Panic at the Salon

I don’t think I posted my “losing my shit” videos after I received my graded paper back and the freaked-out emails I sent to Mr. Sir Professor. Probably a good thing. Freakouts are never a good thing to be viewed. But gotta love how I have absolutely ZERO control of my emotions or ability to regulate anything; take a breath a see that maybe it wasn’t an attack on me personally.

I’m always so embarrassed when they happen, the emotional freakouts, which at the time I feel completely justified and righteous in proceeding to send. I do this with texting people as well – mostly the man du jour or whatever. Feel like what I have to say needs to be expressed right now and no I will not step away and wait 30 minutes before I hit send.

When I do this, I then put myself in a position of shame and apologize and feel like shit, and am deserving of any criticism they have, including calling me batshit crazy. No matter what, even if I had a legitimate reason for why I felt how I did, or if I was actually wronged and treated with disrespect, or what have you. All of that is irrelevant because I freaked out. I have voided myself and left to grovel and beg for forgiveness for my craziness. I become indebted and shamed.

I wish I could regulate my emotions; people think it’s as easy as taking big breaths. But at the moment, there is no reasoning with myself, as I am convinced I am logical and rational, and right. I become full of ego and usually feel disrespected or misunderstood or … idk. When it’s regarding any type of personal relationship – i.e. men, it’s just way out there and usually driven by fear.

It’s stupid, I know. And there’s a part of me watching who knows as well. I hear her, telling me to slow my roll, and take a beat; I don’t need to do this. But in an odd twist, I convince myself that she is the weak one who has been shamed into inaction, which spears me on even more. It’s all very … messy.

This used to happen a lot when I worked for the school district as a special education teacher, and I was so impassioned about my students. I would just get all fired up and send these emails, which could have become a legal nightmare, and I don’t fault others for taking me to task on it. I just get so emotional. I didn’t realize then that I was bipolar, or that my ADHD was as severe as it was. One would think as a SPED teacher, I would have clicked into that.

Not sure what I’m blabbing about – procrastinating from having to do my work. Which doesn’t make sense to me – I love what I want to conduct my research on. I want this; it excites me – so then why am I so apprehensive to just sit down and write the research paper? I’ll never understand myself.

Wait – this was only to talk about my panic at the salon – how did I get to so many paragraphs – just absent random thinking. I curse having taken that typing class so that I can type without a second thought, and it all just flows out. If I finger-pecked, maybe it would allow time for my reason to engage, and I wouldn’t send off damaging emails and texts.

Oh well – I think I’m over the haircut thing. What can I do about it anyway? I actually don’t think it’s too bad today, now that I’ve had a sleep on it. See what happens when you just slow down and not react right away. See what happens when I listen to that lady in the corner who says to wait a bit. I need to listen to her more, or maybe give her a taser to zap me as I’m whirling up.

One day I’ll come back

One day I’ll come back here and see the things I had yearned to write upon. They will be the clues for my hide and seek for the words now lost within my head. Somehow I will splice them all together and they’ll never be what I had once intended. Or I think not… I won’t remember. So I’ll always have that lost feeling in the depths, that inner eye still searching, the voice never singing the right tune.

If only I could write the words at the time they come before being kindly brushed aside. But the hunt begins, and the hunt continues and they will be the Fox I see through the thickets… the flash of bright eyes and fluffy tail… teasing me.

I pick up words along the way, during this chase, and tuck them in my leather pouch. And when I take the time to rest, I scatter them upon the forest floor, with twigs and moss and arrange them as if to create a map to the fox’s den. But before I can memorize the way, my eyes catch two ears in the corner… and off we go again.

My life as a haircut.

Haircuts… haven’t really gotten one in years and years. Just been wearing it long, on shoulders, all one length for years. Mistakenly did the bang thing, and been hacking away at it for months.

But today we went to try and get it professionally done. I’m quiet and don’t talk much and can’t really explain what I want. As if I even know. I see it on my head but there’s no way to send a mental image. I wish I could, life would be so much easier.

So, I left it in the hands of this cool dude who I could tell had a grasp of style and fashion where as I can barely see a passing glance at what looks good. What do I know… look at what I walked in with!

Now I’m in shock… it’s short and my flippy floppy front bangs that I’d play with are gone. As I sit here waiting for my daughter to get hers done I try not to play with it. I’m scared to catch my reflection I want to hide, but I don’t want him to feel bad, so I pretend.

