Alas, that is a paradox. A Gen X brain is rarely balanced because we grew up without any mental health support at all. Not even a conversation over a cuppa and a bikkie. Not a single Zoloft in sight. What a rort right? We grew up, ‘getting on with it’ and consequently grew up tough and independent. These are not bad traits I don’t believe, but we do spend hours in therapy trying to understand why we were allowed to watch Freddy Kruger at age 9, stay home alone for hours at 10, go out clubbing at 14 and basically live lives devoid of parenting and emotional support. (or is it just me?) We can’t blame our parents too much, that’s just the way it was. They worked, they had a mortgage to pay. They were also ignored by their parents, so they didn’t know much better. No one recognised depression, anxiety, bipolar, autism, ADHD or if they did it was all hush hush. Too much shame, too much unknown. ‘Cheer Up, you’ll be right’ right? ‘He is just naughty!’ ‘She is weird!’ I didn’t get any of my diagnosis until I was in my 20’s when I took myself off to the Dr to find out why I struggled so much. I wonder if I was given support as a kid, if things would have been different? Maybe, but I don’t wallow… anymore. I think you have to embrace whatever it is that makes you you. Get the help and support you need, talk about it, take your meds, don’t be shamed, live a healthy life and don’t beat yourself up. I lived in shame for many years due to the stigma around mental illness and the weaponisation of my diagnosis against me by people who wanted fodder for their abusive behaviour. But I’m too smart for that now, too feisty and ‘independent’. See after all, what a good thing to be! I’ve grown into someone formidable, in my mind at least anyway. I don’t care if I am told I am too loud, too opinionated, too old, too fat, too nasty, too nice, too, too emotional, too independent, too anything. I have earned that right, to be all and any of those things. I’m drawn to strong women, women who speak their mind, who speak up for others, who are considered slightly unhinged because they have confidence. Women who speak up are often viciously silenced. It’s boring. So don’t be silent. Be authentically you. Warts and All Baby. As for my brain, it’s a work in progress, but I love the damn thing. Peace.
2 Comments
Being an adult was hard this week, toffee hard, crack your teeth and pull out your crowns hard. But as always, I chew on, whacking a bit of super glue in to hold it all together. Firstly, we had Mother’s Day and I’m not a fan of Mother’s Day. I’m a single mumma, so there isn’t much fan-fare, I did get the book I asked for from my youngest which was sweet, but the actual day was the same as every other. It’s a bit like New Year’s Eve for me, I feel the pressure to ‘have a good day’ to be indulged, taken care of, spoilt even. But that is not what happens for most single mums. We still have to do all the things, no one else is going to cook, clean, manage the pets, manage the stupid fucking laundry or deal with any other ‘chore’ that needs doing and half the time we buy our own presents from the school Mother’s Day stall. The other reason I dislike Mother’s Day is that my mother died on Mother’s Day 23 years ago. She had the Big C, I say it was big because it was all consuming, it consumed her body, her happiness and in the end her life. Cancer is a motherfucker, let’s be clear. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, or maybe… well no not even then, because I believe in karma and I hope I am a good person. I also have healthy dose of medical anxiety, that means basically I think everything is going to kill me. As I get older the chances of this happening increases, in my opinion anyway. I’m needing tests for things I had never thought about when I was younger, back when we were all invincible. I didn’t think about colonoscopies and mammograms, skin checks, eye tests, hearing tests and pap smears. I was blessed with good health, not good mental health, let’s be honest, that’s dodgy as shit, but my body worked okay. These day’s my body breaking down, falling apart, needing more servicing than ever, but I am still here, I am lucky. Speaking of needing a service, my car overheated this week, my radiator had died, so I got that fixed. Then once I got my car back and went on my merry way, my car started shaking like it had been possessed by a wicked car demon and smelt like it was burning the souls of car now passed. I got home safely and had the NRMA tow it back to the mechanics and of course they found nothing wrong with it, so said demon had moved on - hopefully to a Tesla. I have decided one day I would like to replace my car with a Peugeot. My Dad drove a Peugeot when I was a kid, back when our butts stuck to the plastic seat covers and we didn't have seat belts. I loved that car and was crushed when he sold it cheaply to a neighbourhood kid and replaced it with an old BMW. Having a Peugeot of my own will allow me to indulge myself in some nostalgia from my youth, minus the sticky seats and with more safety options, hopefully it won’t be open to possessions either. (PS Peugeot – hit me up) As I said being an adult was hard this week, besides Mother’s Day kind of sucking, missing my own mum and car demons, I have had several appointments with psychologists and psychiatrists, and not even for me, but as the parent of the child requiring these professionals and I was given homework. I don’t do well with homework. I get the logic behind the assignment I was given to work on with my child, but it just piled another layer of stress on me and when I asked for clarity on the homework I was told to, ‘Just do what I said.’ Righto, fucking brilliant that is. Our homework will be checked tomorrow at our next appointment, I hope I got at least 60%... but honestly, don’t give tired, overwhelmed single mum’s homework. I am also trying to sort my health out and have a zoom call in an hour with a potential coach that might be able to help me get on track, but that probably means more homework right? I would really like to tame the medical anxiety beast by at the very least looking after myself a bit better. You see, I don’t look after myself. I haven’t put myself first in decades, I still can’t really, but I can do better than I am. Physically I’m twice the woman I used to be but inside I feel like half… I have to fix this, sort this mess out. I can talk about getting healthy until the cows come home but they never come home. So I am ringing the cow bell and calling them in. I hope your week has been kinder, I hope Mother's Day was nice to you or if it sucked like mine, you have support. Let see what next week brings? Peace Did you miss me? Huh? You didn't notice I was gone. Never mind, here I am. Back, refreshed, newly medicated and ready to dive in. A lot has happened in the years since I was last here, (No shit Sherlock - you think you're the only one with stuff?) Seriously though, how have you all been? I have been busy starting my son off in high school, juggling all the appointments and business that comes with having a neuro-diverse kiddo and supporting my daughter she she enters her final year in primary school. I restarted my garden for the nine hundredth time, got a new deck built so I can sit with my tea admiring the veggies growing ferociously, while dodging the branches the cockatoos hurl at me from the tree above. I have been in the studio recording several new music projects, all of which excites the fuck out of me. Can't wait to send that shit out into the world. What else? I got a new psychiatrist. Now that is exciting. New psych, new diagnosis, new meds, new me. Bloody Brilliant. And lots of writing, always lots of writing. Oh and I turned 50! Not even sure how I got here so quickly. Today is a miserable day here, even though it's summer, it is foggy, rainy and shit but I love it like this. The world quietens down for me on days like this, there is less business. Although I do have to go get some food, unless my son wants cat biscuits in his lunch tomorrow. My daughter is on camp, her first big camp. She is off snorkelling, bloody proud of her, she's an anxious kid so it was a big step going to camp. I'm hoping 2023 is a good year for us all, it's already the end of February, time keeps moving too fast for me. I'm hoping I have another 30/40 years to get all the shit done I want to do. I better get moving. Let me know what you're up to? Anyway, thanks for reading, thanks for being here, I'll be around a lot more now. Elizabeth By the way, I want to get Quails, anyone have Quails? any tips? Happy Belated New Year everyone.
I know I’m late to the party but I’ve been hunkering down with the fam, planning a very different looking 2021 and avoiding the chaos. Covid is still with us, and I guess always will be in some way. Each day greets us with a new border closures, lock downs, mask rules and vaccine updates. All of it makes me weary. My feed is full of broken people, front liners asking for everyone to follow the rules as they are the ones dealing with the misery of it all and on the flip side too many conspiracy theories that bore me stupid. The USA has gone completely mad, well the Pro Trumpers have. When he said, ‘Make America Great Again,’ did he mean send it into absolute chaos and violence? Does inciting a coup make it great? He has been banned from social media which is very late in coming but at least it finally happened. I’m anxious about inauguration day. Are you? Not long to go now. Despite the great pile of steaming garbage that has clung to 2021 from the awful 2020, I am full of optimism. We have had rain instead of fires, my family is healthy; we have a roof over our heads, food on the table, animals running about and are more privileged than many. I am grateful. I am about to start home schooling my eldest and am studying again, I am a forever student. This year is full of changes, re adjustments and new ways of living. I think it’s going to be ok. What do you have to be grateful for? Do you have people you can reach out too? We must look after each other. Mental Health Matters. I’m here if you need a chat. Peace I had my first Covid test this week. Came down with a cough and a sore throat. I’ve been careful - masks, hand sanitising, social distancing and really not going out at all except for groceries and occasionally visiting a friend. Had to isolate completely until I had my results, ran out of cat biscuits… how privileged that that was my biggest concern. I am so lucky, so many others are struggling, so many others are not with the same privilege I enjoy. The Australian Government has increased the subsidised therapy sessions to 20 a year instead of 10. I hope this helps people struggling with their mental health throughout this pandemic. It