Journal – Nov 30, 2019

Not doing so well today. Actually I haven’t been doing so well. Depression has been a near constant companion and when it’s not depression it’s full blown manic along with spells of psychosis. I can’t go on like this. At first I thought the pdoc upping my risperidal to max solved the issues. I felt better, looked better, acted and sounded better. But over time it has all come back. I think perhaps I am becoming immune to the risperidal. God help me if I am. That’s been my miracle drug for so long that I don’t know what I’ll do if I am becoming immune to it.

Along with the depression and mania come the ever present headaches and shakes and stomach knots. These may be side effects of the drugs I’m on. I dunno but I do know that I don’t sleep well even with the trazadone. I wake up at all hours of the night, usually with a headache, and have difficulty getting back to sleep. Sometimes I can sleep the headache off. Sometimes some pain pills help. Sometimes coffee does the trick. Nothing works consistently. Sometimes nothing works at all. Of course drinking a half pot of coffee at 3 AM is not conducive to more sleep. It’s one big circle of deprived sleep. And I think the sleep deprivation feeds the depression/mania. Hell I can barely sleep when I’m manic as is. Then come the crash into deepest, darkest depression. And always the tears. I hate those tears.

I know one thing for certain. I cannot go on like this even if it means I have to die. Hell almost no one would miss me anyway besides my kids and grandkids. They’re resilient. They will get over it soon enough. I’d become just a memory and soon enough not even that. I’d like to live to see my great grands when they come but I don’t think I will make it.

Poor Domani has inherited this, through his mother, from me. The gift that keeps on giving. He suffers from depression and mania. He goes weeks without coming out of his room. Sometimes days without getting out of bed. I wish I could tell him that I understand and I know how hard it is but, like my wife says, I think he needs to come to that realization on his own. God knows I never truly believed anyone understood. In fact I still doubt it. Poor kid. 16 and going through hell, alone. My heart breaks for him. Just as it breaks for his mother who also inherited it. But she only inherited the depression, not the BP. She is chronically depressed and meds don’t seem to help her either.

Still missing my wife. Of I see her for about 5 minutes every day but it’s not the same. I want to spend time with her but apparently she doesn’t want to spend time with me. That also feeds the depression. Seems like everything feeds the depression. No wonder the depression goes so deep. No wonder I mostly suffer from depression. I’m type II manic depressive anyway which is mostly depressive. Everyone thinks type I is the hardest but not from where I stand. I welcome a good bout of mania. Being on top of the world. Knowing the entire world lies beneath your feet. Knowing it all belongs to you and you are master of all you survey. Being full of energy and happy and up. Most of all being up. Even with the accompanying lack of sleep it is still the best feeling in the world. Now if only the psychosis would stay away.

Well be good world. Stay strong. Always face the world with a smile. Never refuse a hug. Try for one good laugh per day at least. There is real magic in smiles and hugs and laughter.


Journal – Sept 6, 2019

I’ve been really, really god these past couple of weeks. Ever since the doc upped my risperidal intake to maximum I have been flying normal. Normalcy is not to be underrated when you’ve had the past few months that I have. They’ve seen intense paranoia, psychosis, unaccountable fits of rage, deepest darkest depression, the highest and most intense mania… and all sorts of madness. For a while there I could not go three days without a serious attack of something. Thank God for risperidal. Thank God for normalcy.

Things have been marginally better with my wife. She says I’ve been looking better than I have in years. (others have said the same thing so it must be true) We have grown somewhat closer. We just spent a week and a half down in North Carolina where I got to pretend to be a husband again. No sex mind you but all the other benefits of being a husband. Now we are back in the real world. The one where I rarely see her. The one where she spends weekends down the campground where I cannot go and where HE is. The one where she chooses to take her sister to NC over me. The one where I am nothing but another friend and not a husband. But that’s all right. At least I had the last week and a half. It was truly idyllic. Much more than I deserve.

