anxiety · bipolar · depression · Meds · mental illness · Self Image · social anxiety · symptoms · Thoughts

I HATE THIS PART!!!

New MED. New worries. Walking the fine line between feeling good or wondering if it’s a climb into a hypomanic state.

I went for a walk. Brought lots of junk food to put away for those times when nothing satisfies like a sugar rush.

Find myself wondering if I’m cycling up. I upped my dosage two days earlier and now I’m worried. Will I sleep tonight? What will tomorrow be like when I do my grocery shopping? Will I spend like a maniac?

This is the risk I take with every med adjustment. I hate med adjustments. I usually do them in the hospital. But I’m trying to avoid inpatient crap.

I have to be honest with myself and slow it down tonight. I like this feeling. I’m not harming anyone at the moment. The walk felt good.

But now I’m feeling guilty for feeling GOOD. Like it’s a bad thing and can only lead to grandiose thoughts and actions.

I hate not being able to trust my feelings and emotions. A lifetime of this shit is tiring.

No wonder I keep to myself and stay indoors.

Is it so wrong to smile sometimes?

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anxiety · bipolar · depression · Meds · mental health · mental illness · social anxiety · symptoms · Thoughts

Is it the weather or not?

Rain and snow and high winds for the past few days. Not sure if nature isn’t cycling as well. Had to start the Trileptal a few days earlier. I felt awful. My head was just feeling like it was working on triple AAA batteries when it was designed for AA.

Feel much better this morning. I tend to respond to meds pretty fast. I can tell if it’s gonna work or not in a day or so. This seems like a fit for me. May need an increase in dosage, but time will tell.

I have the opportunity to get a therapy dog. I don’t feel this is the right time to be making this type of decision. Seeing other people leave their dogs droppings in my front lawn just irks me. I’ve always had a dog and I never did that, it’s disrespectful.

The opportunity for a therapy dog is sweet. But I don’t think I’m ready to give up my freedom. Plus there are my physical limitations. Chronic pain and swelling knees. The responsibility would fall on “ME” alone. I can remember thinking my dogs always deserved a better owner. One who could care for it up to the standards they deserved.

The monetary responsibility is the main one. I simply can’t afford it now. Maybe one day. Too many bills. Shame.

I don’t think I could walk a dog through the snow anymore. The rain and winds cause pressure on my sinuses. As I said, my dog would deserve better. God forbid if they got sick. Like my last dog did. I still mourn her loss.

One day I will have one just not now.

Thoughts

2 much time on my hands. Or what I did 2 day.

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  1. Look up ex-lovers and see if they’re doing time or on parole.

2. Google yourself.

Really2

  1. Go to various Department of Correction sites in different states to see if YOU are doing time or just on parole.
  2. Google dead relatives and pets.
  3. Write. No blogging, but write actual short stories or working on that novel. (*NOTE TO SELF)
  4. Get a mammogram.
  5. Go to a cookout. Arrive on time and see no one is there and find out it was canceled but nobody told anyone. Walk home.
  6. Talk on the phone with bestie about how you’ve been wasting time today.
  7. Don’t play any video games or you will be up all night. (*NOTE TO SELF)
  8. Go to bed while it’s still light outside. Listen to music on headphones.
  9. Blog meaningless nonsense to pass the time.
bipolar · dating · Life · Meds · mental health · mental illness · Thoughts

Fears that keep me from dating

The number one fear is that I’ll fall into an abusive relationship with some predator type male who likes to “rule” over their mate. Someone who will put me down and try to make me feel like no one else will want me because of my illness.

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I’ve seen and had a taste of this type of relationship. It makes me wary and paranoid of all who approach me out of interest. I wonder if I’m giving off some type of “victim” signal.

Some believe that only others who have mental illness can understand what the other is going through, so I should seek out others with similar if not the same diagnoses. I think this is fucked up. There have to be some people who can relate with what it means to be BiPolar without living with the illness.

When I am going through the ups and downs of being BiPolar. I can not imagine having to deal with another BiPolar going through the same thing. I’d lose it. I’m sorry but I tried living with my brother who was undiagnosed and it was hell. Only room enough for one nut per household. That’s what I told him and he understood because it’s hard enough dealing with your own shit and keeping it together. Then having to try and help, understand and relate with someone else who is going up and down and slideways at the same time.

