I don't ever wanna let anyone down...

Today has been a really hard day.

No particular reason. Woke up, and within seconds could just tell that it was going to be a struggle just to make it through. One of those dark cloud, black hole, cannot find the light no matter how hard you look kind of days. The kind where it feels like apathy swallowed your heart and you couldn't bring yourself to care if your life depended on it. The kind filled with the confusion of somehow being numb and in pain all at the same time.

Ya, one of those days.

It started with me in tears on the kitchen floor because the jam I tried to make for my sister didn't turn out. This tiny mistake brought on a wash of failure shame that I am still struggling to make it out of 10 hours later.

I don't want to let anyone down.

I can't let anyone know how poorly I'm doing, I don't want to let them down.

A very wise online sister, and an incredibly smart close friend have repeatedly told me that I am too hard on myself. I guess I am. I don't know how to be anything else.

I feel like I am letting down my daughters by not being the healthy vibrant mother they deserve. I feel like I am letting down my parents for not succeeding and thriving as an adult after all the promise I showed as a child. I feel like I'm letting my sister down because I have not been able to reach out in kindness to her since a ridiculous meaningless fight almost 3 years ago. I feel like I am letting society down by being a drain instead of an asset. I feel like I have let down countless friends, family members, and partners in the last 20 years just by being unable to be consistent, reliable, and supportive. And I feel like I am letting myself down. By still being sick. Still being weak and unable to fight. Still being stuck, and lost, and hopeless. By not doing more, not being more.

The truth is I let myself down every day. It's rather easy, because if I am honest I don't feel that I deserve any better. It's hard to fight for someone that you don't feel is worthy of fighting for. It's hard to get better when deep down you're pretty sure pain is all you deserve.

I don't like myself. I don't. I haven't in a really, really long time.

So I overcompensate. I try to be pretty so that people won't catch on that I'm sick. I try to be thin, because how can you be sad when you're skinny? I spoil my daughters to alleviate some of the guilt of being a sick, semi-absent mother. I buy really nice gifts for my family, because in my deluded mind this will make them believe that I am doing well so that they never catch on to how badly I am struggling.

I don't want to let them down.

I don't want to spend 2 weeks in Saskatchewan at my parents' house over Christmas. It is hard on me mentally, emotionally, and physically. My daughters want that, my parents want that, so I do it anyway.

I don't want to let them down.

Mine has become a life of smoke and mirrors. If I distract everyone with a pretty shiny outside, and throw on a fake smile no one will ever realize how broken and pathetic I am.

It hurts. It hurts all the time.

But I don't want to let them down.

Can I even believe anything I tell myself anymore?

Have you ever broken a promise to someone you care about?

It feels terrible. We feel guilt, disappointment, and if you're like me vow to make it up to them however we can.

Why is it not the same when we break a promise to ourselves?

I remember a time, a younger happier time, when anything I decided to do or told myself I was going to do got done. It wasn't an issue. There was no question. If I wanted it I went out and got it. If I told myself I was going to do something it darn well got done. I made decisions, albeit it easier ones than those I face now, with confidence and ease. And once a decision was made, that was it. There was no second guessing, no doubt, no decision paralysis, no problem. Decision made, action taken. Every time.

I don't remember the first time I broke a promise to myself. I wish I did. I wish I could remember if it was hard. If I felt the same guilt, disappointment, and need for redemption that I have felt the times I broke promises to other people. I wish I could remember the second, third, and fourth time as well. I wish I could remember so that I could see just how quickly any negative feelings disappeared. So that I could see just how quickly I went from dependable and constantly following through, to not believing a damn word I say to myself and breaking every promise I ever make to myself.

The loss of trust in myself is bad enough. If it ended there that would, on it's own, be sad, damaging, and darn near incapacitating. Unfortunately, as with most things, it doesn't just end there. When it becomes easy to tell yourself you're going to do something and then just not do it, it also becomes much easier to give in to the evil voice in your head that is Bipolar. It becomes easier to binge eat to stuff down your real feelings, to stop seeing friends so they don't see your decline, to stop cleaning your house because what does it matter, to stop getting out of bed, to stop self-care, to stop exercising, to stop going to work, to just give up. After spending any significant amount of time telling yourself you're going to try and then just not doing it, any conscientious effort to begin trying again is infinitely more difficult.


