Category Archives: Humor

Redux | I want to pick my nose and other true stories from my Bipolar life.

So. I had three procedures performed on my nose in an operating room on December 30. The approval letter from my ever-reliable insurance company arrived this week, Wednesday. It said I was approved for “a procedure in my nose.” Very specific, don’t you think? Just get to the point. Approved.

It has been inferred that since my name is Robin and I have a deceptively long, narrow, and pointy nose that I must have had a nose job to make it look like a nose that isn’t such a beak.

Thanks. That’s not why I’ve had surgical instruments stick up my nose. 

I’ve always smelled things first and more potently than anyone I know. I can smell fires and melting plastic before anyone has a notion that something might be wrong.

In opposition to this oversensitive olfactory ability, when pollen follows my intake of oxygen, limited though it has always been, over my chicken like lips and on up into my greatest physical ability, and I start sneezing.

Sneezing. My mom tried all through my formative years. At our greatly modified Christmas dinner this year with the four of us when I ate like a starving bank robber around my black ski mask, she urged me to sneeze like a girl. That’s what it was called when I was young. “Can’t you sneeze more quietly? Like a girl?” Of course, this holiday she’d skip the socially inappropriate, “like a girl,” and shoot straight to telling me, ” Robin! Can’t you do that more quietly?” No mom, the nose… I can’t. I’m just loud.

I have Bipolar Disorder and I can’t breathe. Man, what a horrible combination. Just to continue my silent yet fervent life long quest to breathe and sneeze like a “not girl,” I have learned what may contribute to my difficulty practicing controlled yet relaxed breathing, maybe being sabotaged from the get-go by my lack of the good stuff. You know it. You use it too. Oxygen.

Apparently, breathing in through my nose, holding it, then breathing slowly out through my mouth first requires me to draw in something more than pollen and things that are burning.

Did you know that if my brain has access to unlimited oxygen it will (hopefully) better deal with itself? Meaning, that my brain meds will probably welcome the assist that oxygen will provide. That’s the learned consensus anyway and I am unanimous in that.

Naturally, the rest of me wants to help out with this breathing idea and generously and impulsively tossed in asthma via “Twitchy Lungs,” and I must not forget to mention the delightful Sleep Apnea piece of the party.

Yeah! I whistle as I struggle to draw in that oxygen stuff I’ve been referring to through my chicken-like, thin, and collapsible nose holes, while my tongue clogs my throat and I stop breathing. Oh goodie.

I’ve demonstrated to my doctors over the years this flashy trick I can do with my nose. I draw in a quick snout full of oxygen and the holes slam shut and nothing gets in or out.

Bummer. Great for swimming underwater, not for breathing actual air. 

I’ve had one or two “big brain” moments in my 57 (soon to be 58) years. I’m particularly proud to show off my solution to the “keep the water out” ability I have. You see if I could just find the perfect size straws I could fashion them into reverse nose plugs by sticking them up my nose holes to hold them open. 

Not one doctor listened to my complaining and my surely novel solution. Surely I was messing around. After all, I’m kind of expected to act (think as well) just the least bit bonkers so I was kidding, right?

No, not kidding.

Slowly racing to December 2020 because still, no air, I meet an ENT doctor who, after watching me pull my nose holes open from behind her mask confidentiality and yet without any fanfare nor pomp and circumstance that she could “fix” that easily. No problem. She paid attention and “got it.” That is, she said she could move things around and easily fix them. Again, no problem. I like her.  

Just like that, I was scheduled for nostril surgery to correct the deviation, move some stuff around, and then prop the little holes open so that the much sought after oxygen could wind it’s way to my little grey cells. 

Yeah. I have stitches, some pain, and the faith I’ll have human nose holes instead of chicken slits very soon. Oxygen I’m coming for you!

I’m in a beautiful manic/depressed/agitated/anxiety phase now. I know, seems about normal for me. This is true, but my brain is carrying on like a “stuck pig,” as someone in the family used to say. It fits pretty well. I think some oxygen might be useful about now.

