Daily Archives: June 26, 2013

I Am A Drug Addict

Let’s face it: I am a drug addict.  Every night, I take five kinds of drugs to put me to sleep and to keep me from having manic attacks the next day.  In the morning I take another pile of drugs in order to make it through the day without dying of suicide or the high blood pressure that results from rage or from the pure insanity that results from hormonal imbalances.

I crave these drugs, like any addict does.  I crave my night-time meds because, well, they put me to sleep, blotto, giving me respite from the continuous crashing pain.  And the daytime drugs: I take them to keep the ogre of depression away, and to deal with my “co-morbid conditions”: arthritis, high blood pressure, menopause, low Vitamin D, low Folic Acid.

I fear what would happen to me if I did not have these drugs.  This leads me to hoard stashes of the “important” ones: the ones that would certainly result in seizures if I didn’t take them: Lamectil, lorazepam, clonazepam, maybe Lithium.  And the others…Oh, the others could “merely” result in mood changes that could put me into the suicidal ultradian cycling that has wreaked such havoc in my life before.

Yes, I crave these drugs.  Especially at night, when I look forward to the forced oblivion of quasi-sleep the drugs provide.  And in the morning, even though I need twelve hours of sleep to sleep off the night drugs, I sometimes forget to take my morning drugs.  After a day or two, though, I start getting withdrawal symptoms: a kind of hollow feeling, a feeling of unreality, and of course depression, that mostly clears when I take my doses.

Freud craved cocaine.  I do too.  I’m told that an addict never really gets over the craving: you just learn to deal with it.  I don’t know what I’m going to do with this pile of drugs I’m addicted to now.  Each one has its role and responsibility for keeping some symptom in check.  Oh, if I could just have a continuous IV drip of cocaine, or even an unending pile of coca leaves and lime, how happy my brain would be, eh?


banal, bored, bummed

Ever have one of those days where you’re *there*, doing what you should be doing (work, child care, et al) but mentally, you’re kind of *not there* ?

That was today for me.

It was R’s 50th b-day so I took him in meatloaf. (I do have the ability to be nice.) People were in off and on all day with b-day wishes for him. One of his friends, Lisa, and I decided immediately we liked each other. Just that rare occasion when two unfamiliar people get to chatting and actually click.

I had my checklist done before 1pm. Dropped hints like anvils to get him to complete a form so I could go run errands,which I told him right off I wanted to do. Of course, hints didn’t work so I went full blown bossy (DO IT NOW!!!) and that finally got it done. Right around the time I’d normally leave anyway. GRRRRR. Waste of my days when I can get my stuff done so quickly then have to sit around waiting for him to get his shit together because he swears he cannot juggle it all without me. (I call bullshit.) Frankly, Jaba The Hut could be there, as long as it saved the man from being alone and doing the banal work he hates.

But I was NICE because it was his birthday.

Although when his mom spent several minutes chatting with me, hugging me in greeting and goodbye, and his well wishing friends came in and they all really like me…All I could think was, dear god, everyone likes me but R. Why am I here again? My annoying ass wants to go home and not be reminded daily of the fact he’s so tough on me yet so tolerant of everyone.

But I was NICE because it was his birthday.

Plus, my mood wasn’t all that bad.

UNTIL around 2 pm or so…For some reason it just started to free fall towards Gutterland.

But by the time I got home, I was feeling level again.

Then in the midst of my kid acting out, my cats being underfoot, and ripping a chunk of my flesh off on a protruding nail while slamming my finger in the door…

The dam broke and the anxiety erupted and went on the attack. My kid is singing the Barney song over and over and over and over and touching my stuff she’s been told not to touch and the cats are doing meowapalooza and it all just bubbled over.

I was NICE because things go wrong, kids get hyper and annoying, cats are the same, accidents happen…But my brain was really thinking ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS, WHO THE FUCK’S CHEERIO’S DID I PEE IN?

(I swear a lot when angry or mid panic or well, when breathing, it’s a venting thing.)

I took a beat, put in the potty training video I my kid from the library, and after watching it a sixth time…she zonked out on me before 8 pm. And seeing her beside me, little pouty lips sticking out, eyes closed, looking so sweet…The relief was immediate. Not that she was asleep because chances are she will wake up around 11 pm. The relief was because all the things that moments before had me ready to claw my own eyeballs out…Amounted to nothing. I have this amazing kid who makes me laugh as much as she makes me mad. Any time I doubt in the goodness of the world,she is my reality check.

Sometimes it’s enough to keep my scumbag brain demons at bay, sometimes not.

Tonight it was. Now, I am going to post this, and retire to my bedroom with one of my library books and try not to think about any of these stressors. I have run the mood gamut today and it’s exhausting and frustrating and…Even scumbag brains need rest.