Daily Archives: December 23, 2013

The Cannabis Discussion

The day has come and gone. Last week I finally met with my pdoc since a friend suggested that marijuana would be good to help with my depression. I made the decision to ask him if he would write a prescription for me. Before that, however, I had the Vicodin discussion. I’ve been having shooting … Continue reading »

Mad Morning Hair

So, I decided about a month ago that I was going to cut my hair. Yesterday was the big day. I spent two weeks poring over pictures of short, short hair (decided my face shape was wrong), medium short hair, and medium length hair. I decided to go with medium short. I figured it wouldn’t […]

Sleep…What is That??

Angry moon is angry.

Insomnia has been full force the past few…um, I’ve lost count…days?  weeks??  Basically, I can’t sleep.  My insomnia comes in waves.  I may be able to go to sleep with little trouble for a couple of months, but then I can’t for a couple of months.  Give or take.  It’s an unpredictable cycle like everything else in my anxious bipolar life.  I have a sensitivity to sleep meds (Ambien, Seroquel, Tylenol PM, etc.) in the fact that they give me horrible full-body RLS which makes it even harder to go to sleep!  Melatonin will help, but only if I take it maybe once a month.  Any more often and it does nothing.  I did stumble across one great sleep inducer: Nightime Cold-EEZE. They taste horrible, but when I’m desperate for sleep I don’t mind the gagging involved to get there. I am out of them right now, but I predict a purchase of them in the near future…say payday! 

In the meantime, I am not sleeping.  I have done a lot of reading though, so it’s okay.  It’s not really okay.  Less sleep equals more mood swings.  More mania in this case, which makes it even harder to sleep, which keeps things snowballing, snowballing, snowballing! Mix in the stress of the holidays, and I’m not the poster child for stability right now.  But at least I am not feeling suicidal anymore.  I’m having more hypomania than anything, with speckles of fullblown mania tucked here and there, and brief crying spells where I feel terribly inadequate and confused.  But not suicidal.  Ironically, I have heard about quite a few suicides that have occurred this week. Of course, that is sadly common this time of year, but it’s made even eerier for me this year because I was so close to taking that route myself. When I hear of someone else taking their own life, I realize how sad and senseless it is, but when I am feeling that way myself it makes perfect sense.  Amazing what depression can make you believe.  What a liar.  

My mind is running 50,000,000 miles a minute right now, and there are lots of bright colors and brilliant ideas to behold, so I shall cut this short and try to get in a calmer frame of mind.  I actually want to read a stack of books tonight and I just might do it.  If I can concentrate. That’s a big IF.

The Blessed Hellride

Another day of mental suckage.

My kingdom to just wake up and not think, “Damn, I didn’t die in my sleep again.”

It sounds trivial. It is not trivial. To always feel like there’s an anchor around your neck , tugging you under the surface of the water, never able to get enough air, always afloat yet yearning for land.

Hellride.

Anxiety and stimuli overload. On the phone, computer froze up, cat climbing my shoulders and my kid in my face demanding I get off the phone and talking the whole time so I can’t hear what my dad is saying…My brain nearly imploded. I am super sensitive to stimulation and so many things going on at once is hard for me to juggle.

Forced myself to scrape off ice and snow and go out.

My mood just stayed low. Even when my kid went to bed and I had quiet and was able to write…It just never improved. Five days in a row. Paranoia has returned with a vengeance. I swear things are moving when they are not. Feel like bugs are crawling on me but I can’t see anything. I feel like I am losing my mind. I am so disjointed and lifeless and in a total downward spiral. I tried to tell the shrink and she just says to push myself. It’s so offensive and frustrating to be asking for help…and get a brick wall of optimism and denial.

Right now, I feel a little hypomanic, my legs are shaking and I am fidgety. An hour ago I was sleepy and lethargic. I have done nothing to trigger any of  it. Nothing, not food, not caffeine, nothing. Nothing catastrophic or euphoric happened around me. It’s so damned random. No rhyme or reason.

Hellride.

One day I am content even though depressed. One day I am despondent and hopeless. But never am I really up or happy. And I am very disappointed because last time on Cymbalta I excelled. It was amazing, even if it made me manic and I spent way too much money and got way too happy. This time…less than nothing. And I am not prepared to give up yet because I know all too well with the seasonal depression and holidays it may not even be Cymbalta’s failure, it may just be up an opponent no med can beat.

Am I even making sense? I have no idea. I’m going crazy, obviously. Maybe I was crazy all along.


Brave

The comment I hear the most from people who know about my struggles would be: “You’re so strong”. I believe that to be true, but recently someone said something different, and it really moved me. They told me I am brave. I don’t feel brave. I feel terrified and isolated and tense. Bravery I equate with soldiers, cops, firefighters. Not vaguely anonymous bloggers. But they explained it’s due to my honesty, my willingness to share the ugly details of my bipolar, my work towards fighting stigma. I don’t follow the patterns of so called successful blogs, I don’t follow the cliques and that alone takes bravery. It’s still not a term I truly liken to myself, but I thank them nonetheless.

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Filed under: Self Discovery, Wellness Warriors Tagged: bipolar, bravery, compliments, stigma, thoughts

It’s All Good

I’m doing really, really well these days. I’m happy (without being TOO happy, if you know what I mean) and I feel calm on the inside, even though I’m running out of unemployment and my last paycheck from my current job won’t even pay next month’s electric bill. The suckage in January will be horrendous, but I know better days are coming so there’s no use in getting all worried about it now.

I have regular sleeping hours, take my meds at the same time each day, do at least some mild physical activity on most days of the week, and even though I’m eating waaay too many Christmas goodies, that will stop soon so I’m just going to forgive myself in advance and enjoy. I’m healthy despite being around lots of sniffles and sneezes, and best of all, I’m at peace with my decisions regarding this huge challenge that I’m about to undertake.

It feels wonderful to be here, and I’m doing what I can to maintain it. Staying in remission is so crucial to succeeding in my new job, and I am MOTIVATED! Just being offered the position proved to me that all is not lost. By gosh, I still have some mojo left—even at my advanced age—and this has really changed the way I think about myself. It won’t solve all my problems, and it certainly won’t cure my bipolar, but at least I don’t feel like a loser anymore.

I also feel vastly relieved to be hanging up my stethoscope at last. I can hardly wait till this time next weekend, because that will be the last time I work in a clinical nursing role. I am SO done with it…..I’m sure I’ll miss it at some point, but not enough to go back to it even if something were to go sideways with the new job. I’ve simply run out of gas, and it’s been a struggle just to get through these past couple of months……yet when they cut my hours in December, it took the heart right out of me.

To give them the benefit of the doubt, I think they did it as a kindness to me as well as a business decision, because I was pretty sick for awhile there and I’m sure they knew it. But it still hurt. I’d wanted so badly to recreate the magic I made the first time I worked here, and all I wound up doing was disappointing everybody. I wish I could have been the same nurse they remembered so fondly even after several years away. But everything happens for a reason, and it makes me wonder how much longer it would’ve taken me to realize I was done if I hadn’t tried to resurrect my “glory days” on the floor.

Seriously, I think the cumulative stress of the past few years of my career, combined with events in my personal life, is what tipped me over into full-blown bipolar illness. Yes, I’ve probably had it for most (if not all) of my life, but it was like a sleeping animal waiting for a chance to pounce and when it did, it almost ruined me.

Of course, I have no idea of what sort of stress this new job will bring…..only that there will be stress, and only time will tell if I can manage it. All I know is that I’m as excited as a kid on Christmas morning and my illness is under control for now. Go ME!!