will certainly help me. It will take a long time to recover. I doubt life will ever go back to the way it was pre-covid. Do we want it too? People seem to be reassessing what is important in their lives, moving out of cities in mass exoduses to quieter towns. Working from home, focussing on family. Thinking about what they want out of life. Some people are mad. I get it. There is great suffering. The planet has been given some reprieve but so many losses. Unbearable to consider. We need to care for each other more than ever. Do you have someone to talk too? Sharing a coffee with a friend is my mental health staple. My results were negative. I am fortunate. I hope you’re ok. Peace. I’m sending out resumes today. I need to put down some roots. This casual gig is fun but not sustainable. Find the balance between bringing in money and creative expression. Sometimes they merge but not often enough, Covid put a swift end to that. Cannot sacrifice one for the other as both are important. Financial security versus the lifelong urge to spend my days creating. Financial security versus my brain urging me to keep moving, standing still is hazardous. All my nerves are twitching and I long for the new. Racing thoughts, grand plans all pulled into line by therapists who work to ground me in my hypomanic moments. They have quite a job ahead of them. As do I. Never quite give up on the grand plans but know how to quieten them enough so I can function in my day to day. But always, always lurking. My resume is a confused, lengthy scattering of jobs. I rarely land. ‘Look at all that experience.’ Jack of all trades, master of none. I am good at what I do, just need to do it more. I want to earn more, I want to contribute more. I want many things. Sometimes my energy throws people off, they sense how trapped I can feel. They sense how hard I try to please. Searching for validation. Prove I am capable. I am. Sometimes the mirror is too strong for them and they walk away. That’s ok. Can’t make everyone happy. You do you. Peace. I have been fumbling around in the darkness for over month now, maybe two. I’ve lost count. I am trying to be patient, waiting for the sun to peek through and lighten things up and yesterday I had a glimpse. The day was warm, the sun was out, I sat beneath it soaking up the rays whilst reading Sarah Wilson’s new book, ‘This One Wild and Precious Life.’ It lifted me up and stoked my curiosity, which made me feel a little better about my world. In my mind, I trekked with her, sat in the warm pubs eating, drinking and chatting to strangers. I would love to do that right now, but the world is closed. I am so grateful that Sarah wrote about her bipolar and anxiety in her book, ‘first, we make the beast beautiful,’ and will return to that one after this. She is a wonderful writer, nomad and I find her work so inspiring. I am thankful for her massive contribution to destigmatising mental illness. Back to my day, eventually the sun went down, my daughter put away her Harry Potter book and I put away mine and the darkness returned. It lurks and swallows you up. That is until the mania comes, or with Bipolar 2 ‘hypomania.’ So what do I do? I drink my coffee, write my words, do some housework, read books, play with the animals, love and nurture my kids and reach out to friends. My instinct is to go further inward but I know that I need to reach out. I need to keep moving so the darkness doesn’t close me in completely. It is a bastard. Those of you who feel this, you are not alone. I’m listening. I’m feeling for Kanye West right now. I’m feeling for a man who suffers from the same mental health disorder that I do but I have a few, precious people in my life who help me be accountable, who help me through manic episodes and potentially stop me from making some pretty major mistakes. I’m guessing he doesn’t. For Kanye, he has the world watching, judging, laughing and pitying him. His most recent manic episode at his rally has been broadcast around the world, it was heartbreaking to see him fall apart without the support he most clearly needs. It is true that when you are manic you are highly creative, unstoppable, intensely motivated, do lots of crazy stuff, some things great, some not so great and you don’t bother with sleep. If you are Kanye, you run for President. Despite having no qualifications whatsoever, the mania makes you believe that it is possible. He is kind of right too, I mean Trump got elected, we never thought that would have happened. That is why Kanye calls it his superpower, because sometimes that is exactly what it feels like. But at his rally, we saw a man lost in his mania and pivoting rapidly towards the unbearable slump and depression that follows an intense manic episode. That is the price we pay for these moments of extreme highs, what goes up must come down and come down we do. When you come down, you realise all the crazy things you did whilst manic and if you’re like me, you panic and cancel things and have immense guilt and fear about all the money wasted, projects started and neglected, people picked up and dumped, major life decisions made and you simply can’t move. You cry, you have remorse, regret, you literally hate yourself. Until the next high. I’m not sure what the people around Kanye are doing for him, I can imagine he is very hard to try and help, he is like an out of control freight train. I hope he gets the support he needs; I hope he steps back and takes the time to heal. I hope he cancels his twitter account. I hope he drops out of the Presidential race. I hope he backs out of the spotlight but I highly doubt it. In the meantime, please understand that Bipolar is a mental illness, not a joke, not a meme. If you can’t be kind. Step back, you are just being harmful. Peace. Dear Men
