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It Better Not Steal Another Life!

Monday, January 30, 2012


I have a daughter, The Bipolar Princess, that's sick. She's really, really sick, life threatening sick.

Not only is she fighting worsening symptoms of bipolar, she got another MRSA infection. This one's not like the last ones. This one is consuming her body. Her immune system is gone from fighting the infection. Today she got the news from her doctor that she will probably need surgery to rid her body of the invasive infection. She sees the surgeon tomorrow.

The MRSA began on her thigh and now the doctors fear it's reached the bone. She's been on IV antibiotics as well as oral ones. Nothing's helping. It seems surgery is inevitable and in her weakened condition, both mentally and physically, it's very, very dangerous.

She called me in hysterics today after she got the news. There was nothing I could say, nothing I could do, but listen to her sobs. All I could do was listen and cry with the girl that will have another huge scar added to her collection of scars from dozens of surgeries.

I cried with the girl that's afraid, that's sick of being sick, that's trying to fight the curve balls thrown her way at each and every turn in the road. It's no wonder she feels like giving up.

Bipolar we can deal with. The possibility of losing her to a virulent staph infection scares the holy hell out of me. Losing my cousin to a staph infection several years ago only heightens my fear. This is serious folks, and this mama is scared. 






My Three Girls







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Ambien Hangover

Monday, January 23, 2012

Have you ever had one of those days when you couldn't get motivated and just wanted to go back to bed for a week or three? Well hello to today.


I ended up taking my meds way too late last night and feel like I'm dying here! Plus the new bed is so plush and comfy I just wanted to turn over, pull the covers over my head and take yet another ambien.That coupled with a new change in my medications is killing me today.


I'm sitting in Starbucks, as usual, reading blogs and I came across a new one called"Confessions From An Impulsive Addict." I loved her title so I had to check her out. She had a few questions on there and since my brain is in "no go" mode I thought I'd do them, like you don't already know everything about me. But, as I've said before, this is my blog and I can do what I want. So here goes. I'll see if I can even remotely entertain you. sigh, shrugs, and give me a little sympathy here. 



How I named my blog
Well, that's kind of obvious to everyone that knows me and, but I did do a post defending the "diva" part a couple of days ago. But if you don't know me, the title says it all. "Bipolar," and a tad, well a whole lot, spoiled, hence Diva.

What my least favorite exercise is.
That would be the exercise of putting my credit card back in my wallet. But if you're talking gym, that would have to be anything that requires me to use a piece of sweaty equipment.

What would my last meal be if I were on death row?
I really don't see the point in a last meal for those on death row. Plus I'd never make it to death row, John Walsh would never find me.


11 Random Questions




1. What's your most embarrassing moment?
I've yet to write about that, but I shall in a day or two. That is IF I can get the nerve up.

2. Why do you live in your current city?
We were transferred here by a rather unscrupulous company. It was the only time my husband has worked for someone other than himself in years and proved to be a great learning experience as well as a nightmare. As for living in the PNW from Texas, we were following work and wanted a new lease on life, a totally selfish and a not very well thought out, move on our part. Even though we adopted six great kids here, we destroyed many lives as well. But now that I have all these great kids I wouldn't change it.

3. Did you/Will you have sex on your wedding night?
That was 24 years ago, I don't think I can remember, plus it's a little foggy due to an abundance of champagne. 

4. What is one household appliance you can't live without? the minions are about the only ones that know how to use the appliances in my house. I guess for me it would have to be my blow dryer and straightener.

5. It's your birthday dinner and you can order whatever you want. What is it?
anything that allows me to enjoy the carnivore in me, oh, and creme brulee

6. Have you ever enjoyed a Captain and Diet Coke?
Never have

7. I should give up ______but I just can't do it yet.
Buying shoes and lingerie. Won't happen, never will. Now that my 18 year old is out I'm thinking knocking out the wall between my closet and his room to make a brand new, huge closet!

8. Approximately how many pairs of shoes do you own?
probably over 100 or so, and I just got rid of a ton!

9. Have you ever sucked a toe?
All the time. I have grand kids and it makes them laugh. They laugh, I laugh.

10. Do you have a secret talent?
If I do it's a secret to me. 

11. Are you really answering these silly questions?
Of course, they're getting me out of my funk, these and a few shots of espresso. 






Ok now off to the mall in search of black matte nail polish and considering actually writing about my most embarrassing moment. I think it was "Two Chicks and Their Peeps," I told it too already?