Let’s see, asthma is apparently under control until the next “twitch.” My nose has been enlarged on the inside and the doors propped open. What could possibly go wrong?

Sleep apnea. Twice in the last week, I’ve woken up in a panic, gasping for air. That’s how it works, yeah? The brain gets distracted by… whatever and forgets to do its job and move the “structures” in the back of my throat so I can breathe. About 20 times an hour. Two sleep tests and keeping in line with my “no oxygen” theme… 

Well, you know how people trying to calm me down urge me to take a breath (Robin you’re holding your breath. Breathe!)… Yeah, doesn’t happen.

I’m telling myself that this is too much information, the story is out of control, but it isn’t, not in the real world. This breathing stuff is part of every moment of my life and it reaches every single hit and tittle of my being. Bipolar Disorder does as well. Can it be corrected? That’s another thing about me that gets tricky and isn’t the focus of this story. Yes, it does have a focus. 

I’m struggling. My brain needs a break and let’s face it, oxygen would help. My thoughts, moods, and emotions are busily doing the River Dance on me and on those around me. That last bit. That makes me sick. Hurting those I care about is a very hard thing for me. 

Sometimes an assist comes from bizarre and unexpected places. For me, this first month of 2021, aid has come via nose holes (without the straws). Nose HOLES. No more chicken beak! Have you ever studied a chicken’s beak? Next time look for those nose holes. I think you’ll agree that chicken beak nose holes just are not enough for me. Nope. Need bigger holes.

I sneeze loud. I talk loud. I even whisper aloud. I wonder if my Tarzan yell will be louder? Ooohhh, now that’s something to look forward to trying. 

And my brain having a Bipolar spike… I think it might just enjoy better nose holes too.

These nose holes are my unexpected aid in managing my illness. I’d like to know if you have nose holes that have the potential to help your brain out too. Can’t think of anything at the moment? That’s okay. You might recognize something any time now. 

Be patient. 

I wonder if Bailey could be trained to wake me up when I stop breathing…. Maybe. Oh, that’s not one of my kids. She’s my fantastic dog! 

Nose holes and chicken lips. Ew…

Bipolar Disorder – A Manic Pause in Motion

I’ve often thought about how to explain more about how I think my brain works so that you might understand where I’m coming from… but heck, I’ve not nothing. Well, nothing simple or short anyway.

Most of the time, I hesitate for days and even weeks to post my thoughts to you for one main reason: I don’t think they’re perfect. I can’t believe I just wrote that. Perfectionism is NOT something I’ve ever been accused of. At least, not loudly enough for me to remember hearing.

Baby steps.

I’m having surgery on the 17th, and it might just slow my already lagging posting schedule down. My goal and my intentions aren’t to allow that to happen. This begins right now.

I’d like to share with you something that I have always found fantastically funny. As a matter of fact, I have gone through all 10 seasons on Amazon Prime and have now started watching them on YouTube so I can share them with people like you, people I want to help find lighter things, funny things, silly things to laugh about. Things that frankly don’t matter beyond what goes on once it goes into your head.

I do hope you’ll take a half an hour and give the series a try. There are far too many episodes for me to sit and watch them all and pick a favorite one to recommend. Most of them are ridiculous. Just last night, my 27-year-old daughter and 25-year-old son watched a random episode with me and we all laughed. They said that I didn’t need to have tricked them into watching it. All I needed to do was to tell them what it was. They would have stayed in the room and watched it anyway. Now that’s a gold star!

Give it a go and let me know what you think. If you love it and search for other episodes please don’t pick the ones with the show playing in the little box in the corner. If you have Amazon Prime, so much the better. You’ll need a subscription to Britbox at Amazon Prime, but I love many of the British shows available through Britbox. If not… hey, here it is, for free. One last thing, remember, this is a British television show from the 1970’s – a lot of things are different. Give it some room and go with the flow. I think it is hilarious! I hope you enjoy it too!

