Rabid Special ver2.4

I did think I was a better and more evolved version of bipolar, the new and improved bipolar 2.4, a rare edition of the self aware non medicated calm maniac.

I thought it was one of those sometimes I’m not bipolar phases.

I thought I was better, because I knew my psyche and because I knew what the signs were.

I really did think I was better than the rest

Because I am not on medication,

Because I can articulate this obscure fluctuation

Because I can accept my loss of control without losing it

I thought I had beaten it, I thought I wasn’t another bipolar

I wasn’t another psycho freak

I thought I was special

I still thought I was special the limited edition version 2.4 as I gnawed through my arm like a hungry rabid dog

I thought I was special because I currently am going through a depressive episode and I am totally aware of it, I am working out my issues, I’m not just another bipolar, I am an enlightened bipolar.

I thought I was special because I understood that the rabid dog had to feed and I could control it with applied behavioural motivational therapy, no no no not control train through a series of positive reinforcements. I accepted my rabid dog and I respected my rabid dog.

And it respected me.

I thought I was special because I thought I was better

Better than you, better than every bipolar, better than you nonbipolars because I have the bipolar edge

When I cannot control my voice

When I cannot control my actions

When I cannot control my tears

When I cannot control my drama queen

When I cannot explain it anymore

When I am humiliated by a self that I do not know

I know I am not in control

When I am no longer there, but I am

When I cannot accept this part of me, but it is

When the rabid dog wants to feed and I do not want to give it an arm

When I want to put it down

I am not better

I am not special

I am another A bipolar

I am another A bipolar who cannot accept it because I think I am better

Because I think I am special but I am another A bipolar who isn’t better and who isn’t special but thinks there are, who cannot accept it they are A bipolar because they think they are special and that they are better,

when they are just another A bipolar who isn’t better and who isn’t special

(wow, I just realized how I have been using my "illness" to feed my ego, wow aren't I special, aren't I better?)

Contemplate Driving

You drive and you drive and you drive.

You see the shapes flitting across your windows.

You don’t feel your body but it moves in perfect coordination.

Foot, brake, hand gear, foot accelerator, eyes, rear view, foot clutch. You glide through the traffic jam.

Foot, brake, hand, foot, eyes, arms, steering whee.l

You glide.

Shapes flitting across your windows.

Your heart breaks inside of you, shatters in ways more dramatic than two long lost brothers in a bollywood movie who find out they love the same woman, who ends up being lesbian and hooking up with their long lost sister.
Contracts within your chest, tightening around itself, trying to make its self smaller.

You don’t like the drama, but what the hell are you supposed to do, you’re a superstar right now. You are evanescence in all her tragic glory.

Contemplate the physical sensations of emotional pain.

Contemplate driving off the bridge.

Contemplate driving into another car.

Contemplate driving off into oblivion.

Contemplate the transience of your neurotransmitter levels.

Contemplate your carbon emissions because that is way more long term than your little mood swings.

Round the Corner

I'm driving too fast
I know its round the next bend
I want to park here
But I can't
There are no parking spots

Not a paperclip

This is not a paper clip

It’s a plate

With white rice, ensheathed with oil

Catching

A reflection of light, but nothing

Else

Compacted grains

I take a forkful then

Push

The

Grains

Back

To

Maintain

The shape

This time I don’t watch my hands

Because this is not a paper clip

It’s a 4 fingered metal extension of my hand.

It has a pattern

It’s made in Japan

And it doesn’t have scars laced with memories

Its pretty dumb this whole utensil thing, except right now it’s saving me from having to wash my hands.

A cafeteria means:

Someone cooks and someone cleans

And that someone is not me

I just have to stand behind the counter load my tray and pay

Find a table

On any other day I would have probably ranted about our alienation from our food, today, I’m just fucking happy that I don’t have to do jackshit

Abandonment Angst

I was talking to my friend today, I was feeling very distant from myself.

So we reviewed my mood chart. The online daily record of my mood

Mildly elevated

Moderately elevated

Severely elevated

Baseline

Mildly depressed

Moderately depressed

Severely depressed

Mild anxiety

Moderate anxiety

Severe anxiety

Mild irritability

Moderate irritability

Severe irritability

Menstruating

Medication taken

Additional comments

Three weeks of my emotions recorded on the world wide web @ moodtracker.com right under

Learn More

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Cymbalta

I was dis@&#@*co n@&#@nected. My friend who is psychic tuned into me. I was hiding in someone’s heart, she said. I said there was something under the surface, tickling, like scraping nails against a board, the inside of my chest. While I studied the cartilage and muscle of dog’s larynx. Every so often, the nails tickle my chest cavity, get my attention and then scrape. The noise is heard by every part of my body.

It’s 30 C^ooutside, I’m lying on my couch, my books surrounding me, a water bottle next to me, in front of my heater, wrapped in a blanket.