I don’t use product I don’t know how to style, it feels strange. I’m not sure how to run my fingers through, my nervousness has no outlet. And in fact I’ve only grown more self conscience.

I feel like my life has always been a new haircut I’ve tried to figure out. Somehow I want to work that into a writing. But my life is like constantly trying to get something right, not being able to communicate, leaving it to others, and come out lost and uncomfortable. It just doesn’t fit.

Why do I always do this? Keep trying to make myself better… only to walk out the door on the edge of tears wondering why I can never get things right. Why I can’t get what’s in my head out into life.

My life is like that haircut you thought you wanted but doesn’t fit on you and you have no idea how to style it. So I just sit, hands over my face, peeking out. wondering how long I’ll have to wait to feel me again.

And when I do… I’ll say to myself it’s a mess, you need to go get a hair cut.

My life is a mess, and I want to get it fixed… but I am clueless how to style it.

Wait wait wait … this isn’t what I wanted.

Rewind rewind rewind… why did I do this? Panic is setting in. No no no, take it back, this isn’t what was in my head. Rewind. I am panicking inside. Make it go back! Why the fuck did I do this!?!? What the fuck did I even try to be better?!? What was I thinking?

My life is a mess, yet every turn I take to make it better is a mistake. Rewind rewind… gasping at my hair in the floor. Put it back. Give me my mess back. This isn’t right

A child named Fear.

I’m not sure what’s in my head, I want to write on this but it’s spinning so much and I can’t get it slow enough to see or hear to make sense of it. There’s just so much up there in my head and it’s always trying to sort things out. I wish I could just sit down and write this poem in my head. But it’s going so many different directions so fast. just so fast.

But this concept came to me during my “talk,” and now I’m fixated on it. Even now I’m trying to write and when I look back I’m missing many words in my sentences. It’s all just jumbled. And I have this stress of getting my assignments done. Just pressure on top of a swirling head and the undercurrent of sadness and despair. Why can’t I just be a bit more normal? Why can’t I just get something that slows this down so I can actually address at least one thing in my life.

This is why I just try and talk things out. My fingers are just too slow, but so is my mouth and in the spinning of it all the words aren’t even slow enough for me to formulate sounds. I need some ice cold flavored water and chill. But this poem in me just will not stop. I feel like a mad woman. Which I guess I am. I have so much work to do I don’t need this shit today.

Dark Day Feb. 26

Sunday was one of the darkest days I have had in a bit .. meaning like a few months. Again, I’m not posting the videos of me talking to myself down off the ledge… for obvious reasons. But it was honestly the only thing that was keeping me connected to “reality”.

Being a bipolar mother and the guilt and shame that comes with it is should crushing and this overwhelming feeling of not only the destroyer of their lives, but unable to do anything to make things better. Also, when the roles are reversed, here I am the mother falling apart and my daughter trying to tip toe around me and be the grounded solid one. So much shame.

I did decide to make the cover picture funny – because sometimes that’s all I can do is laugh.

Trying to hold myself together. Feb. 24-25, 2023

Another grouping of bits throughout day. I used this earlier to try and figure out what turned me down into dark “end of days” zone. It was not a pretty weekend.

Rapid cycling sucks, being a bipolar Mum sucks, living this life and not being able to control my brain and emotions and moods and … sometimes it’s all just too much.

This was the bringing. Yesterday, Feb 26 was double rough. I am not including the videos I took during my breakdowns. I’m not sure I can even watch them myself. But just talking out loud keep me holding on to reality … a reality that was destroying me, but I had no other choice.

My Day in Bits – Feb. 22-23

Snippets of the days for tracking and documenting… I imagine there are parts that are duplicates from single videos. Again…. boring as fuck to someone else. This is only for me. I used these videos yesterday in trying to trace back to find out what my moods were and what had happened.

I often forget things about my day, and writing in a journal isn’t working, I get more … creative talk not so much facts and such. So, recording myself is like having a second memory that I can rewind. I really can be clueless of what had happened, my memory is so bad.

Rough Night – Sad about son.

This really has nothing to do with my schooling. But I did a quick video last night for my tracking, and I was disappointed in myself about how little I had done during the day. I felt myself starting to drop.

Unfortunately, with bipolar, you’re never sure if it’s just a normal bad day or if it’s the start of a downward spiral. I can never just say, okay, bad day; tomorrow is a new start. There’s always the question lingering in the back of your mind, what do I need to get ready for?

