Confessions of a Bipolar Baker

Welcome to my sweet upside down world.

[astraystayyh]

THIS!!!!!!!!!! most of us feel like we aren't doing enough because we can't physically stop a genocide but speaking helps!! pressuring helps!! boycotting helps and protesting helps!! please don't give up on Palestinians not when the entire world has turned their backs on them

here is how YOU can help Palestine

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

First line:

"It was a time of guilty pleasures, and I have no regrets. Our child, however will need therapy after reading this."

- my autobiography...

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

The Prequel

"Welcome to my sweet upside down world."

In 2013 I wrote my first blog piece. I had (have?) zero followers, I rarely posted — at one point it was 2 years between, and yet I still held on to this need to write. "Someone, somewhere wants to hear my story."

Today I’m sitting on my front porch, it’s an unusually warm October day, contemplating things that two decades ago I never thought would be in my brain — Why is my wife upset with me? When do we have to leave for our trans son’s LGBTQ group meeting? Are we taking the dog with us? What will this drive look like next week after the 2024 election?

I'm writing again, today, because aforementioned Wife (THE bestest wife everrrrr) has asked me to take time to focus on my writing - for the first time ever. My goal - share my life. Lots of people - when I share my story/ies - find it interesting. I often think it's quite ... normal? Is that the word? Maybe. If nothing else I feel like I can keep the attention of most people when I share. We shall see. I'm not sure what order makes the most sense, but I have lots of stories to tell, and I am confident they will make their way here.

Shall we?

-Yes, let's.

First blog post - May 14th, 2013:

There is a saying in yoga practice when doing inversion asanas (upside down poses):  inversions help you to see your world upside down in practice so you know how to deal better with upside down moments in life.

Let’s just say that I’ve been doing a lot of inversions lately.

Hello, I am the self-titled Bipolar Baker… And welcome to my sweet upside down word.

I was only recently diagnosed, as of May 9th, 2013… Not even a week now.  And yet, it feels like I have lived with this disease all my life.  I’m already comfortable with its company.  My official diagnosis is Bipolar I, rapid cycling, with mixed mania, and Anxiety Disorder.  Sounds like fun, right?  Actually, it is quite fun… 

When I’m in my mania, I am a hoot!  I am the social butterfly, the Carrie In The City, the best friend you just met.  I am super over productive: writing a 1,450 word paper for school in three hours — in APA format, with citations and five references, without an outline. I am the baker baking forty-eight  cupcakes from scratch, with homemade raspberry soufflé icing, individually wrapped in lace and prepped for the bridal shower that is less than ten hours away, which I then co-host with flair (constantly having to remind myself, of course, that I am NOT the center of attention for the next two hours).  I am the organizer of clothes into rainbow rows, by type, from left to right, separated by specific hangers into three sections — pants, tops, and dresses/skirts, even coordinating my underthings in their drawers by color.

Color rules my world most days.  I get caught up in feeling the deep, cellular green of the late spring leaves inside my head.  I watch the wispy feather white clouds drift in slow motion across the infinite Carolina blue sky.  I study the amber and coal and hematite hairs on my dog’s coat as he lays beside me, head on my thigh.  I see colors as moods, and as auras.  It is my gift and my burden as an empath, only adding to the complexity of my mind.  In my mania I see starbursts of yellow and honey gold following little children, chasing their worries away…  

Luckily, the downs don’t stay as long.  “The Crash” I have named it. The free fall after the mania.  It is quick and steady: a ride down the steep side of the roller coaster, G-forces pulling at my heart, then a quick upturn to baseline, stomach churning, to wait for another incline, steady again climbing up up up.  On grey days baking and my yoga pull me up.  I have never found baking difficult, which is how I know it is my “out” when I have crashed.  It is the one sweet thing where I can lose my mind, both figuratively and literally.  My yoga practice I revel in: morning yoga to invigorate, day yoga to stay motivated, evening yoga to be thoughtful, and night yoga to burn off the stored energy from the day.    Usually the night yoga involves the inversions — head stands, bridge pose, arm stands, wheel pose…  Feet high above my heart to remind me: be grounded in the air, let that which is real rise above your wounded heart, and let your heart rise above your head. 

Again, this is simply the walkway, the entry to my world.  I hope you can join me for a few trips, or maybe just one spin...  Either way, I hope it's a sweet ride.

#Bipolar #anxiety #mania #rapid cycle #writer #wlw #lgbtq

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

3.5.21

here we go again.

mundane.

yesterday was less than mundane. i had an actual panic attack, although at least not earth shattering. this goddam broken brain of mine has ruined so much, and yet it still manages to say loud and clear how much of a failure i am. why can’t it suck at that? instead of not letting me finish a book, or pushing me to do everything all the time and worry about all the possible outcomes.

i asked my therapist why i was so damn tired - (for a variety of reasons i’m sure) and we landed on “it is exhausting to try to control your thoughts and words and actions, and be mindful of what you say and do and think all day, every day”

the epiphany before that was that my body remembers the feelings of fear at a cellular level, so even when i can logic my way out of something the physical part of it is often out of my control. 

other therapy gems: 

manage you expectations

people show you who they are, believe them

i’m sure there are more, but i can’t think of them this morning.

mood swing- don’t feel like writing anymore. gonna go. 

