Rage episode brings about advocacy

Today has beaten me. I’m black and blue and trailing blood.


The culprit? Another rage episode. That’s what my doc calls it – a rage episode. This is my worst symptom second only to insomnia. At work I am rather notorious in the temper arena, in the past having been called in by management for numerous accounts of “unacceptable behaviour”. I’ve worked very hard on strategies to temper that temper, but it would appear my current instability has breathed new life into it. My biggest trigger is when I feel something unfair or unjust is being done to me. Which is what happened to me today while dealing with an internet provider.

Advice isn’t always a bipolar fit

But ordinary folk don’t understand this side of bipolar – the uncontrollable rage. They offer advice (or judgment depending on the person). Suggestions of:

all you need to do is ….xyz
maybe if you this…..
or maybe if you didn’t do that…….
you don’t have to get so upset
it’ll blow over in the morning….
just put a smile on your face
its not bad, you’re blowing it out of proportion…..
maybe if you spoke nicely…..
remember you attract more bees with honey…….

After the unexpected outburst I disappeared into the toilets to cry, giving opportunity for my co-workers to talk about me. You know that abrupt silence mid-conversation as you walk through the door? Yep, I’m already deeply ashamed, and now I’m marginalised. I felt demolished by the whole incident. But I took a deep breathe, apologised for my behaviour and, punctuated by crying-hiccups, tried to explain triggers and episodes in this particular instance.

Once the dust had settled

I tried to explain ME. That I don’t enjoy behaving in an inappropriate manner; that its not something I choose. I explained I have strategies in place to prevent being put into those triggering situations, but sometimes things in life pop up and are beyond the containment of my strategies. I tried to explain that I couldn’t follow their advice because my brain simply doesn’t work that way. I ended the conversation with – I don’t choose it, it’s just the way I am.

They seemed sympathetic and I can only hope that what I said brought about a better understanding of ME, and a greater tolerance of bipolar disorder. So despite the bruises, bumps and lumps of a traumatic day, there came an opportunity to advocate for bipolar. I hope I did us proud.




I am bipolar and a recovering anorexic made fat by both side effects of bipolar medication, and a damaged thyroid caused by Lithium. Living single and alone, its not only a challenge to cook for one, but it’s a daily battle to eat a nutritious, balanced diet. Or even just to eat at all. I transition between starvation, comfort and binge eating. Everything to extreme, and nothing balanced. This is my weekly journal documenting my eating patterns, moods and thoughts. An attempt to keep account of my successes and failures with food.

This journal is ‘ An attempt to keep account of my successes and failures with food, so I’ll be honest, since days before I moved, end of August 2016, I have not actually cooked a hot meal for myself. Everything has gotten on top of me and my eating disorder has surfaced in an internal attempt to cope with the external chaos.

So what have I actually been eating? For the first two weeks I gave myself permission to comfort eat. Let it be said, when I commit myself to comfort eating, I do it properly! Then I had to substitute a stove for a toaster when the kitchen was gutted. So I am currently compulsively fixated on toast, in much the same way as I used to be on yoghurt, then on peanuts. There’s a shop nearby that bakes gluten-free bread to order and I’ve been dining on cheese and toast for the past few weeks.

But all things considered, despite no real cooking, I’m going to chalk this up to a grand success, because at least, despite everything, I’m still eating – be it comfort, compulsive, fixated – I am eating. So while I may not have won the war, this battle has been a small victory of sorts.



The tide of life swims in and out

sometimes so fast I can’t keep count

its tiring

the sighing

and crying

and ‘I don’t want to keep trying’

then up and away

my emotions sway

thoughts stretched tight and in motion

the brain drinking dry the magic potion

then the high drops

and more crying won’t stop

and she drowns

without a sound

sapped dry by the lie

of happy endings

and broken hearts mending


New set of wheels

I want to be inspired to live. To be motivated. Find focus. To find the beauty in details, sift through the grunge and pull out a positive. To hear a song that seems to have been written just for me, for where I’m at – whether it’s happy, sad, lonely, angry. To laugh, to smile, to love and to be brave. Big or small, to touch joy and the satisfaction of achievement. Even for only a moment. I want to take stock of my efforts and achievements and revel in the victories. I’m paving my way in an attempt to be joyful and at peace with my life. And here is where I document my travels – every Thursday. Come along for the ride.