I was unsure how the night would go, hoping for no night terrors. Well, I didn’t have those. Just the neverending movie in my head about my son. I couldn’t stop it; it just kept playing, rewinding for the most painful scenes. Over and over – I felt it all and all night all I could do was watch it in my head.

It was a long night and my short little morning check in turned into me discussing it in a much longer video. Today will be tough, the lingering sadness a top the tired weariness of yet another night of troubled sleep. I’m worn out. My days are so up and down … I’m hoping this one turns into an up soon and I don’t find myself spiraling down.

Being Loyal to yourself.

The other day I said I was loyal to someone even before I really knew them, and I thought of it as an attribute of mine. Like it was something they should appreciate. Later I thought about it and realized how unfair that is to myself, and it really isn’t loyalty at all, but some type of need for acceptance or acknowledgement.

I was trying to make myself seem more attractive to someone because I was promising them loyalty … yet I don’t even know them very well. That not only devalued myself, but the value of my loyalty if I just gave it to anyone.

I am Bipolar ~ STOP calling me crazy.

I am done with people using that word so freely around me. I use it for myself because I like being wacky and goofy and silly, so that’s the crazy I call myself. But that’s not how others mean it. So if you were to describe me to someone and say I’m crazy, you’re making fun of my disability, my disorder. Your meaning, society’s meaning of crazy is not the same as mine.

I like my kind of crazy, but that’s not what you mean when you say I’m crazy. I have to now stop using that word to describe myself as society now defines mental disorders with the derogatory meaning of ‘crazy’. I’m sick of it. It’s wrong, it’s hurtful and it is demeaning, reducing my own value and worth.

Tracking the Day

I may come back and write more so I have the notes for myself. But, this was just an experiment in trying to track my day and how I fluctuated or felt before after things or meds or nights sleep.

I’m not sure what I’m trying to do with all of this. Maybe I’m just trying to figure out who the person is in the camera… who is this talking back to me? Maybe I’m just lonely and want to talk to someone and am pretending. Most likely.

Rejection – Sensitive Dysphoria

Some might have heard of RSD before. Very common with bipolar / ADHD. It explains a lot of things with me. Not that knowing about it is much help. I still freak out, and while I hate using it as an excuse for my behavior, I have a better understanding of the reason I feel like I do. I am working on regulation, but the pain of rejection is crippling.

I wish I didn’t behave like I do at times… I get hurt and scared, and I freak. I am always terribly sorry; I wish I had control… but it’s always too late, and Ive already done something to make them mad at me and take that last step to totally reject me now, even if they hadn’t before. I perceive everything as some sort of rejection, it seems, and my mind takes over. Making up things that were never there.

So then, I am now officially and totally rejected in reality, not just in my head. It sucks.

An important symptom of RSD is emotional dysregulation is the inability to regulate emotions. The feelings are of being overwhelmed, uncomfortable, or even emotionally in pain.

Symptoms of rejection-sensitive dysphoria

The key symptom of RSD is intense emotional pain. That pain usually has to be triggered by rejection or disapproval. However, people with RSD often have difficulty describing what it feels like because it’s so intense and unlike most other forms of pain (emotional or otherwise).

People with RSD often show the following traits and behaviors:

  • It’s easy for them to feel embarrassed or self-conscious.
  • They show signs of low self-esteem and trouble believing in themselves.
  • They have trouble containing emotions when feeling rejected, which is often noticeable in children and teenagers with this condition. Some may react with sudden anger or rage, while others may cry.
  • Some people with RSD may turn their feelings inward. These individuals become severely depressed, and sometimes, it’s mistaken for sudden emotional shifts that can happen with bipolar disorder or borderline personality disorder.
  • They’re often “people pleasers” and become intensely focused on avoiding the disapproval of others.
  • They start projects and tasks or set goals if they think of success.
  • They compensate for fear of failure or rejection by going all-out or striving for perfectionism. However, the downside is that they often experience intense anxiety and may not easily prioritize self-care or downtime.

RSD happens in people with ADHD. It may be linked to other personality and mood disorders. 

Talking out the articles … processing

**** I am posting here so it doesn’t get lost in my hard drive of chaos ****

Again, another attempt to figure out methods to help me remember what I was thinking. I was so excited after the gym, and instead of just going about my day, I wanted to get my ideas down before I lost them, and writing wasn’t going to cut it.

When I start getting into my research, I gain a lot more confidence.

It’s that I know what I know, and it’s important and valid. Teaching is my passion; it is one of the few things in my life where I feel like I somehow belong. If not so much a location ie school, but more the profession.

