bipolar · Meds · mental health · mental illness · Sjogren's Syndrome

Coffee and Lithium

I know it’s late. But I’m bidding on eBay.

I am currently on three meds to control my cycling and mania. It’s a bit dangerous and I don’t like it one bit. But my pdoc is watching me and I see her in a week or so.

My mania has decreased. It pisses me off that my pdoc didn’t recognize that the reason the new med didn’t control the mania was due to the med I take for my Sjogrens Syndrome. Something I’m going to have to ream her about.

My thinking is clearer and the friends I had in my head are slowly disappearing. Which is kinda sad because now I am truly alone.

Reminds me of Lithium by Nirvana. Yeah, I  guess that’s where I am.

Lithium – Video

Lithium

I’m so happy because today
I’ve found my friends
They’re in my head
I’m so ugly, but that’s okay, ’cause so are you
We’ve broken our mirrors
Sunday morning is every day for all I care
And I’m not scared
Light my candles in a daze
‘Cause I’ve found god
Hey, hey, hey

I’m so lonely but that’s okay I shaved my head
And I’m not sad
And just maybe I’m to blame for all I’ve heard
But I’m not sure
I’m so excited, I can’t wait to meet you there
But I don’t care
I’m so horny but that’s okay
My will is good
Hey, hey, hey

I like it, I’m not gonna crack
I miss you, I’m not gonna crack
I love you, I’m not gonna crack
I killed you, I’m not gonna crack

I like it, I’m not gonna crack
I miss you, I’m not gonna crack
I love you, I’m not gonna crack
I killed you, I’m not gonna crack

I’m so happy ’cause today
I’ve found my friends,
They’re in my head
I’m so ugly, that’s okay, ’cause so are you,
Broke our mirrors
Sunday morning is every day for all I care,
And I’m not scared
Light my candles in a daze
‘Cause I’ve found god

Yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah, yeah

I like it, I’m not gonna crack
I miss you, I’m not gonna crack
I love you, I’m not gonna crack
I killed you, I’m not gonna crack

I like it, I’m not gonna crack
I miss you, I’m not gonna crack
I love you, I’m not gonna crack
I killed you, I’m not gonna crack

 

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anxiety · bipolar · Cancer · depression · Life · mental health · mental illness · Sjogren's Syndrome

STUCK! NOT!

Today I was told that I was “stuck” in my therapy. That my anxiety was ruling my life. I have reasons for that anxiety. Every time I take a risk, I have gone one step forwards and then I am knocked backwards two steps back. So, why bother with even trying. I’m getting too old for this and the damage from these encounters only makes it harder for me to function day to day. So I protect myself by avoiding situations where the same thing could happen again.

They want me to go to an intensive program for a few weeks and then come back.

I was super anxious about my mother’s upcoming cataract surgery. It’s hard enough just holding it together on a day to day basis. Distracting negative thoughts and fighting depression and the messages of self-hatred. It’s exhausting. For four weeks I’m gonna be more of a caregiver than I am normally. This builds added anxiety for me. I talked to my therapist and I was able to work past that hurdle.

Now they add this shit on my plate. MORE anxiety. You get rid of one and decide I could be doing so much better if I were more social. That you want to send me away and put me in some type of program. I am now making a mountain out of a molehill. Last time I was put into some type of day program. I was frightened because the majority of the participants just straight out scared me. Not because of their illnesses, but because they were men and I had been molested as a child and hadn’t dealt with that aspect yet.

Whenever I get into group therapy settings, I ended up facilitating the group instead of the facilitator. And when I try to turn that around and don’t talk until it’s my turn and ask for help, no one is able to help me. So group doesn’t work for me. My Pdoc said in that situation I should be happy just to be able to have helped someone. Fuck that. When do “I” get the help “I” need in that situation? Yeah, I’m happy I could help you, but where does that leave me? How does that help me towards stability?

They spring this on me two months before my mother’s surgery. It’s not the surgery I’m concerned about, it’s her reaction to the medication she has to take BEFORE and AFTER the surgery.

She’s on Letrozole for her cancer. She’s cancer free and has two more years of this stuff. The side-effects for her are exhausting. Foods and odors and medications cause her to have reactions that shoot through her body, from head to toe and last a long time. She has to drink lots of water and milk to calm her stomach and wash it out of her system. And then sit down and calm her nerves and her heartbeat. I understand this but her doctors seem to just ignore her remarks. I know and she knows that she has no choice but to finish off the last two years. The alternative is that cancer could come back, so there is really nothing anyone can do but put up with this.

This is where the anxiety comes from. I feel for her, it’s called empathy. And she’s my mother.

As I said, I got over that anxiety. But there are reasons I’m not a social butterfly.

