Daily Archives: December 6, 2013

And Now For Something COMPLETELY Different (really)

I guess most of you don’t know that I’m an Old-Time Clawhammer Banjo player.  Well, I am, have been since I was 19 (a long long time ago), and always will be, until my hands just quit on me.  That banjo has pulled me out of some dreadfully dark places.  I have clung to it like a life raft, and it has never let me down.

Last night was horrible.  I woke up with a just-shy-of full-blown manic attack at two AM.  After a total of 5 mg of Ativan failed to stop the racing squirrels rushing round in their cage (read: my head), and by now it was 5 AM, I took some more Seroquel and at last managed to at least lie down and close my eyes for a couple of hours.  Now I just feel gross and exhausted and can’t do anything.  I’m supposed to make Friday Night dinner for my family, but now I just don’t know how I could possibly manage that.  So I’m going to have to call my mother and disappoint her, but there’s only so much I can squeeze out of myself.  I guess that’s the “disability” part of it, eh?

But back to the banjo part.  There’s this outfit called Number One Music, an internet radio station, that I apparently signed  up my one existing album for, without paying any attention to it, some years back.  I guess.  I really don’t remember. Forgot.

It’s an international, well, worldwide, you know, because of the Web, thing.  Radio station.  They send me weekly emails, which I ignore.  But this morning with my vision pretty hazy, I opened today’s email from them instead of throwing it in the trash.

It seems that on this week’s charts I am numbers One, Five and Six in the Top Ten in the Acoustic genre.  EH?  How did that happen????  That’s kinda...BITCHEN, really.

Durn, I better start working on that second album, if people seem to like the first one so much!

If you want to listen to all the tracks for free you can go to their site.

If you wanna buy my music (nice stocking stuffer!  Shameless plug) you can go to CDBaby, where ALL my music is half-price thru Dec. 31, including digital downloads and single tracks, but if I were you I’d go for the physical disk because it has awesome photos like the one you see here, and a jewel case liner with very sparse but present liner notes.  I was so sick when I made that recording that I listen to it and go, how in the hell did we manage to squeeze that one out???

Now to return to the interesting task of trying to walk straight after all those drugs.  I might use my cane to keep from falling down.  Again.

me n my ol' banjo

me n my ol’ banjo


Bipolar, Unemployed, and Lost…still!!

Lately, I have been feeling really mixed with taking meds or not taking meds.

I am FINALLY seeing a therapist, who is teaching me things to settle this anger inside of me and to help my brain stop thinking so much, but I don’t think it’s working, aka, mindfulness.

I don’t think it’s working because of my drug use. My brain, now, seems to be on auto pilot, so it seems that if I’m going to make this work, I have to quit smoking.

Actually, yesterday, I smoked and completely forgot a work meeting I was suppose to attend to. I had to lie to my boss because I am such a idiot.

I HAD TO LIE. Wow. I don’t know how many times I’ve lied to people because I was high, or to lazy to get up and go.

Right now I do to know who I am because of this cloud around me. Ugh. I know I keep posting about the same problem over and over, but it annoys me that I can’t get it together and get better. It’s like I like to stay this way forever, and that’s NOT the case.

The case is I’m bipolar, unemployed, and lost…still..


Garbled

That’s how I feel constantly now. Garbled. I tried once to explain it to a doctor but she just thought I was turning schizophrenic and hearing voices. Hardly. It’s more like pulling three or four different radio stations in the same spot on the dial. (A reference lost to anyone under my age, certainly. Yes, kids, radios used to have dials and knobs and we used dinosaur tails as an antenna.)

But sometimes the thought process in my mind is like that, three or four songs playing on the same frequency. It goes beyond multi tasking. This is like circuit overload because you can’t devote any focus, you’;ve got to split it in ten different directions.

I had a high functioning day Tuesday. Now I am slipping into the abyss. Ebb and flow of my disorder. Which everyone around me still refuses to acknowledge, they just keep telling me I am moody or lazy or my personality is bad and I use mental illness as an excuse. This is as helpful for someone in a depression as it would be to hand a heroin addict a loaded needle. It’s only making it worse, never mind if you meant well.

R called tonight and it sent my mood into the toilet. I am so bloody sick of that man. But again, it’s all me because he’s the socially acceptable one. He just can’t go one day a week without swimming in a beer bottle. Normal. But all the stuff I take trying to be sane is a crutch.

