This is not fun

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I wonder what to do with my life or what my life will become sometimes. I envision myself older, grayer and alone. Moving slower, doing small things and being tired and resting all the time.

You see and hear about seniors ‘out there’ in the world living exciting lives and being ACTIVE.

But it’s hard to be active when you are so damned confused all the time. When you hurt every day, and you are going thru a process of getting your body to a state of ‘normalcy’.

Sjogren’s Syndrome is a bitch with no name. You mention it and nobody knows what you’re talking about. If you say arthritis, they get it. But Sjogren’s. NOPE. It’s an autoimmune disease which can effect your organs and is more than just dry mouth and eyes.

For me, its constant joint pain, in my hips and swelling knees and stiff knees like boards. Some mornings I’m fucking walking like Frankenstein. Living off of pain killers and Tylenol is not what I thought getting older was all about.

I’m glad I’m still here. The BiPolar hasn’t done me in, I’ve found the right meds for the moment and I say moment because they tend to quit on me.

Now I have the Sjogren’s and the lack of a thyroid to deal with and its all becoming so complicated, with the brain fog (forgetfulness and losing your train of thought or what you were going to say next). It’s embarrassing and frustrating.

I’m afraid I’ll never be able to read my poetry out loud again, because my vocal chords still hurt. And I have to rest them, I still haven’t gotten my old voice back. I go to speak and sound like a toad.

This is not growing old gracefully. And I’m not even 50 yet.

This is not fun.

Yeah, no cancer.

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I thought I would be ecstatic, but again, that would be mania. Don’t get me wrong, I am pleased not to have cancer. And I am not bothered with having to take thyroid meds till I die.

I’m on psych meds until I die also, it isn’t going anywhere either. Neither is my autoimmune disease (Sjogren’s Syndrome).

But there’s an underlying depression, that Latuda is doing a fucking good job of holding back, I must say.

But it’s there and I can feeling it scratching at the walls. And I am just tired. From the thyroid, from the Sjogren’s (which btw I know more about than my primary doctor). From not getting repairs done in a timely manner on this apartment, (a month and a half to put the covers on some draws, really?)

And now, no hot water for the weekend. It’s almost been two weeks. I have to turn my heat up to 80 degrees to take a 3 min warm shower. It’s this ‘hot water on demand’ type system and no one has any idea how to fix it. Yeah, me.

Yes, there are starving children, homeless children, people without clean drinking water. I AM AWARE OF THIS! Call me a prima donna if that makes you feel better about yourself.

But I suffer also, and it has nothing to do with hot water. Cancer scares, surgeries, bipolar, thyroid adjustment of meds (which has been pure hell), Sjogren’s Syndrome (which is more than dry eyes and dry mouth), chronic pain, insomnia, molestation, YEAH, POOR ME, POOR ME, POUR ME ANOTHER.

That’s not the point. I ask for very little from life. I hope for the best and try to stop expecting the worst. I am trying to change that former thought pattern. TRYING to expect or and hope for a positive outcome. There is ALWAYS gonna be SOMETHING. There is ALWAYS gonna be SHIT. I know and understand this and am able to deal with it better now, than before.

Thanks to an inpatient stay that changed my life and helped me more than any other, where I learned coping skills, that work better than the ones I knew before.

I have learned to be thankful for each small blessing. And to give thanks to (whomever you choose to believe in or not). For me, its God and I thank him daily.

But I have also learned that with EACH blessing… The Devil gets his cut…

It’s a balance. Yin/Yang. Good and Evil.

Some people never go thru this in life. Good for them. But it may just be an appearance, because ‘you’re not living their day to day life’. You only see what they want you to see.

So, yeah. No cancer. I am grateful, believe me. So is my family. Especially my mother.

I bask in that.

Now I would just like to bask in a hot shower, before people start complaining.

It’s Always Something.

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Ok, no answers until after the surgery. I either follow the path of someone with cancer. OR I follow the path of someone who dogged a bullet called cancer. Right now, I don’t know.

My primary seems to think I have cancer and she would be the one handling my thyroid medication etc. IF I have thyroid cancer, I will have to have RAI. Which is a procedure where I swallow radioactive liquid or take a radioactive pill and can’t be around people for a week and have to eat a LID. Low Iodine Diet for 2 or more weeks. Then I get tests too see if the radiation has killed all the cancer cells in my body.

Gee, sounds like fun. I could be the HULK or someone. I could GLOW like Mr. Burns in that Simpson’s episode. I love that episode.