"I'm going to stop bingeing on junk food, eat healthy regular meals, and start being active again" gets met with "shut up fatty you're too lazy and sugar is delicious, you'll eventually cave and eat a cookie so just eat an entire box right now instead of going for a run".

"I'm going to clean my apartment this week, organize things, and keep it that way" gets laughed at while your front room begins to look like an episode of Hoarders.

"This time I'm not going to get scared and drop out of class, this time I will graduate" may last for a month or two, but is soon replaced by "you're dumb, everyone is laughing at you, even if you do graduate you'll still be sick stupid and useless so just quit now".

"I am going back to work. I am going to be strong, beat this, and take care of myself again" very quickly becomes "don't even try. People will just laugh at you, you're qualified for nothing, you're just gonna screw it up again so why go through the anguish?"


Once you make it nearly impossible to trust anything created in your inner monologue the acts of dreaming and goal setting become non-existent. Early on in the promise breaking you still attempt to have dreams and still attempt to set goals, but once you abandon enough of them you begin to abandon the concepts all together. You don't bother dreaming, what's the point? You stop setting goals, or even being able to think of goals you might want to set.

You then stop making decisions. Without dreams and goals there is no direction, and without direction how do you know what path to take? Without confidence in yourself and your abilities the ability to make even the most simple decisions disappears. Decision paralysis sets in so deeply that your life quite literally stops. You are alive, but there is no action, there is no growth, there is no healing, there is no anything. Years, in fact a decade, can go by and you have no idea where it went or what you actually did for ten years. Suddenly you are ten years older, your kids have grown into teenagers, and it feels like you missed it. There are snapshot memories here and there, but there is no real involvement or appreciation. All of the sudden you are a 25 year old in a 35 year old's body. Everyone around you has grown, changed, accomplished things, but you are no better off and no different than you were in 2002.

That is a very frightening and regretful place to be.

Fear and regrets accomplish absolutely nothing, but when a decade of your life has disappeared before your eyes while stuck in a state of complete inaction it is damn hard not to let them creep in.

The only answer is to jump back into life with two feet. Start with small goals, accomplish them, rebuild your faith in yourself, learn to trust yourself, and learn to feel worthy again. Simple right? Ya, sure. Ask me in another ten years.

It's not actually that I lie....

I have been accused recently (and throughout the last 20 years actually) of lying. I have even termed my actions in my own head from time to time as lying. But that's not exactly accurate. I guess in the strictest sense my actions could be termed lies of omission, but as there is absolutely zero malice aforethought, or malicious intent I am uncomfortable with classifying them as such.

See what I really do is hide. Not lie, but hide.

Driven perhaps by fear, shame, disappointment, or a need for protection. I started out life incredibly gifted. Both intellectually and athletically. I was even rather cute so I guess you could say I had it all. I was gifted, lucky, and incredibly happy. Unfortunately such gifts and good fortune tend to bring about jealousy in others. My first experience with this came at the age of 8 or 9. I was in grade four and was verbally attacked at recess for not dressing like everyone else in my one-horse prairie hick town. I was mocked and told I was a snob because I had left the tiny local gymnastics club in order to train and compete with a club "in the city". At 9 years of age I was told that what I liked was stupid, and going after my goals was ridiculous. I didn't realize at the time how much this affected me. I wish that I could say I got past it and thrived despite it, but I didn't.

The bullying continued. For some reason I seemed to attract friends who found it easier to be jealous than supportive. It all came to a head in high school when my already shaky self-esteem took a hit from a friend from it it would never recover. This blow triggered repressed memories, leading to to PTSD, and eventually a diagnosis of Bipolar 2 disorder in my early 20's.

I am sad to say that at 35 years of age, my self-esteem has never recovered. I am still that 9 year old. Sitting on the swings crying. Wondering what on earth is so wrong with my outfit. And why anyone would ever think going to gymnastics and wanting to do well is a bad thing.

So I hide. I choose what and how much of myself, my life, and my reality at any given point I reveal to every individual in my life.

No one knows 100 percent. No one. The last person who knew about 90 percent broke my heart and left me. So right now no one even knows much more than half.