I gave her one white, long stem rose and a card today. The rose was because she is as beautul as a rose. White because… well because we are not in a place where red would be appropriate. The card told her that I know she is going through a very rough time right now and that I am thinking of her and praying for her. It also reaffirmed that come what may I will always be here for her. All she needs to do is call me and I will drop everything and move heaven and earth to help her.

So that’s it in a nutshell. Gonna take my 72 Chevelle over to see my granddaughter and grandson play highschool football. If I can ever figure out how I will post some pics of my newest baby on here some day soon.

Journal – August 20, 2019

I have been having really good days. Despite minor fluctuations, minor diversions from centerline, I have actually been living life for once. I have been smiling. I actually laugh with my wife. Real laughter and not just a small chuckle at some post or other. I can’t even recall the last time I laughed for real. It has to be decades.

There has been no voices. I’ve seen no shadow people. Dunno, my arch nemesis, has been absent as has his brother NoahBody and the little girl. I’ve had no suicidal ideations. At the same time I have not been wildly over the top.

I’ve been happy for once. Amazing. I also can’t recall the last time I was really happy.

I feel alive, like my old self. And it feels damn good. It’s been decades since I lost myself to the BP madness. It feels wonderful to be back.

I’ve thanked the Lord for these days and asked Him to continue to be with me and help me stay strong when the pendulum swings the other way, as I know it inevitably will. I am not being a pessimist when I say that. I merely face the reality of my life. Despite how good I’ve been feeling I cannot afford to let myself be lulled into forgetting my reality.

Journal – August 19, 2019

It’s been a strange sort of day. Been down then up. I am finishing the day on an up beat.

All told my ups and downs have been very mild. Like the gentle, rolling swells of the ocean on a bright, sunny day.

That is good. Very good. While I have not necessarily been stable I have been sane. I’ve been having good days. More than I can count.

I will grant you it is disturbing to still be rapid cycling but the cycles have been so mild that they practically don’t exist at all.

Ahhh… to live like this forever. That is my hope. ZTo be normal again. As I have been normal for more than the past week. My days of violent swings are past. I am sane. May I always remain sane. Life is a joy when I am normal. Normalcy is never overrated.

I feel good. Really good. Better than I have in months, or even years. And people see it in me which is even more amazing. I have had more than a few people tell me how good I look this past week or more. I don’t really see it but they are obviously seeing something.

Be good people. Stay strong. Always face the world with a smile. Never refuse a hug. Try for at least one good laugh per day. There is real magic in smiles and hugs and laughter. It can change your life. I know it’s changing mine. At last I can take my own advice.


I have never met a mentally disordered person who would not have easily scored in the genius range on an IQ test. I myself easily score in the low 160’s in every test I’ve ever taken. Genius begins at 147. So it is our mind turning against us.

Living As Me

I am bipolar type II. Not I have bipolar. It is not a disease. It is a disorder and yet it is my life. In addition I have schizo effective disorder, dissociative identity disorder and generalized anxiety disorder. Yet it is the BP which defines me. I live by it’s cycles. I am forever looking forward into the mood that is coming. I am always in fear of the insanity that comes with the future.

If any one of you does not know, cannot imagine, what it is like to be bipolar just imagine the two most opposite poles you know. From the greatest, most extreme highs to the deepest, most extreme lows. Bipolar depression differs from unipolar depression because, being in opposition to such amazing highs, it seems all the deeper. More intense.

If the endless cycles are not enough there comes the times of rapid cycling. Rapid cycling is defined as more than one cycle a month. Well imagine such cycles, between extremes, daily or even hourly. That is the definition of insanity.

With the highs often comes psychosis. You see things and hear things and smell things even feel things. It is a time when you cannot even trust your own senses. You know it’s not real and yet you cannot deny your own senses… it IS real despite what your mind says.

And don’t get me started on the extreme paranoia. When you get to the point where when you are driving you make random turns to lose those who are following you. When you go into a store and ask for a pack of smokes and, when they are offered to you, you ask for a different pack because you know, beyond a doubt, that that pack was drugged and if you’d smoked then you’d have ended up in a detention cell.

Yeah. That is madness.

