Tag: society

The Past is History

As a society, we are forever focused on moving forward. We crave the newest phones, the newest cars, the newest computers. The world around us is faster paced than ever before, Home cooked meals have been replaced with numerous fast food chains that seem to pop up over night, and dinner time conversation has become yelling at the television during a sporting event.

Instead of stopping to smell the roses, we are downloading digital ones. Social interaction is done by text messaging rather than actually speaking to one another. Education is becoming optional, with schools letting out more and more for pointless breaks. Higher education is too expensive for many, and our intelligence is measured by standardized tests.

We work hard to make money, and we dream of spending that money on grand and glorious things–like a vacation. But often times, it is the work itself that prevents us from doing much more than working. Never ending cycle.

With everything spinning so far and so fast, everything being propelled forward, it is very difficult for any of us to turn our heads and look into the past. Indeed, so often we are taught to keep our eyes forward and let the past remain in the past. It is important to not allow the past to rule us, no matter negative or positive. But it is equally important to remember that our history defines us as people.

I do not speak of such things like wars, and actions of our ancestors. I speak of our individual histories. The reason I have brought this up and made it a point to make a blog about it is I have been in a very bad place mentally for a few months now. As terrifying as it is for me to admit, this cycle almost broke me. I’ve cried more recently than I have in much of my life. I’ve felt more alone now more than ever before. It is difficult to hold on to hope, to hold on to dreams, when it feels as though the world around you is crumbling every time you look around. It was the closest I’ve come to being broken by my own mind in a very long time.

One night in particular I was in my bed, my mind racing with thoughts. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t do much more than cry. I had lost so much hope, and faith, in so many things….especially myself. You may be asking yourself now why I began the blog talking about society and the future, when now I talk about myself and the past. It’s simple. The past, for once, saved me. Instead of turning my thoughts to the future, I turned them to the past. Normally this is an equally terrible thing to do, as I have many demons and skeletons waiting to throw all of my mistakes in my face to rub salt into the wounds. I forced myself to focus on those who had passed before me. I focused on my grandfather, so hard until I could hear his voice. I focused on my friend after whom my daughter is named until I could hear her voice. I remembered them, remembered their smiles, their words. Death puts quite a bit into perspective. The living are caught in the fast paced, never ending cycle of the world around us…. but the dead are not. We are little more than the memories we leave behind. Those people, now gone, were proud of me. Those people, now given a fresh perspective and now no longer forced to follow in that cycle, have left memories fro me to recall and draw faith from. The memories from the dead are more comforting at times because of this.

This led to more happy memories. More happy snapshot moments in my head that helped me see that perhaps the world wasn’t a dark and cold place like it sometimes seems. It reminded me that…. sometimes we fail. Sometimes we fall. Sometimes we are beaten, and sometimes we are broken. Sometimes, however if we listen hard enough to our pasts, we’ll find whispers long forgotten that can help us pull through. They cannot necessarily heal us, no that is left up to us to do. The memories are a stepping stone. We cannot rely on the past to do everything for us, and we cannot fear the future. Needless to say the only thing that successfully committed suicide that night was the negativity rattling me to the core. It won’t stay away, obviously, as this is as much a never ending cycle as the new phones we crave each year. But for now, I can use my time to create a few more happy memories to use as ammunition in the future.

Another lesson I gathered from this, and this one made me truly rethink myself–We are a huge influence on other people. I began to wonder how many of my friends often found themselves in similar positions, searching their pasts for any hope, or any light in the darkest tunnel. It made me think…. Am I being the type of person that I want to be? Am I being the person whose memories would help pull them through? Am I being true to myself, and to those around me? It is quite a bit to think about.

It is now that I end with this. I urge each and every one of you to stop, for just a bit. Put down your phones, shut your computers, park your cars. Reach out to your friends, to your families. Love them entirely. You never know when it is your voice, memories of you, that may help pull them out of a bad place.

Through the Eyes of Jackie Spade

Hello again my faithful followers! You may have noticed my sudden disappearance again. There is a very good reason for that! A few, actually.

One: Lack of inspiration.

Two: Summer time at a hotel.

Three: Low swing.

I’ve kept the third one vague since that is the topic of today’s post. Wouldn’t make sense to spoil the ending before I’ve even started. Little teasing before we actually begin. 😉

First of all, what is up with the rude people that come out of the bottom of the barrel when it is summer time? I know it’s hot, but come on! Rudeness costs, people. Being polite will get you quite far, and pays better benefits. I want to badly to yell back at people when they act like assholes to me, but I’m paid to be nice. So I can’t. But yell at me when I’m off the clock and I will hurt you.

