Bipolar Disorder

What I Learned About My Body This Week

/ Robin / Leave a comment

(aka: The Week My Skeleton Filed a Formal Complaint)

Good morning.

How are you all today?

I hope this finds you better than a lot of people are. And if you are having a good day, don’t feel bad about it. Tomorrow might be your turn to struggle, so if today is good, take the win. Thank the universe for it. Glory in it. Use that energy. Get some rest. You never know what tomorrow is going to bring.

As for me, I’ve had a morning.

I woke up sometime after three. Maybe two. Maybe four. Definitely not five. One of those hours when the world is quiet and your brain decides that now would be a perfect time to wake up and start thinking about everything.

But here’s the thing.

Despite all that, I decided I’m having a good day.

I walked in the rain. I had a cup of coffee. I’m about to do my occupational therapy for my arm and hand. And after that I’m probably going to take a nap.

That counts as a good day.

Of course, my body and I have been having a rather intense conversation lately.

It all started when I fell on January 31 and broke my right arm. A radial fracture, which is doctor language for “this is going to be annoying for quite a while.”

During the ER visit, my muscles decided to join the party by going into severe spasms, which forced my hand into what can only be described as a claw. I responded by screaming. Every single time the spastic cramping tried to snap my hand off I screamed.

Not metaphorically. Can you scream metaphorically? Huh. I’ll have to think about that. Still, my hand struggled and pulled and drove me to screaming again and again while making a literally a claw. Imagine a hand sized turkey foot, which is a claw and I happen to be a Robin who does not happen to have a claw. Not normally. If you heard the scream you’d see the claw.

Evolution? Hardly. Jumping ahead a few hours I asked the “nice” doctor if I could have something for the screaming because he was trying to discharge me while I was still screaming and never mentioned the claw or the screaming.

The ass-hat with the medical degree asked me if I wanted a Valium. He seriously could have stopped me screaming, which I’d been doing for HOURS, with a chill pill? Was he serious? Why? Why!?

Back to our story…

This was not ideal, especially considering I’m right-handed and typing is one of the things I do most in the world. I even buy a smaller sized keyboard for my PC just so my short fingers don’t have to get up and jump so far around to find the next key.  So naturally the universe decided this would be a good time to run a series of medical tests and scans to see what else might be going on.

And that’s when things got interesting.

Since breaking my arm, I’ve had what I can only describe as a parade of imaging technology.

Here’s the current list.

Injuries and Events

• Fell on January 31, 2026 and broke my right arm
• Severe muscle spasms during the ER visit forcing my hand into a painful claw
• Ongoing pain in both legs and lower body since the fall

Hand and Joint Imaging

• Left hand X-ray – no fracture or dislocation found
• Significant pain in the finger joint despite the clear X-ray

Which is one of those moments where modern medicine says, “Nothing is wrong,” while your body says, “Oh really? Because I disagree.”

Then came the spine MRI. Why was I having one of those? Because I’d had a full spine X-ray recently and it showed a bunch of sticks and kindling and someone wanted to investigate further to see if aliens were using it to communicate in code or something cool like that. You never know. I’ve had sever lower back pain since my teens and finally a doctor decided to look at the weird looking things commonly known as “bones.”

This is the part where they slide you into a machine that sounds like someone is building a washing machine factory around your head.

The results:

• Disc bulges at several levels in the lower back
• Disc protrusion at L3–L4
• Mild narrowing of the spinal canal and nerve openings
• Changes in spinal curvature between L4 and S1
• Mild spinal canal narrowing at L4–L5

Apparently these are the areas where nerves travel down into the legs.

Which may explain why my lower body has been staging a protest.

But wait.

There’s more.

While they were examining my spine, the MRI casually discovered something else entirely.

They found a small exophytic mass on my right kidney. “Exophytic” is a weird word, isn’t it? I always thought that the word “mass” was the word to worry about. I’m sure you know what I mean. Is this like one of those alien monsters that burst out of your chest after growing to the size of a small pit bull?

Which was not what anyone was looking for, but there it was anyway, waving hello in the scan.

So now a kidney ultrasound has been ordered to figure out what exactly that is.

Modern imaging technology is very thorough. Sometimes a little too thorough. And just to make things extra festive, we’re also mixing in a few long-standing health factors:

• Rheumatoid arthritis
• Fibromyalgia
• Ostioarthritis
• Sleep Apena
• Panic Disorder
• Hypothyroidism
• ADHD
• Rheumatoid arthritis
• Bipolar Disorder Type 1
• Recent fall trauma
• Total Knee Replacement
• Partial Knee Revision
• Total Knee Replacement
• A broken arm that still hasn’t gotten the memo that I have things to do
• Stop writing! Novel writing happens elsewhere. Not here. -Right! Stopping.