I talk so often here of the madness but I never make it clear. So this is my attempt at that.

Imagine the deepest depths of hell. That is the depression. A time when you hear the endless ramble of voices intended to drive you to suicide. Not in your head alone but in your ears. A time when you have to watch out for other lives taking over your own. I have at least three of them. Dunno, Noahbody and the little girl with no name. My wife has seen and interacted with all three. Each has their own facial expressions, their own handwriting and grammar, their own diction. They are distinctly different and are readily apparent to my wife. Yet I rarely remember when one of them is in control.

Yes… madness. I know I am insane yet so often I am totally sane. It is what I aspire to. 100% sanity 100% of the time. Some day I may even reach there.

Today’s Our 41st Anniversary

Good morning world.

It’s gonna be another good day. I can feel it. Stable and sane are the name of the game. I think the additional risperidal are really paying off. I double checked my script and realized they were 1mg tablets. I don’t know how that happened. I am supposed to be taking 2mg. I was taking them 3 times a day but the shrink upped it to 4 a day which should be 8mg/day total. I was taking half that. No wonder I was so unstable. Risperidal is my miracle drug. It doesn’t need to build up a blood level to work so it’s effects are felt within a couple of days.

Today is our anniversary. When we got married 41 years I really thought it was forever. It should have been forever. It would have been if I was only more stable. Now we are separated and she lives her own life. Me? I just kind of drift. Always hoping and praying that it will all work out but my prayers are never answered. But we ARE good friends. Thank God for that. I still have her in my life, for now. The other day she was talking about when she decides to remarry. That will mean a divorce for us and THAT will surely kill me. Every time I think of it the sobs start and it hasn’t even come to pass yet. I don’t know how to go on without her. I never did. I am relegated to a mere friend of my wife of 41 years, 43 if you count the dating years. How I have fallen.

I got her one red rose and a card. She accepted both graciously. We are going out for lunch. All despite her hatred of our anniversary. There are simply too many bad memories around it. Too many for me too. I cry every time I think of the hell I put her through. We made it through the hell years, together, but we couldn’t survive my disability. The peaceful years that are supposed to be filled with love. We still have love now I guess. I know I lover her with everything I am. More now than ever before. Yet she merely considers me a friend. That too brings tears.

So I am full of tears this morning. It is a rough day for me. Despite being stable I have tears coursing down my cheeks. I am so sorry Allie. Sorry I failed you. Know that I’ve always loved you and always will.

Journal – Aug 9. 2019

It’s been a good day despite being a little unstable. The weather was beautiful, perfect for yard work. I helped my daughter as she cut down all the shrubs along our fenceline. I carried the cut pieces to the pile and raked up what was on the ground while she diod the cutting. It felt good to do something for a change. It’s been so hot that it’s been impossible to work outside.

I had a panic attack earlier. It was unusual in that it lasted a couple of hours and was deep breathing resistant. It all started with my wanting me to call the insurance adjustors for our place in NC then it went downhill from there as more and more came at me all at once. I was hyperventilating and going nuts as my thoughts began to spin, my hands to shake and my heart to race. It felt like a fist gripping my chest and it wasn’t long until the chest pain started. I tried deep breathing but was unable to do it. I was breathing too hard and fast. I took the kids over my parents where I eventually began to calm down. But the effects of the panic left me unstable. I feel like the depression is coming back. The voice, quiet during the attack, has come back with a vengeance. It is strident and distracting in it’s intensity. It spouts the same old tired litany of shit. I’d be better off dead. I’d soon be forgotten. Better one big pain then an endless stream of small pains. I should die to save the world from me. Especially my loved ones. Yeah. Same old shit. I am tired of hearing it yet it does not shut up. This time it is the raspy, deep voice of Dunno. He’s always hated me to no end. He wants to see me screaming in agony before he grants me the sweet release of death. He is a fucking pain in my ass. He does not fear me but he does fear my wife. Wish she was here right now. Even at the other end of the phone. He even fears her voice. She always shuts him the hell up. Although he did try to threaten her earlier in the week. I guess he was only emboldened by the knowledge that she is essentially out of my life. That gives him free reign to fuck with me as he will.