I would often doubt myself because others didn’t understand how I taught. But I was an excellent teacher for my students. I know that what I am trying to do now matters, and that’s essential for me to keep going. I need to know it matters.

Working Memory, Research sites, routine … no more boo hoo.

So with my working memory I have to run through things multiple times, in different ways. So I process it over and over through different modalities and then it will finally stick a bit. So while these may be boring, I am experimenting if this is a method of helping me remember and solidify my thoughts and what I need to do.

Again, just me talking to me, posting for me … trying to find a way to manage my ADHD/bipolar in better ways that will make me successful in my research, dissertation and completing my doctorate.

Reading Others

So I have been exploring this site… and have realized no one would watch or read what I have written because it’s boring. I even bore myself, it’s fine it makes me laugh.

But who honestly would read or watch the rambling. That’s not why I do it, it’s purely for me. I also noticed I have such a short attention span with ADHD that I can only make it two, maybe three sentences in. Esp in this format.

Even now here I bore myself. 🤣

I think it’s funny someone who drools on so much can’t read others. I’m sorry I can’t, what they say is important, and might give me insight. Maybe on the big screen rather a phone.

How is it that I can read research articles and not other peoples work? Maybe it’s all just too personal. Idk .. I just amuse myself with my hypocritism, an annoying slightly sick feeling amusement.

Another way of wondering why I can’t be different. I want to read others, I just can’t stay focused…. Yet here I am thinking I’ve only written a few sentences and it’s a novel.

Ugh

Panic attack and suicidal thoughts.

I felt this was important to share – in case anyone is watching. Panic attacks are common, as are intrusive thoughts. My PTSD can disrupt my sleep, but this was different. I was wide awake and freaking out watching it all. The thoughts were excruciating, and the shame overwhelming.

Sufficating and utter fear. I think it’s important to mention “dark places” so others know it’s okay when these thoughts happen. Thoughts can be uncontrollable. There is a difference between suicidal thoughts and being suicidal. It doesn’t mean I am a risk to myself. I do not want people to be scared to talk about it. Intrusive thoughts can be dark and we judge ourselves. No more shame.

Poem from the past

You see these tears, and think me pathetic, call me weak. These tears are not formed from pity, not filled with sadness, not a sign of defeat. These tears were born from frustration, filled with fury, a sign of determination.

I dare you, call me weak again, and these downcast eyes of mine will rise and they will fix upon you and you shall see the restraint and resolve which they hold.

I dare you, call me pathetic again, and you will unleash the fierce fury contained within these tears, which will reign down upon you like no storm ever known.

I dare you, call me worthless again, and you will experience the immensity of my strength, and you be reduced to nothing.

I dare you, call me fragile again, and you shall know the true meaning of strength when you look into my eyes, and you will face the reality of the sad weakness that resides within yours.

I dare you, call me weak, just once more. And through my tears, my eyes will rise and fix upon yours.

I dare you.

(a poem from March, 2012… that I need to keep working on)

Encouragement from a male voice…

We are going to get it back .. not try,.. do. but it’s hard.

To go back to lazy and sorry for self, lost and not even seeking anymore, Yes, I was sick and I couldn’t go to the gym, but I didn’t have to fall off everything.

Because I had promised myself and I broke that promise, and the self hate talk started again, the voices grew louder, they found a foothold.

So while I couldn’t prevent the situation of not being able to go to gym, I could of worked out here, it just wasn’t the “perfect” setup. That perfect voice fucks me up every time.

So, it sucked but what did it teach me? What came out of it? What did I learn from it, even though it knocked me down? I now know working out is a big component to my mental wellness and staying balanced.

I played the victim … oh poor me, I’m sickl. BULLSHIT!

Back to my morning routine, writing and motivational /music / affirmations / self talk. I know it’s cheesy, like I need a SEAL, Commando, Barat, Ranger .. yelling at me … well, I do.

But they are not tearing me down, which they normally do. But these build me up.

New concept … encouragement from a male voice.

Sad I have to get it from YouTube, still feels a bit empty. But I use what I have, I do it by myself for myself, to hear it from the external. Something different, drowning out the past deep voices.

Its nice to hear it from a man … encouragement, kind words, belief that I am worthy and have something of value to offer, not to them, but to myself. A voice that is not demanding anything, but giving me faith.

A male voice not calling me crazy, knocking me down, calling me weak, laughing at me … but telling me I have value, lifting me up, believing in my strength, cheering for me.