[newtonpermetersquare]

Old now

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

new to me - love this.

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

3.3.21

i’m supposed to write each day, with the mundane thoughts of things i did yesterday, not in order, just as they come to me.

took my mom to get her taxes done, bought her a crown for her birthday (tomorrow) at the dollar store and took a picture of her standing on the porch wearing it - she’s so freaking adorable. sent that pic to my friend Scoop who mentioned she’s a small human so how am i tall? which led to me realize i have no clue how tall my dad is nor can i ask him since we aren’t speaking anymore.

we had taco tuesday, i made margaritas on ice - and am just now this very moment trying to justify calling sauza on the rocks with a splash of limeade a “margarita”, but meh. 

my kid woke up happy, which was huge because the night before was SO windy and i was up from midnight to 130am listening to it, thinking of my mom who would say “babies are restless with the wind” and how much i haaaaaated windy nights when they* were little. *i’m trying very hard to use the they/them pronouns, it’s still not natural but i want to be respectful of their decision, even tho i’m still not sure i fully understand the need for a pronoun change for bisexuality, i can however relate it to my last name changing when i got married and how vital that was to my identity, so i wonder if they want to change their name as well?

i didn’t write yesterday, tired from the night before. i’m doing well with my sleep, i think. bed between 1030/11 and up easily at 8/830. i’m going to have a super hard time in the fall when they both go back to school (stepson included in the they there). i worry that it will be too taxing on my kid, that waking up at 8 for an 830 class is easy, even waking up at 730 for an 8am class is easier, but having to get up again at 650/7 to put on a uniform, be awake, eat, drive to school for 750 attendance ... iiiiiii don’t want to do that.

i made a messy bun.. this has become a new thing i do since i hate my long hair and want it chopped but i’m one of those people who hasn’t left the house for anything social or personal since march 13th 2020 and getting my hairs did isn’t worth it. i’m mad about that - i feel like i am one of the last bastions holding out in desperation, alone.

i put on pants. this is a joke, but it’s also very serious. the daily habits that people do when they don’t have a broken brain still baffle me. Scoop said “self awareness doesn’t alway lead to self understanding” and dammit he’s right. 

bff invited me to come and walk with me today, but it’s probably too late in the morning now, she is up with the sun to take care of her kids and her husband and go to work, and i am left in bed here at 853 trying figure out what pants to wear.

3.3.21

[thundergrace]

I can't stress enough that people need to be aware that there are doctors who are "just okay" at their jobs. Who barely passed their boards and/or had to retake courses and/or had scores so low they even had a hard time matching at the end of med school.

Please seek second opinions. Third, even. Ask the doctors endless questions. Challenge them if something doesn't feel or sound right. Don't stroke their egos by being intimidated by their perceived intelligence.

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

Poe Forrest

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

Low Bridge, Poe Forrest 

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

running from my demons

nope. still don’t like running. 

but i had horrible dreams last night and just decided to put on shoes and go for a run. i dreamt about walking over shattered glass, flat shards that didn’t cut my feet. as i looked down at them they seemed like pebbles, i was mad they were there, i was mad i had to walk over them, i was mad someone broke glass. i picked up a piece - it was oblong, like a parallelogram i thought. i held it tight in my hand, indignant in my anger, feeling self righteous - how could THEY? 

another sleep cycle or two later, easily after 515am (i know this because i looked before i fell asleep again). i’m going in to a grocery store withe my sister and her granddaughter, we buy candy at one of those quarter clicky turny things, with the metal red lids. we are shopping, we meet a handsome clerk - i make the observation that we are all wearing denim and we laugh. i feel a hot rush of embarrassment? anxiety? i feel like i need to leave, go, run. i find a room, like a changing room in a clothing store. i try to lift my top off - maybe if i take this layer off it i will cool off, something will change, i will be settled. but i can’t get it off my torso, can’t lift it any higher than my chest. it’s tight, tighter, i can’t get my arms to move to pull it up and off or down. it feels desperate, claustrophobic, is this how i will be found- strangled by my own clothing? i try again - duck my head down, throw my arms up, the top moves over my mouth and i inhale the fiber of the fabric - i wake with a gasp to morning light. it’s 711am. dammit i have an hour more i can sleep if i try... i’m determined at that moment to get up and run today.

on my excursion today i find a walking path “now open! walking path! and scenic bridge!” it’s less than impressive, but i get a cool photo. and disturbingly i find a tree stump with pieces of glass sitting on top of it, like a forrest shrine. a green piece, a clear bumped bottom of a bottle, two others. i walk a few steps forward and find a milky shard, lightly sticky with mud from the rains yesterday. i place it on the alter. i’ll come back again.

even though i still don’t like running.