And which half they know depends on who they are. There are people I've never met and probably never will meet that know more about my current mindset and mental health than my family will ever know. I can't do that to them. I'll feel like I'm letting them down. Like I'm hurting them. Again.

I moved to Vancouver just over two years ago for a fresh start. For a change that was supposed to turn things around and get me out of the rut that rural Saskatchewan and bipolar had sucked me into. New province, new rut. My family doesn't know this. I can't disappoint them. And I cannot let my parents know that there are still days, more days than I wish to admit, that I feel like nose-diving straight off the Cambie Bridge. I can't do that to them. I can't cause them anymore pain. My mother sat at my bedside day and night for nearly 4 days while machines breathed for me after I became too weak to go on. I cannot cause them pain or concern. I've put them through too much. Whether my fault or not, their false belief that I am well and life is good makes them happy and gives them hope. I feel like I owe them that much.

I edit myself with my friends, what few I have, as well. I have enough trouble believing that anyone would ever willingly spend time with me or like me, so I reveal the pieces of me that I think will be appealing to whomever I'm with. I never make things up, or pretend to be something I'm not. I just only let out the pieces of my true self I feel will be the most appealing, or least offensive to my present company.

As you can guess, this is not a very good way to meet new people or maintain meaningful relationships so I spend a inordinate, and most likely damaging amount of time alone. And I hide there too.

I hide in my house because it is easier than going out into the world to risk judgment and failure. I hide in my bed because it is a cocoon of protection and denial that keeps me from realizing how much time I'm wasting being afraid. And I hide from my thoughts which are often frightening or judgmental, but even when they are inspired and positive manage to make me feel guilty for never acting on them or following through.

I hide because it is safe.

I hide because there is less risk.

I hide because even I don't know what or who I really am. Or what it is I really want.

I hide because I am ashamed and afraid.

And I hide because it is easier.


I am sick of taking the easy way out.

I AM SICK OF TAKING THE EASY ROAD.


So often brilliance and madness intersect. I was shamed for my brilliance so I hide in my madness. I use it as a shield, an escape. I must find my brilliance once again. It does not lie in science and math the way it used to. Over the years my experiences have morphed it into something else, changed its focus. The trick is finding it again.

Where did the brilliance go? And how can I use it well? I am convinced that the path to recovery and survival lies here.

a little bit lost and a lotta bit stuck (a rambling, babbling teary-eyed post)

I feel like am supposed to be so much more than what I am right now. Like I should be doing something real, and meaningful, and important. Like there is so much in me that just needs to come out, and be fantastic, and take on the world. I just don't know what. Or how. Or where to start..... When I was a kid it was so easy. I wanted to be a gymnast, and go to the Olympics, then be a Dr and a lawyer and a singer all in one. Well I didn't do any of that. And now that I'm older a horrible mix of fear, illness, bad luck, circumstance, past experience, bad decisions, broken hearts, and bogus expectations is keeping me from even being able to sit down and figure out what it is that I truly want now. I want to be happy - ok fine, just be happy I want to be successful, and busy, and inspirational - at what and for what???? no idea I want more time with my girls - I'm doing all I can, but illness, geography and finances make it a constant struggle and it's never enough I want to love myself so that someone else can love me and I won't die alone - don't even know where to start I want to be secure and safe and taken care of - again, no clue how I want to feel important, and worthy, and useful - but I don't. deep down I really truly don't. and until I do, nothing else is possible 18 years of Dr's and meds and therapy and treatment and I'm no better off, no closer to an answer. I'm really tired of being stuck. I'm really tired of not having any of the answers. And I'm really truly so damn tired of hating the person that I spend all my time with; the fat, useless, lazy, pathetic mess that stares back at me from the mirror every day and taunts me with glimmers of hope but delivers nothing. I wanna fight. I'm just so damn tired. And so damn lost. And so damn stuck. And I really truly honestly have no idea where to even begin. "you don't have to see the whole staircase, just the first step" - well it feels like I am in a hole, inside a well, 10 feet away from the first step with no ladder, no rope, and no flashlight. What now? No seriously, what now? Gratitude..... ok I am grateful for my daughters, for my sister, for my family, for a roof over my head, and a warm bed to sleep in. I am grateful that I have food to eat (even though eating brings more shame and self-hate). I am grateful for a safe country, and basic human rights. I am grateful I'm not dead yet (most days). I am grateful that I have it better than a lot of people. Gratitude exercises are great, until they make you feel like a whiny, even more useless, waste of space than you did before you started them. I know it takes work. I'm willing to work. If I could find some actual direction, purpose or anything to work toward. I don't like or trust myself enough to even know what is that I want. What it is I should be doing. And I don't know how to start. Overcoming that much self-doubt, distrust, and loathing is something I long for so badly, but don't even know how to begin to tackle. What now? Seriously, what now???

