platform. At least one of my main characters from every manuscript will have a mental illness of some sort. Whether it’s my own or someone else’s. Since I have a lot of “issues,” it will most likely take after my issues.

The brain is a fragile thing. The way it responds to trauma. It’s a major organ that sometimes it just doesn’t work well. Like if your blood doesn’t make the proper white or red blood cells. The way a tumor can grow in any part of the human body. The way a pancreas can not make the proper insulin in a body. The brain can malfunction as well. No part of the body is immune. We would like to believe we are invincible, but we aren’t. We are human, and we’re only here for a very short time on earth. When something eats at me, it’s hard to let it go. Classic borderline trait. I’m like a Pit Bull. I lock my jaws on it and refuse to let go. I’ll shake it and shake it until it’s dead. With the last incident, I manged to let it go a lot sooner than what I thought I’d do. I’m making progress. Normally, it used to take me weeks or a month to let something go. I managed to do it in a day. That’s a huge step forward. I’ve learned that I can give people second chances. That’s hard to do. Especially, for someone with Borderline. I used to shut them down and did whatever I had to do, to get them away from me. It’s trying to keep that rage under control. To keep my mouth closed when it wants to fly open.

As for the Bipolar side of things, I need to work harder at making my goals smaller and more achievable. And to save money. I want to shower people with gifts. Stop that! I’m working on it. Maybe not try to read 150 books in one year? Maybe let’s try 10 books a year? Something small and not extreme. But I love books! I want all of them! Okay, I’m obsessed with books. I think owning 300 books a bit too much now that I look at my shelves. A lot of them, I haven’t read yet. So, the only books I’ll buy are the ones I’ve already reviewed for the year. No more new books until I’ve read all the ones on my shelf. This month, I’m working on Jane Austen’s novels and the Bronte sisters. Hopefully, I can read Agatha Christie novels by the end of this month. I’m on page 20 of Sense and Sensibility. So far, I don’t like Fanny. She seems like a real witch with a b. It’s just the beginning. My opinion of her may change later on in the story. Does she improve? It reads like I’m sitting down in a room, listening to women gossip about people. That’s my impression of Sense and Sensibility. Maybe it’s just me?

As for Depakote, I need to talk to my psychologist. It’s out of the neurologist’s hands. I think I’ve lost more weight, but I’m not sure. I’m taking my Ferrous Sulfate for the low red blood cells. Hopefully, that gets rid of the dark circles under my eyes. I feel better physically. Mentally, I need to stop freaking out. If I read 75 books at the end of the year, good. If I don’t, then I need to let it go. I read 66 more books than most people. Not a lot of people read books these days. I read 25 books last year. I doubled last year’s goal. That is something I should be proud of now. I hope I can not freak out if I don’t meet my goals.

Dr. Evil Migraine

Oh! It was worse this time. I took my Depakote like I normally do. Yesterday, or in my case, last night, I was so sick. It started at the front of my head, down the left side, and down my neck. Then I had a separate headache on the right side and in the back of my head. I stood up, but staggered around like I was drunk. I was a mess. I couldn’t see anything because it went blurry. And the other thing is that I couldn’t deal with lights at all.

I dimmed everything down. I had to lay down last night. But the nausea kept me in the bathroom. I cried. It didn’t want to end. I took Tylenol and that helped some, but it was still ongoing.

I know I took my medicine yesterday. I took my Depakote today. My neurologist told me to call if it gets worse. Well, I just called a few minutes ago. I don’t know what happened. I have been trying to slowly wean myself off of caffeine. Maybe that had something to do with it. But I had caffeine yesterday. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to keep me from dying.

This migraine took me by surprise. Stress? I wasn’t stressed out. Any change in diet? Nope! All the same. What about PMS? I’m at the end of it. If there would be anytime to hit me with a migraine, it would be at the beginning of my cycle. Maybe I’m wrong. I slept well. I just woke up with a nasty migraine. It feels like someone took a hammer to my head and smashed it a dozen times.

I’m still going through it, but at least I can type and read now. I don’t trust my driving still. I had to call in last night. I was that sick. I’m almost over it, but it still feels like it’s there. If that makes any sense. Like any minute, it’ll flare up again. Ugh!

Bipolar is in check.

Borderline is in check.