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Or all is well, I won’t get to glow and I just take SYNTHOID for the rest of my life.

I go for the latter. My Endocrinologist doesn’t think its cancer, he said the one nodule doesn’t feel like cancerous nodules he’s felt in the past.

I’m kinda pissed at my Primary doctor, I’ve would have the ‘good’ cancer. Easy to cure etc. That’s a shitty thing to say. There IS NO GOOD CANCER OR EASY CANCER.

Shit.

The title of this blog is It’s just one aspect. And I realize that since I FIRST was diagnosed with BiPolar. I wanted to make it clear that I am not my illness, I am not my diagnosis, I am a person first and see me as such.

I have my ups and downs, hell. It’s a roller coaster and I’ve been on it for over 20 years. Sometimes at the starting gate other times at the top of the drop… And then I just drop.

I’m processing this new kink in my long list of illnesses. Osteoarthritis, S’jogren’s Syndrome, Anxiety, Depression, Social Anxiety, Compulsive Overeater

Yeah, it’s kinda long. I just think DOCTORS like LABELS. It makes it easier for them to sort out things in their minds. They can treat the label and IGNORE the human being in front of them.

I do have good days. But right now, this takes precedence. Once March 10th comes and goes, I will have answers and I will move forwards with whatever comes next.

And something ALWAYS comes next, whether I’m ready for it or not.

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I love Gilda.

JUST WROTE THIS POEM… PLS READ https://bipolarslip.wordpress.com/2015/02/20/could-it-be-cancer/

Everybody Limbo…

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The more I find out about thyroid cancer and how you have to have surgery in order to discover IF you indeed have cancer, the more it pisses me off. Here is the result of my Biopsy.

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Most of the time it’s a we will wait and see type thing when they find a nodule. This could go on for years. Full of ultra sounds and doctor visits every six months. You know its there, but there is always that ‘if’ factor and things could change in a few years, you could have cancer… or not.

Then there’s the ‘we have to remove the nodule’ aspect. Where sometimes it’s not cancer, but you feel like you have just had an unnecessary operation that has put you on medication FOR LIFE.

I’ve decided to have my entire thyroid removed, because I have nodules on both sides, even though they only tested one side. DUH!

I will be on meds for it for the rest of my life. And if I have cancer, there is another step I have to follow. Another journey of illness. One of many trips I wish I didn’t have to take.

I don’t know if you can truly ‘master’ bipolar. By master i mean, be in synch with yourself and your illness. So that you can handle the ups and downs and not feeling like leaping off of a building every few days.

If the meds are right, and the therapy is right. You can survive BiPolar and at least be able to cope.

This is another ‘BODY BLOW’ and I know it. But my meds keep me from freaking and doing things to hurt myself. I realize this. Maybe it’s just blocking the emotions enough, that I can still be me and not a zombie or totally off balance.

I don’t know. I do have other issues with chronic pain. Just started in November. No one has any answers about that one either. But I will continue to address it and take the meds for that crap. Joint pain in my hips. Swelling knees. Shoulder pain. And the flare ups in both thighs where it feels like hot needles are being jabbed into my thighs, but my thighs also are tingling like they are numb.

JUST STOP. Please, I give. I don’t want to die, but I’ve had enough. I just want to live calmly and quietly and enjoy the small blessing I have received lately.

Cancer. BiPolar. Fibromyalgia???

I don’t know. But I will not be defined by an illness. As I say, it’s just an aspect.

Not sure how to put this… But cancer?

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It seems that since BiPolar hit back in 1993, my health has been going downwards. I have tried to eat healthy and exercise and all types of things to prolong my life, while also wanting to kill myself. I figured, if I’ve decided to stay here, I might as well do what is expected. Take care of myself physically.

So I go to the doctor regularly, dentist, gyn, the whole nine yards. I have a vitamin regime and it seems like everytime I start exercising, I hurt myself or get sick or something happens.

I have had many operations to lose weight, gallbladder, ovary/fallopian tube removal, 2 knee replacements, hernia.

And now it looks like I’m up for another one. I might have thyroid cancer. I won’t have all the answers until they take the follicular nodule from my thyroid. I won’t know until I wake up, how much of a thyroid I will have left. If I have to take radiation etc.

I know I will have to take thyroid meds afterwards for the rest of my life, I have to take psych meds for the rest of my life, so I have no problem with that.