Why would I help someone I hate?

I can't seem to get inspired to write. To be honest, I can't seem to get inspired to do much of anything. I know that it's wrong and unhealthy to use the word "useless" in reference to myself but that is how I truly feel. I have zero energy and no amount of sleep, healthy food, or stimulants seems to change that. I have zero motivation, no resilience, no resolve. I have turned into a sedentary, lazy, do nothing lump. I know what needs to be done and what I should be doing, but I am physically and mentally unable to do anything other than sit or lay here and manage to breathe. I walk past my dirty kitchen, think about cleaning it, start to cry, then lay back down and turn on the tv. I sit in bed for hours on end thinking "wow I am so bored I wish I could be doing...." but I don't move, I don't change, I don't do anything. I feel hopeless, frustrated, scared, and alone. Fear has paralyzed me to the point that I have just stopped trying. I don't think I even know how to try anymore. I have given up so much that the only thing I am capable of right now is sitting here and not dying. I can manage to keep myself alive, but that's about it. I don't trust myself, I don't believe in myself, and I don't love myself. And when that is the case what's the point of even trying? I feel like such a failure and I hate myself for it. And why would I ever help someone I hate???

its been a long time

I haven't written anything in a really long time. It shouldn't really matter if anyone reads my words, the point of this whole exercise was to help myself. Something I am not very good at doing. I would love it if I had someone to talk to, but my main focus should be myself.

I HAVE been focusing on myself a lot lately, unfortunately i've been focusing on (obsessing on) the wrong things. My weight, my looks, my weight, my failures, my weight, my past, my weight, my regrets, and my weight. Not good. A major MAJOR life change is barely more than a month away and all i seem to care about is whether I'm under 110 pounds or not. I currently live in a house that I own in a very small town. My mortgage and taxes are INSANELY cheap and in addition to that the house is almost paid off. I also live in one of the cheapest parts of Canada when it comes to living expenses. My huge epiphany at the beginning of the year, which I'm now convinced was merely an extended hypomanic episode, resulted in me putting my house up for sale. When I started to come back down I realized I may have made a mistake, but didn't get too worried because there hadn't been any interest in my house at that point. About a week later a couple looked at my house. A week after that they made an offer. During this process I found out that there is a problem with my basement. This problem will be time consuming and expensive to fix. I don't have the time, money, or desire to fix this problem. The people who made the offer on my house do. They were also willing to pay very near my asking price in spite of the basement problem. Even though I had the feeling I was making a mistake I accepted the offer. In 5 weeks I have to be out of my house and I have no idea where I am going to go. I am about to be homeless and broke and screwed. I am supposed to be moving to a very expensive city and I have no real job skills. On top of that I have trouble holding a job for more than 3 months because I fall apart and stop being able to show up.

I have failed too many times. I have let myself down too many times. I have been let down too many times. I have been hurt too many times. I now expect it every time. I expect to fail, I expect to get let down, I expect to get hurt. I don't trust anyone. I don't trust myself. I have lost faith in everyone, especially myself. I have stopped dreaming. I have stopped planning. I have stopped hoping. There doesn't seem to be any point when you've seen the worst outcome so many times and now that's all you expect. The problem is that because I expect the worst outcome so vehemently I actually bring it about on purpose before anything has a chance to play itself out on its own. That way I can blame it on my illness or actions as opposed to a legitimate failure or someone else really hurting, failing, or not liking me.