Anxiety is not in check. I’m worried about the damn migraine from hell. Will it end? Will it stop? What if my brain blows up? Stuff like that. Let’s be a broken record of worries, shall we? What if they didn’t catch it? What if I have a brain aneurysm? It’s a tumor! Yep… I hate you, Anxiety because you’re a nasty, evil bitch.

“Stop obsessing!” I can’t help it! That’s why I’m in therapy. That and other major issues.

Family & Friends

I explained the entire situation to my family and friends yesterday. Well… They wanted to stomp some ass for me. I’m sitting here thinking, “No, no! Don’t do that!” and “Let it go.” Here, I’m the one in therapy. Now for the complete situation since my head is cool.

I was told to call a company that I used to work for this past Friday. I still have that message on my phone. When I called them yesterday, they told me I was ineligible to return to that job. After they emailed me and after they left a message on my phone, stating that I could return. How was I ineligible? Why did I leave in the first place? I left because I was pregnant with my daughter over five years ago. I DID leave them a note, stating that I had to quit due to a high risk pregnancy. It wasn’t the type of job most women could work while pregnant. The fumes alone are too dangerous for a pregnant woman and her unborn baby. So, I gave a two-week notice. Well, the person I gave the notice to decided not to inform anyone. He told me he did. I took his word for it. Stupid me. I never had a quality, productivity, or safety issue with this company. I was at work on time, came early, and stayed late. I’m on a lifetime ban from this company for being a no-call, no-show. Even though this is a “no fault” state. Even though their headquarters don’t do lifetime bans on no-call, no-show. It’s just this one office that institutes a lifetime ban.

I was really nice until the guy called me a liar on the phone. I kept my cool until then. Then, I lost my shit. Now I’m definitely on a lifetime ban. I was furious at the time. A judgment of error on my part.

My family wanted to rush over there and defend me. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have lost my cool in the first place. It’s over now, and it’s time to move on. It isn’t like I don’t have a job. I’m still a night shift supervisor. I still deal with people. I’m going to be okay. I appreciate all my family members and hubby for worrying about me. I think they need the therapy more than me. Ha ha! But, I’m going to be okay. I have another therapy appointment on November 12th. Things I could have said. “I’m really upset right now, and I’ll call back at a later date.” When you’re in the heat of the moment, you don’t think things through. At least in my case, I didn’t think things through.

If the company is that badly mishandled, why would I want to work for them? I’m not the only person they did this to either. It isn’t the end of the world. And I really enjoy the job I have now.

The goals for therapy. 1. Continue to work on BPD. 2. Work on Anxiety. 3. Learn other techniques to handle stress. 4. Keep working on my mood charts. 5. Talk about other medications.

Eat and take medications before entering an intense conversation. It was too much for me to handle.


It’s amazing what working on a book will do to clear the mind. I looked at my second main character and thought to myself, “She’s so much like me. A reactionary. Act now and think later.” That’s what I did. The medicine has finally worked its way through my system. I’m back to the normal level I’m supposed to be at. Now the trick is to keep Borderline at bay. When things don’t go my way, I stew on it forever. I obsess about it forever. Well, not today. I won’t give it the power today.

I’m going to take this as a teachable moment. 1. Take my medicine before talking to others. 2. Don’t let it bother me. 3. I was already cranky when I woke up. Due to a husband who stayed up all night long. Not an annoying stay up all night. He was working on his train puzzle while listening to YouTube Model Railroaders. 4. I had to find my son’s shoes. 5. I didn’t eat.

This is my teachable moment. I went to my place of calm and solitude… My books. My place to escape reality. I watched a younger version of me reappear. “Oh, girl… You’re a mess!” I remember those feelings. The need to scream. The need to choose colorful words to get my point across.

What happens with Borderline is that you get so angry and filled full of rage. Then you blow up like a hot air balloon. Anyone in the path will get hit. Not with fists, but with words. A colorful vocabulary of words. And then… The guilt. The guilt that leads into instant depression. But not today. Depakote finally cycled its way through, and I feel drained. Like I don’t have a care in the world. That’s how relaxed I am. My husband is walking on eggshells. He’s waiting for the dam to break. Nope! Not today! I’m laughing for a change. TooWanda! I probably spelled that wrong. Remember “Fried Green Tomatoes?” I love that movie. When she crushed that car in front of her. That satisfying moment of release. I’m fine now. I’m in fact, laughing. There is probably a TooWanda in all of us. Some are just more vocal than others.