My mother just finished her second bout of breast cancer. She is doing well, very well thank God.

Now, I guess it’s my turn. I figure the more people I talk to about this, the better I will feel. Still in kinda shock. Still feeling tired. Eating, not eating. Lots of sleep.

So I guess this blog will add the cancer trip as well as the Bipolar aspect.

This should be fun… Not.

You know when something is wrong.

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Underneath this controlled mood, lies a raging stream. Crashing against rocks and fallen trees. With small pools of calmness between trapped pieces of nature.

I have been cycling for about a week. Underneath my pharmaceutical calmness, I know I’m cycling. It peeks thru and I react and I can feel it trying to come to the surface like a whale breaching.

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But I take my meds religiously. They are the only thing between me and death or an institution or jail. BiPolar cycling can take you there and it’s a scary place to be.

The holidays were hard. Feeling and being alone for Christmas. Mom doesn’t celebrate. Brother does, but he never invites me. Besides, he’s going thru marital hell right now.

Maybe its good that I’m alone. Considering.

But underneath it all, it was hell. Pure hell. Fighting each day, just too keep it together. And appearing on the outside, like I don’t have a care in the world.

Med Magic.

Now I find that I may have an autoimmune disease. Like this wasn’t enough for me. It may just be a scare, but it’s on my mind. So, I find myself wondering about the blessings and the balance. Good things come and bad things follow so you appreciate the good.

Or something like that.

Right now, they are constant joint pains in my hips. I can barely do 5k steps a day. But I know I need to walk. The weather isn’t cooperating, but I do what I can do.

I have to see a Rheumatoid doc and later in the month I find out about the blood work. CAT scans and Ultrasounds of my throat. I have nodules on my thyroids.

I don’t know what any of this means. Maybe that’s why I can’t lose weight. Maybe its why I still have depression despite the meds. Maybe it means nothing.

So, my body and my mind knows they are not in ship shape. Although after I moved, I felt ALIVE.

Now I feel like I’m approaching 90 instead of 48. Going to get final burial insurance in February. Not that I think I’m gonna die, just that I don’t want my corpse to be anyone’s burden to get rid of after I’m gone. I won’t know, but they will.

My mother had a partial masectomy in November. We are still working on getting her moving and getting her thoughts clear etc. It takes a lot out of your body and your mind. She had cancer and will have to be on meds for it for the rest of her life.

At least she’s still here.

And so am I.

Times you think it’s going to be fine

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I had two weeks, maybe three or a month. Can’t remember, all I know is that, I could feel depression sneaking in the background. Behind trees, watching me as I took my daily walk. Hanging from the walls of my apartment and casting doubt into every action I made.

Then, like a genius, I added alcohol. I thought it would help me sleep. I slept worse. I stopped exercising for two days and now I’m exhausted. My body aches and all I want to do is to stay in bed.

Bed is my friend. It’s a good place. I can hide there, dream there, be there. But its empty. Apart from the stuffed animals. (Girl thing).

So now I wonder, how long will this last. It’s the closest I felt to being (cured) of BP in years. I know there is no cure, I know it’s an illness I have to deal with 24/7/365. I know this, its reality. But I felt good and I haven’t felt good in over 7 years. Arbitrary number, it could be more. You lose count. With all the med changes and hospitalizations and therapy and physical illnesses. Life becomes a blur and I already wear glasses.

Too much to do today and visitors tomorrow. Two doctors the next day and accompany my mom on Friday.

Then holiday week. Christmas, New Years Eve and New Years Day.

No parties, no presents, no invitations. But the world will continue with the process and I guess I will just “be”.

There are times when you think you’ve got it beat. Delusional. I guess I just have to be happy with what is offered and given to me.

I have to brush, floss, bathe, lotion, gargle, sleep. And what surrounds that, I guess its life.

My Mom had cancer, she’s 100% cancer free. But she’s still healing and it’s stressing. I don’t know how she took care of me when I was sick, so much worrying, stress and demands. I guess that’s why I’m barren. God knew I couldn’t handle children and BiPolar.

There are reasons I know nothing about.

Beep Beep Eddie…

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For some reason I thought of Tim Curry as the clown Pennywise in the tv movie “IT” by Stephen King.

Although it has nothing to do with this post.

I’ve been away for some time, I’ve moved. My mother moved, although I’m not very happy about where she is right now. I wanted her to be alone, but she’s still got my relatives with her, but she seems happy. It only is sad when I leave and come back to my apartment.

