Disease 1 – Job 0

I’m a school teacher. I’ve been doing it for 27 years. And I lost. At least that is the way it feels. I fought this entire year and I finally couldn’t do it anymore. I was teaching high school math in an inner-city school in the midwest. It’s not Chicago – I’ve taught there. I’d take it over where I am.

I just couldn’t do it anymore. I looked around at all the other teachers and thought that …. well, I thought a lot of really negative shit about myself. And, in the end, I’m just not strong enough to deal with the crap the kids were slingin’.

We have academies in the 9th grade  where I was. And, I had the lowest functioning group. 1st grade reading level forced by my state to teach them Algebra. It’s tough when the curriculum is a reading based curriculum. But that isn’t even the problem. The discipline issues are nuts. And in the end…. I just couldn’t deal with them. I just couldn’t handle it anymore.

The anxiety was too overpowering and I was unable to walk into my room. A room full of 14 year olds. Intellectually I was furious with myself knowing that I was letting kids dictate my future. I felt like a little kid. I still feel like one now.

My illness won. After 27 years of battling mornings of anxiety and fear… it finally took over and I have finally lost.

Everyone tells me that my health is more important. I realize that it is. But when you fight daily for so long it feels like you have lost everything. I don’t care what anyone says. And there isn’t a medicine in the world that can fix that.

I don’t know if I will go back. I don’t know if I can… the option has to be there by law. So much is wrapped up into that…. I’m sure they don’t want me back. What emotions will be there next year……. I can’t really deal with it right now. I’m just not strong enough for it.

I just don’t know…… I know that I feel like I have lost to a disease that I have been fighting my entire life.  That is all I know right now.


Looking into the mirror…

During one of many group sessions a therapist suggested to all of us that we keep a picture of ourselves with us at all times. The picture had to be of us when we were really little – 3 or 4. And, we when we were feeling self destructive or depressed or talking particularly shitty to ourselves, we had to take it out and look at it…. and then ask ourselves if we would treat that little person in the picture that way.

Mine was a picture of me in kindergarten – which of course I can’t find at the moment. It was that little person that I wouldn’t want anyone treating like shit.

The idea behind the dance in the video was that he see himself as his younger self for just a moment… long enough to pull himself up out of a dark moment and carry on.

Every now and then I can still do this.

………………………………… When I want to.

When I want to. I think those words are so powerful with this disease for me.

I stayed home from work yesterday. Because I wanted to.

So easily I slip into an excuse that I need the day off to get my head straight. I’m not “feeling” well. My medicine isn’t right. I’m just not right in my head or my skin.

But the bottom line is… I just don’t want to do it. I take the easy way out.

I am so fortunate. I mean seriously fortunate. I have struggled in my past. I have scars inside and out to prove it – not that it’s necessary to have them – or to need to prove it. By the grace of whoever or whatever (totally different post) I have come through some serious situations. I am on the upside of my disease for now. And I am grateful for sure. And, because of that there is no reason for me to slack.

So easily I can use a day like yesterday to start slipping backwards… letting my head get in the way.  Listening to the negativity… rolling over and going back to sleep instead of moving forward and taking charge.

I needed to get up and look into the mirror and see my little self saying… “Get the hell outta bed and go! You have worked to hard to slide”. 

I realize that this isn’t scary and edgy – comparatively. But it is my edgy for today. I know myself and I know that I can turn a corner in about 2 seconds if I’m not careful.

Excuses are easy for me to make – easy for me to follow through on and really most people expect them from me.

I don’t want to let my little person down.

It’s hard to see her. But, she is there. She’s… he’s… there in all of us if we want to look.

But looking into the mirror is really hard…..

The Paranoia Patrol

What if I decided to trust him 100%?

What if I decided to never talk to that person ever again? 

What if I decided to walk into that meeting like it didn’t matter if those people thought my hair was a hot mess and my chosen outfit came out of an 1980’s throwback closet – except I didn’t know I was throwin’ back? 

What if …

What if I woke up one morning and chose to accept that I could?  That I could control the Paranoia Patol? 

I have had issues all my life. Welcome to the club. But, Paranoia has been the biggest Bitch of them all. 

It has created the most anxiety. It has caused more problems with relationships – of all kinds. It has ruined multiple jobs…. It has controlled my life in so many ways. 

It just comes barreling into my life like a bulldozer and says “No, no, no! I don’t care what you think! You are wrong!” 