I still have a job. It isn’t the end of the world. Normally, it would feel like the end of the world. That “I’m worthless” feeling. Nope! Not today! I’m laughing at myself. At how irrational I was. How stupid I was. Let it go and move forward. I found comfort in my fantasy world and in the arms of my characters. I think I know which character to give my Borderline to now. Should it be this character or that character? Nah… This one nails it to a T. She’s getting it. I love her to pieces.

You can always bounce back from a bad morning. It doesn’t mean the rest of  your day is going to be total shit.

Bad Day, Again…

Not a fuck you to anyone reading this. But a fuck you to a company that don’t live up to their end of the deal. I rambled on like a lunatic at 8 am this morning to a moron who didn’t understand his contract with a huge company. I tried to get a job that pays a hell of a lot more money than what I make now. Well, egg on my face. They left me an email, stating that I was eligible. They even called me to come in for the next stage of testing. Well, egg on my face. I called them to set up the next stage of testing. But this time, they told me that I was ineligible. All I saw was red. Like my main character, Jeannie sees in book 3. The walls were red, hubby turned red, and the floor was red.

Insert foot into mouth. I was mad, really mad. Why bother leaving me an email or a phone call, telling me I was eligible? And my temper flared. For the first time in months, my temper came out of hiding. I thought I had Borderline Personality Disorder under control. Nope! My husband sat there with his jaw open as a string of colorful words escaped my mouth. I was hot! Red hot! It made me even more upset when the man on the phone refused to listen to me. I had to get my point across.

We can chalk this down to a bad learning experience. We can blame this on my Scottish/Irish/British/German/Czech/Cherokee heritage. We can blame this on Borderline. You lose your temper and then the tears come because you just fucked yourself. I was ready to fight. I was that mad. Well, I don’t think I play nice with others at this point. I should go live out on a mountain and be Grizzly Bear Adams. We can blame it on the fact that I didn’t take my medicines yet.

I don’t like it when people tell me, “You’re eligible,” and then three days later, “You’re ineligible.” You were surfing on this high that felt so damn good, only to be flattened like a pancake. More like steam rolled into the concrete. It made me that upset, and that pissed. My kids were at school when this transpired. My husband heard it all. He was shocked to say in the least. I went so many months keeping cool and calm, only to lose my shit in five minutes. Well, I won’t be getting that job now. Good job, Jen. Good. Take a bow for losing your temper. It’s probably a good thing that I didn’t get that job anyway. I’ll just continue to be a pauper and insignificant. That’s the way I feel. It hurts. “You’re not good enough.” You bust your ass off at a dead-end job, and nothing works the way you want it to go. You don’t feel like doing anything now. Depakote or not, it’s a crushing blow to the ego and your heart.

We can blame PMS, too. Not a time to fuck with me at all. It’s gross, and I hate that part of being a woman. I think after you finish having children, that part should go away for good. Like you’re given an option. 1. Do you want to continue to bleed to death? 2. Do you want it to go away? I’ll take number 2.

And do you realize, I hate it when people snap their fingers at me? This happened the other night at work. That’s where the “pauper” inspiration came from. Snap your fingers at me again, mofo! “Your temper, Jen.” Ugh! Maybe I do need to be locked away for good. Stay in a hole somewhere, strapped to a gurney with limitless medications. That’s what I feel.

And to top it all off, I’m pre-menopausal. I get hot and cold in one day. I’m sticking my head in the freezer one minute, and freezing to death the next. And now I’m up to 2 periods a month. I’m a raving bitch at this point. I can’t stand myself. I have 3 blankets. I’m elbowing my husband to move over in bed. I’m not handling this stage of my life well. I want to cry and scream at the same time. Depakote doesn’t do shit for that. I thought of shaving my head again. I’m having a bad day. You can probably tell by this post that the medicine hasn’t worked through my system. I better call the doc to up it. 500 mg just isn’t working.

Lab Results…

Anemia, again? My red blood cells are a bit low. No need for blood. It’s normal for me due to suffering from psoriatic arthritis. All the other numbers look great except for my low red blood cells. The medication didn’t cause this. I was already like this. I do feel a bit sluggish, but overall, I feel great. So, I’m supposed to be taking an iron supplement, and I haven’t done it in a while. The pharmacy sells Ferrous Sulfate to combat this. I’m supposed to be taking 2 of them a day, 325 mg. It seems like a lot of iron. I’ve always been anemic. That’s happened all my life. It should have been the first red flag for autoimmune diseases.

