This morning on the way to school I got all the way downtown near my daughter’s preschool and suddenly realized my son was still in the backseat, which meant I completely forgot to drop him off at his school. I have to drop him off first because his school starts earlier.

Fuck, I thought as I was completely roused from my daydream and the beat of a good song on the radio. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now he’d be late. At first I was going to keep heading to my daughter’s preschool and at least get one of them to school on time. But I didn’t. I veered off course and back to the elementary school. He was 9 minutes late. Not a big deal, but a wake up call for me.

I am fucking distracted and rattled about new stuff that I am trying to deal with. I’ve gone from poised to agitated to rattled and I don’t know what’s coming next. Part of me feels like I have the power to discuss this issue that’s haunted me for years. I mean, I had a good outcome after I talked and wrote openly about being bipolar. It was such a huge and healthy release. Then I had  a good outcome after I talked to my Dad about some serious stuff (I no longer feel anxious around him) and another good outcome after I talked to my brother (We have gotten really close since then). All these bottled up emotions and feelings seeped out of me in all three of those situations and I felt better.

I’ve been doing really good since then. Feeling healthy and happy. But now this. Another hurdle from my past that I am trying to put to rest. Find closure. Deal with. Move on. But this situation is scary. I’ve lived with it for a long time and at times it’s been totally buried and that’s been just fine. But now it’s been triggered and I am experiencing major discomfort.

What to fucking do about it?

After I hauled ass back to the elementary school and told the administrative women that I completely forgot to drop him off until I realized he was still in the backseat once I got downtown, they both started cracking up. I laughed with them. It was funny. A very human funny mistake. I can appreciate that and had no problem telling them exactly what had happened. Honesty. And I wasn’t embarrassed by it. I owned up to it. Ta-da. See how that works.

So now what… ?

Last night, I told my husband in short what I was bothered by but he didn’t have much to say and didn’t give me much attention. So it’s up to me, I suppose. Not that I have to do anything this second. But I am living with this sort of reckless urgency. Which I know now is a symptom of bipolar disorder. How to deal… how to deal… Time? Probably not a bad idea, but I know what’ll happen. It’ll get buried again and I am fucking tired of that.

Should I wait though? I am now tormented.

Poised… agitated… rattled… and now tormented. WTF.

What is my heart telling me?

Too hard to articulate.

A week ago in yoga I felt this “thing” loosening inside me and thought it was gone, but it lingered at my finger tips. Still, it loosened out of my chest. I thought it’d be gone after the weekend, but nope it’s still here.


I’ve cried a lot over it… Saturday night… Sunday afternoon… Sunday evening… (No tears on Monday)… yesterday (I prayed and prayed as I cried)… No tears yet today, but it’s early.

I’m at the library downtown, my happy place. Now that my kids are both at school I have a little time. I should be going through emails and working on some essays I’ve written and send a submission to one of the writer’s group I am in, but it’s simply not going to happen.

Another thing that isn’t going to happen is that I’m not going to make it to my son’s school tomorrow to help with a fundraiser. I just can’t do it. I am too fucking distracted and drained. Not participating in either of these things is a not a big deal. In fact, good for me for recognizing that I can’t handle it and that the world won’t set on fire if I don’t take part. I mean, good for me for having learned this. No need to put unnecessary pressure on myself when I am feeling the way I am.

But I hate feeling like I can’t keep up and I hate feeling rattled. It throws off my equilibrium. My house is a wreck, too. Majorly dirty toilets and sinks and the house needs vacuumed. But I am too much of a basket case. My appetite is a mess now, too. I am not eating right and definitely not enough. I feel like I should make a therapy appointment. My next one is the 21st. Not that far away. Surely I can hold myself together until then.

But the urgency. The thrill/release I am sure I’ll get if I act reckless. And quite honestly a cigarette sounds good right about now as a way to cope. I’m not going to smoke one because I know that’s not the answer, but goddamnit I’m sure it’d give me a release. A temporary fix.

Maybe publishing this blog post will help. Writing is certainly a feel-good drug of mine and has been an extremely productive way to deal with my issues. I hope flushing all of this out helps. It’s raw and honest and what I am feeling now.

I suppose this whole mess inside of me is all part of being human. We all have our “things” right? I just want to make this one go away. I honestly feel like this is my last big hurdle in my recovery/heeling process and I’d love to get on with my life and do good things in my life for others instead of feeling like a rattled ball of nerves.

What to do, what to do?

I have to take care of myself.

Go for a walk? Phone a friend? Have a cup a coffee? Or is that all just avoidance?


I’m going to hit publish, count to ten, and go from there.


2 thoughts on “Rattled

  1. We most certainly all have our “thing,” as you say, and somedays they seem unconquerable. While I do not have any answers, I do want to let you know how wonderfully courageous I think you are in your honesty. The hard part comes after hitting the publish button when we go to write the next post, hoping someone will see us, hear us, understand us, and acknowledge us. In the meantime you said it best: “I have to take care of myself.”

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s