Fuck society and its ignorance and its judgment. I’ve got judgments of my own and contrary to what is being pounded into my head, I don;t believe its just my crappy personality. If someone is being a hypocrite, I say so. And if they choose to keep being a hypocrite in my presence, then I will call them on it again and again and I will judge them.

But it always bites me on the ass.

Still…Prior to the DSM declaring everything is a personality disorder, it was called having conviction for what you believe in.

Now it’s borderline personality for rocking the boat by speaking your mind.

I have no idea what this post was going to be about, the station got criss crossed and now it’s ass trash.

Oh, well.

tequila taters


To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

The bottle was full.  Well, one or two might have been missing but that was all. I sat on the edge of the bed on that late fall day, filtered sunlight coming through the bedroom window, and stared at the bottle.  I’d been on the medication for a couple of months and loved the way it just knocked me out at night.  One minute I was awake and the next I was waking up in the morning, my book nearby and my reading lamp still on.  Blissful.  Near-instant oblivion.  

As I sat there staring at that bottle, I wondered what permanent oblivion would feel like.  For all the darkness, all the psychic and physical pain to be gone forever.  Oblivion.  I remember smiling…not a big “Wow, I’m happy!” smile, but the peaceful smile of someone who just found the answer to every problem in life.  I removed the cap and shook the bottle.  They were beautiful. 

Then I stopped.  What was I doing, for goodness sake?  What was I thinking?  How could I even consider taking my own life?! And what were these pills I was holding? 

Oh, I knew what they were.  Prescription sleeping pills.  My doctor…who is an excellent doctor, by the way…had found a quick and easy answer to my insomnia problem.  And boy, did I sleep!  Oblivion. Nearly instant oblivion.  But permanent oblivion?  Where did thatthought come from?  I knew I’d been depressed, but not to that extent.

Because those pills were the only ones I was taking at the time I decided to research them.  Google to the rescue!  I searched the manufacturer’s website, several medical websites, and a few other sources before stumbling across one termed, appropriately enough, “Crazy Meds”.

Remember from blog post 1 how I mentioned the administrator of a site had saved my life without even knowing it?  I, uh, also mentioned a site with some colorful language.  Well, this is the site.  Right on both counts.  The site was poorly organized by someone who described himself and his fiancée as having “brain cooties”.  (And you thought I coined that term!  Sorry.  Stole it.)  But the information was amazing!  And after searching, there it was, the medication I was on, and in itty-bitty print, amongst all the possible but unlikely side effects was “suicidal thoughts”.  Sigh!  I was apparently in an elite group, but I’d rather not have been in it to start with. 

Still, it was nice to know what the problem was and know that the “cure” was to stop taking the medication. That was pretty simple.  I went on a different one and it worked well without putting me into the “slight chance of…” category.  No more elite-ness, which was fine by me.

It’s undergone changes since my discovery and is much better organized, but some of the language is still a bit colorful.

Enter at your own risk, but be assured there’s a wealth of information put into terms that are understandable.  And not just about mental illness and drugs for mental illness, but information for other “mentally interesting” people.

“Crazy Meds is the site for the obsessed and depressed, the manic and the panicked, the schizophrenic and epileptic, the migraineurs and bipolar, those with GAD, SAD, OCD, PTSD, in pain or have an otherwise non-standard brain.”  Don't you just love that?  I think many of us with "non-standard brains" have to take at least a slightly irreverent look at it.  Oh, I know my ailment is serious but I don't take it seriously.  Does that make sense?  You may have to have a non-standard brain to get it.

Sadly, I just discovered the forums at another site, the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (http://www.dbsalliance.org/site/PageServer?pagename=home) are no longer running, but the site does offer an online support group that meets at specific times and days.  Even though it does not have any forums, I do recommend it for all the information that can be gleaned.

That fall morning marked my initial foray in the world of crazy meds.  I realized just how depressed I really was and decided it was time for serious medical help.  This led me to the therapist who reminds of Flo from Progressive Insurance commercials, who led me to the diagnosis of bipolar disorder, and then led me through a zigzagging course of meds and psych doctors. 