I don’t care how in “control” of my bipolar/borderline I think I am -obviously I’m not it takes over. In fact, the better I feel, the worse my paranoia gets. 

It’s like mental health has to be outta whack all the time…. Something has to be messed up. 

Or maybe paranoia just naturally comes out of that? After fighting it for so many years your like “no way can I be feeling good! Something has to be fucked up. Let me find it!” And, if I can’t find I’ll create the shit! Oh, I am good at that!

So lately, I have been repeating those two phrases above to myself when I start to question my boyfriend – or when I have that urge to talk to the person who is really not good for me. Is it helping? Long term? No clue. My anxiety sure seems to subside though. And, we all understand how awesome it is to NOT have to deal with that little bitch of a problem. 

It’s been a long time since I’ve been here to write. Feels good to be back and get some things down. 



Anxiety… timeless anxiety


Sarah’s “Angel” is timeless also…

Hope you took the time to watch Gaby dance through her interpretation of the crappy little annoyance we all know and hate so much – no love!

Oh…. dear, dear anxiety!

Now the holidays are upon us. We are suppose to flip out at these times?

Anxiety… such a little bitch!

Maybe we can find our Angels this season instead!



Fear isn’t driving anymore!

It is no secret that my life revolves around men. It always has.

Last February I broke up with my last relationship that lasted two years. I did continue to see him throughout the summer even though he started a new relationship. I have issues with letting go of things – mostly men.

I fish with him. It is a hobby of mine … pretty serious one and a very precious one. I compete in bass tournaments. He’s one of my partners.


That’s not him in the picture. That was last weekend at a Breast Cancer fund raiser I fished in. We did pretty well in it, but I fished for the charity of it and was proud to say that the tournament raised a lot of money for the cause!

Onto the point of this entry…. I have been fishing a lot with my eX. We have been talking a lot about us. What was right… what was wrong… We love each other very much still and I knew that. But, most importantly, we like each other so much.

We’ve had all summer to do whatever we wanted. He decided to “move on” and enjoy his summer. I was just going to try to live and figure myself out.

So we talked this weekend while we were fishing.. There’s no where to go when you are on a 19 foot Ranger boat. As I babbled, which is what I do a lot of when I fish. I’m not sure how any of my partners deal with it. Although they say they love it. Keeps them from over-analyzing too much on the water….  I realized that this summer all the hell that I went through I came out on this other side of myself….. not afraid of who I am anymore….

Yep… that was the big revelation that I made on the Ranger… out in the middle of the river…that day.  I’m not afraid of my crazy anymore. I’m not afraid of what people think. I’m not afraid of putting myself out there for someone love.. I’m not afraid of loving myself anymore. I’m not afraid of trusting my judgement anymore. I’m not afraid of being alone with myself….. I’m. not. afraid. of. my. mental. illness. anymore!

I’ve been hiding behind all of this for so long.

No one could love me.

I couldn’t love me.

I couldn’t trust me.

No one could trust me……. and as long and I thought those things about myself …. I was stuck…… but, I have been feeling so much better lately… and I realized that… with the help of my meds and my doctors and MYSELF…. I just didn’t know what was up… new meds? Something had seriously changed.

The key was that I had changed. I was taking care of myself. I wasn’t afraid anymore.

Fear wasn’t driving my decisions any longer. I was.

I don’t know that I am ready to get back with Lee. My bipolar impulsiveness says, YES YES YES! But, I’m cautious. We have talked a lot about things. He has opened up more in a month then he did in the two years we were together. I have found a medicine combination that is working so well.

It just feels so good to not be afraid right now. That’s all I know. 🙂

The Collection Grows

Happiness exists when you don’t know a thing
So I hope you don’t think this song is about you
And only I can know how close you came
But baby I’m a pro at letting go
I love it when they come and go

Therapy mans tells me… as I’m sitting there sobbing, gasping for air…. that nothing has changed from last week. Everything is ok. I’m ok. My life is good. And I wonder… as I’m sobbing, gasping for air… if I’m doing so because he is actually correct and there is nothing wrong? At least on the outside!

Fucked up?

I know, right?

But that is usually how my life works. I am the most messed up when there is nothing wrong at all and my life is actually going along just fine…. on the outside!

And so…. I just try to float around in my life and not really pay attention to the things around me. Let it all just happen and then I don’t know really if things are good or things are bad and then I can’t react. Which seems really fucked up because I’m 49 years old and I have serious responsibilities. Of course…

But thinking hurts.

Happiness hurts.

