Got them BiPolar Blues and no Gun

I’ve been wondering what all the fuss is about worrying about guns killing people?  Another sad shooting in a school.  A grade school.  Innocent children.   I get all that.  I feel, I scream, I weep for those people.  But, thinking about..GUNS.. being the killers.  That’s seems so lame when you separate it from the rest of the argument to be pro-gun. Does a kid with some mental health issues make the final argument to remove guns from the hands of another class of people?

I shouldn’t have a gun.

I am considered mentally ill.  I’m Bipolar.  I am plagued by PTSD.  A couple weeks ago the therapist sent me off to the crisis center to be re-evaluated to see if I were a danger to the people around me.  Yeah, they thought I was potentially homicidal.  I don’t own a gun.  Now the police have an excuse to pick me up at the bus stop for loitering. Funny. Nope, it ain’t.

I am Pro Gun.  I don’t think the government can tell anyone that they can’t possess a firearm.  Some might say that’s pretty crazy, and I would agree.   I just don’t see a middle ground.  Constitution speaks of “a well trained militia’ and I think that is what the founding fathers meant. .. organized and trained…like our military, our National Guard.  They didn’t expect the government to conscript every able body in the country to call them to arms?  So everyone need not have a gun.  I don’t feel the need to own a gun.  I don’t have any inkling to want to go kill people…and that is the argument of guns..GUNS…kill people…not People.  Pfft.

Crazy bitch pulled that trigger who many times?  Shot his Mamma!  And Mamma has .223 just hanging around the house?  Something doesn’t smell right here.  And I just don’t think it had anything to do with the laws, or the type of firearms.  Why do you think we give a situation like this so much recognition?  Why do we wonder …why?

For the last several days the TV is inundated with this shooting and now the blow back of the argument for and against gun control and the masses.  It’s making my brain hurt.

I’m one of those people who are wanting to know why a kid, whom they say suffered from ‘some mental illness’  wasn’t getting the attention and care, devotion and compassion that might have kept those guns out of his hands?

We know there is no stopping the bad guys from having guns.  We know many feel the right to have guns. We know many feel the right to restrict guns. Would somebody please look closer at the kids who are resorting to this kind of infamous mass murder and follow the patterns.  Men kill men.  Always have. Now they have bigger toys.

I don’t know who to feel bad for.  I am bouncing back and forth.  Angry and very sad. And I am already sick of seeing it plastered all over the media for the wrong reasons, and then to see it spun the other way like they are respecting the dead children.  Everybody loses until we see what trigger set this young man off the edge.  Yeah, mental illness.

Some people, just shouldn’t have access to guns.  And that is contradictory for me.  What I am certain of;  I don’t need a gun.  Well, not unless the world starts to end soon. hehe

the BiPolar Bounce

Today was the first time I have seen a medical doctor in just over a year.  I never know whether I feel inundated with the system at large, or whether I am a disappearing digit in the monstrous machine?    Having to re-recite the lifetime of physical and mental health issues gets old.  I wish they would just pull the records and review them.  I want them to know where I have been and I want to feel less like “just another patient before it’s time to clock out” patient who is more than the sum of my Birthday and Full Name.  And; “by the way..what did you say the last 4 digits of your social was hun?”

Most of the time the panic going into a doctors’ office is overwhelming.  I held my ground today.  I rode a new bus route and saw a brand new doctor.  I had blood drawn and got appropriately poked and prodded.  Everyone was wonderful, cheerful, helpful and sympathetic to my need to be under regular medical care.  That felt great.  Helped to keep me focused on knowing I was safe.

On the other hand; in filling out all the paperwork and history feels so sterile.  So wrote. So surreal.  I’m trying to condense my life and the lives of my immediate family down into a 4 minute rundown. Pop, swish, scribble, scribble..and your 10 minutes are up.  All that was before the doctor came.

Dr. Doris was wonderful, kind and gentle.  And happy to see me take an active part in my care.  I ask lots of questions.  And today, I got right down to business.  It also meant I had her ear, and time to cover my expectations and needs of being there.

So, out today for another step forward and a new bus route..yikes. then the office experience..boom freaked… boom high, boom kinda scary, boom mellow happy, boom, more bus, getting dark, safe and sound and feeling bounced.

Retiring with tea and a book comfortably medicated and feeling accomplished.

Here sits the life of being Bipolar.

counting

Dulcimer and drum and having fun.  Just dancing.  Some days can be very god.

Dulcimer and drum and having fun. Just dancing. Some days can be very god.

I’ve been a sad excuse for being an upright being over the last summer.  Things just seemed to fly south losing my therapy hours for the Bipolar, and PTSD.  County wouldn’t fund any more hours.  Kind of lost my grip on things for a while.  I’m still swinging, and trying to make the best of it.  To go with the manic compulsions.  That was the dancing day in November.  The Harvest Faire at the local herb farm.  Love spending time there.  They are family..but…they aren’t..but yes, to me..They Are Family.  Exactly what they are supposed to be.  It was a wonderful day and I just let go. Just let it go.

So some several months have passed and all I can do is count the mornings I wake up and get to have another chance to do more, or maybe to do better.  I really love summer time and spending time outside, and this spring/summer I have just holed up and shut down.  Having those county hours sent me into a panic attack and they shipped me off to the Crisis Center.  Felt like jail.

Month after that I in the hospital with a hemoglobin of 4.5  They wondered how I walked into the emergency room.  So there I count some more.  Five days in intensive care getting lots of transfused blood.  And two more days after that.  Was weeks before I started making blood again and started to gain some strength.  More days lost.

So I swing.  The attitude shifts, the confusion, the sadness, just so overwhelming.  Bipolar is no fun.  Some days I can feel the weirdness and understand that I’m not reading the situation sensibly.  Do some more counting.  1,2,3…

Some things feels a bit better these last few weeks.  I’d like to get back on track here.  Really slack.  Not even reading.  Been really hard to look at.  Accept.  Admit. Really look at. So I guess counting the days till I can feel it on here instead of out here.  XX