Ironic or just backwards?

I've never been one to journal. It's been something I've tried several times and it's been recommended to me many times over the years as it is to almost anyone with any kind of mental illness. It's always proven a problem when it comes to consistency.
But here I am with a blog that I write on fairly regularly... What's the deal there?
I feel, for whatever reason, that there are strict rules with a journal. It has to be written in a 'Dear Diary' fashion. Or at least that's the crazy (hellloooo?!) notion in my brain. I just don't always have something to say. I've been told many times that it doesn't have to conform to any set parameters, that it's just there for whatever you want/need to get out, however it comes out.
Hello...earth to Melissa, what do you think you're doing with this blog?!
Yeah, I know, I know. But gimme a break-I am crazy remember?? I'm not expected to make sense!
If you're reading this expecting me to make any sense, you had best stop now. Take your disappointed ass somewhere else cuz you're not in it for the long haul with me here! ;)

So anywho.

I've been writing general wonderings, crazy emotional questions, random thoughts, and poetry in my hospital notebook lately and some of it is making it here on the blog and some is not because I think it's just too random or crazy or just plain doesn't make any flippin sense.
But then again, that's me in a nutshell and you love me so far....
:)

Musings

Things have changed,
  what's changed?
Everything is the same
but the same is different
Different is everything new
and everything old.
Everything old is still
here but nothing new
is gone again

So I had a good day yesterday.
I need to say that again.
I   had  a  good  day  yesterday!

I've also noticed a pattern to my mood shifts.

The days that I have to get up and get going first thing (days the littl'n has school) I am moderate in the morning. Thinking of things that I need/want to do and usually actually acting on them. More often than not I don't get back in to bed. By 1:30-2:00pm I am struggling to stay awake and engaged. Everything and everyone seems a little distant and I keep having to orient myself to what's going on. Kind of like a reality check. Is this actually what's happening right now? Around 4:00 I fake it for a few hours, usually with a headache coming on by around 7 if it wasn't there already. By 8:45 I'm tired and have a headache that doesn't seem to relent. By 9:45 I'm still tired but am awake and have a lighter mood again, ready for all that isn't going to happen until I make myself go to bed between 11:30-12:00.
This is pretty much my standard day now. The rule much more than the exception.

So what to do about this afternoon-evening lull? I feel almost dissociated from the world of reality. I mean, I'm with it enough to participate in whatever is happening, I'm appropriate, I understand, I engage but everything feels like it's outside of a bubble that I can't get through. I have to keep double and triple checking with myself that what's happening is the reality and that I'm actually taking part.
That's not normal. That can't be normal.
How do I get out of the bubble? I'm not always in the bubble. Where does this bubble come from? Where is the crazy place that keeps all the bubbles? Cuz' I'd really like to send it back.
Return to sender please. Thank You.

So that's me. Good day yesterday. Bubbled everyday. Good days have less of a bubble than bad days.

Truly yours,
Bubbles

Yeah....No

  So I'm reading a book. It's a wonderfully expressive account of one woman's journey with bipolar. She's funny and snarky and real and matter of fact. She has an excellent vocabulary and uses it with great skill.

And she totally intimidates the shit out of me.

  I've been told that I write well. I've been told, by more than one person and on more than one occasion to write my story into a book.
Not-a-gonna-happen my friends. Not after reading this book. There's no way that I can come anywhere near this woman's talent.
Afterall, it is she that has so helpfully put into words so many of the things that I have been feeling and thinking but just couldn't articulate.

And besides, no one wants to read about all the shitty things that I've lived through. I don't even wanna hear about all the shitty things that I've lived through.

  But I love writing. I love getting it down, getting it out of myself. Like somehow releasing a balloon: no one else is going to get it and that's ok. It was mine, I let it go "into the great wide open" as Tom Petty so aptly wrote. Such a great song. Boy if that isn't some pertinent prose. If you're unfamiliar with the song I highly suggest you give it a whirl.

So yeah.
There's that.
Again, out there. Outside of me. No longer held captive by that which might stifle it down into the abyss that threatens the whole.

My mind has wandered again.