Happiness is hard.

Fuck it. Life is hard… and we all know that. It’s just that… thinking about it is so confusing right now for me because I’ve been in this manic thing… most likely considered an episode. My doctor doesn’t really “define” them and my therapist stays away from really making a big deal about definitions and just talks more about how to get through the next day or week or weekend…

And so I just try to do the same. Don’t get caught up in diagnosis… get caught up in the surviving…

Last post was about collecting things… men. I have added to the collection. I don’t know wtf my problem is. I don’t know the fascination. I haven’t figured out the need. Obviously there is a huge hole or something. But, I do know that mentally – not sexually – but, mentally without this collection I am a mess.

Mentally to a point that it turns physical. You know that anger that turns physical in your body?? Anyone?? yeah… someone has to understand that. I’ve been in enough groups that someone knows that feeling. Well… that’s the feeling I get right now and if I can’t get one of these dudes to talk to me… I can’t settle down.. and it’s not about the sex… I could care less about that part… God, it’s messed up!

Oh, it’s so not good.

But on the outside looking in… I’m golden.

Therapy Man knows everything. He knows I’m faking it to make it. I think he wants me to reach out of this mess and hold onto the good stuff and realize that’s really what I am about.

AND I KNOW that I really am about that. But this fucking monster inside of me is eating me alive……….. Jesus… I don’t even know.

We all want out of it… when we get stuck. I think I get the answer and it works. Until the next time when I find myself “collecting” again.

There are never any answers. There is never the right medication. It’s all about whether or not I’m willing to start on a new path… the problem is I never let go of anything. The last post I said that lose everything I collect. I realized after I wrote it that it’s not entirely true. I don’t lose the men… and they are the ones I should lose…

I tried years ago to figure out why I have the need to collect the men in the first place. Therapy Man doesn’t seem to think that’s important – that the search would be endless. He’s probably right… or, it could be too painful to deal with…

It’s probably more necessary to deal with the addiction that it really is. But, as I said in the last post… I have issues with that also.

I don’t know… Something is going to have to give.

Let’s Go Crazy One More Time!!!

We’ll chase the moon, ride the stars
Find the muscle in this car
I know it’s still got something left
Yeah come on out, take my hand
Feel my heart, girl understand
I gotta thunder pounding in my chest
Hey yeah, can’t see you as nothing but mine
And girl tonight, let’s go crazy one more time

I’m a collector. Plain and simple. I’m not good at it at all! But, I will collect anything I can. Good news is… I’m not a hoarder because I lose everything! I will try my hardest to hold on to it!!! Oh, Jesus!!! I will. I tell you what! But, I can’t hold onto anything.

If you have read my posts in the past, you have probably heard of Danger Boy! Yep, he’s been around since the beginning. I have kicked him to the curb many-a-time. But, he’s part of my collection… as is a real honest to goodness “eX”. It seems I mainly collect boys… men, now that I’m a grown woman.

This started years ago. Along with what now has grown into what seems to be an addiction. One might consider it a sex addiction. However, stick around and get to know me a bit and you’d find that it’s a love addiction.


Definitely untreated… definitely out of control… Definitely sucky!!! And, I do NOT mean to make light of it. It SUCKS. And, it’s confusing as hell. Mainly it’s confusing because I don’t want to deal with it. It’s confusing because who becomes addicted to love?

And I wonder, at times, if that’s such a horrible addiction really? And, then I answer myself immediately with a “Yes!”

I know enough about it to say that it’s horrible. Just like any addiction it ruins quality of life… ruins relationships… ruins self.

I avoid dealing with it in every possible way I can. And, I will continue to because that’s what I do well… that and collect things… and lose them of course. Because of my addiction?!?!?!

Sucky life!

I haven’t even bothered to address the Bipolar/Borderline issues that I mix in with the addiction stuff! Makes an exciting little Burrito of Life for me!!!

Yes! Damn it! I do want to go crazy one more time… actually, all of the freaking time! It’s hard to justify it though when you don’t know if you are being bipolar or borderline or if you are dealing with your addiction!

However, since I have not dealt with my addiction… that’s helps. Or not… because obviously that’s a bad thing. Again… I not making light of it. I need to deal with it. I have attended SLA meetings, but I cannot wrap my head around 12 step meetings. I cannot deal with a higher power. It’s personal issue with me. I don’t know how I will do it, but I have to figure it. And, that is as far as I can go talking about it without having a panic attack.