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

what is this mood? ... i think it’s longing. maybe.

feeling lost tonight.

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

this view is within walking distance of my house. ...also behind me is a four lane highway, but, whtevs.

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

me: walking and out of breath... phone rings

her: are you breathing heavy? did i interrupt something?!

me: no... just walking, and out of breath.

her: Oh that's so great! i love running, it tones up everything, and gets you so firm! we should schedule a time for us to workout together!

me: absolutely not.

her: yay! let's look at - wait - what?

me: absolutely not.

her: i thought you were going to say absolutely yes! why?

me: because you are good at it, and i hate it.

her: oh. then... okay... so...

me: how's work?

(*insert other small talk)

her: so, i should let you get back to your walking! call you later! love you!

...

and thus begins the first invasion of my peaceful journey to not hate running.

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

I don’t think we’re allowed to say “hindsight is 20/20″ anymore. This bitch did NOT give us clarity or vision, she smacked us upside the head with chaos and left us crying in the shower. Maybe if we learn some shit we can say Hindsight is 20/21.

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

When the blue shoes were new, May 2018.

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

12.1.2020

It’s now been another two years since I was on here. (Helloooooo hypomania.) Before I go back and fill in all the pieces, how about a rant from today?

I started a coach to 5k -ish type thing today. Because my new psych doc told me to. And I kinda feel like he’s right, and I also kinda hate him for it. Apparently running is good for overall brain health... I’m sure there’s research somewhere (feel free to share what you got). He changed some of my meds (increased and added) - which I totally agree with, no beef there. He seems like a good fit - and after a year of being without a psych, that is no small feat. 

And now, here I am, eating my peanut butter toast, and dark chocolate covered bananas, sipping a (homemade) iced vanilla latte, deciding I want to get back to journaling. Writing. Whatever you wanna call it.  Basically, I just want to have a place to vent about how much I super duper HATE running. 

There. I said it. I hate running. I hate putting on the Costume of running - too tight pants that cut in to my stomach. Do I wear underwear? Sports bras constricting my chest, too thin straps digging in at my shoulders. Who knows what top layer to wear - more too tight long sleeves, or just a racer back tee, under a puffy coat (that apparently No, I’m NOT supposed to wear that... whatever).

This won’t be ALLLLL complaining. Mostly, but not all. 

I like the bright florescent colors of my pants, that I have cool socks to wear, and my shoes are almost new. I like knowing I did it - as little as I feel I actually accomplished today - I did SOMETHING today. I liked the shower. I liked that I took time to put on face cream - oh shit, I forgot to put on deodorant. I like that for now this is my little secret - only two other adults know about this, and one I live with so hiding it would be difficult ;) The other one, Scoop - you know who you are - has been a solid supporter of this next endeavor. We’ve decided in a weird way that he will live his lost running life vicariously through me. Oh - and, I mean, this could be a thing - I like that my wedding dress will fit better if I keep this running thing up (and the aforementioned man in my life is super excited to see how it affects, um, my wardrobe... we’ll say wardrobe. 

More negatives, for funsies: 

I hate that I clench my jaw when I run. Since I started running back in 2009 I used to say “running is bad for my teeth” because I would clamp them down so hard I was afraid I would crack them.. I cannot tell you how many times I have bitten my tongue whilst running. The taste of metal and "working out” go hand in hand in my brain. 

I hate that I forget to bring things. By that I mean I am always surprised at how woefully underprepared I am when I head out the door. Tissues- forgot. Earbuds that fit in my coat - nope. Charge the phone - totally did but then forgot to put it on low battery mode and it died only ten minutes in. Headband ear warmer - again, nope. Left that in my car, that I walked past on the way. Ah- deodorant. Yep. Forgot that too. Not that I need it, I have that weird gene that my sweat doesn’t smell bad - look it up, it’s a thing. Warm up stretch - shit. I mean, I stretched in bed before I got up, and had to bend over to put on my shoes - that counts for half, right?

I hate the headache I get after. I don’t drink enough water, that’s on me. But for as long as I can remember I’ve always had headaches after exercising - whatever form it may be: swimming, yoga, sex, hiking, roller skating, dancing... always a headache after strenuous physical activity. Water. I’m sure water is the answer. Also 

I hate water. And I know I need it. blahhhhhhhhhhh. This has nothing really to do with starting running, but I thought I’d throw it in there.

I’m having a hard time understanding the “runners high” concept. I don’t ever remember having that. Even with two 5ks behind me, and all the practice runs leading up to them.... I was proud of us for DOing them (me and the kiddo), I was blissfully happy to have them BEHIND me. The endorphin rush I’ve heard about and read about doesn’t ever seem to come my way. I wonder if that’s related to my botched biochemistry, my headaches, my bipolar.... or am I just not doing it right?

For now, one day down. I sure as hell hope my Fitbit tracked today. Shit. Imma go check.

Later peeps.

-Me

[confessionsofabipolarbaker]

He spoke for me. I speak for him. A quote I live by now.