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Diva? Why Not Diva?

Friday, January 20, 2012

There's a girl I follow on Twitter that had a tweet come through that said, "you're NOT a Diva." So natch I had to read it. You know, with the paranoia that sometimes comes with bipolar, she HAD to be talking about me, right? After all, she does follow me too.

My, oh my. Girl is seriously pissed about people calling themselves "Diva." She states the word itself "annoys the shit," out of her and that she would love to "punch them in the throat," and "I sure as Hell won't take anyone seriously that calls themself a diva." Wow.

First of all "themself," is not a word. "Themselves," if you're wondering why I used that word in the last paragraph, is a word and is used when a compound subject has been used in the sentence to show that it refers to the same group.

Furthermore why is the mere word so annoying to someone? I guess it could be poor self esteem or envy maybe. Still can't figure that one out.

I kinda felt I had to defend myself, then I thought, "Would a Diva do that?" Hell no, she'd hire someone to do that. So I decided to pay a kid to transcribe this for me.

Fact is there are really a lot of reasons people may use that term. Mine is tongue and cheek. I mean, HELLO, I'm freaking CRAZY, how on earth could I be perfect? It's called an OXYMORON, ya know when you combine two contradictory terms? Kinda like "bipolar," and "Diva."

It's also a nickname I've had for years for trying to keep it together and look ok on the outside while I'm fighting this insidious disorder. Fact is I kind of act like it to cover for the insecurities in my life, over compensate I guess you can say.

I did write a post a while back comparing the two terms, "bipolar," and "Diva." I think it's pretty explanatory. Truth be told, the two terms do have a lot in common: grandiose ideas, spending, self absorption, etc. I think my psychiatrist would call those traits "psychosis."

I don't think a "real" Diva, whatever that is, would write a post basically telling the world what a failure she was. Yep, hand up. That was me.

Yes, I hide behind a lot of materialistic things, but I know why I hide. I hide because to look myself in the mirror and realize the hand I've been dealt, and passed on to my daughter, is a bit too much to handle most of the time.

But that's just it, I hide from myself. If you've read through my blog, even sporadically, you'll see I'm open and honest with the world about my short comings.

She has a right to her opinion, as we all do in this great nation of ours, but seriously, try to figure out if it's really just a play on words before condemning someone. 

Now, I'm off to have a bubble bath drawn for me and my pinky toe nail re-painted because I chipped it when I was trying on Louboutins this afternoon.

And before bed I'll down my hand full of anti psychotics with nice glass of Cristal that has been delivered to me in a crystal glass on a silver platter by the white gloved minions.



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It's All Going To Change

Monday, January 16, 2012

Nikki and Joshua

Joshua and Dad  

Tomorrow's the day we've been waiting for forever. Joshua leaves for Job Corps. He's my kid with autism/aspergers and has been a challenge from day one.

He tries his best, but sometimes his disability gets the best of all of us. He's really excited to be leaving and beginning his new life.

He's never been away from home and I'm afraid he'll be scared and homesick and I'm worried about bullies. He's all gung ho and knows it's going to be hard, but he seems determined to make a go of it.

His area of study is Culinary Arts. If he does well in the program there, he'll be transferred to San Francisco to take advanced Culinary Arts for a year.

After that year Job corps will work with him for another year transitioning him into a job and into independent living. He'll also have the opportunity to have two years of college paid for.

The program is a God send, especially since he was found ineligible for our County Developmental Disability services for his autism. We're hoping he'll listen more to the counselors at the center than he does his parents.

Job Corps is an incredible opportunity for him. The first two weeks he will have a counselor that will work getting him acclimated to the program. The second two weeks he'll be in training 8 hours a day working on independent living skills, budgeting, paying bills, finding housing and making it on his own in the world. After that he plunges full force into his area of study.


Here's to Joshua, here's to us and here's to his new beginning!

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"Just Missing Jack Nicholson"

Saturday, January 14, 2012

That was the Facebook status update the other day from my daughter. Karli, A Bipolar Princess, entered an intensive all day (home at night) hospitalization this past week. She goes in at 8 AM and leaves about 3:30. It will last for several weeks. She's not being admitted because she's been deemed not to be harmful to herself or to others. She can go in on the weekends, but doesn't have to.

She's in several group therapy sessions, some private sessions and lots of medicinal juggling in the hope of finding the "magic" cocktail all of us suffering from bipolar search for.