I comply with my meds and my therapy. Even with compliance, there are times that are difficult. But not to the degree they would be IF I didn’t comply.

So, why don’t I date? I have purposely turned men away by divulging my illness on the first date. Just to see if they would stick around. None of them did. Part of me was glad. I wasn’t ready. I knew this deep down inside. There was still work to do and I view a relationship as a serious step in one’s life. I don’t see sex as a sport. Although I dabble when the need arises. And it’s a mutual using of each other’s bodies. And then I’m gone.

I am getting older. Hell, we all are getting older each day. I missed out on the child-bearing years. Personally, I think I spared a child some couch time in their future. But it’s still a missed opportunity I regret.

I wonder if my future will be a lonely one or if someone will ‘catch this drift’.

Sometimes the fear of dying alone is overwhelming. My friend never understood it when I told him, “I have never lived.”

He fell in love, had children, traveled, worked a fulfilling job and enjoyed LIFE. I spent my years just trying to stay out of the hospital and chasing sanity. Now, I have physical limitations which make it hard to get around. But, it doesn’t mean I won’t try if given the chance.

So, if you’re out there. This 50-year-old goddess is looking and may finally be ready to let someone close enough for a glimmer.

No serial killers or abusers need to apply.

bipolar · death · depression · Life · Meds · mental health · mental illness · Thankfulness · Thoughts

Present Tense – where I’m at

 

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I’ve often wondered why some people take so long to get on with their lives after someone dies. Why they create these “mini” shrines to the person in their houses and visit the person’s grave year after year on the day of their death like it’s a national holiday or something.

I don’t want to remember the day you died! I want to remember your life. I want to talk about you and have the memories of our conversations and love for each other stay with me every day.

In the beginning, my mom wouldn’t mention my brother because she was afraid it would upset me. While I was doing the same thing for her; afraid I would upset her. Thanks to my therapist, I was able to see this and we started talking. It feels good to talk about my brother.

He was a caring and charismatic man. He loved life, a little too much. He was no saint, but he tried. My father did a serious number on him mentally and physically and it wasn’t until maybe 5 years ago that he felt comfortable enough to tell me about it.

That’s a long fucking time! My father was a complete dick. And I don’t believe in that, don’t speak ill of the dead crap. If you were a dick in life, death doesn’t absolve you of all the crap you did and left behind.

My brother never hurt anyone but himself. He was ADHD before they had a name for it, so it was hard. He was in denial about his mental illness, so he self-medicated. Which is something my family has done on both my mother’s and father’s side of my family. Which leads me to believe there was a lot of undiagnosed mental illness. Plus being black back in the 40’s and 50’s wasn’t a blast in the USA.

It’s hard to look at his picture at times. And sometimes I stare at it and caress it and move on from there. My mom says sometimes she hits it. I guess that’s the anger portion. He should have taken better care of himself. And everything was falling into place, he just needed a little more patience. Hard for someone who was in chronic pain, depressed, afraid of therapy and facing their first operation. He was very sick.

In a way, I’m glad he doesn’t have to live through my mother’s passing. Whenever that takes place. He simply wasn’t strong enough, he took my father’s and my sister’s death hard. He would still cry over my sister’s death. I know he would have offed himself after my mother died. He told me so.

I like the way they express ‘condolences’ in Finland. “I take part in your grief”. Makes you feel like the person truly understands what you’re going thru and is there for you. But as my friend said, after awhile they are all platitudes.

Not to put them down, but what do you REALLY say to someone who has lost someone? Secretly, you feel sorry for them, but you can’t go up and say, “I feel sorry for you man, just glad it wasn’t my mom.” So you say, “sorry for your loss” etc. etc. and run home and hug your family and call your relatives.

Understandable. Grief is a personal thing. It takes time and patience and no obsessing. Or else you’re just as dead as the person you’re grieving for in the first place. Feel the pain is what I say. But reliving it every year by visiting the grave, my god how depressing. Dredging up those feelings again.

