anxiety · bipolar · depression · Life · Meds

Anxiety

Surprising I got more support for my short story on FB than here. I thought those of us who get it, would understand the story more. Whatever. Nobody reads this shit anyways.

The anxiety between the get together and my mother’s cataract surgery is starting to get to me. I’m literally having to take it day by day. Can’t think beyond today or I’ll get overwhelmed.

I just want to disappear into my house and never come out. Except for food and therapy. There’s a drop in and I want to go. Probably will. But I doubt the Marvin in me will enjoy it.

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LIFE DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT LIFE

 

I should be very happy about my story being published. But I kinda feel like it’s not legit. Like they just needed a story to finish off their publication and threw mine in, mistakes and all.

Two other publications declined it because it wasn’t what they were looking for, “I GUESS NOT!”

No one wants reality anymore. No one wants to read about the mentally ill unless it’s “HAPPY”. There’s nothing fucking happy about existing with this shit.

But we make due. We have happy moments and those are the ones we have to hold onto.

Just shovel us back into the sanitariums and forget us again. You practically are doing that again.

What’s my audience? People. People who want to understand the truth. The reality of mental illness.

Yeah. I guess that makes two people. Me and my friend.

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN MY STORY HERE’S A LINK TO THE ORIGINAL POST.

STORY PUBLISHED.

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bipolar · Life · Long term Therapy · mental health · Short term therapy · Support

Is this the future of Therapy for the Mentally Ill?

Its tough enough meandering thru life with a mental illness; you’ve got STIGMA, the inability to find and KEEP the therapy or meds you may need, due to money or changes in the mental health care system.

I knew my therapist was leaving. I thought I would be transferred to another one, seeing as I have a chronic illness, the BiPolar.

But no; they just closed my case on the day of my appointment without prior warning. They no longer handle ‘long term‘ therapy.

And it was so convenient, right in town. I love the nurse practitioner, but part of me wants to go, because

I NEED THAT ONE SELFISH DAY, ONCE A MONTH; WHERE I CAN FOCUS ON ONLY ME AND NOT ANYONE ELSE; ITS CALLED INDIVIDUAL THERAPY!

I thought of going without and just opening a case when things were really tough and after I get through the one hurdle. I would be without a therapist again. Until the next hurdle, which eventually would come alone, hey it’s called life.

So I would just be opening up all these cases and it would get ridiculous. Dropping Mentally Ill patients without warning and basically saying “YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH THERAPY. GOODBYE“. Now that’s ridiculous.

I’ve now got to find another therapist or clinic. Now is not a good time. But then again, when is it a good time to say goodbye to someone who has seen you thru over 10 years of the darkest days of your life?

Not easy…

I have two options now, but I’m not gonna rush this, it’s my life I’m dealing with and I want to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

They say the future of Mental Health Care are ‘short term’ ¬†and ‘goal oriented’ sessions with the therapist typing in your responses as you say them, like a stenographer. They are basically taking dictation and offering coping skills and you have no idea what they are putting into the computer, that’s not therapy. That’s dictation.

At the end they ask you, “SO, do you think you’ve made progress in the 30 mins I’ve been typing down what you’re saying and giving very little response or reassurement?”

I find this cold, impersonal and RUDE. If I’m gonna share with you things I can’t even tell my own mother, at least look at me and PRETEND to pay attention or be concerned.

I am angry and disgusted with the whole process.

They also mention, that it’s an insurance thing. But it doesn’t matter that this THING doesn’t apply to my case.

So where does that leave me? Hunting and hoping; that’s where it leaves me.

bipolar · Life · lyrics and music · Self Image · Stigma

I never realized… “It’s all about that Bass”.

I never realized what this song was about… I thought it was just another annoying new song on the radio. But “All about that Bass”, really has some positive lyrics. Self-image and body confidence are addressed and I feel that is important for young girls today.

I actually like the song now.

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Too many stick figures in the magazines. They even made the hamsters in the Kia Soul car commercials thin… WTF, when was the last time you saw a skinny hamster??? Let alone driving…

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I could go on for days how Seventeen magazine ‘brainwashed’ me thru high school. Pushing what others thought a girl ‘should’ look like and not being happy with who they were and just loving themselves.

Between body image and mental illness STIGMA, I could fill a book. These are two things which inflame me to a passion. Very little else can get me riled up these days.

Sjogren’s flare up this week, so I’m not doing much. Had to drop one med, but now I can’t sleep well at night, have to see my pdoc soon.

Still working on the thyroid levels. So, until they get normalized, things will remain a bit ‘wibbley wobbley’.

Missing Doctor Who at the moment, and The Walking Dead also, but at least I have ‘Blacklist’ too catch up on and watch for the time being.

Still tired though, which has become a constant.

bipolar · Life · Meds

What has this mind been up too

I’ve tried to get my poetry out there, but it’s freeform. No real stanzas or form. Just thoughts and visions and ideas and some great stringing of words together. Creating image and emotion.

You couldn’t pay me to write a sonnet. Or Haiku. But if you don’t, they won’t pay you.

I’m trying to get others to UNDERSTAND what mental illness is, yeah it’s scary, yeah its deep and sometimes pretty fucking depressing.

But if you UNDERSTAND what I live everyday, maybe we can get some help to those who have none.

That’s what scares me, that’s what keeps the headlines roaring. Those of us who can’t get quality help, to help us at least LIVE.

I want to write a screenplay. Once I get the med shit straight and the mind is settled, I’m diving back into it. Maybe there I can make a difference. Maybe there I and WE can be heard.

Medication adjustments aren’t pretty, I’ve been thru too many. This is the first one that isn’t for BiPolar.

One med is for the Sjogren’s Syndrome. The other is the thyroid med. I have flares of pain and dizziness and just crap.

Its like a whirlpool right now, and I’m living it the best way I know how. moment by moment.

Dodged cancer. I’m kinda waiting too see what’s up ahead. What illness is in my future, but trying to avoid negative thinking. I’m so use to it, but it’s not healthy for me.

Love is for the movies, so is friendship, marriage and 3.5 children.

I accept that my life won’t probably be anything close to these images we are fed as children.

“I had a dream my life would be, so different from this hell I’m living. So different now than what it seems, life has killed the dream I dreamed.” – Les Mis

Always loved that song. Broadway.

Life

This is not fun

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.

anxiety · bipolar · Cancer · depression · Life · Meds · mental health · mental illness · Thankfulness

Yeah, no cancer.

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.

Poetry

Passive Agressive – Poem

 

Passive Agressive

Did you mean it

Did you say it

Did the movement you made ‘mean’ something

Can you voice it?

Can you spell it?

Do you really think telepathy is relevant?

Don’t expect me to know or do on command

If you’re angry say so and just take a stand

I can take it

I can dish it

I’m not some fragile toy

Sometimes I wonder what’s the difference

Between MEN and BOYS….

 

dih – 5/31/12