Daily Archives: June 13, 2015

Dark Side’s Calling…

Less heat, less humidity, my kid has even been quiet-ish (Yeah, I resorted to technology as a babysitter, don’t judge me)…One quick jaunt into the dish for cat food, back home. Perfunctory visit from Dad’s crew. End of contact with dish dwellers.

Yet hour after hour I keep sliding down into this dark place. Except I’m so numb it brings only anxiety and self doubt and a Novacaine-tinted anger. My thoughts swirl like a tornado funnel cloud. Tugs of self loathing. Bits of righteous indignation. Resentment that I even have the self awareness to let all this crap infect my already fucked up brain.

It doesn’t matter if I know it’s just a mood shift, it’s just my thoughts running riot, it’s not real, it’s not true…Not a single fuck is given by my scumbag brain. And judging from the pains in my ovaries over the last few days, I’m guessing the wonky chemicals are now getting some help from the surging hormones, creating the wreckage that is me.

Everyone around you is getting better and you’re not, what is your problem? You’re gonna bring them all down, you need to avoid talking to anyone until you get your shit together. You just want the pills to fix everything but the problem is YOU. The doctor thinks you’re a lying drama queen and is not going to help you because he doesn’t take you seriously. The reason you can’t feel anything isn’t anxiety or depression or side effects, you feel nothing because you are NOTHING. You are less than  nothing. You’re 42, you’ve been on every med known to man (as the doctor even points out disdainfully), fact is, you’re a lost cause, you should just quit breathing ‘cos it is never getting any better.

Your kid acts out because you are mental and you are just gonna mess her up and destroy her life. Your cats keep dying because you kill everything around, not just hope and friendship. You know you’re the entire problem, you just refuse to believe it. If you cared about anyone other than yourself, you’d go wash down that bottle of Trazadone and quit wasting resources that could be used on people who aren’t lost causes. You haven’t felt happiness in so long, you’re beyond repair. Just…end…it…

LALALALALALALA, I CAN’T HEAR YOU, LALA LALALALA.

It’s time for me to step back, regroup. Muster up every ounce of anger in me to fight these thoughts because they are BULLSHIT. But very convincing nonetheless. All it takes is one little spot of soft underbelly for the darkness to stab through and then it’s in your bloodstream, in your mind, dragging you down, holding you under the surface so you can’t breathe and you’re silent yet screaming inside…

And what makes it worse is that you’re in living hell, yet all around you, life goes on and things improve for others yet shit just gets worse for you no matter your best efforts. And it takes a toll and makes you feel toxic and useless and hopeless and you KNOW IT’S A FUCKING LIE but…Ninja mood swing caught you off guard and now you can’t get back up, you’re just writhing on the floor in spiritual agony while the blackened evil thoughts keep coming at you with their venom.

And again,you know they are not real and your “support system” can remind you it’s not real because they’ve got it all figured out at the moment, but it doesn’t help you from getting pulled over to the dark side. If anything, the scumbag brain starts whispering some more, look at your friends, they have problems too, and now they’re all getting better while you tread water and stagnate and waste oxygen and yeah, they think you’re funny but soon they’re just going to decide you’re redundant and boring and a whiner and…

I FUCKING HATE MY OWN BRAIN.

So, yeah. I know it’s all lies being told by wacky chemicals and hormones. I know I’ve been stressed to the nth so it makes sense with that and all the med changes I’d be reeling…But ya know what?

Right now, it means nothing and being reminded of it makes it worse. I just have to let myself tread some more dark waters, keep perspective on the brain’s lies, and remember…This is not drama or a cry for attention or some affectation.This is what my reality is at THIS moment.

I’ll reemerge at some point and reread this and wonder what the fuck my problem was. For now…the distortion’s at the helm and I am along for the ride. I’ll kick its ass later when I claw my way out of the abyss.

I am so full of shit and yet I want so desperately to BE a bad ass bitch and kick mental illness in the ass and nards and throat.

Just not gonna happen right now and I accept that. To do otherwise would just make me go more insane. I don’t even respond well to pressure from myself. Which would explain why I can’t avoid my triggers as the professionals tell me to do.

LIFE is my trigger. People, noise, mood swings, hormones, demands, being manipulated and bullied, my mind never sending me the right messages….

That the dark side calls isn’t the shocker. The shocker is that amidst all of this, I still manage to make it back from dark side. Maybe I’m more badass than I give myself credit for.

 


Blocked, But Why?

Yesterday I found that someone blocked me on Twitter, and I didn’t know why. It hurt and reminded me of someone else blocking me on Twitter and of yet another person who unfriended me on Facebook and actually informed me that she…

Disconnected DoDo

I’m feeling really disconnected from everything I’m doing and feeling. Dull.

I don’t really want to engaged with anything at the moment. May was super busy for and it looks like June is looking the same but still something is lacking its luster.

Even my blog is feeling dry and withered.

Can it be this medication I’m on? Did my illness at least make my days feel different because you never knew when I was going to be what I was going to be, whenever I was going to be it.  