She had breast cancer and I go by and make meals for her and help her with things. Laundry etc.

To be honest, I’m tired. I’m not depressed or cycling. Just slightly overwhelmed. I’ve been snacking tonight, putting my eating plan over it’s limits.

Deep down, there is a feeling to stay in bed and NOT function. I can feel it creeping up on me. I don’t want company. I don’t want to talk. I just want to lay in bed and sleep. But I can’t. I have to make sure my mom is ok.

But I also need to keep doing. I’ve started WiiFit U and have been doing pretty good for the past week. How long this will last, I don’t know. But I’m not gonna future think. I’m just gonna be in the moment and try to cope.

My eating disorder is at bay. Thanks to Overeaters Anonymous and me moving. I hate counting calories etc. And I just won’t do it anymore. It makes things difficult for me. I don’t want to obsess over food logs etc. But,it does help.

Feeling a bit sad over Craig Charles’ brother dying all of a sudden from a heart attack. He was only 52. I feel bad for him. He’s back on the roller coaster of life and I hope he can hold it together.

There is still so much to do concerning this apartment. Bills, learning how to budget and save. Hoping my meds hold on and I can pull this independence thing off.

Everything has changed, it takes a while to get use too. I miss having easy access to my Mom, she’s my best friend. Everything has changed. Kinda scary.

Long time coming

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Quiet and peace. The weather outside is the complete opposite, with the wind blowing and the rain falling. I have to head out there soon, but if it wasn’t for the present calm I’ve been feeling, I know I couldn’t do it.

My eating disorder is in abstinence at the moment. I am preparing myself for a rough two weeks or so, taking care of my mother who is going in for surgery. She is tired and doesn’t feel very well and is psyching herself up for the experience. I know she is scared and I am scared too. I don’t want to lose her, never want to see her go. Although, I know its inevitable. Just not now, I’m not ready for it, then again who ever is ready for someone they love to die?

I have a new apartment with privacy and a pleasant landlord. a true blessing from God. Neighbors upstairs are always dropping things on the floor, they are either klutzes or doing it on purpose. I vote for klutz.

My current cocktail of Latuda, Doxepin, Xanax and Vistaril. I think that’s the name of it… Has kept my anxieties down and allowed me to get quality sleep. I know the move has had a huge effect upon my current mood and life in general.

I know my pdoc will want to reduce the Xanax, but things are fine at the moment. I say, don’t mess with it.

I’m not going to speculate as to how long this will last, I’m just going to enjoy what is now and live in the moment.

It is how I have to deal with things, otherwise I’m overwhelmed and hospitalized.

I’m going to Overeaters Anonymous, although I won’t be able to go back until my Mom is back on her feet. It has helped tremendously with boredom eating and binging in general.

Right now,I’m in a good place. I’m gonna leave it at that.

Mental Illness is like that, sometimes you are just fine and the BAM!!! all hell brakes loose in your head. I’m aware of this, but I’m not going to stress over what may or may not happen for months or years from now.

Existing in the moment, enjoying what I can.

With a side of Self Hatred, please…

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I have hated myself since I was a child. I was too thin, then too fat and my knees wouldn’t bend all the way like everyone else’s did. Arthritis.

I was always finding some fault with myself. My siblings teased me mercilessly. I was over sensitive, my mom would say. She would yell at them for teasing me. But it really never stopped.

As I got older, the teasing turned into judgement. I was the odd one out. I took pride in that. I like being a misfit.

BECAUSE IN ALL YOUR LIFE, YOU WILL NEVER FIND ANOTHER PERSON, LIKE ME.

The individual, I praise it.

This would be nice if I didn’t hate myself. IF my father didn’t tease me in front of everyone and turn my efforts to lose weight into a joke. I hated him. The mental abuse was non stop. I could not please the man, so I just stopped trying.

The best thing he ever did for me, was to die. I was free.

Didn’t stop the self hatred, which turned into self harm once the BiPolar hit. No self confidence, low self-esteem, low self-image. Just Low.

I’m 47 years old. I’ve been battling this crap for years. I’m sure I’ve got more battles ahead, but right now.
At this moment. Today, at 12:52pm EST.

I don’t hate myself. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to harm myself or others. And I am just HERE.

Now, I’m going to play Farmville 2.

Tomorrow will be, what it will be and I will feel as I feel TOMORROW. And I’m not going to obsess on that to the point of an anxiety attack.

I’m in the moment. And it’s quite peaceful.

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