Daylight Savings Time began when I was little. One could never imagine how we kids felt the first time it went Daylight Savings Time and we could play outside til about 9 p.m. What freedom! What a life! To be able to play til the street lights came on was something unimaginable in 1966. I mean, how cool was that? I have loved Daylight Savings Time ever since. There is so much one can get done in the long summer days -full of hope to finish any and all projects started. Even when they weren’t finished, no matter- one had all kinds of time the next day. Or at least, it seemed that way.
And then November came along , An abrupt end to my beloved Daylight Savings Time. Light in the morning was all right and all fine but I’d rather have the sun come up as I get up or maybe a few minutes after and have all the light for the whole day and evening. I felt as if I could get more accomplished, I felt better- more sun always equals a better mood. In short- I felt alive. When November comes, however, it begins to get dark at 4:45 pm. Really? There is still so much time, but it doesn’t seem like it. It feels like the day ends when it gets dark. All that is left is to eat dinner and go to bed. Curl up with a fire and a good book, maybe. I just always want to sleep when it’s dark. I must be getting old or something. I don’t feel as happy in the winter because of the darkness. hi ho.
Some of my friends simply despise Daylight Savings Time and holler ” Leave the time the way God made it.” What? No, I’d rather have more sunshine and blue skies. Call me a Pollyanna if you must. (does that still apply in this day and age?) If it came to a vote today to keep the daylight hours longer, you can bet I’d vote for it! it’s weird isn’t it? They say appearances are not what they seem. They sure are, though when it comes to light and dark. And of that, you can be sure.
The crash is finally over. I began to feel better when I woke up this morning and feel even better now. It begins when a smile finds itself creeping upon my face. Maybe my eyes squint when I feel the smile on my lips. It’s a feeling of wellness felt deep down -a feeling that hell has left my body, my soul and I can breathe a little bit.
Crashing from a manic phase is – well, it is almost indescribable- except to say I feel no joy, no hope, nothing. Not flat- just lower than low. When it is finished and I’m back to my old self – well, there is nothing more amazing.
If you wonder why I carry on so about bipolar, what it’s like, how it feels, – well, it’s to educate anyone and everyone. Back when I was diagnosed, every time there was a shooting in Dallas, it was a person with “bipolar.” Well, I’m here to let everyone know we are not all violent offenders. We are regular people trying to deal with a somewhat devastating condition not only for us, but for our families. Bipolar affects tens of millions of people and some very famous people such as Vincent Van Gogh, Vivien Leigh , of Gone with the Wind fame, newslady Jane Pauley, Carrie Fischer and the list goes on and on. These people struggled to keep their lives going despite the peaks and valleys. If they can, I know I can and so can you.
Morose. That’s how I would describe today. It began, not sunny, as it usually is in the morning, but dark, dreary, humid and stormy looking. I ran to the feed store as soon as it opened to get the feed for all the animals and some hay to feed the horses and donkeys in the barns. While distributing the feed – first to the barn, then the house, then the front patio, I could feel a slight mist. I didn’t want it to start raining until I finished my chores, but it did. Not bad at first, but I could feel at least a 20 degree drop in temperature since the rain started. Good. I was in the mood to just hang around the house and lay around. Sadly, my mood had not changed from yesterday when I crashed from manic phase Sunday. I hate it when that happens.
The horses were transferred to their newly remodeled barn and I was a bit nervous knowing that Houdini, the miniature horse makes Licorice, the Tennessee Walking Horse, quite anxious. She does not like it when Houdini walks behind her and will walk to the other side while he eats her hay.
I went into the house, wet from the rain, changed my shirt, crawled in bed and slept- and slept. I woke up and quickly went to check the horses. I was relieved to see they were fine. The dogs had kinda dug under their part of the barn to see who or what was on the other side.
All in all, nothing to write home about- but something to blog about.
For some, bipolar disorder is entertaining. It is for me everytime I have a manic phase. Manic phases are like being hyperactive. It’s fun, exciting and everyone laughs. Then, the crash. Lower than low, tears flowing, keeping to yourself and isolation – not so entertaining It’s kind of like the theater masks you see from time to time. One minute laughing , one minute later- crying. It’s confusing not only to the family- but to the one afflicted with the disease.
Yesterday, I was as happy as a lark- having more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Today- not so much. It is rather curious to me how one’s brain can do that. How weird is it that one day, a person can be fine and the next- wake up lower than the digs of a snake?
I am fortunate in that it doesn’t happen as often as it used to. Oh my. Literally, my mood would change from minute to minute- hour to hour. No one knew what to expect. I would imagine it was very frightening to my family. Just when they thought they could kid around with me–I’d blow up or cry or scream. It’s a bit like watching the movie, Sybil. The lady who had so many different personalities and was finally integrated into one. The mind can play amazing games and tricks. But , it can protect one from the most hurtful and harmful things by wiping them from your memory. I am not clear on all or even some of the things that occurred while trying to find out I had bipolar disorder. My family will ask sometimes-“Do you remember when we did this or that?” And I cannot remember . It’s my brain’s way of protecting me from remembering the bad times or the times that hurt me the most.
One of those times, in particular , was my dad’s funeral. I know I was there. I don’t remember any of it. I couldn’t tell you anything about the funeral except they sang “How Great Thou Art.” I cried every time I heard that song thereafter. I’m okay wih it now.
Anyway, should you know anyone who has bipolar, please know it is as hard on them as it is on you. Pray for them and for me. We need it!
Notes from the U.K. was nominated for a Very Inspiring Blog Award a while back, and it threw me into a quiet little crisis. I was flattered and even inspired, but also flummoxed. It was Angie K. from Not Another Tall Blogwho nominated me, and in her acceptance post she admitted to taking two months to accept her own nomination and do all the things a nominee is supposed to do.
What’s a nominee supposed to do? Thank the person who nominated me and link to them: Angie, many thanks. List seven facts about myself. Display the award and nominate 15 other bloggers. Figure out how to display the award. Follow the person who nominated me. (I did that and it’s been a pleasure; she’s a good writer).
Irrelevant Photo: A hut circle near Rough Tor, part of a prehistoric settlement
…..Hate to say it, but I hate Halloween. I know that doesn’t make me any too popular- especially since my good friend, Jackie Smith of Cemetery Tour fame – well, wrote Cemetery Tours, for heaven’s sake. She’s all about ghosts and stuff. Me? Well, I have to be honest… the thought just kinda freaks me out. Even though I lost my sanity years ago, if I allowed myself to think about ghosts and goblins and stuff like that, I’d become obsessed and then compulsively obsessed and then one thing would lead to another and paranoia and all manner of Ouija Board scares.
I had a Ouija Board scare once. It was my birthday- probably my 13th and I begged for a Ouija Board. My parents, against their better judgement, got one for me and I promptly called my neighbor, Julie, over.She was a year older, a year wiser, really cool and I was not all that at the age of 13. So, I felt pretty special with my new Ouija Board and my curiousity about the occult. She came over and we began our seance . I asked about boyfriends and stuff and then got a message I would die. I was SCARED TO DEATH! I cried all night that night. I’m not talking about crying on and off. No. I’m talking about being so upset that I cried nonstop until I got a spanking and Daddy promptly threw the Ouija Board in the trash and I never saw it again.
I truly believe the occult should not be messed around with by me. It bothers me and I just guess I’m too much of a scardy cat . I don’t see any reason to tempt any evil powers that be. I think I’ll just stick to God.