So I am not quite stable. Darkness is out there on the horizon. The darkness I escaped last night. Unfortunately I have no more herb to use to fight it and my wife is gone. I tried calling her but she did not answer. I tried her good phone. The one that gets service everywhere so if she was down the campground it would still go through. The fact that she did not answer tells me her boyfriend if there. (pang of jealousy) I am never allowed down there even though it is my sister in law’s campsite and my wife swears she has nothing against me. I can’t help feeling she does. Like she sides with my wife’s boyfriend. Of course she should and does. After all she is my wife’s sister and my wife loves him above me. Sad. That thought brings tears to my eyes. But I will not go there. No. No fucking tears tonight do you hear me? Wish my eyes would obey.

I am heading out of my mind again. Wish me luck. I will need it. Back to that fucking bloody depression that rips my heart and soul to shreds. That is if anything is left after my wife is done with it.

A Rant or a Ramble or Whatever

I’m so hungry. Hungry for love. Lost and alone. I need someone to love me like I used to be loved. But never again. I cannot do it agin. My heart is too raw and bleeding.

Damn. I am really down. Been there these past 2 days. Difficult to move. It takes a supreme acto of will to do so. And yet I have it. I have moved. I have funtioned. Nothing to be proud of. There was no other option. Besides this fucking depression shit is old hat to me. Decades of dealing with it, walking though hell, hearing the voices, crying burning tears… yes it is nothing new.

So I am not a hero. I live whatever life has for me. More I survive. I say more because I really haven’t lived in decades. I might as well be dead.

And so we hear from the suicidal ideations. From Dunno. The beast. The voices. From them all. They give me a fucking headache.

And that is another thing I live with. The constant headaches. It’s been weeks since I have not had a monstrous headache. I’ve learned to live on Excedrin Migraine. I take them 4 at a time, every hour, until the headache is gone or I fall asleep. Either one provides relief. Yet my stomach hates me for it.

That brings up the next sore point. I can’t remember when I’ve had more than 4 hours sleep a night. Last night was three and a half. I am like a zombie on wheels. I function but God only knows how. I can already tell that tonight I will not fall asleep until past midnight. And I will most likely wake around 4 AM. Then that is all she wrote. I will wake with another headache and gobble some Excedrin then stumble out to the kitchen to make coffee. Go get a smoke, fix my coffe and cry for an hour or two.

Such is my life. I cry almost constantly. I know… depression. Yet I cry also when I am manic. I haven’t had real full blown manic spells in years until recently. They come with the same psychosis from years ago. I dunno what is wrong. My wife is supposed to get me some Lithium but she never came through. She has her own crises to deal with. Alas I am not allowed to be there for her. But please people.. I ask you please to say some prayers for her and her best friend and his family. They sorely need them. Not her boy friend. No. Fuck you Jimmy Orr. If I could I would put a bullet in your head.

And there comes my hatred. I am ashamed of it. I never hate anyone. Yet I hate him. He has taken my wife from me and I will never get over it. May you rot in hell James Orr. You deserve it. Fuck you man.

And here comes the anger. The rage. Gotta get it under control. Oh I know where to find him but I will not lower myself to his level. Besides she loves him and so I cannot hurt him.

Enough already. I dig my own grave. I am sorry.

With endless love


I miss you. A lot. As I think of you the tears arise. I sit here rmembering the past and my heart breaks anew.

I know I have been so weak lately. I have needed you so bad. I am sorry for that. I never want to be weak in front of you. I know that as long as I am there is no hope of us ever getting back together again. In actual fact I doubt there would be any hope even if I was strong.

That hope is all that keeps me going.

I hurt Allie. So bad. Even after a year I can barely survive it. The pain is so intense.

I promise to try to be stronger, if my promises are worth anything to you now.

I sob every time I think of you in his arms. In his bed.

I am sorry Allie. Know that I will always love you. You were my first and only true love. You always will be. Always and forever.

With endless love,