bipolar · Life · Long term Therapy · Meds · mental health · mental illness

The Journey

NaturesRespite

 

Some days it’s draining. Other days it’s indescribable. All you can do is hope to make it home to your bed and dream it all away.

I can’t believe it’s been over five months since my meds quit on me. Stability was something I had worked to achieve and I’m working towards it again. I’m seventy to seventy-five percent there. Work to be done in the spending department. Still feeling shaky in my hands. This angers me. My pdoc knew she was walking on shaky ground with the two meds I was on and I even warned her of the two prescribed at once.

(Yes, warned. You MUST take a proactive stance in any medical or therapeutic treatment. Know your meds. Know your ailment. Don’t follow blindly.)

She wanted to keep me on the two “shaky” drugs an extra month. I didn’t feel this was good for me because of the shaking and the possibility of a nerve condition as a side effect.

I ended up-titrating myself down earlier. This is my life and my body. Not to be played with by anyone. I felt secure enough that the other med had petered out and the new one was working well. Not recommended practice. It worked out well for me. Always titrate down. Never just quit a medication.

It will take a month to get the old med out of my system after being on it over ten years. I hope the tick goes away. You can’t see it, but I feel it and notice it when I type. This is irritating and keeps me from writing new poetry etc.

One thing mania has contributed to my personality has been confidence. Which I lost years ago. Failed relationships, verbal and mental abuse. I don’t want to go on with the list because I’m not in the mood.

Let’s be honest. All that crap adds to the journey of any person’s life. When you’re BiPolar or have any mental illness,  I feel we are a bit more sensitive to the damage. Things are mixed up after diagnosis and we can’t trust our own thoughts or decisions. This is a scary time. You second guess everything. Is it me? Or is it my illness? You don’t know who “ME” is anymore in the beginning. All you can identify with is the illness. This will separate in time. This is why I say ‘It’s just an aspect.’

Stability is the golden ticket out of there. Something to strive for and is actually obtainable. I use the term “Remission” if you have to use one to describe something that can be triggered by stress, medication or life tragedy. It really never goes away. That’s the reality of my illness. Stability is my remission.

I’m almost there.

Huzzah. Huzzah.

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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

 

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?

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.

 

 

 

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.

20971343-business-worker-with-ball-and-chain-attached-to-foot-stock-photo

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.

anxiety · bipolar · depression · Life · Meds · mental health · mental illness · social anxiety · Stigma · Support · symptoms · Thankfulness · Thoughts

Little Blessings

I may not have much of anything. I have a few creature comforts and am thankful for those. I don’t have many friends. There are times I wish I could have more, but more friends creates more drama. And I like to keep things simple.

I’ve been going thru some cycling, depression and total numbness.

As usual, that means a tweaking of medication. So I’m going thru that, I’m just hoping it helps.

My social life is better than it use to be, because I’ve taken the risks. But sometimes things get overwhelming and I want to crawl back into the bed and sleep.

I love sleeping and am not ashamed to say it is my favorite thing to do.

The ultimate escape, complete with dreams.

My appreciation of little blessings is something I’m gonna try and use to improve my mood. From a flower in bloom that makes me smile. To the puppy playing in the grass, which lifts me ever so slightly.

To that one friend who understands what it feels like to just want to quit living. Its pretty scary, the thought process is scary. Some people can’t grasp it, but there are a few of us who know what its like to travel down that road.

And to find someone who doesn’t want to run when you talk about suicide, is a little blessing. It can bring you back from the brink of doing something, irreversible.

So here’s to my blessings, no matter how small or brief.

I am thankful for them. They keep me going. I have one too many illnesses, but it could always be worser than it is right now. I realize that and I can’t let it beat me down.

I have to count each blessing each day, no matter how small.