On with the episode. Season 8, Episode 3

Bipolar Disorder-Announcing a New, Really Helpful Book on Living Successfully With Our Super Powers

Success_Key_400x400

I’m graduating from the University of Washington at Tacoma on the 11th. I can’t wait. This entire year the pressure has been building within me. It feels tangible, like a physical thing pulling at me, never letting me alone.

I broke. I threw the mouse for my laptop. I threw it really hard right in front of my daughter who has just moved in with me. I scared her. It’s been years since I’ve acted like that, so violent and scary. She didn’t know what to do. My dog, who is supposed to be my emotional support dog, ran for Jessica’s room and hid there until it was safe to come back out. I had to get her to forgive me and we calmed each other down. She doesn’t like me yelling, raiding my voice or swearing.

The pressure to get a job frightens me and cracks begin to tear in the fragile being that is me.

My grandfather had a window washing company and a carpet cleaning company. When he retired my father and mother took it over. Now, my brother and his partner run the company, I have had two publishing companies that I started myself. Then my brain went kaboom! And it all went away.

I’ve gone back to college hoping to gain the skills necessary to better start and run another new business. I’m planning on having another publishing company that focuses on non-fiction, especially regarding mental health. Here, in this blog, I share with you my honest experiences and troubles. What I don’t do, is preach to you about what I think are answers to my problems. If you scan my posts, you may see different ways I deal with my illnesses.

Announcing a New, Really Helpful Book on
Living Successfully With Our Super Powers

I believe that the dozens and dozens of books on mental illness and especially on Bipolar Disorder miss the mark in dealing with the real issues I face every day. Let me give you an example. I don’t know about you, but I have a ton of trouble focusing on one thing long enough finish it. Also, anxiety has been beating me over the head and for the first time, I felt it was necessary to tell my family and my counselor that I’d been having brief moments of wanting to hurt myself. I’ve felt it so strongly that I was frightened that I might actually do something.

Am I qualified to give advice regarding Bipolar Disorder? I don’t have a degree in psychology, but I have raised three kids on my own. I’ve been dealing with my illness for as long as I can recall. My mother always thought it was her fault that I behaved the way I did. I finally learned that I had been presenting symptoms since I was very young. She thought I was possessed I think. My parents sent me to stay for the summer with her very religious sister and her family. I think she was hoping it might change me. It never did. Oh, I want to mention that I have a degree in Religious Education (or something like that). I no longer actively practice my faith.

Why am I qualified to undertake this project? I care about each of you. I want to present different ideas on how to survive and even thrive despite having a life long illness. I’ll be getting my degree in Writing Studies in a few days. Hopefully that has taught me how to communicate my thoughts better. I don’t aim for perfection in my blogs. I just want to express my real life situations and feelings to you.

Most of the books that I have are primarily loaded with worksheets. Worksheets! I can barely sit still long enough to focus and understand a short chapter there’s no way I’m doing worksheets. How do you feel about them?

Well, that’s enough of that. Maybe you’ll be interested in it, maybe you won’t. To each is his own.

I am a survivor. I might fall and be all scuffed up, but I’ll heal and I’ll get back to work. I believe that I know what my passion is and I’ve committed myself to give myself over to it.

Have you ever considered doing that?

I hope that you’ll stick around and maybe recommend my blog to others who might resonate with it.

We are a group of people who are not understood by the general public. We’ve gone from being stuck in special hospitals for the instant and given inhumane treatments to today when we are blamed for mass shootings. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s time that we rally around ourselves and learn about ourselves first. Then, I would like to see us enter into our communities and make a difference. We are real people who want to live real lives.

I’m not going to try to get you to come to seminars where I will convince you to purchase expensive kits that include DVDs, workbooks, cards to memorize and other “useful” things.