Got that?

I just want to feel empowered, but that might be within and I’m just going to have to find it.


The Entity ~ Yes, I Am Getting Buddhist Today

The Entity Is: Neither existence nor non-existence; Neither cause nor circumstances; (nor) itself for others; Neither square nor round; Neither short not long; Neither rising nor falling; Neither birth nor death; Neither creation nor appearance, nor artificiality; Neither sitting nor lying; Neither going nor staying; Neither moving, nor rolling, nor still; Neither advancing nor retreating; […]

Line Speed Beauty

“Line, Speed, Beauty” is a philosophy I learned while reading an interview with a well-respected guitarist. The concept is simple....

The post Line Speed Beauty appeared first on Pretending to be What We Are.

Dr. Feelgood has No IDEA

My daughter wanted me to be a vet to her stuffed kitty and she asked me what my name was. Bam, Motley Crue pops into my head and I am Dr. Feelgood. There is NOTHING I can’t metal the fuck up.

Yesterday was neverending. Between my storm paranoia and fifteen solid hours of my kid yapping me to death…Then R called to yap about conspiracy theories (hello, government watchlist, bet you know my name well now) because his wife and the kids were all out and he was alone and bored. Now I know why he got over being pissed at me. Wifey’s returning to work for part time summer classes next week, he wants to make sure he has someone to pester. Meh. Not pessimism, just factoid. Shallow people piss me the fuck off.

Also maddening was the fact my kid was still awake at 11 pm. (Kid was awake nearly sixteen hours! And never more than a foot away from me the entire time!) The storm scared her. I let her sleep in my bed and it took another hour for her to truly settle down. I was awake til at least two. The storm had died off, then started back up, and I felt like if I stayed awake I could stop lightning from zapping all my electronics. (Yes, I know, I am batshit.) The big winner was, it cooled down so much that with my fans, I was actually getting chilled. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

I dreamt. Of grocery shopping. How fucked up is that. And the nightmare part was, I spent my entire budget for the month in one day. Warning sign that I might be going manic? These dreams suck. Or at least remembering them sucks.

7 a.m.and I woke with the spawn staring at me with wide eyes. Like, oh,man, it took so long to get to sleep and now it’s time to get up AGAIN?

She’s attached to my ankle already. It’s heating up. I had a brief period of feeling pretty damn good (hypomanic?) after taking my Cymbalta. Even played music. Then Spook just kept hammering at my brain with noise and the cats are climbing and I CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH STIMULATION BEFORE I START CRACKING MY LIDS. And there goes my decent mood, my energy, and my will to live. It’s such a tenuous balance. Psychological Jenga at its finest. For awhile I had the illusion I might actually be on the mend. I’m starting to think it’s just phantom feel good from the increase in Cymbalta. The test is always whether it lasts or comes and goes. This is where my doctor and I part ways. I honestly thinking taking the full dose at one time is detrimental to me and he thinks the levels are the same no matter what time you take them. Every other doctor had a differing view. Baffling.

I’ve already had a premonition how my next appointment is going to.

Me: “I don’t like the Trileptal, it makes me as numb and dead as the Lithium.”

Dr. : “You’re just not on a high enough dose,let’s increase it to six hundred this week, then nine hundred next week, and twelve hundred the week after.”

Me: “I’m serious, this stuff is killing me. I have NO emotions, I am numb. I couldn’t even cry when my kitten died, even though I did feel sad. I can’t live like this.”

Dr. : “I feel the trileptal is the right medication for you and if you aren’t willing to take it, then you can’t expect to get better.”

CLOWN SHOES.

I could be wrong. I rarely am. And it sucks. I want to be wrong. I want one of these professionals to shock me and turn out to be competent and aware that I am an individual.

Pegacorns.

“Mommy…mommy…mommy…mama…mama…There’s a spider! Mommy, mommy, mommy, my kitty is sick, you need to give her a checkup..Mama Mama my foot hurts…Mommy Mommy Mommy, I saw a bug outside, make it go away! Mommy mommy mommy.”

I’ve never known a kid this old to literally be ten inches from her mother 14 hours a day and still insist it’s not close enough or for long enough. She’s gonna smother a nice young man or woman one day. I guess I can’t relate to that level of neediness because my biggest need is to be left alone in peace.

Anyway…Purge done. I’m going to contemplate housework (which means do fuck all and feel bad for doing fuck all yet still do fuck all because now my anxiety and paranoia are amped to a thousand by the noise.)

To quote the Sixx A.M. song, “Life is Beautiful.”

A beautiful disaster.

***Because I have so often been accused of being a negative person by R and Kenny, I printed and out posted this at the shop right by the desk long ago and it remains to this day, making my point known even when I’m not around.****

optimist pessimist realist

 


Hello Darkness

“Hello Darkness, my old friend…” Paul Simon
 

 I thought I was doing so well. My psych medications seemed like I was well controlled. I was filled with ideas to write my blog, growing followers on twitter and FB page. I was determined and motivated to control my sugar levels by dieting and exercise. I began to care about my appearance and was outdoors building a garden. I felt great and seemed to be moving forward towards wellness, or so I thought.