So, I will wander my happy little ass away from the topic – conveniently – so I can collect my boys and keep having my issues?

And so… I will just go crazy one more time!!!

In my dark times….

In my dark times I’ll be going back to the street
Promising everything I do not mean
In my dark times, baby this is all I could be
Don’t think my mother could love me for me
In my dark times, in my dark times

I promise you… that in my dark times, only my mother can love me.

I have entered another dark time.

More new meds.
More crazy spinning in my head.
More pushing people away.

Oh for the love of mental health!

It’s been a long time since I’ve been here to write.

Ya know how it’s gets. How “you – me – I” go to that place and crawl around… in the dark times. And then ya come out for a breath of fresh air and realize … “oh holy shit, it’s October!” Yeah. Me too.. that’s exactly what has happened here with me. Except I’m still in the midst of it all.

I think that’s what happens if you are lucky enough to grow older with a diagnosis… I think you learn to recognize that it’s all happening… and once in a while you are lucky enough to hold on and reach out to reality. Or just let go of the fucked-upness of it all and breath.

I celebrated my 49th birthday this year and my 30th year of diagnosis. 30 years of meds… and doctors not knowing exactly how to treat these ever loving dark times!

Ah, but they do come and they do go! God bless them – the dark times and the doctors, and meds, the crazy head spinning and the pushing more and more people away. Yes they come… and yes they go.

It’s all a funny little circus.

This ain’t the right time for you to fall in love with me
Baby I’m just being honest
And I know my lies could not make you believe
We’re running in circles that’s why

Dear Manic Pixie Dream Girl Stock Character

OMG! Hmmmm. Manic Pixie Dream Girl, I am.

Sincerely, Chelsea

Dear Manic Pixie Dream Girl Stock Character,

We need to talk.

You have a problem, and it’s a rather serious one.

For years, I was blind to your issues.  In fact, I have dedicated a large chunk of my life to attempting to be just like you.  Not just like Kirsten Dunst in Elizabethtown or just like Natalie Portman in Garden State, but just like you, the ultimate combination of all of the characters who fall in your spectrum.  I wanted to be the girl who appreciated life more than the people around her did, who relished nature, who approached difficult and awkward circumstances with Reckless Abandon.  I wanted to be the girl who lived carpe diem rather than just spewing it forth like the cliche that it is, who danced in parking lots, in the rain, in the woods, in the middle of walking her dogs just…

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The Borderline Personality Burrito

He told me that he would stay except he can’t trust me. Not me… me being sick. The lies I tell when I’m in a fog. The times I’m down and can’t climb out quickly enough to put the happiness back on my face. The potential of hell that is there. He can’t take the potential. That’s what he can’t deal with… the what if… the possibility of when it “could” all fall apart… the other shoe falling…. the embarrassment it could cause.

It took him all summer to play with my head… told me he loved me.. missed me… couldn’t move on without me… it took him all summer… to play with a sick girl’s mind. Someone he professed to love for a very long time. Someone he knew he needed to be careful with… and in the end… he was just vicious.

Therapy Man tells me that it’s the only way he could walk away – Angry and mean. I told Therapy Man that it just wasn’t him. He was never like that. Therapy Man told me… yes, that is exactly who he has always been.

This isn’t the first or the last time someone isn’t going to stay because I’m sick. Most of the summer I did my own thing. I have actually been broken up with him since January, but was seeing him off and on throughout the summer. I have such horrible abandonment issues that completely letting go of him seemed impossible. Completely letting go of anything in my life seems like an impossible task.

I have so much to say and can’t really figure out how to say much of it. Letting go… moving on with someone and being sick at the same time… knowing that they won’t or might not be able to deal with it??? Why bother because the pain is just too much.

I don’t know. Hearing him finally say that… and, maybe that wasn’t really his reason. God, I have trust issues mixed in all of the other bullshit in my life. Fuck!

Just…. fuck!

Therapy Man told me that if it weren’t for the men my life I wouldn’t need his services. And, I know he’s right… in a sense. If it weren’t for BPD… I wouldn’t need him. It is a painful disease. So much wrapped up inside of it… Layers and layers of pain.

I have no emotion meter… it’s either Bitch or Sweetheart. No in between…. It’s hard to have a relationship with myself let a lone with anyone else. But it’s so lonely if I don’t. And… being alone leads to other things that are unhealthy. so Jesus. What do you do?

I don’t know. I just don’t know. Just survive the pain and move I guess. Smile a little everyday? I suppose.