PUSHING MYSELF.

I woke up today with depression all around me. Even though it was a beautiful sunny day, I know why. It’s because I had two beers last night. Nothing more than alcohol depresses my entire fucking system. I need to stay away from alcohol for the next few days. At least it was two beers and not there, because it could’ve been worse. And what’s more to say is that I’m surfing the crimson wave, ladies. That’s another terrible time for me each month. Nothing better than being on the rag and already having a spout of depression.

As I sat in my miserable moments and thoughts, I needed to mentally PUSH MYSELF. It crossed my mind to place myself into the hospital, because what once was a good idea has now become a bad habit. Escaping life is not the answer. I have to continually tell myself. It’s bullshit. Knowing that I can’t fucking fix this disease always weighs on me. I have enough stressors.

In years past I used to miss on average about 1-2 days a month for mental health days. It disgusts me that that’s even a term at times because many Millenials seem to take those days less seriously and miss them just because they need a mental break. But on those days, I sat in my house and slept. Did absolutely nothing. Wasn’t really good for me because I got even deeper into my misery. However, I took them because I could barely get out of bed.

I sit in the bathtub now pouring my heart out onto an anonymous audience I personally don’t know because that’s the only thing I can do. I will probably go to my keyboard next.

Having an internal battle each and every day makes me sad. All I wish for is stability and peace. But our minds are our worst enemies. Why can’t I just be normal?, I ask myself. Oh right, because I’m fucked up. Isn’t that the easiest way to describe it to me. Knowing there’s a name for my disease helped in the past, but it doesn’t help me anymore. It almost weakens me because my mind uses it as a crutch to explain the dumbness that is found within me in times like these. I don’t want to be like this forever!!!

I feel paralyzed by this disease. I give my power to the disease and allow it to take over me. I want to accomplish so much in my life but when it comes down to it, I have so much fear. But being weak is all relative. If I compare myself to others’ strengths, most of the time I will come out on top. I try not to compare usually, but in this situation, it’s somewhat helpful. We bipolars have been through so much (not physically) that we are battling OURSELVES all the damn time. If I could fucking spend half of that energy just battling through more important life issues, I would probably be a damn billionaire. Unfortunately, I’m not. I’m just a single mom with financial issues like most other middle-class Americans who is working hard every day for a 9-5 job just to get noticed at times so I can push forward.

It’s all about the push.

And I’m tired. Maybe some of you have answers for me… or words of comfort. Because right now, I’m crumbling on the inside.

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Stability: The Ultimate Goal

Having a floor and a ceiling is the best I can do for my mood swings as bipolar is still not a curable disease. That’s what we all strive for–stability. Well, attainable stability, that is. However, controlling my moods or outbursts are not as easy for me as they are for most. I mean sometimes I want to scream at the top of my lungs, but all I can do is grab the nearest pillow and scream about 50% of my actual potential with my dynamic vocal chords, and dig my nails into its backside.

The problem with medication is finding the right cocktail. There’s a struggle to find that perfect balance of what works, especially when you’re throwing added stress, weather changes, traveling mania, and hormones into the mix. Always work to be done getting the dosages on point. Nothing is perfect in medication.

However, taking more vitamins, exercising only the right amount (because if you exercise too much that can throw you into a state of mania or hypomania–even more dangerous), not eating like shit, blah blah blah.. The list is endless. It totally fucking blows.

Most people don’t “understand” what bipolar is in the first place. They think if someone has drastic mood changes, then they’re “bipolar”. I hate how often people throw the words “bipolar” and “crazy” around. If people were more conscious about it like they are with a word like “retard”. Thank goodness I’m over being too sensitive about it. Because people constantly will say, “My boss is such a bitch. She’s totally bipolar. One minute she’s happy and the next, she’s totally insane. Ugh. She needs to go to the loony bin.”

Statements such as those can be tough to hear, not because my feelings are hurt, but because I instantly want to defend all those who suffer from a mental illness and advocate for not categorizing others who you just don’t like their daily attitudes with us! Our problem is real and a chemical imbalance. It’s not just something we can control. People take abnormalities like diabetes and heart disease seriously. What’s different about bipolar and schizophrenia?

Something I struggle with the entire stability goal is once I reach it and I’m at a good state of mind, there’s only one word to describe it. BORING. For many years I was accustomed to the ups and downs. I became dependent upon my own personal life drama. I accepted the madness. Once I began to learn the cues and signs of the arising episode, I started approaching them differently. And there birthed stability. But damn, did I become nostalgic for the brilliant insanity!

At different points in my illness I came to love the “crazy” so to speak. I knew I had a choice to make once I had my son. I chose to love him as best as I could. And with him, the motivation to create music really rang. But some days I have an itch for the old Tara. The one who could snap her fingers and had energy for days upon end when she needed it. What I don’t miss are the crashes. I do miss the attention I received for my lack of maturity whenever I would helplessly lean on self-mutilation as a solution. I don’t miss the scars.

I guess there are demons inside of me. Will I be able to fight them ever? Properly?

Xx, Trin


Here’s a song I wrote that most think is about indecisive love. But really, it’s about my life.. and how I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to stay alive. It’s one of the first songs I wrote and this is me and my band covering it. Click here to listen.