and even when I do. I don't post.

You may have noticed by now, blog, I'm terrible at updating. My posts are sporadic at best, sometimes coming in spurts then not coming at all. Is it a symptom of my disorder or just downright laziness? Is it because the girls always have the computer and I don't like posting from my phone? Maybe because I don't really think I'm interesting enough to create the journal-like entries and I can never think of things to review. Sure I could review e-juice but I'm not like some people who can find different flavor profiles and such. To me it's either good for one reason or another or it's not.

I had surgery on my nose and let me tell you, it was not fun. I'm still sore and it's been almost a month. There are still stitches in there too. I'm supposed to be able to breathe better but I feel congested today. I could be getting some kind of head cold or other sinus related problem or my body could just be telling me what I've always known: it hates me. No matter what I do to fix it it's always going to laugh maniacally and find another way to make me miserable.

The holidays were wonderful. Thanksgiving (It's very hard not to type Thanksgibbing as is tradition with my cousin and me) was full of delicious food and a lively game of Trivial Pursuit until 2 am with my family. My team lost but I got a few good answers in that no one expected.
My girls loved Christmas, they got everything they wanted and a few things they didn't expect. The littlest princess has been so excited to ride her bike she can't hardly stand it but the only day it was warm enough for them to go out, it rained on her. Her poor little heart was broken. Christmas dinner was another night where we stuffed ourselves and then fought our way through a game of Trivial Pursuit. Our game is a mismatch of three or four different games but we were unable to find a new version of the game within a 40 mile radius.

I've become what I never thought I would be, blog. I'm a coffee drinker. Not a "give me coffee or give me death" kind of drinker, just a regular drinker. I never liked coffee before, it was always too bitter. I've found that I can drink dark roast if I doctor the heck out of it. Lots of sugar, lots of creamer...flavored please. I can't just go into Starbucks or McDonald's and order a coffee. Their's is still too bitter for me but the stuff I make at home and the stuff that comes out of the gas station cappuccino machines works pretty well for me.

My girls are doing amazing in school. I couldn't be more proud of them. One is getting all A honor roll in advanced classes and the other is splitting her time between Kindergarten and first grade. They're on winter break now. I think I'm the only one ready to get our routine back. They're content staying up all hours of the night and watching random YouTube videos all day.

So far, I think I've managed to get stable as far as my bipolar goes. I still have my bad days, my can't get out of bed days. Pizza Roll days. I've had a few manic days where my thoughts race and get obsessive and days where my thoughts seem to just be black clouds. Overall though, I'm getting the girls to school, making sure they're fed, homework is done, baths are taken, clothes are washed, and love is handed out. I think that's the best I can hope for right now. It might not seem like a lot to you blog, but compared to me a year ago, two years ago, it seems like I've climbed a mountain. The next step is getting myself healthy. It's hard. I'm fighting bipolar disorder, hypothyroidism, possibly fibromyalgia. Some days there's just no motivation to be found.

This has gotten long blog. I'm not sure anyone is even reading. If you're out there, leave a comment. I'd love to hear from you.

but sometimes I need to take the time to just shut down.

I'm not having a good week readers.

First, I've got shingles. Shingles, Not Just For Old People. Apparently my grandmother, aunt, and uncle have all had them. I was lucky to catch a fairly weak version but it still hurts and itches and I'm uncomfortable and WAAHHH.

Second, I think the medicine the doctor gave me has thrown me into a depression. I just can't shake it. There's nothing outside of this bed that interests me. I really hate the way taking a medication to help one illness can throw off months worth of progress. I haven't been this down in a while. The worhtlessness, the hopelessness. The wanting to check myself into a center for a while but fearing losing my children. I really hope it's the medicine and not something creeping in. I don't want to spend weeks under this.

In the interest of making this a happy post, I've quite smoking. I've started vaping. I love it. I love the flavors, the ease. I love shopping for flavors, looking at the mods, learning new things about it. I feel so much better. No more coughing. I still have trouble breathing but I blame that on allergies (I start allergy shots next week).

My oldest turns 11 next week. I'm prepared to cry like a baby. I know I will. Just not when anyone is around. We're camping for her birthday the week of the 18th. Hopefully I remember to take a lot of pictures that I can make a happy post with. I owe my blog a happy post.

...but sometimes my medicine decides to give me time.

Today was one of those days. I woke up easier than usual and that should have been a sign. My body still hurt, like always, but my brain was ready. Anyone who has been down the bipolar road knows that your body often wins. 

I managed to get the girls ready and off to school. Score one for functioning like a normal adult! I got to Medfit okay and even made it (slowly, mind you) through my workout. My blood pressure was high and that's abnormal for me. After picking up my sister and my youngest, drinking some hot chocolate and eating some food I could feel a crash coming. I set my sister up for babysitting and prepared. 

The crash lasted about 3-4 hours. I can't stand it when they come on. Having to out everything on hold so my brain can try to figure out what the nerves, chemicals and other vital functions of my body are supposed to be doing and try to get them all back in line is not awesome. I try to avoid not awesome things. 

Sometimes I think, "I want my body back." Then I remember I'm 29 and was diagnosed at 14. I never had my body to begin with. More than half of my life has been spent trying to figure out how to clean up the aftermath of the crashes. 

I called my psychiatrist with complaints of breast tenderness and the medication she suggested is currently settling and going through lawsuits because it caused men to grow breasts. I believe I'll pass, ma'am. This is strike one. She gets three and I request a new doctor. 

I've seen bipolar disorder referred to as a roller coaster. Let me tell you, I usually don't like those either.