So no, Depakote is innocent this time. I can still take it. I just need to take Ferrous Sulfate now with it. You may have heard of Hemolytic Anemia. It’s one of my smaller autoimmune diseases that I have. We’re trying to prevent a blood transfusion. People can have it for years without knowing about it if it’s minor enough. This is my baby autoimmune that creeps up from time to time. It doesn’t control my life, like psoriatic arthritis can. Many have it a lot worse than me. Mine is minor compared to theirs. So, I’ll take the Ferrous Sulfate today. If I need a transfusion, I’ll have one. They recommended for me to check with my PCP first. So, another blood draw. UGH!

Breaking Down Bipolar I For Me

I thought I would break down what I experience for a couple of decades, suffering from Bipolar I. I’m giving this magazine the credit for this here…

1. With anxious distress

During the most recent or current mood episode (depressive, hypomanic or manic), at least two of the following symptoms are present: feeling keyed up or tense, feeling unusually restless, difficulty concentrating because of worry, fearful something bad will happen, or feeling on the edge of self-control. Anxious symptoms improve as the underlying mood episode resolves.

I always worry about my family and fear that something bad will happen. My irrational brain seems to believe someone will break into my house and hurt the people I love. I do have anxiety working at night. I don’t like being left alone at any point. I do suffer from Anxiety all the time. I worry about completing my series. I worry about people hating me for taking so damn long. I worry that my book will fail miserably.  If I could stop the anxiety, I’d be a happy camper. 



2. With mixed features

Denotes the presence of depressive symptoms during a manic or hypomanic episode, or hypo/manic symptoms during a depressive episode. This replaces the separate category for “mixed state” episodes, which required meeting full criteria for both poles at the same time.

A mix of being manic and depressed at the same time. Before Depakote, I experienced these on a regular basis. I wanted to claw my skin off because I couldn’t stop being angry and depressed at the same time. Anger counts as mania. It doesn’t mean “you’re happy” all the time. This is the worst place for me. I hate these when they come. You never know how long it will last or who would be in your path of destruction. 

3. With rapid cycling

Technically, this simply means four or more mood episodes of any kind within a 12-month period—although people whose moods fluctuate quickly, sometimes within the course of a single day, often use “rapid cycling” to describe those mood gyrations. (The correct term for many ups and downs in a day is “ultradian cycling.”)

I am a “rapid cycler.” I can and had several mood changes in one day. It is the worst feeling in the world. One minute I’ll be happy and the next I’ll be angry and sad. You can’t do anything when you’re up one minute and down the next. You don’t want to go outside because you know you’ll have a meltdown. I couldn’t tell you how I was fine at home, but the moment I stepped outside, I became a tyrant. Shopping became a nightmare for me. I remember yelling at my husband numerous times for no reason at all. And this made him frustrated with me at times. You cannot force someone with Bipolar out of the house when their moods are scattered all over the place. Not unless you want to be embarrassed in public. If they say they don’t feel well, please be compassionate and understanding. 


4. With catatonic features

Used when certain extremes of physical activity and speech occur during a mood episode, including lack of response to stimuli, not moving or speaking, repeating words or movements of another person, or frantic movement with no purpose.

I used to get stuck in my own mind. I would sit out on the porch, just staring off in a distance. Kids and the husband would wave their hands in front of me, but I would be trapped in my own brain. Just looking at the leaves or trees. Sometimes the sky. I never acknowledged them or responded. We thought they were seizures, but it’s a part of Bipolar. 


5. With psychotic features

Noted when paranoia, delusions, or hallucinations—auditory (hearing voices), visual (seeing things) or sensory (feeling something that isn’t there)—occur at any point during a mood episode. Religious delusions are common, such as believing you’ve been given a special mission or special message from God.