Phoenix my cat, climbs over me, like I’m not there. I watch a movie on my computer. The doorbell rings a few times. I do not get up.

I finish the movie, and in my chest her nails are scraping (I know anatomically the sensation cannot exist, but right now my consciousness perceives my chest as a hollow space with no organs). Her nails tickle the walls, moving against these tiny bumps, vibrating them, making them resonate in my chest in unison.

I vibrate internally

No thoughts

No feeling, only sensations

Physical

Simple

Panic triggered, I recall:

My best friend from high school.

Phoenix jumps up, someone is outside the apartment. The bell rings again. Her nails dig deeply into the walls of my chest.

I do not open, I recall:

“I can’t handle this, I can’t watch you doing this to yourself”

Moving on and away from me

My parents, their shields coming up holding me back at a safe distance

Mary (ex-partner who cheated on me) hiding deeper into her own misery to escape mine.

Resilient friends, who would pull away and return once the cloud of teenage morbid gloom lifts away.

I panic, because my current girlfriend (long distance), I’m not sure what else to call her despite the fact that that label throws me in a state of panic, is frowning at me.

Arms crossed, teeth clenched.

Well in my head she is at least, whether I’m projecting or not.

Lying pathetically on my side, not getting up. I feel this sense of failure overwhelm me. I can her in my head to the rhythm of the scarping lady’s nails, not blaming me with her words but the nails dig deeper and tear,

She says,

I really love you

Or

I love you so much

Or

I love you very much

Or

I love you a lot

But

I can’t handle you when you get like this, I’m sorry I can’t be with you anymore

Not an irrational fear based on past experiences with humans in close emotional proximity

I want to COMMUNICATE,

but the scraping lady’s nails plucked my recurrent laryngeal nerve and I

whimper

Banana Omelet

After a series of trails, with a lot of spontaneous generation errors, this is my optimal, nonnutritive for kitchen microorganism proliferation grocery list:

1. Bananas (still green)

2. Eggs

3. Garlic powder

4. General dried spices

5. Oil

6. Honey

There are days when I can’t get out of bed and I drag myself out onto my couch, and then I have to rest for a few minutes before I make it to the bathroom, which afterwards I need at least an hour to recover. Nothing sucks more than having no desire to live, dwelling in self pity, entertaining suicide fantasies and post suicide events and being so hungry, that hydrochloric acid is burning holes into my stomach. The items on this list provide me with a quick fix. They also provide me with the option of using my frying pan over and over again without going through having to wash it. Especially when there are days where I just simply can’t eat, based solely on how overwhelming the task of washing my dishes seems to be. I mean I will be hungry, starving practically and every time I’ll make it to the kitchen to finally make food. I’ll catch my breath and look at my frying pan and I just cannot do it. So I return to the couch and rest for a few more hours.

Sometimes, I’m just not hungry for days, and then I start noticing my cats chasing invisible things in the air. A closer look reveals them to be fruit flies. I’ve grown some pretty interesting mould. Lemons make a great medium for cultivation. They also seriously metamorphose. Pasta grows this neon orange fuzz around it.

The items on my list need to be easy to prepare, have relatively enough nutrients so I don’t collapse from malnutrition, can be cooked in a variety of ways and allow me some time before they start growing things on them.

Bananas I would consider the foundation food. It doesn’t require washing, and I don’t need to have a dish to eat out of. The peels are easy to discard. I can eat it raw or I can cook it. I can eat it raw with honey, or I can fry it and eat it with honey.

Eggs require that I have a bit more energy, but basically can I can pull off a pretty decent omelet or scrabbled eggs in less than 5 minutes. If I’m feeling really drained I go for the scrambled because I don’t have to premix it in a bowl, which means one less dish to wash. I just crack open the eggs straight into the frying pan, add the spices and mix, mix, mix as fast I can. If I mix really well and really fast, the frying pan stays clean enough to be used again without having to wash it for my next meal.

On a manic day my creativity kicked in, and since this is all I had at home, I made myself a banana omelet. I was a bit worried at first, but it turned out pretty good.

Recipe for Banana Omelet

(Gluten and casein free, for more information on bipolar nutrition visit nutrition links)

Number of dishes that will have to be washed:

2 bowls (one for mixing and one for eating)

1 frying pan

1 spatula

2 forks (one for mixing and one for eating, or you can use one fork for mixing and just give it a quick rinse)

Preparation time:

2 minutes

Cooking time:

5 minutes

Ingredients:

4 eggs

2 bananas (diced)

2 tbs of garlic powder

4 tbs Thai chili and garlic sauce

4 tbs ground cumin

1 tbs ground black pepper

½ tbs salt

Preparation:

Break open the eggs and add all spices to the bowl

Beat till homogenous

Add bananas

Mix

Heat oil in frying pan

Pour contents of the bowl

After 3 minutes use spatula and flip omelet on other side