Nah, not really, but in my brain I’ve already killed you off in my next book. Painfully.

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I can move on to the actual purpose of this blog. I want to talk about Bipolar Disorder.

What does is Bipolar Disorder? I’m glad you asked! The National Institute of Mental Health gives us this as a definition:

Bipolar disorder, also known as manic-depressive illness, is a brain disorder that causes unusual shifts in mood, energy, activity levels, and the ability to carry out day-to-day tasks. Symptoms of bipolar disorder are severe. They are different from the normal ups and downs that everyone goes through from time to time. Bipolar disorder symptoms can result in damaged relationships, poor job or school performance, and even suicide. But bipolar disorder can be treated, and people with this illness can lead full and productive lives.

So is it a disorder, or an illness? Is it the same as manic depressive, or is it different? The definition changes from here to there as to what exactly it is, but anyone who has it understands all too well.

But Jackie, you ask, we already know what the definition is. What does it mean to BE bipolar?
Well okay, since you twisted my arm.

I realize I’m joking a bit throughout this blog, but the fact is, bipolar “disorder” is very serious. I’ve put a lot of thought into how I wanted to write this, and even now I question it. It’s hard to put into words, and explain to others, what you live through on a daily basis. Even worse is trying to explain it to others in a way they can understand and not think you’re over-exaggerating.

Being bipolar is not an easy task to handle. There are days when I wake up, and I’m in the best mood I’ve been in in days. The sun is shining, the grass is green, the air is clear and wonderful. My daughter is well behaved, my friends and I have deep conversations, and everything is all around perfect. Then there are days where everything goes to absolute hell, and I’m still manic.

You know sometimes you see people laughing at funerals? That’s what it’s like. When a bipolar person hits their high, manic state, it doesn’t matter what is going on around us, we simply cannot react the way a “normal” person should. Well, let me rephrase. I can only speak for myself, so I can’t react in ways a “normal” person is expected to. Everything can be crashing and burning around me, and I’m still giggling over a fart joke. It really is like turning into a five year old again. Everything’s funny, and I just want to prank people and so on. Everything feels like it’s moving so fast.

Then comes the crash. The crash is an interesting one. For me, it’s located some point after my everything-is-funny-haha-dead-people stage. The low swing hits, usually about as severely as a car crash, and suddenly…. It doesn’t matter how good everything is. I’m upset. I start crying for no reason. The jokes that my friends and I were making the day before suddenly hurt my feelings and make me want to cry. I feel like I’m trapped in a prison inside my own mind, and I want nothing more than to crawl out of my own skin and get as far away from myself as possible. I feel like an exposed nerve, and I’m frightened. I’m scared, and I’m alone. That’s what it feels like. I feel totally, and completely, alone no matter who I surround myself with. I want so badly to reach out to someone, and just be held. I want someone to say something to comfort me, but no one can find the right words. “What are the right words, Jackie?” Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know what the right words are until I hear them. Frustrating? Trying being in my head. Because just as suddenly as it comes on, it goes away. Now, this could take some time for it to go away, weeks or months even, but when it does go, it goes pretty quick.

My swings are typically unpredictable, so it’ll go one of two ways. One will be anger. Everything is personal, everything is out to get me. Everything is trying to hurt me, and damn it I’ll hurt it first. I hate everyone, and everything, and I just want it all to explode around me in a fiery blaze. I want to see destruction, I want to tear at the fabric of reality if it means I can rip this anger and hatred from my chest. All the while I feel as though I am drowning, in a lake of fire, and nothing I can do can stop it.

If I don’t go to anger, then I go to apathy. This is where I simply cannot feel anything. Now, those who know me know I can at times be very detached from my own emotions, sometimes without meaning to, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I have an entire moodswing dedicated to just that. When I am in this state, I just don’t care. I can’t even begin to understand why someone would care about it in the first place. Nothing makes sense to me, I don’t understand why people are happy, or sad. I don’t understand these little things that bring joy to people’s lives. I’m cruel, the things I would normally put a filter on (i.e. “Oh you got a hair cut? It looks…..nice….”), I let out in a cruel and harsh fashion (i.e. “Did you get in a fight with a lawnmower? That hairstyle is horrible. And while we’re at it, you’re not as pretty as you think you are.”)

When all of this is happening, I feel like a different person has taken control of my body. Someone will make a joke during one of the swings and I’m fine with it. Make the same joke during a different swing, and I’ll react differently. My points of view change, depending on my mood. Everything.