No, that’s not how it should be done.

There are more of us who suffer from illnesses like Bipolar Disorder than “normal” people could possibly imagine. We are everywhere. I think it’s time to take our special superpowers and use them to change our lives, and maybe our world.

Do we have superpowers? Of course, we do. Can you recall the last time someone you know was suffering and you understood how they felt and knew just what to do for them? No? Well, don’t be discouraged. Our superpowers are often there and doing their things. We just don’t recognize them for what they are.

So school’s almost over and I’ll have time to work exclusively on my new business. There is so much for me to learn. And I have so much to share with you.

If you’re curious or have a suggestion for me to consider please email me right away. I’ll take every message seriously. After all, who knows better what will help us other than ourselves.

I think it’s time to rock! How about you? Are you ready to get the messy monster off your back even a little bit? I can’t cure you. No one can. If they tell you they can they are liars. What I can do is walk alongside you, understand your pain, and search for ways to live fulfilling lives.

Please tell me what you think about this project. I honestly want to hear your thoughts on it.

Oh one more thing, I find a lot of things funny. I had one of my class in stitches Thursday. I was supposed to be giving a presentation and I turned it into a standup routine. I can’t help myself. I love to make people laugh. I didn’t talk about my illness, but I have many times before. There is so much that I have to take with a dose of laughter.

Well, be well my friends

Robin

Bipolar – Little Bit Nuts

Last night, all I can remember is being super tired and watching a video on my iPad holding it above my face while in bed. Ok, weird. This I know. Here’s the really weird part. I got up at about 5:45 and texted Jessica wanting to know why she was late coming to pick up her uniform. She saw the text and ignored it as she should have done. I’m the one who, only hours before, had reminded her she had today off. OMG

Losing my mind.

Watch this video and check out the pics. Bailey is looking for the cat laser that no one is using. She does it all the time. Poor kid. Well, look who she lives with. Hehehe

Oh, stink. I’ll have to upload this from my iPad then add the images. Np sorry, the video is so huge. Bailey is actually looking for a laser.

 

Robin, Yes, that’s Robin, As in Batman

Set-Of-4-Batman-TV-Series-Cast-7-_1 I always order my coffee via the Starbucks app buried within the university just as I took the elevator down one floor to the school bookstore which is connected to Starbucks. I walked in and noticed that hardly anyone was there. Suddenly a man shouted loudly and clearly, “Mobile order for Robin,” That was me, so I headed over to the fellow. That was really fast.

I was halfway across the store and one of the other women workers shouted gleefully, “Robin! That’s like Batman and Robin”

Joining in the fun an taking the opportunity to give the staff a reason to remember me, I enthusiastically shouted back, “Yep, that’s me! Robin, as in Batman.” I whisked my Peppermint Mocha away and carried on some more, “That’s Robin! As in Batman!”

I turned to leave and to my delight, I overheard the couldn’t see whose voice giggled from somewhere behind the counter a cheerful fellow repeated the cheery chorus, “That’s Batman as in Robin!” 🐠🦑🐬🐳🦕

Remember… that’s Robin! As in Batman!”

I arrived in the classroom and remarked that they’d all moved from their usual seats. Excitedly proclaimed that they’d created the power gay row! I told them about my Starbucks adventured and they laughed heartily and joined in on the story.

.”Haha! Robin was so gay!” “I thought he was a teenager.” “Teenager!?He was gay.” “I thought Batman was gay!” Someone ended the fun by announcing loudly. “They were both gay!”

I took the opportunity to divulge a little family history to see how they’d respond and said, “You know that there are

four of us in my generation and of us three are gay.”

They were pleasantly surprised with the news

Then the Professor joined us and talk about Robin, Batman, the lesbian power row and my family history.

That was Wednesday. It is almost 3 a.m.Friday. Man, time for sleep.

Be kind to each other today,

Robin,

Yes, that’s Right,

Robin, as in Batman.