A couple days ago, I was watching Kanye West’s “interview” in the White House Oval Office with Donald Trump. I must admit I mostly wanted to watch it just to see what kind of crazy stuff Kanye would come up with. To be frank, he has always seemed a little like a loose cannon, even back in the days when he announced that George W. Bush didn’t care about black people, or when he interrupted Taylor Swift during her award speech to say that Beyonce should have won.
However, when I heard Kanye say during his recent interview that he had been diagnosed bipolar, suddenly, a lot of things clicked into place. I hadn’t really thought of it before, but Kanye does come across as highly manic in his speech sometimes, especially when he is all worked up about things and causes a scene. He definitely seems to have pressured speech (his words just flow out everywhere and in every direction), and I recognize flight of ideas as well (his train of thought is often hard to follow, he shares his thoughts in a way that definitely isn’t always linear or seemingly coherent). Kanye often appears paranoid during these times as well.
I heard that after the interview, Kanye was asked about the bipolar diagnosis and said something along the lines that he thought he was misdiagnosed or he had somehow been cured (contradictory thoughts together). Even this reminds me of manic episodes, after all, what is more predictable than someone with bipolar denying their disease or refusing treatment when in the throes of mania?
Anyhow, my main point is that as someone who has bipolar type 2 myself, I do have empathy for whatever Kanye is dealing with mentally, even if I don’t agree with some of his bizarre or outlandish statements.
By: Maranda Russell
Why do I feel like
my poetry sucks?
I try to write,
only to find myself
poured out like milk
and starting to
I went to the doctor today because my ear is still killing me and I’ve been running a fever for several days. Turns out I have another middle ear infection…this has to be about the sixth one in six months. Boy, am I getting tired of this. Not much I can do either, since I have tried many “alternative medicine” cures for ear and sinus infections and have went the whole ENT and allergy specialist route, only to find that nothing really works. In the end, I feel like it is just my own immune system working against me.
The doctor also said that she suspects the mouth sores I was dealing with might have been related to Coxsackie Virus (or Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease). Adults don’t catch that illness nearly as often as kids do, but it can happen, and with my autoimmune issues, I guess it wouldn’t surprise me to find out I did get it.
So, I am on ANOTHER course of antibiotics. Something that depresses me to no end because I fear with all the antibiotics I have had to take lately that I may end up developing C Diff again, which caused me to be hospitalized for almost a week a few years ago. Needless to say, I am not in a good place physically or mentally and am just tired of it all. This chronic illness shit sucks.
The past week or so has been rough on me mentally. I’ve had way too many weepy days where I would cry for seemingly no good reason. Several times I had anxiety/frustration meltdowns. You could argue about whether they were “autistic meltdowns” or “bipolar meltdowns”, but at the end of the day, does the label really matter? What matters is the suffering and finding a way to get through it.
I’ve been upset partially because I feel misunderstood by everyone, including my therapist. Mental health professionals in my experience are generally kind, caring people who truly try to understand, but I think some things can’t truly be understood unless experienced personally. Unless someone has experienced the same level of trauma throughout their childhood and adulthood, been blessed and cursed with Asperger’s and Bipolar, been dealt the same personality and experiences, and developed the same chronic physical conditions, they probably can’t relate exactly to my plight….anymore than I can relate exactly to theirs.
In the end it often feels like we are all fundamentally alone in our experience of the world, even though we desperately want to feel connected and understood. Fortunately, we can connect with others through some aspects of our experience, so perhaps that is what needs to be focused on. It is easy to feel completely separate and different from everyone else. At a base level, it is true for all of us, but that doesn’t mean we should quit trying to reach out. And so, I continue to write and seek out common ground with others, both online and in person. Quite frankly, I’m not sure what else to do.
What I thought was an IBS attack might actually be a bug or food poisoning or something else. This is the third day straight now I’ve been feeling sick to my stomach and having bowel issues, so it seems much longer than my typical IBS attacks in length. Due to that, I’ve had a rather lazy and boring weekend. I was intending to go to a mental health support group today but didn’t feel up to it and ended up actually sleeping through at least half of it since I didn’t get up until almost 2pm.
Sometimes when I talk about stuff like this it is almost embarrassing lol. I can’t help but imagine old men and women who talk about their daily bowel habits. I promise I’ll try to not make it a daily conversation, but it is part of living with chronic illness and it sucks if you have never experienced chronic digestive issues. Even if I do get an actual stomach bug or something like that, it seems that it takes much longer to get over it now that I have digestive issues anyhow.
One thing that sucked was that my husband went for a walk in the park without me because I was sick and he saw an owl! One of my favorite animals, and a rare one to sight in the daylight 😦 I guess at least he got a picture:
I obviously felt jealous since I dreamed last night that I found a mama owl and her babies in a tree. I guess I had to one-up him 🙂 Unfortunately, I pissed off the mama owl and she attacked me in the dream.
Well, today has been a really shitty day 😦 I only got about 2-3 hours of sleep last night, even with my Seroquel. Something happened last night that really upset me and made me just want to run away. Unfortunately, I have nowhere to run to.
Today I decided to go to a local park with a dam. I knew it would be crazy there with all the recent rain and snow, and felt that maybe seeing the turbulence roaring inside me portrayed in front of me might make me feel somehow better:
Even way above the dam, and behind a fence, the water was so violent that I got splashed pretty good. You can’t see it in the photo below, but my pants were much wetter than my jacket. Even my hair got a little bit soaked by the spray:
I was crying a good bit of the time I was there, just from all the stuff going on inside me, and I think one poor guy thought I was going to jump in. He came over and started telling me horror stories about people who had jumped in and died. One was truly sad about a family dog that fell in, so the mom jumped in to save it, and the dad jumped in to save her, so the two kids watching behind the fence watched all three of them drown. Such a horrible story. It made me forget my own pain for a little bit and feel empathy for those poor kids.
This image from Pixabay pretty much illustrates exactly how I feel today. Just slump me over and leave me to die. I’m not sure which is worse today, my depression or my exhaustion…but I suppose they are best buds anyhow and pretty damn hard to separate.
I’m still struggling with this nasty cold I caught, so I am spending pretty much all day laying on the couch or in bed. Since it is New Year’s Eve, I am watching The Twilight Zone marathon on Syfy Channel, which has pretty much become a yearly ritual for me. I love this show and wish it was on more often.
Other than watching that all day, I don’t have much in the way of plans. I doubt I will even stay up to watch the ball drop tonight or anything like that. I’m not sure if it is just the illness or the depression, but I haven’t felt like doing anything this week and the weekend is pretty much proceeding the same way. I haven’t even been making art, which is kind of sad, especially considering all the cool new art supplies I got for Christmas. I am sharing an artwork I made right after Christmas while playing with some new acrylic pens I got. Hopefully I’ll be motivated to do more soon.
Lately I’ve hit the worst and longest lasting reading slump I can remember. For at least a couple months now I have struggled with picking up a book (any book) and reading it. I’ve tried a multitude of genres and subject matter, so I don’t think that is the issue. I’ve tried books of different lengths and even graphic novels and books with lots of pictures and still find myself throwing most of them to the side relatively quickly and just losing interest. I’m starting to worry this may be my new normal.
But WHO AM I if I no longer like to read? Reading and being a devoted reader has been such a huge part of my identity for so long that I feel lost without the passion for books I’ve always had. If you aren’t a reader, I know you will probably think this is a stupid post, but if you are like me and love to live in other worlds through print, you probably get my sense of despair and existential angst over this matter.