You see, I’ve discovered I’m in another elite group, and one I can’t just leave.  Turns out I respond atypically to brain cootie meds.  Hurray for me!  As someone with BP, Prozac and other meds for unipolar depression should cause me to have to be peeled off the ceiling in a full bore manic mode.  Of course, not me.  I get to be “different” on top of being, well, different.  No, Prozac and other similar meds put me into an almost catatonic state, with no desire to do anything but sit and stare at the wall.  Watching TV takes too much effort. 

That wraps up this episode, kiddies.  There’s so much more to talk about, some of it experiences from my own life and some of it information about depression and bipolar disorder.  What should my next posting be about?  Any suggestions?



To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

The bottle was full.  Well, one or two might have been missing but that was all. I sat on the edge of the bed on that late fall day, filtered sunlight coming through the bedroom window, and stared at the bottle.  I’d been on the medication for a couple of months and loved the way it just knocked me out at night.  One minute I was awake and the next I was waking up in the morning, my book nearby and my reading lamp still on.  Blissful.  Near-instant oblivion.  

As I sat there staring at that bottle, I wondered what permanent oblivion would feel like.  For all the darkness, all the psychic and physical pain to be gone forever.  Oblivion.  I remember smiling…not a big “Wow, I’m happy!” smile, but the peaceful smile of someone who just found the answer to every problem in life.  I removed the cap and shook the bottle.  They were beautiful. 

Then I stopped.  What was I doing, for goodness sake?  What was I thinking?  How could I even consider taking my own life?! And what were these pills I was holding? 

Oh, I knew what they were.  Prescription sleeping pills.  My doctor…who is an excellent doctor, by the way…had found a quick and easy answer to my insomnia problem.  And boy, did I sleep!  Oblivion. Nearly instant oblivion.  But permanent oblivion?  Where did thatthought come from?  I knew I’d been depressed, but not to that extent.

Because those pills were the only ones I was taking at the time I decided to research them.  Google to the rescue!  I searched the manufacturer’s website, several medical websites, and a few other sources before stumbling across one termed, appropriately enough, “Crazy Meds”.

Remember from blog post 1 how I mentioned the administrator of a site had saved my life without even knowing it?  I, uh, also mentioned a site with some colorful language.  Well, this is the site.  Right on both counts.  The site was poorly organized by someone who described himself and his fiancée as having “brain cooties”.  (And you thought I coined that term!  Sorry.  Stole it.)  But the information was amazing!  And after searching, there it was, the medication I was on, and in itty-bitty print, amongst all the possible but unlikely side effects was “suicidal thoughts”.  Sigh!  I was apparently in an elite group, but I’d rather not have been in it to start with. 

Still, it was nice to know what the problem was and know that the “cure” was to stop taking the medication. That was pretty simple.  I went on a different one and it worked well without putting me into the “slight chance of…” category.  No more elite-ness, which was fine by me.

It’s undergone changes since my discovery and is much better organized, but some of the language is still a bit colorful.

Enter at your own risk, but be assured there’s a wealth of information put into terms that are understandable.  And not just about mental illness and drugs for mental illness, but information for other “mentally interesting” people.

“Crazy Meds is the site for the obsessed and depressed, the manic and the panicked, the schizophrenic and epileptic, the migraineurs and bipolar, those with GAD, SAD, OCD, PTSD, in pain or have an otherwise non-standard brain.”  Don't you just love that?  I think many of us with "non-standard brains" have to take at least a slightly irreverent look at it.  Oh, I know my ailment is serious but I don't take it seriously.  Does that make sense?  You may have to have a non-standard brain to get it.

Sadly, I just discovered the forums at another site, the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (http://www.dbsalliance.org/site/PageServer?pagename=home) are no longer running, but the site does offer an online support group that meets at specific times and days.  Even though it does not have any forums, I do recommend it for all the information that can be gleaned.

That fall morning marked my initial foray in the world of crazy meds.  I realized just how depressed I really was and decided it was time for serious medical help.  This led me to the therapist who reminds of Flo from Progressive Insurance commercials, who led me to the diagnosis of bipolar disorder, and then led me through a zigzagging course of meds and psych doctors. 

You see, I’ve discovered I’m in another elite group, and one I can’t just leave.  Turns out I respond atypically to brain cootie meds.  Hurray for me!  As someone with BP, Prozac and other meds for unipolar depression should cause me to have to be peeled off the ceiling in a full bore manic mode.  Of course, not me.  I get to be “different” on top of being, well, different.  No, Prozac and other similar meds put me into an almost catatonic state, with no desire to do anything but sit and stare at the wall.  Watching TV takes too much effort. 