Imagine that … so until I eliminate the voices of hate inside, I will listen to an artificial voice outside of myself.

New concept … encouragement from a male voice.

I’m not crazy … fuck all those small weak men who called me crazy. They have no idea … no idea. You can’t hold me down anymore. I always get back up. ALWAYS. You may be physically stronger, but you’ll never be as strong as me.

So yes … I am alone. So what. I’ll figure it out.

Waiting

Okay… I think having my one friend moving away today maybe has caused some stress. they had to charter a medivac flight to lower 48, crazy money but they need to get him home before it’s too late. I often wonder what I’d do if I got cancer. I don’t think anything, not even say anything. Just get in my stepvan with Cody and drive away. I’d arrange something for him to get back to the kids for the end. But… idk.

So, I have absolutely NO ability to regulate my emotions. Like zero and I hate it. I’m not sure how I’m suppose to build that up in the times that it’s falling apart. I hate this feeling. It’s just a sickness in my blood, into every cell… and I hate it. So why is it so hard to believe that I hate myself when I literally hate my blood.

I know I’ll get over it… I always do. Even before I knew what “it” was. At least now I know that it’s that and I have a name to call it… motherfucker. Its just the pane of my existence. But its always there and I just have to deal. I’m so tired of dealing.

Waiting for girl child … I do t want to go to gym … yet I do. I want to just max out the weights and tear my muscles apart trying to lift them in order to replace this feeling with something… anything. But of course I’ll just stay in the corner … afraid.

Something is going on.

So, there’s something up and misfiring, and I’m not sure what. I think being sick really knocked me off kilter. It got me out of my schedule and routine of going to the gym at specific times in the AM and PM. I had the whole week scheduled out, and it was working out well. Then I got sick. Fuck those people who don’t clean the benches after themselves. But regardless … here we are on a spin off.

So, tonight I’m going to try and alter a med or two. My therapist and I have already talked about this thing, and I’m really responsible and self-aware. I think … I think it should be my mood stabilizer. I’m not sure if we are in a manic state where I need to adjust my antipsychotics. This is a different sort of feeling – just off of the bubble … hence the adjustment of the mood stabilizer. ( I don’t call myself smart with no evidence … obviously, I’m brilliant to figure that out.)

My room is a disaster, my articles are a disaster, for some reason I’ve been ordering all these creams and such for my aging skin. So that’s a whole mess. Never cared about it before, so guess I’m paying the price now??? Literally. Well, like the $20/jar stuff … not the outrageous, stupid shit. I try to fake myself out with the cheap stuff … not like any of it does anything so me trying to fool myself doesn’t cost me much. I am easily fooled, as my track record of men proves.

Okay, okay, okay … tomorrow I’m going to sort shit out. Right now I’m going to gym as I missed my AM session and I want to skip out on tonight, but my daughter is my partner. I pick her up at work and we hit the gym on way home, I literally drive right past it so there’s no excuse.

I really would like a partner in life ~ if nothing else to help keep me from swarving off the edge of the road. Just a partner to go do things with, go to gym or whatever. or just talk to. IDK – stupid head of mine always in the could of never never land.

Off I fly – tick tock in the croc.

Not sure if this helps at all …

Rambling organization, highs & lows, personal relationships, self-worth, and time… it’s just all over the place. I’m not sure if this is helping at all. Maybe getting over myself and the camera phobia, but not sure it does much good for helping me be more productive. I’m not really sure about anything at the moment. I am in a frozen state of time. Keep saying I need to organize and get things in order and to set up a schedule … but I never do. This is where someone on the outside would be nice. I’m not sure how many people with bipolar / ADHD have successful relationships, but I wish I could… I get into that as well on this one. Maybe others feel the same.

I forgot I had figured the problem statement out … this is not pretty.

I did this video this AM when I remembered I had written something down last night. I did not realize how much I ramble, nor how raw things still are about my last teaching position. I obviously have work to do in that area, something that needs to be addressed prior to going into the field. I am very emotional, which can be a blessing and a curse. It gives me empathy and an ability to connect, but it also is overwhelming and prevents me from doing anything with that connection. I get lost in it all.

I also just posted my video from yesterday, and in watching back, I see that I thought I had resolved the “problem statement” yesterday. I do not recall that and have nothing written down. Seeing it now, it jogs my memory and the track I was on, but today I see how wrong it was. This makes me wonder if tomorrow I’ll realize that today was a mistake as well.