The other aspect that no one tells you is what happens during the swings that also cannot be predicted. According to the NIMH:

  • Talking very fast, jumping from one idea to another, having racing thoughts

  • Being easily distracted

  • Increasing activities, such as taking on new projects

  • Being overly restless

  • Sleeping little or not being tired

  • Having an unrealistic belief in one’s abilities

  • Behaving impulsively and engaging in pleasurable, high-risk behaviors

Just to name a few for you. The worst one for me is having unrealistic beliefs in my own abilities. I hold myself to a higher standard than everyone else around me. If someone else makes a mistake, it’s okay. But if I mess up, it’s the end of my own little world. Everyone is going to hate me or laugh at me, everyone’s going to mock me. How could I be so stupid for not doing this correctly, or how the hell did I not see that the first time? I hate making mistakes. “Normal” people brush off mistakes in a few hours, maybe a few days. I hold on to, and remember them, for years. They cripple me with fear sometimes to the point that I will just freeze. Everything freezes and shuts down. All because I made a mistake. Sometimes when I make mistakes, I want to just sit down and sob. Or I get angry. Or…you get the point.

Jackie, that sounds awful, you might say. Why don’t you go get medicated for it?
That’s a good question. One I debated answering for quite some time.

When I was younger I was on medication. And jeeeeeez I hated it. Remember that apathetic stage I was just telling you about? Mix in some paranoia and you have me on medication. I felt like a zombie, floating from one place to the next. I cut so I could feel something. Sometimes it was comforting. The more apathetic I got, the worse the cuts became. Soon I was cutting entire pieces of skin off with scissors. I knew if I kept going, I was going to die. So I tried to kill myself.
Then, suddenly, I was off the medication… and I felt better. I realized I never wanted to go back to that place, ever again. I never wanted my emotions to be dictated by some “magic pill”. I wanted to do this on my own. Yes, it is hard. It is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. But I do it.

How do you function in society, though? Warn everyone about your disorder?

No, I’ve perfected multiple persona’s. Does that mean you’re lying? No, not at all. Well, sort of I guess. It’s like putting on new clothes every day for me. I’ve got my “Professional Skin” (think business suit), my “Hey-I’m-The-Life-Of-The-Party!” skin, my “I’m here to comfort you” skin. And many others.

Why?

The honest answer is I want to give people what they want to see, rather than what is happening under the surface. My problems are frustrating and complex, and most of the time I cannot put them into words to make myself understand, let alone include anyone else on the ride. The other answer is… I don’t want to be crippled by my problems.

Why?

I don’t see being bipolar as a disorder. Being bipolar has opened my eyes, and made me see the world differently than “normal” people. Yes, there are many days that I absolutely hate it. Would I change myself? No. No, I really wouldn’t.

What I would change is the way society sees people like me. Thanks to the media spreading fear and lies (surprise, surprise), and people lying to get out of severe punishments, society is afraid of people with mental illnesses. We often fear what we don’t understand, and the fact is the definitions for most mental problems are constantly changing and evolving. It’s taboo to speak of. Getting mental help is difficult, and often expensive, and unless deemed “necessary”, most insurance companies won’t cover certain things. Being bipolar has made me a little afraid to talk about my “disorder” to others, because I don’t want any of them to think I’m going to go off the deep end and hurt my daughter, or shoot up a school, or yada yada.

No, listen here people. When I get into the absolute worst of the worst lows, where I am picking up razorblades or picking up pills, and wondering how much time I have to kill myself before I get caught, the only person I am trying to hurt/kill is ME. Let me repeat that. ME. Not my child, not my parents, not my friends, etc. ME. If a person does commit some horrible act, they might be bipolar, but there is something else mixed in with that. That’s right, people, these problems can be mix and match too!

The simple fact is we as a society need to stop being so afraid of it, and maybe, just maybe, encourage people to seek help.

I am not saying people shouldn’t take medication. I’m not saying you should. I can only speak for myself in these circumstances, or what my circle have friends have told me. These “disorders” are different for each and every one of us. That’s how it’s always been, and always will be.

As I stated earlier, it is incredibly difficult for me to truly put into words what it is I experience every day. But I hope this helps shed even just a little bit of insight into what it is like inside my brain.

 

Live and Let Live

Hello my lovely and loyal readers! 

I set myself a goal of posting a blog once a week. So far, I am failing miserably at it. But! In my defense… I have a terrible memory. And I’ve had a lot going on recently. Never fear, however! I’ve been composing this particular piece of writing for quite some time now. 