Instead, I apparently got another “ticket to ride” up the roller coaster again. That all so familiar rapid run of irritably that sent me swirling upside down with anxiety, worry, and repetitive thoughts of disappointments and failures. My irrigated anger is poked at blaming loved ones. The real truth is that I was not entirely to blame for my downward decent of despair but I did poked first. 

The obvious signs of depression is evident to me. I am feeling hopeless that transmits a repetitive display of emotions. Than I begin to loose my interest in daily activities. My weight loss began to rise again as eating is the only sense of control over my body. Knowing my short temper is being provoked, I hide away from the agitation by escaping to my bedroom. The next day I awaken with no energy, unable to control my negativity of worthlessness. This time I have become consumed that all hope has failed. A rapid decrease of strength and courage towards wellness is just a hopeless/ futile effort. No matter how hard I try to escape the darkness, it always finds me and talks to me again.

I know that I must “snap out of it”. “Put my big girl pants on” and “stop being a schizo paranoid” in which, snapping out of it is a fight that feels impossible.
Fortunately, my next appointment with Dr. Candyman was due in just a few days. I conveyed my feelings of hopelessness and shame to which he suggested hospitalization but I begged him to give me a chance to overcome this by allowing the increase dosages of medications to take hold first. 

Here I am, stoned out of my mind, a constant general malaise, and barely able to function. I’m consciously aware that driving is a risk I should not attempt right now. Fearing I maybe forever homebound, no longer able to participate in the upkeep of my daily activities. Again, it was fortunate that my appointment with my counselor was due shortly after my visit with Dr Candyman. I managed to be presentable. Showered, properly clothed, and function-able despite my lethargy.

He knew immediately that I was troubled. The session was one of my most productive to date. It was enlightening and left me with encouragement to resume fighting through this. He affirmed my husband’s command to take responsibility for my own erratic behavior. I was originally diagnosed as a Bipolar Type 2 by my mid-40s by 53 years old I exacerbated into Type 1 Bipolar. I am a true believer in getting a grip on feeling low and “choosing to be happy “ but, a bipolar’s depression does not work this way. It is an illness within my brain however, with the medical treatment I’ve achieved these last 10 years, I am accountable for my own actions and must live up to any consequences I have committed.

I am capable of noticing the signals of my irritability and remove myself from not causing my agitation to hurt any loved ones. I see this as “riding the wave” but, this is not as successful as it sounds and I must find a better way of handling my situation. An apology for my behavior can signal to my loved one that I am fighting to take control of my brain. I took the route of seeking psychological help from Dr Candyman and the therapy for the appropriate actions I need to replace. This all sounds very elementary but, when therapeutic interventions such as meditation, mood charting and journalling is not working it’s time to learn something new that prevents hurting loved ones and a fixed depression I can not overcome alone.

I received an increase with my medication that caused a new level of sedation. The added sedation is to provide some down time and allow my mind to rest. Just like resting a back injury and taking a pain pill. Medication is not the be all end all. He informed me that the increase maybe a temporary mode of treatment and may be readjusted when riding the exacerbation has ended. It could also mean that my current doses are no longer as effective which is common among most bipolar’s.

I fight everyday with my bipolar, the disorder does not warrant taking breaks. The hardest part in this unexpected event was feeling like a failure. That all my hard work isn’t good enough. My years spent in a natural state of mind, only to fall backwards is devastating. I have been warned by my therapist that I will have “breakthroughs” where extra therapy sessions is an essential mode of treatment and I couldn’t agree more. I feel my efforts have been pointless that I failed fighting against the mind. My daily routine has been futile and how unfair that I’v been innately given such a harsh disorder.

I know that “normal” looks like getting out of bed in the morning, compliant with my diabetes, getting out even if it’s just to the grocery store. Most of all, the determination to keep up on my blog even when I’m in a loosing battle. Especially when I’m loosing to the mind over matter. I suspect many of us do.

So, I am exhausted with this lose and must embrace this time of resting my mind. Most importantly, acceptance that my disorder will continue to have its breakthroughs, recognizing the signs and wasting no time to seek my support team for the appropriate exit back to a stronger state and fight harder against the mind.

“Hello darkness, my old friend…I’ve come to talk with you again” “ Disturbing the “Sound of Silence”. 

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You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief, But rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound. – Kahlil GibranFiled under: Bipolar Disorder

It’s Late, And I Need To Write

I have no idea what to write about, but I can feel the words and the tears welling up in my mind and my heart. I do not know where these things, the words, so often accompanied by tears of joy and sadness, come from. I turned 44 yesterday. Birthdays are not something I have particularly […]

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Laura P. Schulman, MD, MA:

Been on both sides of that one…

Originally posted on depression comix (WP.com):

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Read at depression comix at http://wp.me/s3zYhM-241

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