I may be paid a poor wage, but the company I work for really looks after their staff in a time of personal crisis. I was touched by my boss’s thoughtfulness in approaching management to motivate the purchase of a kneeling chair for me to help minimise the pain of my sciatica while sitting and working. What a difference its made – supportive in more ways than one!


I’m stylin’with my new set of wheels


I want to feel good

It’s now my 5th week battling sciatica. It has proven to be debilitating, narrowing my access to the real world and destabilising my already unstable mental health. So my body and mind are not very happy places to be in right now.

Pain (any pain–emotional, physical, mental) has a message. The information it has about our life can be remarkably specific, but it usually falls into one of two categories: “We would be more alive if we did more of this,” and, “Life would be more lovely if we did less of that.” Once we get the pain’s message, and follow its advice, the pain goes away

– Peter McWilliams

I’ve always believed in the tie between the physical and the emotional. So I searched for the metaphysical meaning of sciatica:

Lower Back; The Lower Back represents support; financial support, emotional support of family and friends, and support of God or the Universe. The Kidneys are located in this area and Kidney dysfunction results in Fear/Fright/Phobias. A sore lower back may indicate that we have taken on more than we think we can handle. This is a dysfunction, only if it is not the Truth. If we have indeed taken on too much, that would be indicated by a physical trauma to the back and all we need to do is lighten the load [source

These past 12 months have been traumatic for this bipolar who feels everything so intensely. I need to lighten my load, my expectations and demands on myself. I need to stop, relax, let go, and learn to trust that I will always be safe and everything will be okay. I want to become unshackled from the past to make way for a better future. I have no plan except to gently roll with the punches. I suppose I’m going to let life happen, instead of always reacting and trying to control it. That’s the intent anyway.

In the words of our beloved Ulla – Healing is a long term investment in feeling good

I want to feel good! And when I feel weighed down by Life’s challenges, I’m going to let Mr Buble remind me – its a full world and I feel goooooood.

Its a new dawn
its a new day
its a new life
for me
and I’m feelin’ good
– Michael Buble


Two loners, a lift and some small talk

My 6 therapy sessions are paying off. For someone with social anxiety and an overdose of isolation I find it difficult to make small talk naturally. In preparation for my move to the fourth floor of my home sweet home, I was coached on the skill of ‘lift talk’ (elevator talk to my American friends).

Small talk

I shared a lift with a young man in a wheelchair. He had easily swirled and twirled into the lift before me. The silence was awkward. My therapist’s voice echoed in my mind – oh my, what a rainy day OR wow, isn’t it hot today OR hi I’ve just moved in is this a nice place to live. He looked at the floor. I looked at the floor. But just before I made my escape out the lift, I courageously said “enjoy your evening!” Phew! Challenge accecpted and executed. By his surprised smile, I thought – maybe he’s also a loner and not used to small talk just like me.

I saw him again today. Once again we were approaching the lift together. He was well ahead of me and as he twirled around and maneovred backwards into the lift, I was desperately racking my brain as to what I should say. I saw him struggling with the buttons, frowning and talking to himself. So I decided today’s hot topic would be – what floor are you on?

A conversation

My uncle was a quadraplegic and often took offense to people offering a helping hand. It challenged his independence and was sometimes offensive, or condescending in much the same way as we are offended by bipolar weather jokes and a presumption of being ‘weak’ because we cry. So I was aiming for sensitive yet nonchalant…. like….. stuff….

What floor you got?” I said smiling at him.