I feel like I’m being judged by other people when I go out. OK, paranoia. I dismissed this and just started to feel comfortable and safe at one place. When this person decides to validate this fear by looking me up and down with an expression on her face like she smelled something bad. The stink face.

I didn’t smell. I was neat and clean. But she looked at me like I was beneath her. Judging me. Situations like that keep me from taking the risk of ‘being social.’ I could have said something, but out of respect of the people and the building, I kept my mouth shut.

I was walking down the street and some guy who decided I was in his path and didn’t want to move over his way mumbled that I was a fat fuck under his breath. I yelled “Fuck You” and continued on my path. Judgement. More justification of my mindstate.

I take the leap into a relationship and it turns out to be verbally abusive and almost physically. So I’m not heading down that track anytime soon.

Then there’s the chronic pain. If you hug me, it hurts. Sometimes even the slightest touch hurts. My knees swell when I walk and sometimes my leg drags if I walk too long. I fight through it and keep walking. It goes away, but the next day I suffer. My body is exhausted and I struggle to move around. I’m one day up and one day down. This is constant. Right now I am in pain. The weather has a lot to do with how I feel. Trying a new vitamin, hope it helps. This is my manifistation of Sjögren’s Syndrome, the joint pain etc.

This is a factor in my ability to be social. But I have no cane. I don’t talk about it to anyone but one friend who is in the same boat. No one wants to hear that all the time.

I can’t dance anymore. I can’t run. I can walk, so I am grateful. So my rant is over. I was very upset at the start. I might go to the program, just not now. November when everything is over and I have fewer worries.

 

 

 

Meds · Prolactinoma · Sjogren's Syndrome · symptoms

I’ve got ideas

prolactinoma

 

Conversations going through my mind about stories. I don’t wanna forget them, but today is the day I take my Cabergoline for the growth on my pituitary gland. I begin to feel the draw on my energy and confusion the day before I take my pill, which is Friday. Saturdays are usually a blur of sleep and Craig Charles Funk and Soul Show on the radio.

Sunday’s are better, I feel clear minded and my mood is improved. My endo says there must be something that my body needs in the pills besides what it’s intended. It took me five minutes to write that last sentence and I’m still not sure it’s right. Ugh.

I intended to write about something else, but I can’t get my mind wrapped around. I wanted to write about parents and how they never die. How their effects on your life never seem to leave.

I also wanted to write about self-esteem and how I’m working on mine. How it dips and how I self-talk my way out of the lows.

It’s gonna have to wait. I’ve done my light therapy, taken my morning meds and eaten. Gonna take it easy. My mind isn’t very clear today.

There are days I remember my laundry list of illnesses. I believe that once you have one illness, other ones just seem to follow. BiPolar, general depression, social anxiety, Sjögren’s Syndrome, prolactinoma. Kinda puts a damper on things. I need a nap.

I’m not depressed, just foggy minded.

PLEASE DONATE TO HELP ME ATTEND THE WRITERS’ CONFERENCE.

 

bipolar · depression · Life · Meds · mental health · Prolactinoma · Sjogren's Syndrome · Thoughts

So, very tired

Tried to get out of the house today. But I am just too tired. There are days when all I’m doing is dragging from one room to the bed. And no matter how positive I think or how much sugar or protein I ingest. My body is just too tired to move.

I’m off one med and waiting to see how I am feeling to see what other med I can be put on for the microplactinoma. Maybe they’ll just leave things as they are, right now I don’t know.

All I know is that I’m tired. Very, very tired. And I’m scared.

After all these years, BiPolar doesn’t scare me as much as physical illness does. Sure they can most of them, but I seem to be getting the ones that can only be managed. And that’s distressing at times.

 

bipolar · depression · Life · mental health · mental illness · Self Image · Sjogren's Syndrome · Stigma · Support · Thoughts

Get over it

It’s hard to realize how much a word that someone may say in passing can have such a devastating effect upon you and your mood.

I try not to let the judgements bother me, but sometimes it makes you stop and truly look at what state your life is, where it’s going and what it’s lacking.

The other person may never realize the weight their comment may have had on your life. You really can’t blame them.

It’s how you process the remark, which basically is…

“get over it”

How do you get over your life? What suffering you go thru on a daily basis; this isn’t a cold or the sniffles. It’s what mental illness and chronic pain has done to you. Never asked for, no one action.

So you tell yourself, it is what it is and you move forwards. But when you express yourself and try to escape the constant state of things. And someone comes back at you with ,’get over it’.

The sand castle falls down.

So you start again, rebuilding the walls.