The good news about my job is I am allowed quite a bit of free time. Some of that is spent reading, other times I’m on the phone with my other late night friends, but most of the time I’m sat in front of my computer. It’s not that I’m neglecting any of my duties… it’s just….there aren’t many. Once my certain list has been completed, or the hotel has booked up, I have naught to do. 

That being said, I’m left with a lot of time to think. This can be a good thing, or it can be a very bad thing. This week I’ve discovered something new about myself. Well, more accurately, I’ve finally accepted something about myself. I am what the world would call a “Silent Judgmental” person. What this means is simply…I may not say I’m against it, but if I am, I’m judging. 

I don’t know why. I don’t do it all the time. I don’t go around pointing to random people going “Judging you. Yup, you two. Thought you could hide? Judging you, too. And you. Judge you and your mother.” No. I don’t even know why I judge the things I do. It’s none of my business, really, and it doesn’t harm me in the least. So why care? 

Why, indeed. 

What actually started this train of thought was one night I was watching Forensic Files (or, better known around my house, the Sleep Aid (It should be noted here that my family and I adore Forensic Files, but the narrator just has one of those soothing voices)), and they were doing crash reconstruction to verify the speed at which a vehicle was traveling at the time of an accident. They were using physics that were beyond my comprehension, and all I could think was “I bet those scientists got called nerds in school, and were picked on.” 

Which then led to another thought. That’s how my brain works. Think dominoes. Or train wrecks. Just don’t use physics. 

Why do people feel the need to judge another person based on their outward appearance, their likes/dislikes, religion, sexual orientation, etc if they differ from our own views/appearance? Why is it an automatic reaction as well? 

People are judged for being smart, and they are called nerds. Yet, those “nerds” are who we rely on when our loved ones are in crashes, and we need someone to prove the cause. 

Women are judged for the simple fact of being female, yet who do most men want to sleep with, or start a family with? Who takes care of them most of time? (clearly there are exceptions to the rules here)

Men are judged for the simple fact of being male, yet who do most females want to sleep with, start a family with? Who takes care of them most of the time? (See what I did there? I’m so clever.) 

The fact is, we as a society are pressed to pass judgement on everyone around us, UNTIL the perceived “flaws” in someone else can benefit us in some way. Why is this so? Why are we programmed like this? Is this a system we’ve been brainwashed with, or is it an evolutionary thing? 

I don’t understand the need to try and force other people to change, and when they refuse, bullying them because of it. I don’t understand why everyone has to confirm to this ideal of perfect. I embrace my flaws! I love my weirdness! I’m pride myself on being strange. I pride myself on my beliefs, my orientation, and my gender (until my period comes along and then I start begging for a penis), so forth. 

Are we trying to bring people to our level because it is a way to rise above them? Are we simply threatened by other people’s differences because we are not brave enough to wear our own on our sleeves? Is it envy and jealousy? I understand being annoyed by things. My friends like things I will never like, ever, no matter how hard you try you can’t make me nee ner nee ner *inhale* and they tend to keep talking about them. Meanwhile I start judging. Why? They like something I don’t, that doesn’t make anyone inferior or superior. My likes vs. Their likes, it’s not a damn competition. 

Same thing with sexual orientation. Where I choose to put my privates is no one’s business but my own. 

Religion: What god/gods/goddesses/nada I choose to worship, is MY business, and is between me and my deity/nothing.

It goes on and on. The fact is… Instead of encouraging hatred, or trying to make everyone conform to some impossibly high standard, why don’t we try something new? Clearly hatred, bigotry, and being judgmental aren’t getting us anywhere, so let’s try something more peaceful. 

Live. And Let. Live. 

Live your own life, enjoy your day, and do not dwell on the workings of others. If they are not hurting you physically, or invading your home and hurting your family, then you have no business meddling in anyone’s life but your own. 

Live and let live.

Let that lesbian couple hold hands in public. It isn’t going to hurt anyone. 

Let that black and white couple kiss and hug their child. Does that hurt you in any way? No. 

Live and let live. 

We cannot fix the world as a whole, because no one person, group, etc is correct or perfect. Perfection is an idea, not reality. Perfection is an ideal we try to hold ourselves to, and feel defeated when we can’t stick to it. We are not meant to be perfect creations, we are meant to live life to the fullest and embrace friends or family, love them entirely despite their differences. 

We can only fix the world one person at a time, and it starts within our own hearts, and our own minds. If your soul is black, how can you judge the colorful soul of another? Worry about your own problems before you start trying to “fix” others.Â