Suicidal Bipolar Projects ‘Plan,’ and I’m in Hospital?

How else can I say it, title it?


You are my people. My resource.

You hear it first.

My life is messy.

It’s not the worst.

My BFF turned my life upside down.

You guys know I have chronic pain and was looking for a way out. I went Cold turkey for over a week. The worst pain I’ve ever had except for the 60 day flare in reaction to an ‘interventional pain management’ pain doc. Yeah, ‘interventional’ all right. Between me and my life. Between me and my pocketbook. Once back on, thought I could not get off. But I’ve been sick ever since. Hey, you play you pay.

Weak and sick I wanted to go to the ER and check for an obstruction. On the way gonna stop by my BFF’s. I’d packed my low sugar high fiber foods and protein Shakes with Pomegranate in them and Off I was gonna go. Except for one hitch. She’d called the cops and said I was suicidal. Cuffed and dragged off to the psych ward. Then she called my father and told him private stuff. She’s always hated my husband. Partly because he doesn’t have money and she thinks I could do so much better.

I’ll really miss her. Foreign films, world affairs, someone intellectual, worldly and brainy to be around and another former disc jockey.

I think it’s a marketable story. What can I call it in seven words or less so that betrayal and paradox jump right off the page; promising a publisher clicks? Can I Sell it to Buzzfeed? Vice? Gawker? Who?  It’s got to be a rebellious type of publication. One that questions the system a tad.

The two publications I write for probably wouldn’t appreciate my caustic tone when I describe yanking the warden’s chains; claiming I’m a nationally published writer who is also in their daily newspaper, a mantle of credibility which happens to be true. People get starstruck.

The puzzlement on their faces was precious. Priceless.   Maybe it’s true. Maybe she’s here by mistake. Our mistake.

Where does this story of one friendship (probably a sick, codependant attachment) end and a new life of healthier pursuits and a more balanced set of associates begin?

Because it’s not really about what she did to me, it’s about why I attract people to my life sicker than I am. That’s what’s nuts.  Then I share my intimacies. Totally Bonkers.

All along I assumed she understood and she’d just been laying in wait to get me locked up somewhere.  She’s disapproved of my level of care and self care all along, right down to the cooler full of raw foods, low sugar fruit, protein and water I carry around.

3 thoughts on “Suicidal Bipolar Projects ‘Plan,’ and I’m in Hospital?

    • Daisy, she managed to get me cut off from my father for life. He’s angry that I hang around with people who are sicker than I am. In that respect, he’s right. But he doesn’t see bipolar disorder as anything but a choice. It really hurts. I’ve gotten two really really mean letters from him about how I should be teaching swimming at the YMCA etc and how all the money he has spent on me (Daisy If I told you the kind of money he has after taking his company public on stock market and unloading it)..he’s bipolar but just drinks. So he’s helped me financially just like the rest of the girls. I got bipolar, tardive, and other side effects. He seems to think I’ve ‘wasted’ money on medications. How are you doing? Are you working? I worked for the first ten years then worsened with psychosis/mixed moods. I thought I had children.

      My Dad thinks I should be ‘fixed.’ The stigma from a family member is unbelievable. I have put the emails from him and my responses on my wall so I will remember what I stand for. Daisy, I might stop writing for bipolar hope and move in a direction like Buzzfeed or someone who will let me be edgy and me. Also a patient advocacy hub like WEGO where I can rub elbows with higher level pharma guys, research and possible reimbursement for speaking, something I am good at. Because of the tardive there is a lot of stigma. My publisher not cool with that subject matter. Latuda their revenue. Do ya feel me?


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