I am definitely slipping into some type of up or down. I can feel that it could go either way at any moment. I hope I go manic but without losing focus, so maybe I can get things done. My manic side has a lot more confidence or just goes so fast that the “other voices” can’t catch up to it to drag it down with negative self-talk. But it is also revved up, so that logic and reasonability get left in the dust. This is when I would often get myself into “situations.” This recently happened a few months ago, and it was not pretty, and damage control had to be called in. Thank god I’m never running for office.

The other concern is that I get spun up on something, get hyperfocused, and balls to the walls, all in. This can happen with a person, which is scary, and I come across as crazy. My manic side is a Know It All and refuses to slow down and just KNOWS it’s right and things must happen, and it’s going to be this way, and it just goes and does everything she can to get it. Relentless and irrational. I like Manic when she’s in a productive, somewhat grounded mode … if there is not a person around for her to fixate upon. The last time I created an amazing scheduling system, had charts and colors, and magnets on three different whiteboards. I had pages and pages of drawings of schedules and different levels of tasks, and … it was involved. Ordered a ton of office things and got everything ready… this was it, this was the scheduling solution that would solve all my problems, and this time it would stick. By the time the special markers and post-its had arrived, I wasn’t even sure what they were for and could barely manage to set a wake-up alarm.

This is a long video, but it explains a lot, I think. Some stuff I didn’t even realize. I also contradict myself a lot. I keep changing my viewpoint on certain points. Part of that is that my perspective is always changing. I see things from many different angles. One reason why it’s so hard to make decisions, nothing is just cut and dry. I can make arguments on both sides of an issue. I will also forget that I just said the opposite five minutes ago.

I have issues I need to address… but part of it is just me, and they aren’t issues; there are actually benefits to having the abilities this bipolar/ADHD brain gives me.

Why I write

I decided many years ago that I wanted to go for a Doctorate. I’m not sure what came over me to finally take that first step, but here I am, several years into the process … and I’m still unsure. It has been a struggle, and I’m only halfway through.

Having ADHD and being Bipolar has brought additional layers. I guess I convinced myself not to acknowledge those at the beginning. It was as if I started the Odyssey without first checking my ship or what resources I had aboard. I just set off, telling no one and with little preparation. That’s often how the chapters of my life read, just a bit sudden and chaotic. I just go.

Very few people know I am attempting to earn my doctorate; none of my family save my two adult children and a handful of friends. I use the term friends loosely here as they are more acquaintances with whom I have little contact. Sometimes I feel safer sharing with strangers. That and I have few real friends… okay, maybe two. We speak every few months; they are that type who can just pick up where things were left off months ago as if it’s no big deal. They accept that having ADHD it’s just how I am. My executive functioning sucks; between ADHD, Bipolar, and Dyslexia, my frontal lobe is a mess.

Few also know of me being Bipolar. My parents know but don’t understand, my siblings do not know, nor do I share it with others. I want to clarify something in identifying myself. I have ADHD, and I am Bipolar. I do not have Bipolar; I am Bipolar, and it is part of who I am. I have learned to accept it and even find its own unique value. It makes me who I am, which I’m finally learning to “love” ~ as hard as it is to say that word. Maybe I’ll just try to appreciate it first; love is a tough one for me.

I started journal writing for my PTSD and just the “sorting out of life.” It has helped tremendously, so I thought I would also use it for this adventure. One can maybe view it as a captain’s log. It’s a way to document my journey so I can see the progress. But I have also thought it might be helpful to others, hence writing it in a blog. I am a timid, private, humble person, so this is another challenge of mine. I don’t want it to come off as arrogant as if I think I’m so special to have a blog. One of my “whys” is to show others who are Bipolar that we can accomplish more than we thought. I had believed I was a failure my entire 50 years, I felt doomed, and no one “like me” could ever earn a Doctorate. I don’t want others to feel that; I want them to see people like “us” can do it.

It just might look a little different from what we have been conditioned to believe it has to be. I told myself things such as, I don’t talk like a doctor, I don’t act like one, I don’t wear the right clothes or haircut, and no one would respect me as one. I’m not doctor material. We try to conform to the ideals and standards of what society holds, so we can appear “normal.” I am not “normal,” and my Odyssey is one that does not take the usual route. I never have been traditional.

But just because I don’t fit into the mold doesn’t mean I can’t make a new one. I want to show others it’s possible and that we do not need to do it “their way.” It just means it’s going to take a bit more effort to forge our own way to the destination … the Doctoral Island if you will.