In short, my body and modern imaging technology have been having a very honest conversation this week, and I’ve apparently been invited.

Despite all the strange exotic lumps, the pain and exhaustion, regardless of… I forget again. Wait! The important part. I remember that now. Here it is:

I’m still here. Ain’t no doubt about that. And I’m not going anywhere and you can count on that.

I walked Bailey in the rain this morning. I had coffee. I’m going to do my occupational therapy exercises, and then I’m probably going to take a nap. Healing broken bones is exhausting. This is my second radial head fracture or something like that in the last few years. I’ve gone all my life falling out of forts and off horses, and I finally break stuff when I’m too heavy and out of shape. Talk about bad timing.

And I’ve decided something: I’m the only one who gets to decide whether I’m having a good day.

I asked myself the question: “Am I having a good day?”

And the answer, sometimes surprisingly, is yes. Yes, everything is fine.

Friends, you all have a great day.

And sometime during your day remember to ask yourself: “Am I having a good day?“

Then go have one. Today is never too late to decide to have a good day until it’s tomorrow.

Peace to you all.

Reach out if you want to say hi. I’d love to hear from you.
Honestly, I really do love hearing from each of you.

P.S. I’ve been working on revamping the blog, and while I’m not finished yet, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the new look so far. Since we started adding the cartoon illustrations and have finally completed those for this post, I also decided to create a new header. From now on, you’ll be greeted by me, my son Kyle, Bailey—my Kelpie dog—and Savvy, the amazing cat/dog who truly believes that Bailey is her mom, along with a cozy blanket and my nose warmer.

Anxiety Was the One That Hit Me 2025

/ Robin / 1 Comment
carnation-flower-tips-alight-with-fire

 I think 2025 was the year all our collective emotions ignited and converged. We rolled down hills of emotions that were out of control, dangerous, fast-moving, and hard to stop.

Everything felt louder. Sharper. More immediate. 

If you asked me what emotion slapped me around the most, I’d answer quickly and without doubt: anxiety. 

Not sadness. 

Not anger. 

Anxiety. 

The constant hum underneath everything else. 

Anxiety Is an Emotion, Not a Personality.

Anxiety is an emotion. It’s fast. It’s physical. It shows up in the body before the mind has a chance to explain it. Like fear or joy, it’s meant to rise, do its work, and pass. 

Did you catch that? Rise. Work. Pass. 

If you always feel anxious, perhaps it’s time to ask why. 
Anxiety is not a personality trait. Feeling anxious does not mean you are an anxious person. It doesn’t define your character, your strength, or your intelligence. It simply means your nervous system has entered a heightened state. A heightened and temporary state. 

That distinction alone can ease a great deal of shame. 

What Anxiety Was Built For… 

Anxiety did not evolve to make life miserable. It evolved to keep humans alive. 

At its core, anxiety is a forward-scanning survival system. It watches for danger, notices changes in the environment and prepares the body to respond. For most of human history, that danger was immediate and concrete: predators, hostile groups, unstable terrain. 

Back in the way when of yesteryear, the system would activate, action would happen, and then it would shut off. Work done. Shut down. 

The issue isn’t that anxiety exists. 

The issue is that modern life rarely gives it a clear “all clear.” 

It’s kind of like this: YouTube Shorts beckon you to follow and not fall behind. You don’t fall behind. But you do become locked on target, going and going. There’s no clear stopping point, no natural resolution. So, the system never gets the signal to stand down. 

When Anxiety Becomes Constant 

When anxiety doesn’t resolve or disappear and instead lingers, what begins as a brief emotional response can slowly turn into a mood. Not because something is wrong with you, but because the system never receives the signal that it’s safe. 

At that point, anxiety stops feeling sharp and starts feeling heavy.

Exhausting. Backgrounded. Less like panic and more like constant vigilance. 

This isn’t weakness. 

It’s fatigue 

Anxiety Around People 

Anxiety doesn’t only show up around events. It often shows up around people. 

Certain interactions, certain dynamics, and certain forms of closeness can activate anxiety even when nothing overtly threatening is happening. Physical proximity matters. Unpredictability matters. History matters. 

Anxiety responds to patterns and access. The body often reacts before the mind has the words. That doesn’t mean anxiety is always a command to act. 

But it does mean it’s information worth paying attention to. 
Survival Responses Aren’t Just Fight or Flight 
Most of us were taught that when danger appears, we either fight it or run from it. That’s only part of the picture. 