Loud speakers! They’re everywhere! I didn’t understand that these were auditory hallucinations. I really was doing a job for God! He picked me! Not really. Now that I’ve had more time to think about this, I remember my first auditory hallucination happening at age 4. I thought my dad called me into another room, but he wasn’t there. He was at work at the time. This is another funny story. Sad, but funny. I wanted to quit a warehouse job for a famous online retailer. All the sudden a voice appeared. “You need to stay here. The man of your dreams is coming.” All on a loudspeaker. Except the warehouse didn’t own any loudspeakers. I asked others if they heard that voice. Nope! I was the only one who heard it. It must come from God. So, I stayed at that job. Good thing I did because that’s where I met my second husband. I am God’s warrior. I don’t need to go to church because I’m exempted. He doesn’t like the way his followers are behaving anyway. That wasn’t what he meant to say in the bible! That’s what my irrational brain thought. And the paranoia. I’m still convinced aliens come and kidnap me at night. And there are angels and demons. I also see auras. Wait… That’s all delusions from an irrational brain. Meaning, my brain is full of faults and short circuits from time to time. Not since I’ve been on Depakote. I hate it when it’s right by my ear. That shit creeps me out. 


6. With melancholy features

Describes a depressive episode characterized by an almost complete lack of ability to feel pleasure even when something good happens. Typically, there is also insomnia and significant slowing of speech and activity.

Have you ever had sex and it was good, but you can’t voice an opinion about it being good? I suffer from this. Like with important events that should matter, I feel nothing. My kids win awards, and I feel no excitement or happiness. I am happy, but you can’t see it. It’s just a blank expression. When people are extremely happy, I’m like… Whatever. It is what it is. I couldn’t get excited from when my children were born. It was always blank. Insomnia was quite common with me. I would go three days in a row without sleep. And if that happens, I noticed Bipolar would become worse without it. 

7. With atypical features

Applies to a depressive episode in which the person sleeps and eats more than usual, often gaining weight. Other traits: Feeling sluggish and “leaden,” and being abnormally affected by rejection. If there is low mood, spirits may lift in reaction to a positive experience.

I don’t like being rejected. I don’t handle negative criticisms well; especially, when it comes to my books. That’s why they’re off the shelf for now. We need to get me well before that happens. It doesn’t make you motivated to write another book when you’re depressed. So, I used to spend my days eating “bad” food and watching YouTube videos from other people suffering from mental disorders. Ironic, isn’t it? I didn’t want to go anywhere or be with anyone. Off to my bat cave, I went! 

8. With seasonal pattern

This is also used for depressions that recur during certain seasons—typically in fall or winter—that can’t be attributed to events like school starting or seasonal unemployment. More rarely, people experience a pattern of summertime depressions.

I hate the winter! I can’t stand it! It’s all gray and nasty! I don’t like the snow or ice. It’s too depressing. There is rarely any sun during the months of November to March. I love watching the leaves and flowers bloom in the spring. I am not a huge fan of driving in the snow. I often like to hide in my room. Hibernate until spring. Some people are the opposite of me, but I love looking at the roses. I love watching new life come out of hiding. There’s nothing sweeter than seeing ducks with their ducklings. Birds with their chicks. Pollen is a bitch, but I love feeling the waves and sandy beaches. I am not meant for skiing. I am a summer baby. My depressive episodes hit more in the winter than the spring or summer. 

#9) With peripartum onset

Indicates mood episodes that begin during pregnancy or in in the months after giving birth. This replaces “postpartum onset,” the term used in previous DSM editions, to reflect the fact that many women have mood symptoms that pre-date delivery.

I didn’t have a good time after my third son was born. I suffered from severe postpartum depression. I was extremely happy when I was pregnant with him. After he was born, it was like a part of me died. I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to do anything. When our daughter was born, I knew what to look out for. With my older two sons, I was always jumping from one mood swing to another. I hated myself when I was pregnant with them. I would be happy and the next, sob for no reason. If there was a time for my husband to walk out on me, it would have been when I was pregnant with our two oldest sons. Thankfully, he stayed. He shouldn’t have, but he did. 

As for Depakote, I’m still waiting on my lab results. They left a message, but I didn’t answer it on Friday. So, my anxiety level is way up this weekend until I get a hold of them. My biggest fear is that my body can’t handle the medication. This is the first medication that works, and I don’t want to change medications. They make sure your liver and kidneys can handle it. If not, it’s back to the drawing board. I’m going to keep my mind focused on my books. I need to keep it busy or the anxiety will win.