That wraps up this episode, kiddies.  There’s so much more to talk about, some of it experiences from my own life and some of it information about depression and bipolar disorder.  What should my next posting be about?  Any suggestions?



To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

The bottle was full.  Well, one or two might have been missing but that was all. I sat on the edge of the bed on that late fall day, filtered sunlight coming through the bedroom window, and stared at the bottle.  I’d been on the medication for a couple of months and loved the way it just knocked me out at night.  One minute I was awake and the next I was waking up in the morning, my book nearby and my reading lamp still on.  Blissful.  Near-instant oblivion.  

As I sat there staring at that bottle, I wondered what permanent oblivion would feel like.  For all the darkness, all the psychic and physical pain to be gone forever.  Oblivion.  I remember smiling…not a big “Wow, I’m happy!” smile, but the peaceful smile of someone who just found the answer to every problem in life.  I removed the cap and shook the bottle.  They were beautiful. 

Then I stopped.  What was I doing, for goodness sake?  What was I thinking?  How could I even consider taking my own life?! And what were these pills I was holding? 

Oh, I knew what they were.  Prescription sleeping pills.  My doctor…who is an excellent doctor, by the way…had found a quick and easy answer to my insomnia problem.  And boy, did I sleep!  Oblivion. Nearly instant oblivion.  But permanent oblivion?  Where did thatthought come from?  I knew I’d been depressed, but not to that extent.

Because those pills were the only ones I was taking at the time I decided to research them.  Google to the rescue!  I searched the manufacturer’s website, several medical websites, and a few other sources before stumbling across one termed, appropriately enough, “Crazy Meds”.

Remember from blog post 1 how I mentioned the administrator of a site had saved my life without even knowing it?  I, uh, also mentioned a site with some colorful language.  Well, this is the site.  Right on both counts.  The site was poorly organized by someone who described himself and his fiancée as having “brain cooties”.  (And you thought I coined that term!  Sorry.  Stole it.)  But the information was amazing!  And after searching, there it was, the medication I was on, and in itty-bitty print, amongst all the possible but unlikely side effects was “suicidal thoughts”.  Sigh!  I was apparently in an elite group, but I’d rather not have been in it to start with. 

Still, it was nice to know what the problem was and know that the “cure” was to stop taking the medication. That was pretty simple.  I went on a different one and it worked well without putting me into the “slight chance of…” category.  No more elite-ness, which was fine by me.

It’s undergone changes since my discovery and is much better organized, but some of the language is still a bit colorful.

Enter at your own risk, but be assured there’s a wealth of information put into terms that are understandable.  And not just about mental illness and drugs for mental illness, but information for other “mentally interesting” people.

“Crazy Meds is the site for the obsessed and depressed, the manic and the panicked, the schizophrenic and epileptic, the migraineurs and bipolar, those with GAD, SAD, OCD, PTSD, in pain or have an otherwise non-standard brain.”  Don't you just love that?  I think many of us with "non-standard brains" have to take at least a slightly irreverent look at it.  Oh, I know my ailment is serious but I don't take it seriously.  Does that make sense?  You may have to have a non-standard brain to get it.

Sadly, I just discovered the forums at another site, the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (http://www.dbsalliance.org/site/PageServer?pagename=home) are no longer running, but the site does offer an online support group that meets at specific times and days.  Even though it does not have any forums, I do recommend it for all the information that can be gleaned.

That fall morning marked my initial foray in the world of crazy meds.  I realized just how depressed I really was and decided it was time for serious medical help.  This led me to the therapist who reminds of Flo from Progressive Insurance commercials, who led me to the diagnosis of bipolar disorder, and then led me through a zigzagging course of meds and psych doctors. 

You see, I’ve discovered I’m in another elite group, and one I can’t just leave.  Turns out I respond atypically to brain cootie meds.  Hurray for me!  As someone with BP, Prozac and other meds for unipolar depression should cause me to have to be peeled off the ceiling in a full bore manic mode.  Of course, not me.  I get to be “different” on top of being, well, different.  No, Prozac and other similar meds put me into an almost catatonic state, with no desire to do anything but sit and stare at the wall.  Watching TV takes too much effort. 