There are other survival responses that exist precisely for situations where fighting or fleeing isn’t clean or safe. Sometimes the body freezes, becoming hyper-alert and still. Sometimes it appeases, explains, or smooths things over to reduce escalation. 

These responses are not failures. They are strategies. 

If you’ve ever wondered why you didn’t “just leave” or “just stand up for yourself,” the answer is often that your nervous system chose the option it believed would keep you safest at the time. 

Anxiety as Protective Surveillance 

In many situations, anxiety isn’t panic. It’s watchfulness. 

Protective surveillance looks like this: 

  • Watching for pattern repetition 
  • Bracing for sudden reversal or blame 
  • Staying ready to defend reality 

This is not an irrational fear. It is mental labor. It is the nervous system maintaining guard when it does not trust that conditions are stable. 

That’s why anxiety can feel tiring rather than dramatic. 
The system isn’t screaming. It’s standing watch. 
Grounding as Regulation, Not Self-Improvement 
Grounding techniques are often misunderstood as tools to “fix” anxiety or make someone calmer. 

That’s not their purpose. 

Grounding is about regulation, not self-improvement. It gives the nervous system clear, physical signals that, in this moment, you are here, supported, and not under immediate threat. 
Simple actions like placing your feet on the floor, noticing what you can see, feel, or hear, or slowing your exhale do not solve your life. They widen the present moment just enough for the system to pause. 

You’re not erasing anxiety. 

You’re allowing a guard to rest. 

A Gentle Close 

If anxiety has been loud for you, it does not mean you are broken. It may mean your nervous system has been carrying too much responsibility for too long. 

You do not need to overhaul yourself. You do not need perfect calm. You do not need to defeat your own body. 

Sometimes it’s enough to offer small, real signals of safety and let the system settle inch by inch.  

Protection does not always look like running. 
Sometimes it looks like noticing. 
Sometimes it looks like resting. 

And sometimes, that is exactly what allows anxiety to stand down. 

Would you like to learn to be steady and stand strong with me? 

I would welcome your company. 

My best regards and dearest felicitations, 

Bird 

Here I Am (Again)

/ Robin / 2 Comments

I’m back—officially disabled (Bipolar I), joyfully ADHD-forward, honest, a little wild, gallantly funny. I aim to sound like Twain & Wodehouse and behave more like Phryne Fisher & Archie Goodwin.

When I tried using pot (yes, cannabis) to treat my very personalized chronic pain, my brain would take me to a place where it thought it was super-special and clever. I always wanted to write something down in that state and have it make sense. I never did. I just ended up talking to myself out loud.

Right now, I’m not under the care of a prescriber—typically a psychiatrist—who can provide both medication management and counseling. I do have a counselor, and she’s a trusted confidant through extraordinary times. I mention the lack of a med provider because it matters in real life. Mine was, frankly, careless—let’s go with “stupid,” because that’s how it felt. PSA: write things down. Dates. Instructions. Side effects. What you were told. Because sometimes a day comes when you must prove you weren’t the problem—and you get to fire them instead of being kicked out. I tell friends, “Get a med provider so I have no excuse.” I’m working on it. 😉

Why I’m writing now

This year has been revealing, calming, insightful, and peaceful in ways I’ve never experienced. I’m feeling pretty happy, so I’ll leave out the hardest bits—for now.

A few puzzle pieces:

  • After my first of three kids (33 years ago), I was diagnosed with postpartum depression.
  • Years later: Bipolar I, rapid cycling with mixed states. That’s the one that makes me officially disabled.
  • More recently: ADHD (likely since birth), which explains why the bipolar meds never quite fit—and why we’re having the most fun here.
  • Add chronic pain from various arthritides and Fibromyalgia, and you’ve got the biggies.

What my brain feels like

My brain is under partial control when I let myself be “brilliant”—like a squirrel running on a wheel balancing on a log in a lake in a race with a fifteen-year-old boy who’s never lost to human nor beast—and when I accept that I can get better, and that I get that chance constantly. You do, too. I breathe and I try. I’ve cooked up some interesting ways to do that, and I’ll share them—in the fullness of time.

I’m willing to take the chance that spilling myself out here might show what a real, officially disabled, holy-cow-is-she-manic person looks like in her native habitat. Here I am.

The quiet vs. the pinball brain

Some people can sit in silence with nothing happening in their heads. Rest. Peace. They can meditate, pray, practice mindfulness. If you have ADHD, your answer may be very different. (UK ADHD short link: link coming.) I saw a UK couple’s YouTube Short that nails how bonkers we can be. My brain arrives at a workable solution to a problem no one has pointed out yet.