Sometimes self discovery is good. Sometimes it just makes you cry for an hour and a half.....

i was going to go to therapy.... therapy is expensive. and i hate therapists. they can be very condescending. and stupid. and i've come across a couple who wouldn't know good advice if it hit them over the head 37 times with a bat. i was going to go to therapy. but i know what's wrong with me. i even know what i should probably be doing to fix it. i just don't seem to be able to. and the parts i don't know how to fix can't be fixed by journalling, or positive self talk, or hashing it out with some therapist.

i quit things. i quit so i can't fail. before i can fail. i'm not good enough. or atleast i don't think i am. i don't see myself as enough. not smart enough. not pretty enough. not strong enough. not thin enough. not anything enough. but i don't want anyone else to know for sure. i'm sure they have their suspicions. i know they're all thinking it. (this is my inner dialogue) but if i go balls out at something and fail, then they'll have their proof. undeniable evidence that i am a failure and i am just not good enough and i and they were right all along. quitting makes me a loser, but no one has proof of me not being enough. stupid hey? yes i am.

i'm cuter than average but i cry when i look in the mirror. i hate what i see and i pick apart every little flaw. i can't see one good thing, i see only what's wrong. i can't dwell on what's cute-only that i look tired or my pores or a freckle or wrinkle or how i'm getting old. i'm tiny but i look at myself and all i see is fat. i see what's wrong. i abuse food. i abuse my body. because i am never happy with what i see. its never good enough. so i give up. and get disgusting. then hate myself so much i have to starve to fix it. then can't anymore..... i can't anymore

i got straight a's. i'm afraid to speak cuz i'm afraid i'll say something stupid. i can't finish university cuz i keep quitting. my average is over 80 so its not cuz its hard. i'm a genius but i'm retarded. my iq is insane but at the age of 33 i work 7 days a week at 2 minimum wage mindless jobs.

i hate myself. i truly truly do and makes me cry. i am a bad mother, a bad daughter. a bad friend. a bad everything. i've wanted to die so many times. i'm trying to live now but i don't know how. how do you live with yourself when you feel like this? you wouldn't live with another human being who hated you you so how do you live with yourself when you hate you? and don't say learn to love yourself. learn? how do you learn? some people love themselves and some people don't. once you stop, once that is taken from you i don't know if that can ever be returned.....

i want a man i can't have. i let his girlfriend's posts on his facebook site ruin my day. i hate her and i don't even know her. like i said i'm retarded.

and i think i don't need therapy.

wat the hell happened.....

i was in advanced math, science and english. school was easy for me. i got 90's without trying. now i help people pick out and try on clothes for minimum wage.

i was a natural athlete. i was creative. artistic. musical. funny. outgoing. now i'm lazy. and shy. and afraid. and meek. with no confidence or faith in myself. i'm scared to sing. scared to play anymore cuz i'm afraid i'll just sound bad. i'm afraid to do anything because i'm worried it will suk (i assume it will suk) and i'll get laughed at.

i'm in stuck in a hole so deep i can't see out. there's no ladder. no rope. and no one at the top to pull me out. i'm curled up at the bottom alone and losing hope. there's a light at the top but i can't reach it. i can see it. i long for it. i want it. but i don't know how to get there. the walls are too steep. and the hole is too dark. i start clawing my way up but keep slipping back down. so i'm stuck in this hole. way too dark. way too cold.

desperation. discouragement. emptiness. yearning. loneliness. helplessness. blame. terror. pain. hopelessness.

epiphanies don't help when you can't follow through. it doesn't matter if you know what to do if you're not able to do it. it's even worse when you don't even know what to do. i don't understand. i feel just lost and out of control and hollow and the fear and pain are unbearable. i hate the situation. i hate myself for letting it get to this point. and if i'm honest i hate myself. i hate him. i hate her. and i am sooooooo tired of all of this. i just want it to be ok. i just want to be able to live. i want to wake up and just want to be able to be. i don't want every day to be a fight. why does every day have to be so hard. why is every day such a battle just to get through. i've come so far and yet i'm still nowhere. its too much. its not fair and i am so fucking sick of it. i don't want pity i don't want anyone to feel sorry for me i just want this to stop. i just want to not have to feel like this all the time. i don't know what i'm grateful for today. today was a bad day. today was hell. i guess i'm grateful it wasn't any worse