Daily Archives: September 24, 2014

Glass half full, glass half empty, there’s room for more wine

Unfortunately, I have no wine.But I saw that graphic on line last week and it made me giggle. I wish I had wine, or something because today was absolute shit.
I overslept and had 20 mins to get me and my kid dressed, feed her, drive her to school.
Gas tank on E and it hits me, I forgot to set trash out and I will be fined if I let it pile up. Had to drive back across town staring at the gas gauge with mounting anxiety.
Returned to the shop where R and Kenny spent the first 80 mins trying to top each other’s Angry Birds score, which mean no access to the computer to do what I was there to do.
Agitation was immediate and immense.
Got lunch, got motivated, started to strip a TV…and the shop phone rings informing me my kid has a 100.1 temp so she is being sent home and can’t return til she’s been fever free for 24 hours.
More driving with the gas gauge taunting me because I asked R four times for gas money and he blew me off.
Bex agree to keep her so I could go finish what I had to do and the car HAD to have gas, period.
FOUR hours of people in and out, one of them a friend of R’s so while he did piddle soldering projects, mostly he talked to his friend and I sat watching cute animal videos on youtube with Kenny while my anger boiled up.
By 4,I was beyond fucking hostile and my anxiety was through the roof, that nagging part of my brain reminding me I’d been out of my safe zone far too long and needed to return to it before something cataclysmic happened (like my impending nervous breakdown.)
Finally got gas money and split.
Came home and stepmonster and ass trash brother were here. More noise and them talking at the same time.
My kid was acting out, being aggressive and hyper.
Further up the panic soared,and further down the mood went.

I was ready to climb into a closet and cover my ears with my hands to block it all out.
Day. From. Hell.

I am calming down now. My mood is circling the drain. I need a brain reboot. Tomorrow has to be better. I have to have hope.

The fact I overslept…combined with the rising anxiety and severe mood crashes…I know what’s coming. I don’t like and I am fighting it, but there’s someone at the door.
It’s called Seasonal Affect Disorder and this is where, every single fucking year,it all goes to shit.

I need some anti itch spray,my nerves are so rattled I can’t stop breaking out in itchy hives. My stomach is in a knot.
The anger and irritation have passed, at least.

I really need a very big box of wine. With a straw. Mommy juice box.

Doesn’t solve anything but neither do the meds. About the most either days is mellow me out enough to survive and fight another day.

Small victories.

Now…GIVE ME MY JUICE BOX.


Won’t Get Fooled Again

One of the stupid little tricks my mind plays on me once in awhile is trying to fool me into believing that my psychiatric issues are caused by other processes. Today I was reading something about the cognitive changes that sometimes strike people in late midlife, and one phrase stood out like a sore thumb: “Some patients may experience not only a decline in memory, but problems with word-finding and mood regulation”.

First reaction: a-HA! Second reaction: oh, no, not that old argument again.

Oh, yeah. The maybe-I’m-not-bipolar argument, which should have been put to rest long ago but keeps resurfacing every now and again. Now, why does my mind tease me like this? Every fact points to the BP diagnosis, and I’m reminded twice daily of it when I take my meds. There’s even an official label on my medical chart that’s going to be there forever and ever. What further proof do I need?

Nevertheless, this isn’t the first time I’ve entertained the idea of asking Dr. Awesomesauce for cognitive function testing. I already know I’d have difficulty passing some parts of the exam, because my short-term memory is poor and my attention span isn’t so hot either. Those questions where the tester gives you three to five words and you’re supposed to recall them five or ten minutes later? Ain’t gonna happen. The one that requires counting backwards by sevens…..are you freaking KIDDING me??! (I couldn’t subtract in my head even when my brain was in better shape.)

Obviously, none of this is reassuring. I don’t want to be demented any more than I want to be bipolar, even though it might help me with my Social Security disability case. The truth is, I have problems with my memory AND I’m bipolar. You wouldn’t believe how many times I have to scroll back to the top of my blog posts to see what I’ve written in previous paragraphs so I can make the piece “jell” and not repeat myself. This is also why I don’t read books anymore; by the time I get to the end of a chapter I’ve forgotten what the first part was about.

What were we talking about again? Oh, yeah—grasping at straws. Which is ridiculous given the preponderance of evidence proving the validity of my diagnosis. I’ve already fooled myself more than once. Time to knock that shit off.