I am living and working with my issues and diverting my attention away from my health issues with writing and hopefully reading the graphic novel series SANDMAN. While finishing my short story.

Day by day and moment by moment. I can’t look further than that, I’d become overwhelmed.

Thank God for my Meds.

 

bipolar · Life · Long term Therapy · Meds · mental health · mental illness · symptoms · Thankfulness · Thoughts

Medication and Side Effects – My take

 

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The Cake Walk

 

I’ve always been amazed at those commercials about medications on tv that tell you about how wonderful a medication is and then go thru the list of all possible side effects.

May cause shaking, dropsy, walking or eating in your sleep, drowsiness, scurvy and death.

They always say death the last. Just the possibility of one of the side effects is enough to turn people away from the benefit. And I understand that fear. I’ve seen some pretty scary side effects from psych meds over the past 20+ years. I’ve had a few, not too serious ones.

Like the death mask. It was a dark rash, only on my face, that highlighter my skull. Like a skeleton mask. Not very attractive and not the normal side effect. Of course I stopped taking the med and it went away.

I’ve always made sure that when I was about to have a medication overhaul, I was in the hospital. That way, if the side effect was severe, I was in a safe place.

I’ve been on A LOT of meds since my diagnoses. One doctor joked, ‘do you rattle when you walk’. Meaning, with all the pills rattle around inside me so loud, that you can hear them. Not very funny, and there were times I was ‘over’ medicated. So I had to go back in the hospital for my own safety and they took me off all my meds and started from the beginning.

I’ve been thru all the SSRI’s, only been prescribed one MAOI and had a  reaction to that one.

I’m not going to talk about all the side effects I’ve been thru, if you want a greater understanding of meds, here’s a good start.

Mental Health Medications it on the NAMI sight.

I understand that the choice to medicate or not to medicate ones self for a mental health illness is personal. There are people who have told me that I’m pouring poisons down my throat and that they’ve gotten over their problems without meds.

I was like, ‘problems?’. Well you know what, good for you. God bless you. Buddha bless you and have a great day.

But for what ails me, I need meds. For my own mental health, safety and peace of mind. I want to be here. I don’t want to hurt others in any way. Not to say I’m gonna get dangerous, but words can hurt you too; and when I’m angry, I can be pretty hurtful.

I give a pill 2 weeks worth of side effects and if they haven’t gone away, I know it’s not for me. I’ve done the thorazine shuffle and have sat there, like a zombie disconnected from the world. But it’s gone away in time or rather I adjusted.

I’ve never had Tardive dyskinesia, which is rare; because most of those meds which cause it, aren’t used any more. But I’ve seen it and yes, it is scary to have and too watch. But I’ve also seen the person recover, pick up the pieces and move forwards with a medication that worked and got their life back. Working, driving and pursuing love, which was very important to him.

You can’t give up on the pursuit for the right medication. It took me 20 years to finally find one that kept me stable. Looking back, it didn’t exist when I first got ill. But it’s here now and I’m here now, because I just didn’t give up.

It’s no cake walk. And you will be surprised at the amount of strength you have in yourself to just keep moving forwards and trying different meds. Different combinations, or cocktails as I call them.

What works for you, may not work for someone else. We are all individual beings, so why should one med work for all people.

For those of us who choose to medicate, keep this in mind. It may not happen overnight, or it might, but eventually it will happen. You will feel better. And if you do, be conscious enough to realize, it isn’t because it went away, but rather; it’s because you’re medicated and the meds are working. SO KEEP TAKING THEM !!!

Mental Illness isn’t a cold or the flu. The meds aren’t designed to be taken for 7 days and then quit because you’re cured. No.

Its like having diabetes. You have to take them every day too keep the symptoms from reoccurring. So yeah, it’s a life thing for the majority of us.

So yeah, I’m married to my meds. And I know, I am only able to write this, because of the meds. I am stable in this moment. And that’s all that counts.

Not the number of meds or the side effects I’ve been thru or how long it took to get here. But the fact that I am here, and I have many friends who are not. Who didn’t survive the battle and it is an internal battle, fought daily and won by me and my meds.

And my fucking medal is LIFE.

(She drops the mike.)

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.