How are you going? It’s been pretty stressful lately hasn’t it? I haven’t been coping so well. I just thought I’d check in with you because I’ve noticed you’re not coping so well either. The world is pretty fucked up right now and people have lost their livelihoods and worse, their lives. We are all trying to figure things out. I know you’re feeling it too Men. I also know most of you won’t admit it. There is a lot of pressure on you growing up to behave a certain way. You can’t grow up hearing things like, ‘Be a man,’ ‘grow some balls,’ and ‘boys don’t cry,’ and not have that shit totally ingrained in your brain. Where does that leave you? In a lot of cases unable to admit or accept that you might need some help, to know that it is ok to say you are not coping and to get some professional support. You soldier on, you have a drink, you scream at other drivers, you tailgate, you terrorise your spouse, your children, you punch walls, you punch women, you kill women and sometimes yourselves. Ok let’s back up a second, I know ‘not all men’ but let’s be honest, it’s a fucking lot of you isn’t it? When you suppress your sadness, it turns to anger, when you suppress your anger it turns to rage, when you try and suppress… no wait, you can’t. You wear it like a badge of honour, you’re the tough guy and everyone else is wrong. Chests puffing up, fists clenched and spit flying from your mouths as you snarl at your target. I have been in therapy on and off for almost all of my adult life, I have taken medication on and off for most of my adult life. I read and educate myself and talk to others and reach out for support when I need it and offer it in return. I have been in relationships where counselling has been rejected because, ‘we don’t need it’ or rather ‘he doesn’t need it’. The men who don’t need counselling: I have seen them go into rages and frighten the shit out of their children only to apologise later… until the next time. This is abuse. Your children will remember it. I have seen them call women crazy, hysterical, insane, unfit mothers and sluts, in order to manipulate the courts into giving them what they want. I have seen them lie about their earnings so they can avoid paying child support. I have seen them punch other men over parking spots. I have seen them tailgate, chase, threaten, intimidate other drivers because they don’t like how they drive. I have seen countless women flee their homes with their children and the clothes on their back to seek shelter in refuges because they know the next punch might be fatal. I have been gas lit, manipulated, controlled, hit and abused. By men. But still, you don’t need counselling. Destroy the Joint counts the number of women killed in Australia by the men in their lives, the number keeps going up and up. It’s a national emergency but it’s just women right? So nothing is done. ‘She drove him to it,’ ‘She wore the wrong clothes,’ ‘She was asking for it,’ ‘No doesn’t mean no,’ ‘She pushed him first,’ ‘She should have kept her mouth shut,’ ‘If I can’t have her no one can,’ ‘She can’t have the kids either, no one can.’ Men, if this pisses you off and you’re mad at me you need to step back and think about it. How do your mates talk about women? How do they talk about their exes? Is she a ‘psycho bitch?’ I’ll bet he says she is. She isn’t. It is time for you to sort your motherfucking shit out. Go to the counsellor, get a mental health care plan, take medication if you need it. Talk to your mates. Make it ok to have feelings. It isn’t weak. It takes courage to admit you have a problem and you will gain nothing but respect from the worthy people in your life when you step up and say, ‘I need help.’ Your children don’t want to be afraid of you. They need to feel safe. Your spouse deserves to be treated with respect and to not be killed. If you can’t drive without going into a rage. Sort that shit out and don’t have the kids in the car with you until you do. In fact don’t drive until you get your act together. Because you might kill someone. Treat your mother with respect, treat your ex with respect. Even if you dislike each other, don’t say that shit in front of your kids. Your children are watching. You are modelling for your son how to treat women; you are modelling for your daughter how she should expect to be treated. Step up and do your damn job properly. Stop the tantrums, stop being immature. Grow the fuck up and that’s means being accountable for your emotions. Let me clarify: It is never ok to: Manipulate, gaslight, abuse, threaten, intimidate, assault, kill anyone ever. Have tantrums, frighten women and children, be aggressive and controlling. Especially not your kids and not the women in your life. It is ok too: Respect, nurture, them and yourself. To admit you need help and to get it. It’s pretty straight forward stuff. Hold yourself and your mates accountable. Do you get it? So, I ask again. How are you going? Do you need some help? |
Writer. Bipolar Rambler. Archives
March 2024
Categories
All
|