Originally started 05,24.26 My bipolar disorder has slowly gotten much worse as I’ve gotten older. More psychotic states, less energy, less stamina, loss of focus.
Maybe that’s why I’m returning to writing a blog to record it. I don’t know how to remedy this. I try to eat & sleep the best way for me. Even my flowers are at a standstill…growing like they like to do…
I have started participating in a mental health website and am really enjoying it. One thing is for certain, though: Many people are worse off than me. In some ways I’ve done everything correctly. My sales training helps. I never tolerated negative thoughts or the idea that I couldn’t do it. I always could do it if I made up my mind to.
The good news is that I haven’t had a serious depressive setback in a long while. I can handle being manic, but I shut down completely when I get depressed.
Starting with a new psychiatrist. Dr. R retired. He needed to. I was charged with finding a new one, and that’s practically impossible in my rural area now. I have settled into having a nurse practitioner handle my meds, and I will need to find a qualified psychologist for therapy.
No Therapy for Wendy
10.7.26 Insurance is one of the ills of the world! They tell you when, what, how, and when. When! That’s the one I frequently have problems with. Not only do they make their paperwork to enroll or change so complicated that Einstein would have problems! And if you choose the
“wrong one,” you could lose all coverage or important coverage to you.
I think it’s important that we think out loud and get an unencumbered opinion about our approach. Dr. R did both. He was never too busy to see and listen to me ramble on. He lent me his ear at least once a month. I cannot find a psychiatrist in my area now that I’ve moved to rural Southern Illinois. I did find a Physician’s Assistant, but she has made it clear that she is just there to manage medicine.
As a result of confusing Medicare coverage, I’ve waited, and the 15th of this month I will be covered. Now to find a pyshologist/therapist in my area. After a splattering of calls, I have decided t
As a result of confusing Medicare coverage, I’ve waited, and on the 15th of this month I will be covered. Now to find a psychologist/therapist in my area. After a splattering of calls, I have decided to enroll in one of the telehealth services. I think I’m going to try the one specifically for bipolar.
My first professional photo was taken by my late friend Rhon, and yes, those are all my last names! This is probably the best photo I ever took. I always thought it was this one, but it’s from the 1990s.
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month
If you are over 40, please get your annual mammogram. My cancer was malignant, and my 40-year-old screening mammogram saved my life!
I’m a real gardener, and that entails cleaning up this time of year.
October 8, 2026 — Determined to Blog
I am determined to be dedicated to this blog. I have started many blogs before and didn’t follow through. When I take a glimpse of something I’ve written, I’m usually impressed.
Here’s an excerpt from my book “Growing up Hilt” for your perusal:
Bipolar Disorder can be very tough. Most people who use the term don’t even know what it means. It used to be called “manic-depressive disorder”. When I am down in the dumps, I can become very severely depressed, but it also may mean I am a short nap or change of scenery away from being back to normal. I’ve been both kind of depressed. When I am on the high end (manic or experiencing hypomania), I talk fast or write fast; I’m jovial and might command the spotlight of an audience. If I’m working, I will work harder and harder. If I’m alone, I find something to do to stay busy. I’ve been known to do some of my best creative crafts when I’ve been manic. I really like living on the edge of mania—high performing, but not exhausting or obnoxious.
My best friends’ responses when I told them about my condition were not a response of surprise, but rather one acknowledgement telling me that they knew, and they loved me either way. Both men are the best of my friends. They already knew that I suffered from mania, though they had never put a name on it. They had also seen me calm and almost blue at other times in my life. But in much of my life I had been high-performing and “manic.” Before the doctor, before I knew, they knew, and they loved all the parts of me that vary in size and intensity. By size, I mean that whole spotlight thing again, though my weight has gone up and down in my life in what seemed like random ways. Now I know that it has a rhyme and reason.
I’m not angry. I’m bipolar. I’m relieved. I don’t want to be angry. I always knew that there was something different about me, something special. Well, I am special because I can do it and function in circumstances that make other people crumble. I am special because I see beauty in things more vibrant and catching than anyone else. I am special because I’m in touch with who I am, how I feel, and what is going on around me. I can stand above the crowd and draw its feelings into me…all the feelings: happiness, fun, sadness, disregard, and devastation. I take it in and sit quietly for a minute while I process it, and then I get back to the business of participating in my life. That’s a beautiful word to me—participating. A lot of people live their lives without really participating, letting things happen to them and moving forward without truly making any of the decisions themselves. I like to think that when I am hypo manic, I participate in every moment of my life.
I open my eyes to a new day with the brew of coffee giving me some help. I get up early now. Earlier than I would like some days, but I try to make sure that the hour or two that I spend in a still dark, quiet house are productive in some way. I find mornings that start after five good mornings. Often, I start turning back and forth in my bed, watching the clock at two or three o’clock and force myself to stay in bed for at least another hour. I rub my eyes but know that I must give up on more sleep because more sleep will not come. I get up earlier than I need to. For a while, I struggled to get out of bed, and I attributed that to one of my medicines. I was on that medicine for a few years, and that was the case the whole time. The medicine made me need to sleep at night and in the daytime. I felt like I was in a bit of a haze the whole time. That, and the fact that I gained 30 pounds on that medicine, took it out of play for me, even though it worked well on my depression.
Tucker called! 10.8.2026
He did! He called, and we talked for over two hours about virtually everything. It had been at least the previous six years that I was in a psychotic fog. So, for ten years of this boy’s life, I hadn’t seen or spoken to him.
He said he hadn’t seen Dane since he left the 21st Century Hotel three years ago. They talk a little. Tuck said that the next two days Dane will be covered up since he’s the bar manager.
It’s gonna take a while before I fully understand what I am feeling about Tucker and him ignoring me and for so long. I don’t know how to wrap my brain about that!
I’ll write more later. I sent Tuck all the stuff via email that we had discussed. I don’t want to overwhelm him. “I can’t remember how long it has been since I’ve seen or talked with him.
Closing Down for Fall
We are slowly but surely closing down the gardens for fall. Some have come down early. Some still stand tall in the shadows, thinking they will excape. They will not. Few flowers have been saved in the curbside greenhouse. Many will have to be propagated by seed to come back next year.
The leaves are a bit of a nuisance. They also set the rusty wrapping you in a handmade quilt.
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