I gather from a conversation with her that she's doing lots of self preservation and keeping her distance from others.

She made a rather strange comment. She said that being in there makes her grateful for how "crazy" she's not. Evidently there's lots of head banging and a woman living in a world of grandeur. She's in a full length, gold sequined, ball gown with perfect hair and way too much make up.

Karli met with the on staff psychiatrist that told her since she was "used to living with hallucinations," they would only address her PTSD and help her grieving process over Isaiah's death.

Come on! Who in the hell would be "used to living with hallucinations?" Who would want to continue having them in their life. That's the main reason she went there in the first place.

The hallucinations are always present and terrifying. I can't imagine, since my bipolar isn't at the level as hers is, having to live watching frogs and spiders hop and climb on everything all of the time.

Her hallucinations have increased to auditory ones. She said she Jakob was sitting on the couch with her the other day with her having a normal conversation when she realized that he had been in school for several hours.

I hate this for her, I hate it for her kids and I hate it for her husband. Mostly though I feel guilty for passing on something to my child that has put her in a terrible position. I feel badly for being frustrated with her because of a situation she can't has no control over.

My only hope is that the hospital and the intensive therapy will give her some relief and that she'll find the path to recovery.

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Not So Cool Anymore

Friday, January 6, 2012




The adventures of a wandering son. Here's the first part.
Cole called me today. "Mom, how do I get an epi-pen?"
Oh this was not going to be a good conversation. We found out Cole was severely allergic to bees when he was in first grade. The school had called. He had been stung by a honey bee and his face had begun to swell. By the time I got to the school, which was across the street, he was going into shock. We raced him to the doctor's office and they whisked him away. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but my son was dying. His system was shutting down from the allergic reaction. He hasn't been without his trusted epi-pen since. If he gets stung again he removes the stopper from the vial and jabs the pen on to his thigh. The pressure releases the needle and epinephrine is released into his system giving us enough time to get him to a hospital.
"Cole, you have to have a prescription for one. You need to go the doctor and ask for one before you go."
He informed me that he thought that was stupid and that he had an old one he could take. I'm imagining this fast-food encased, gunk covered, shattered epi-pen. Ok so now I'm going to get hives.
"Oh, and by the way, our plans have changed."
Stay calm, I tried to remind myself. Oh this isn't sounding good. My mom instincts are telling me to sit down and hold on to something, anything, it's gonna be a bumpy phone call.
"We're hitchhiking to Vegas instead!"
I was right, it's gonna get worse before it gets better. Seems Smart Boy and his sidekick, Brilliant Kid, are leaving tomorrow. Hitchhiking to Vegas. Through the desert, Death Valley to be exact. My suburban raised son and his friend in the desert with desert creatures like rattlesnakes and scorpions scares more than just a little bit. This is a kid that stole acorns from a wild squirrel, and was attacked by one pissed off nut-less animal.
Then he tells me the best part. When they leave Vegas, they're going to go "up through Arizona.” Just like that train he thought was going to California he had once jumped that was actually gong to Montana. Oh Good God! I think I did a pretty good job at remaining calm, partly because I couldn't speak and partly because he's going to do it anyway. This way, he'll call me when, if, there's a problem. He did agree to call me at every major town and then he left me with the spine-chilling phrase "that way you can call the police if we don't call when we should.” Great thing to tell a mom, especially one that fights anxiety under the best of circumstances.
On one hand, I am excited for him. It'll be an incredible once-in-a-lifetime experience. On the other hand I have this feeling that I'll see him on a new Las Vegas episode of "COPS,” and I guess that would be a good thing compared to all the other dreadful things a mom's mind can conjure up.
He said he'll be gone for about 4 weeks. I hope I can last that long, and I hope he takes a camera.


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And He's On His Way

Thursday, January 5, 2012

No, that's not his hair. It's his coon-skin cap. Appropriate I think.
I wrote this in 2008 when my son informed me of an adventure he had decided to take. Watching him with his baby now I realize just how far he's come in the last 3 and 1/2 years.