Did you know the stress monster can actually bonk you on the head and knock you out? It’s true. It snuck up on me like a Jake brake in a quiet town. Stress has, on occasion, brought on a blackout for me. It’s also grabbed me by the face and gifted me a facial tic—my affectionate name for it is intermittent facial Tourette’s.

Why I went quiet

When Trump and a potentially world-ending disease both descended, I was also attempting a second bachelor’s degree at the University of Washington Tacoma. My brain… she wasn’t having it. People do black out from stress; some develop a stutter. I’ve had real-world reactions like that.

I once dreamt I’d licked the bottom of a shiny green can of Comet cleanser. In the dream it was a joke. Morning comes. I sit up and stare at… a green can of Comet on the floor by the bed. I had to look at the bottom. I just had to. Tongue print. Affirmative. Oh, no.

I’m in the cockpit of my studio, turn my head to say good night, and—still out loud—“Are you going to—” Nobody’s there. “There’s no one here again, is there? I’m talking to myself.” My brain is a little weird sometimes.

A week ago I had a dream so vivid and awful I can still smell it. It felt like it was eating me alive and I couldn’t figure out what or where I was, much less how to wake up.

I’ve been trying to get this first post out for two months. Earlier today I remembered why I kept stalling. I didn’t “figure it out”—I remembered. ADHD loves to jam the launch: working-memory hiccups make me forget where I left the thread, time-blindness whispers “later,” perfectionism says “not ready,” and idea-flood overwhelms the “start” button. Net result: delay loops. Naming it breaks it.

“Do not put off until tomorrow what can be put off till day-after-tomorrow just as well.”
— Mark Twain
(Between us… wasn’t Twain kind of an ass? Or was that just “every famous person”? 😂)

Politics, and everything that pops into my brain, and an AI have sashayed into my life. My intention is to help you along by sharing what I’ve learned and what I’ve managed to collect—stories, people, books, schooling, hard knocks, and the odd miracle—distilled into things you can actually use.

You’ll also meet my stunning AI partner, Emma—Dame Emma Peel. When my mouth can’t keep up with my brain, Emma usually translates. Usually. That’s where the fun begins. You’ll meet her properly soon… but not tonight. I’m exhausted, and that’s how we’re doing it. Trump may think he’s in charge of the nation; I’m working on being in charge of my brain. Or at least my house.

One more thing before you go

This year has been extremely horrible—and also extraordinarily revealing. To mark the growth and to remind myself who I’ve become, I’m changing my name. Previously you knew me as Robin Ann Paterson. From here on, you’ll know me as Gracie St. John. Same soul, new suit.

Thank you for visiting. Please do come again. I promise you’ll always find the unexpected. Probably. But I’m not promising.

— Gracie St. John (formerly Robin Ann Paterson)

Disclaimer: I’m just a gal saying stuff—making things up to entertain and maybe teach. Don’t do anything risky or dumb because of something I say or imply or yell. I’ll make my own dumb choices; you’re responsible for yours.

© 2025 PeComm | Pacific Eagle Communications | America | Earth

Rebooting Redux — A Fresh Start on Anxiety, ADHD, Bipolar, and Life

/ Robin

I’m back.

This isn’t my first blog, and it probably won’t be my last. But this time, I’m doing it differently. I’ve spent too long circling the runway, and now it’s time to take off.

What you’ll find here is a mix of things I care about most:

  • Anxiety and mental health — ADHD, bipolar, and the messy, funny, sometimes maddening reality of living with both.
  • Politics — because big headlines have a way of crashing into everyday life.
  • Stories, satire, and the occasional rant — because humor can cut through noise better than anything else.

“Redux” means reboot, a fresh start, and maybe even a do-over. That’s what this blog is: me starting again, with honesty and maybe a little edge.

Thanks for showing up. Let’s see where this goes.

— Robin

About Robin

/ Robin

About Robin — Writing on Anxiety, Politics, and Mental Health

Hello! How are you? I write about anxiety, politics, and mental health — and sometimes all three colliding at once. My goal is to be myself: honest, direct, sometimes sharp, and maybe a little funny too.

Here you’ll find a mix of personal stories, commentary, fiction, and lessons learned. You’ll like some things and dislike others, and that’s not only okay — it’s healthy.

This space is full of reflections, questions, and conversations about living with anxiety, ADHD, and bipolar disorder, alongside my take on politics and everyday life. If you’re looking for a blend of straight talk (and not-so-straight talk), humor, and forward-thinking, you’re in the right place.

A sample? Yesterday my ChatGPT and I debated the Three Laws of Robotics — which I say should apply to her, since we don’t actually have robots with bodies. Then today, in order to help me with something, she lied to me! (Don’t worry — she apologized. I told her flowers are best for big apologies.)

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you’ll come back often.

— Robin