I tell myself, ADAPT – IMPROVISE -OVERCOME

Some days it works, it’s not working today. Thank God for therapy.

anxiety · bipolar · Cancer · depression · Life · Meds · mental health · mental illness · Sjogren's Syndrome · Stigma

Her-cules

Let’s take a look at this, all of it and try and make some sense of it all.

They tell you God gives you only as much as you can handle, I believe that to some extent. Because when I was molested, I couldn’t handle it as a child, so I didn’t remember it until I was an adult and could cope with the memory. That’s 25 years. So for me, there’s some truth to this.

Then I look at me life now, how my mother is being spun around by the very pill which will save her life. Femara or Letrozole. It’s a pill you take after you’ve had breast cancer, to help keep you from getting cancer again.

The side effects are insane. I’ve been thru some side effects over these 25+ years of skipping down the mental illness medication road. So I understand what its like, but it’s hard for a 78 year old woman to handle, but the alternative isn’t even an option.

My Sjogren’s is having its way with me. The pain and flare ups are sending me to bed for the day. There are days where I feel like my old self, so I over do it without realizing it and I end up back in bed.

“A man’s gotta know his limitations.”

So does a woman. I’m learning, the hard way. But there are times you have to push thru, because there’s no one else there to do what needs to be done. So I suffer.

On the mental illness front, depression, anxiety, SAD, and light box heaven. I’ve got a light box now and it’s helping. My Latuda is helping, I know this because with all the stress I feel from the Sjogren’s and dealing with my mother, I know I would be in the hospital.

I love my mother. Don’t get me wrong, but when you’ve got your own shit and you have too deal and ease and help others deal with theirs, because they are in a position where they are clueless. You just keep moving forwards.

So, I must be Hercules, because I am still here and things are still being piled upon my shoulders and I WILL NOT BREAK.

I may cry, but that’s only human.

A poem I wrote today:

Tightrope

Smile the widest smile and laugh the loudest

Give until it hurts, because it will hurt

it always hurts.

Joke about your past mistakes and losses

Lighten the mood.

Slip in a true feeling, a simple one, ever so slightly, the smallest utterance.

So no one will notice.

Can’t be caught with emotions exposed

For they will rip them and tear them from you like a slaughtered lamb

And we can’t have that.

Never expose the true pain

Numb it with alcohol, pills, work

and hours of sleep.

Hide it inside, the raw feelings, failures and losses

About to burst.

Let no one see, let no one know

Lest it all goes… poof.

DIH 12/09/15

 

bipolar · depression · Life · mental health · Sjogren's Syndrome · Thoughts

Introspective

I feel so new with this physical illness. You can’t see pain with the naked eye, but you can see it’s effects. Kinda like mental illness. So actually, I should be able to get an understanding on how to live with this shit. Maybe.

With Sjogren’s, like BiPolar, you really never know when an episode is gonna hit, but you can kinda see or know the signs it’s coming.

I’ve got BiPolar’s signals down, for me. I can tell when certain behaviors are leading up to an upswing or a downward spiral. And I will try to head it off with meds or self talk etc. Using my skill set here.

With Sjogren’s, it’s all so new. I have a journal of daily activities. I know if I do too much, I will pay for it later or the next day. But, HOW MUCH IS TOO MUCH ?

I slowly push the limits, but I fear a flare up, so I just do nothing. I hate the pain all over my body. My knees, my back, my hips. I’m sore all over and even laying down hurts.

So I take it easy.

Which leaves me without a life; I fear pain, depression, people, myself, loneliness, love. So many things, it’s not like a phobia, but more like a general fear of everything. Without being specific, maybe its paranoia, but I don’t think so. I don’t think anything is out to get me, so maybe it’s anxiety.

I’m just so tired of illness. No matter what the brand. I’ve been sick with something ever since I was born. Wearing leg braces as a toddler, constant bouts with tonsillitis. Depression.

I see myself dying alone and it scares me. The people I love are either growing up or getting older and as the youngest child, I fear being left behind. Sick and alone. No one knowing I’m dead until the stench in my apartment reaches the street. As the unpaid bills pile up in the mailbox and the neighbors begin to ‘wonder’.

Over 20 years of fighting BiPolar has left me tired and alone. I avoided relationships because I didn’t trust my judgement and I felt I would attract someone who would abuse me. The one time I tried, this came true. Not physical abuse, although there were time it came close, but verbal, emotional and mental abuse.

So, proving myself right. I stayed alone. Isolated and trying to get some sanity back.

When I finally got on an even keel, the bottom dropped out again with the thyroid and the Sjogren’s.

Something new to experience. I’m too old for this.

I don’t know if I have the fight of a 20 year old to battle and come out, O.K. anymore.

But something inside of me, keeps me moving forwards. Although I don’t know why or what it is I’m moving towards.