JUNE 2008
My oldest son, Cole, has been out of the house for a few years and is trying to become his own, uh, well ya know, grown up person I guess.
Cole's 6'3”, handsome, charming, has great personality, is so funny and well, he's a 23 year old of the male persuasion. Cole was born an adventurer, an absolute incredible baby and he was so much fun to raise. Fun and exploration were on the top of Cole's list the entire time he was growing up. There are entries and entries that could be written about the experience of raising such a child. Jumping from, and climbing buildings in down town Portland, fires, running away and sleeping under a bridge downtown with 5 friends with only one blanket, as well as being terrorized by “little people,” that’s a story in itself. He is covered with scars from fights or being pushed through windows, and he decided to explore the bomb shelters hidden in the dark maze of the old Clackamas High School. So there's Cole in a few words.
Anyway the child that inherited my sense of adventure was not blessed with common sense, he has my impulsivity. Just one tiny example: when you run away from home and want to go to California, don't hop on an eastbound railroad car, Montana's not far off when you don't know shit about directions!
So Cole came to see me today. He had that "mom I have something that's really gonna freak you out smile.” Now that I think of it, it's a lot like his " I want something" smile. Anyway, here's the plan. He's leaving Wednesday with his friend. They're going to hitchhike to California, part of the way they'll be in a canoe and part on a "homemade Huck Finn" raft. I'm just looked at him, what could I say? He's been talking about this for years. He and his friend are so excited. They're taking a small amount of money, they want to "live off of the land,” I think it’s more that they’re totally broke. I have a feeling by the second day they'll resort to road kill over an open fire for dinner.  They're going to camp along who knows where. The first question I asked was if they'll have a camera. I know them, it will be an adventure, if they don't get killed or accidentally kill each other before they get back. He's 23, I can't stop him and I don't think I want to. He needs to follow his adventurous heart while he's young and can. Oh I'll be freaked out until I hear from him, but I have a feeling they'll come though this just fine. I hope it's more than wishful thinking.


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The Bipolar Diva: Constraints

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

The Bipolar Diva: Constraints: Somewhere between consciousness and the darkest shadows of sleep lies a parallel universe where dreams and reality are melded into one. It i...

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Constraints

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Somewhere between consciousness and the darkest shadows of sleep lies a parallel universe where dreams and reality are melded into one. It is a place where we are not bound by earthly constraints and our innermost fears and desires are lived out in the most amazing detail.  We, as well as those that came before us and those who come after us, are free to enter and leave as we wish.

It is to that altered existence I find myself increasingly drawn.  In that ethereal plane most responsibilities and difficulties of life are released and I am free to discover inner most truths and to follow the whims of my heart. These are times I have grown to treasure and my visits to this reality occur with greater frequency. 

Judgment is not passed and assorted relationships can be explored without fear of discovery or retribution.  It is during these precious few hours that those connections that have been severed can once again be enjoyed. And those that have yet to form are brought to fruition.

After hours of indulgence I find myself reluctantly being pulled back to the bonds of this terrestrial plane. I am left with only vivid memories and cannot help but wonder about the authenticity of these times and if I alone participated.

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A Dose Of Testosterone

Monday, January 2, 2012

It takes a lot to shock me, a mean, ya know, after raising a ton of kids, dealing with all kinds of people in business, and just basically everything that's happened in my life in the last 49 years has me pretty well prepared to handle most anything.

I say most because tonight I saw something that actually made me scream from sheer shock. It was like coming face to face with a chupacabra.

My son has graciously allowed me to post this tonight. I think he took some sort of sadistic delight in hearing my shriek.

We began having said son tested this past year for what began as a low thyroid condition, which led to testing for a brain tumor, that then led to testing for Cushing's disease. I know what you're thinking. "What in the hell is wrong with her family? They ALL have some weird thing going on." Am I right? Of course I'm right.

While testing for all of the above conditions the endocrinologist decided to run a genetic test on a hunch. And it paid off. My son has a condition called Klinefelter's Syndrome. She hit pay dirt. My son has this syndrome which means instead of having the normal XY chromosomes, he has an extra X. So he's XXY. It actually explains a lot of what's been going on with him.

Having the extra X means his body doesn't produce enough testosterone on it's own. He'll be 21 in May and was shaving maybe once every month or two, he still has eight baby teeth, and the list goes on.

He's been on the treatment for about six months now. The treatment consists of applying a testosterone gel to his shoulders and chest every day for the rest of his life. I asked him if he noticed any difference besides his facial hair growing in thicker and at a much faster pace. He said, "As a matter of fact yes. I'm growing a little hair on my arms."

"You mean under your arms?"

"No Mom, I mean ON my arms."

"Let me see."

"Ok," he said as he smirked and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt.


I'll let you be the judge of whether my gasps of horror were justified or not. Here's a pic of my smiling, handsome son. Click the pic to see what scared the holy shit out of me.




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