The problem with bills is that they multiply. Just like laundry and dishes, they never stop coming. I wish I could live off-grid, but I can’t for now. It would be nice for the environment. Damn, electric company! Why must you act like such an asshole? And you’re fucked if you’re single. What if you have a mental breakdown and the lights are due? The electric company still holds out their hand, demanding money. The give 0 fucks to your mental health. And when you call them, you never get a happy person on the phone. They always give you someone you can either barely understand or the grumpiest person on earth. We’re still working on my exposure therapy. There! Exposed! You have to learn at some point how to cope with the outside world.

“Join our movement!” Which one? The one where you don’t accept all women’s voices? If you’re married you’re under some wicked “mind control!” *Gasps* Any form of politics does trigger me. I hate talking about them. I don’t want to be part of the “negative” society. Sure. The world isn’t made of gum drops and unicorn farts. I’m well aware of how bad people do evil things, just because they can. After dealing with so much negativity, I have to disappear. Go into my fictional world where more unjust unfolds.

“What are you working on?” The first group of Enforcers who are women. In my fantasy world, men dominate the society in the beginning. At some point, shit hits the fan. I tried really hard to portray men as moderately as I could. But there a few spoiled apples in the bunch. One actually uses his position as an abuse of power. Make that two of them. I can’t say who. And I had this planned for years before the latest Hollywood scandal came out of the wood works. I also knew that I wanted to create strong women.

In the beginning, I wanted my main characters to reflect everything I wasn’t. I wanted them to be the opposite of me. And then… I realized they weren’t so different from me. My husband pointed out everything I’ve been through in life. “You were really writing about yourself.” He was able to link the main characters back to me. I didn’t see it at first. And slowly the truth unfolded. My anger and rage were all in black letters, blinking at me. The past lovers, the rape, alcohol, miscarriages, drugs, the abuse… all there. To be honest, I didn’t realize I wrote it in there.

Writing gives you a sense of freedom. Nobody can silence you. You can tell your story and don’t have to worry (I rhymed). With everything I write, it frees me from the bondage I put myself into. I don’t want my series to be labeled as a feminist series. I’m not trying to tout that it is. After reading so much SFF, I was tired of weak women. It pissed me off. Time and time again, certain authors depicted women as weak sexual objects that their main character gets his rocks off at. I wanted them to fight back. To have a voice. I wanted them to do it while suffering from mental illnesses. That even people who are deemed insane can surprise those hateful people. I’m always going to be called a “crazy” bitch. I’ve lived with that for many years now. It doesn’t hurt like it used to. What is the new stat now? 1/3 women will experience rape in her lifetime. So, from my nieces and my daughter, one of them will be raped. God help anyone who fucks with my daughter. My one and only daughter. If you want to see me go full Borderline, that will trigger it. I’m extremely protective over her. I’m protective over my sons, too. God help anyone who fucks with them, too. That’s probably why I don’t let them spend the night at people’s houses. I don’t know them. I don’t know who they would let stay over there. I don’t favor one sex over the other. So, I chose to make the same rules for both sexes. The same curfew, the same rules, and the same everything. Just as we need to teach our daughters to be safe, we also need to teach our sons to be safe. Don’t go to parties. Don’t let yourself get so far wasted that you could potentially hurt yourself or others. Being in a group of people who you don’t know, isn’t safe. I know. I was a victim of rape. I don’t mind people going out and having a good time. But, you need someone from your group who is sober to watch your back; men or women.

Let my tale of woe persuade you to be careful, no matter which gender or no gender, you align with. I wish we did live in a tolerant, happy, and joyful world. But we don’t. It’s full of bitterness, darkness, and emptiness. Nobody is happy. I’m happy. A part of me just stopped giving a fuck about the negative things and focus on the positive things. Opposing forces attract each other. Positives can’t live without the negatives, and the negatives can’t live without the positives. Protons and neutrons. I chose to be an electron, because I’m electric! Okay, maybe that’s a corny attempt at a joke.

As for Depakote, that bitch is still working. I’m making more jokes now. I have a smile on my face. I dropped weight. Soon, I’ll be able to crunch pecans with my thighs! Thigh cracker 3000! My sons are constantly giving me hugs. I’ll take those hugs for as long as they’re willing to give them to me. We all know, teenagers are tempestuous little things! Girls can put away food just as much as the boys can. Boys can be just as dramatic as the girls can. Don’t let a child’s sex fool you. We’re all not that different. Just a different sex organ.