That wraps up this episode, kiddies.  There’s so much more to talk about, some of it experiences from my own life and some of it information about depression and bipolar disorder.  What should my next posting be about?  Any suggestions?



To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

The bottle was full.  Well, one or two might have been missing but that was all. I sat on the edge of the bed on that late fall day, filtered sunlight coming through the bedroom window, and stared at the bottle.  I’d been on the medication for a couple of months and loved the way it just knocked me out at night.  One minute I was awake and the next I was waking up in the morning, my book nearby and my reading lamp still on.  Blissful.  Near-instant oblivion.  

As I sat there staring at that bottle, I wondered what permanent oblivion would feel like.  For all the darkness, all the psychic and physical pain to be gone forever.  Oblivion.  I remember smiling…not a big “Wow, I’m happy!” smile, but the peaceful smile of someone who just found the answer to every problem in life.  I removed the cap and shook the bottle.  They were beautiful. 

Then I stopped.  What was I doing, for goodness sake?  What was I thinking?  How could I even consider taking my own life?! And what were these pills I was holding? 

Oh, I knew what they were.  Prescription sleeping pills.  My doctor…who is an excellent doctor, by the way…had found a quick and easy answer to my insomnia problem.  And boy, did I sleep!  Oblivion. Nearly instant oblivion.  But permanent oblivion?  Where did thatthought come from?  I knew I’d been depressed, but not to that extent.

Because those pills were the only ones I was taking at the time I decided to research them.  Google to the rescue!  I searched the manufacturer’s website, several medical websites, and a few other sources before stumbling across one termed, appropriately enough, “Crazy Meds”.

Remember from blog post 1 how I mentioned the administrator of a site had saved my life without even knowing it?  I, uh, also mentioned a site with some colorful language.  Well, this is the site.  Right on both counts.  The site was poorly organized by someone who described himself and his fiancée as having “brain cooties”.  (And you thought I coined that term!  Sorry.  Stole it.)  But the information was amazing!  And after searching, there it was, the medication I was on, and in itty-bitty print, amongst all the possible but unlikely side effects was “suicidal thoughts”.  Sigh!  I was apparently in an elite group, but I’d rather not have been in it to start with. 

Still, it was nice to know what the problem was and know that the “cure” was to stop taking the medication. That was pretty simple.  I went on a different one and it worked well without putting me into the “slight chance of…” category.  No more elite-ness, which was fine by me.

It’s undergone changes since my discovery and is much better organized, but some of the language is still a bit colorful.

Enter at your own risk, but be assured there’s a wealth of information put into terms that are understandable.  And not just about mental illness and drugs for mental illness, but information for other “mentally interesting” people.

“Crazy Meds is the site for the obsessed and depressed, the manic and the panicked, the schizophrenic and epileptic, the migraineurs and bipolar, those with GAD, SAD, OCD, PTSD, in pain or have an otherwise non-standard brain.”  Don't you just love that?  I think many of us with "non-standard brains" have to take at least a slightly irreverent look at it.  Oh, I know my ailment is serious but I don't take it seriously.  Does that make sense?  You may have to have a non-standard brain to get it.

Sadly, I just discovered the forums at another site, the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (http://www.dbsalliance.org/site/PageServer?pagename=home) are no longer running, but the site does offer an online support group that meets at specific times and days.  Even though it does not have any forums, I do recommend it for all the information that can be gleaned.

That fall morning marked my initial foray in the world of crazy meds.  I realized just how depressed I really was and decided it was time for serious medical help.  This led me to the therapist who reminds of Flo from Progressive Insurance commercials, who led me to the diagnosis of bipolar disorder, and then led me through a zigzagging course of meds and psych doctors. 

You see, I’ve discovered I’m in another elite group, and one I can’t just leave.  Turns out I respond atypically to brain cootie meds.  Hurray for me!  As someone with BP, Prozac and other meds for unipolar depression should cause me to have to be peeled off the ceiling in a full bore manic mode.  Of course, not me.  I get to be “different” on top of being, well, different.  No, Prozac and other similar meds put me into an almost catatonic state, with no desire to do anything but sit and stare at the wall.  Watching TV takes too much effort. 

That wraps up this episode, kiddies.  There’s so much more to talk about, some of it experiences from my own life and some of it information about depression and bipolar disorder.  What should my next posting be about?  Any suggestions?