He smiled back and said “I’m sixth floor but I pushed five by mistake”.

I remedied the situation and pushed my own fourth floor.

Oh”, he said “now I get to stop at fourth, fifth and sixth”. He bobbed his head and laughed, alternating between making eye contact and looking at the floor. Yesssssss! He’s awkward just like me! I couldn’t have shared a lift with a more suitable companion.

I actually laughed naturally and joked, “Its gonna be a long ride up”

We laughed together, each taking turns to looking at the floor, keeping eye contact to a minimum.

I think I’ve made a friend. In ‘loner’ terms we have a deep and meaningful relationship, after all, we did share a lift together.

My heartfelt thanks


Thank you everyone for reading my last 2 posts and giving me your feedback. Your comments and perspectives are much appreciated. I have no means of replying in good time because I still have no internet at home and there’s only so much blogging I can sneak through at work, especially stuff I want to be thoughtful with – like responding to your comments.

The pain from sciatica has rendered me almost immobile – its been 4 weeks now. My movements are limited to – how far do I have to drive? How far do I have to walk from the car to the shop, how long do I have to stand in the queue and, will I make it back to the car to make the drive and another short walk home? I would say its a real pain in the ass, but its more of a pain in the bum cheek…. and leg….. and calf…. and….. actually its not really funny.

Having no internet has left me loads of time to write. But its kinda rude to keep posting about myself with no reciprocation to yourselves. So, this was a very long way of saying thank you for taking the time to offer your views and personal experiences relative to my previous posts. My friends, you have been extremely helpful, encouraging and have given me pause for thought…..

For those who feel like reading more, my hypomania lasted all of about 6 hours *shrug* that’s rapid-cycling for you, I guess. And as with Bipolar II, I’m back in depression with suicidal ideation. Obviously telling you means I won’t do it. I haven’t let my doc know. Don’t see the point because I’ve run out of money and time off work. Ahhhh, the life of a bipolar. I am fucking exhausted.

Thanks for reading and I hope to be up and running as soon as sciatica allows me to.

Fat Anorexic feature image

How to repurpose left-over chicken soup

I am bipolar and a recovering anorexic made fat by both side effects of bipolar medication, and a damaged thyroid caused by Lithium. Living single and alone, its not only a challenge to cook for one, but it’s a daily battle to eat a nutritious, balanced diet. Or even just to eat at all. I transition between starvation, comfort and binge eating. Everything to extreme, and nothing balanced. This is my weekly journal documenting my eating patterns, moods and thoughts. An attempt to keep account of my successes and failures with food.

The original chicken and veggie soup

The original chicken and veggie soup

And then the magic happens......

And then the magic happens……

Just add cream. For a different flavour, it really is that simple

Just add cream. For a different flavour, it really is that simple




Why am I quick to jump to suicide?

I’ve noticed a trend with the way I react to challenges or problems in my life. I don’t know if it’s a bipolar thing, or a ‘me’ thing? Feel free to comment, I’d love to know I’m not the only one, uhh, I hope I’m not. Here’s the deal: when faced with a problem/challenge/change I tend to bypass logic and reason and head straight to suicide as my only solution. But death is permanent. There’s no going back once executed. It’s such a scary place to go to, so….. why do I?

My thinking goes:


instead of:


I often don’t even have a concrete intent to do it. It’s just comforting to know I have an option, an out. Kinda like having a safe word against the onslaught of the world. So while I’m wrestling with the PROBLEM, which I tend to CATASTROPHIZE , I am mired down in OVERWHELM and keep SUICIDE in my back pocket, you know, just in case…..

Anywhooo, in the meantime *sigh* I forget where I packed my nail clippers. I hate having long nails. So as Life has presented me with a PROBLEM, I’m going to KEEP CALM. As for the SOLUTION? I know exactly where the nail file is! See Life…. I win that one! *gives Life the filed-fingernail-finger*