Daily Archives: August 8, 2015

Words Fly

Words Fly - WORDS is jumbled. FLY is jumbled and on a diagonal rise. Background is wispy clouds.

I remember when I couldn’t hold the letters of a word together long enough to make sense of them. They flew off in all directions or got all jumbled up. I simply could not read no matter how hard I tried. Even if I forced myself to concentrate, to focus, to glue one letter to the next until I could put them together to form a word and then to make sense of that one word, it’s meaning was lost before I got on to the next. The letters would not hold together to form words, the words would not hold together to form sentences. Their meaning was completely lost on me. That is the brain FUCKED UP royally. No doubt about it.


Filed under: About Mental Health, Bipolar Disorder, Mania, Mental Illness, Psychosis, Psychotic Thought Process, Recovery Tagged: Brain disorder, concentration, reading difficulty

Can you donate eggs if you are bipolar

Originally posted on our lived experience:
This blog post has nothing to do with chickens. I’ll admit I’d never thought about this issue before I stumbled upon the article that follows. Anyway, I wondered what you guys think of the whole thing? Bear in mind that most clinics around the world have the same guidelines…

Insurance

So it is open enrollment for insurance at my wife’s work. My wife’s insurance has good coverage, especially for mental...

The post Insurance appeared first on Pretending to be What We Are.

Can you donate eggs if you are bipolar

This blog post has nothing to do with chickens. I’ll admit I’d never thought about this issue before I stumbled upon the article that follows. Anyway, I wondered what you guys think of the whole thing? Bear in mind that most clinics around the world have the same guidelines in place, baby2mom Egg Donation Agency is a South African one.

whatmakesababy4

“Egg donation requires a careful screening for egg donors. Recipients of donor eggs are getting new and unknown genetic material so a thorough assessment is imperative.  Whilst bipolar is an attribute inidividuals mat may have to live with. It is not encouraged that woman women who are biopolar bipolar proceed as egg donors. This increases the risk for all parties involved. As part of the initial assessment undertaken by an egg donor agency, questions pertaining to genetic attributes are part of the egg donor application. Depression, psychosis, schitzophrenia schizophrenia and bipolar are all genetic aspects and should caution raise a red flag as genetic concerns. So essentially egg donation bipolar is not a risk that will materialise through a reputable egg donation agency where thorough and appropriate screening will have been performed. Ethically, it may not be a fair process for a bipolar woman to proceed with egg donation too. It places undue risk on her as well. So whilst an egg donation recipient is at the mercy of young healthy egg donors to help her/ him conceive, it is not morally acceptable to initiate a process whereby recipients of donor eggs are receiving known genetic concerns – diseases, abnormalities, etc. baby2mom Egg Donation Agency facilitates online egg donations through an established egg donation website. An extensive high level assessment is undertaken by the egg donor agent, followed by a thorough and personalised assessment with a qualified psychologist who specialises in egg donation screening. The final approval is via the medial assessment made up of hormonal blood tests and an internal scan. Egg donation bipolar – potential egg donors showing indications of genetic diseases such as bipolar will unfortunately be declined. This is in the best interests of egg donation recpients recipients – offering them a fair chance and for egg donors – so as not to be placed under undue and unneccessary risks.” source

I found some really interesting commentary in ‘Do Egg Donors Lie?’ – the comments on the article are fascinating too.


Journaling

Pretty much every therapist out there for pretty much any condition will tell you that an effective tool to managing...

Journaling

Pretty much every therapist out there for pretty much any condition will tell you that an effective tool to managing...

The post Journaling appeared first on Pretending to be What We Are.

Been gone

  
I know I haven’t been posting a lot here of late. But I promise my readers, I will start again soon. An illness of a very dear family member had me a little unhinged and now I’m away from home for a week. Then away again for 10 days. And then depending on the health of my aunt, I may be going to Pakistan. But I will be posting again, my story, scientific findings, pictures. Happy Saturday all!


Moused Out

I survived the birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. Survival is the name of the game when in a steel cage death match with depression and anxiety. I am victorious. Most triumphant. Meh. I am just relieved it’s over.

Before I even left town..My dumb ass managed to land my car in a ditch. The car was practically on its side. Spook was yapping at me, I took a turn onto a dead end street, needed to turn around, hit a driveway a fraction off and wham…I was livid, Spook was screaming. Then the most amazing thing happened. Two perfect strangers stopped and pushed the car out for me. I was so relieved I didn’t have to call anyone and especially not tell my mom ‘cos the car is in her name. FUCK. I knew my kid and her incessant chatter was going to get me in trouble while driving. It was humiliating. Not to mention panic inducing. It sort of boosted my mood though to be helped by two perfect strangers. Not everyone is shit, who knew.

There was a change in plans yesterday. Because my sister has the trunk of the car she drives full of speakers, they had no room for cake, presents, and everyone going. So mom asked if I’d drive her and the presents. Fine. Just had to take it slow on the interstate since one my tires is basically showing steel belt. I was wary, but shockingly…Mom was pleasant. Even my sister was shocked, because apparently, for mom to not go off anyone for so many hours is indeed an anomaly.

We went. We played. (I got my fix of Ski-Ball, gave all the tickets to Spook which we all pretty much did.) We had pizza. We had cake. (Forty bucks my sis paid for a “Frozen” cake which consisted of six inches of rainbow frosting, my kid’s name, and a plastic Elsa figuring, BFD, WTF.) Spook got her picture taken with the mouse. Everyone got along well. The place was semi busy and it was like playing Frogger to avoid getting mowed down by feral children but whatevs…I went, I didn’t spaz out, I was pleasant without being real social. People who know me know that’s my way, I’m a loner. I can make small talk, fake smiles, but mostly, I just wanna do my own thing. Spook was so occupied with the kids that came I was pretty much on my own, anyway. Seeing her so happy was awesome. I was jealous because while I was there and no particularly miserable..The numbness and anhedonia just lingered overhead like a cloud. Feeling disconnected from everything has become my norm and it pisses me off.

In the quest for driving me insane, Spook acquired about four new toys that sing that damn Frozen song, including a doll to sleep with. She’s gonna drag that thing into my room one night, lay on it, that song’s gonna start playing, and I am gonna wake up in a homicidal panic. SERIOUSLY, LET IT GO, ELSA.

I was stunned to find out what mom and sis spent on the birthday shindig. Mind you I am not some tightwad scrooge who doesn’t think her kid is worth it. But when your finances are limited, you can’t keep food in the fridge, and you go drop over three hundred dollars for a party, cake, and presents…That’s fucking stupid.

Of it all, I think the driving was the most harrowing. That bald tire really had me nervous, and once we got to Xville which is ten times the size of this armpit town and everyone was driving like a maniac and traffic was like door to door…That was nerve racking. The only saving grace is that I knew exactly where it was because there’s the main drag with the mall, then you go a straight shot down, make one turn, and basically you’re there. Had it been in an unfamiliar place…I’d probably have been in the ER with chest pains convinced I was having a heart attack. Throw in my yapping kid and my mother’s backseat driving…Yeah, that was definitely the harrowing part. Especially after the ditch incident, which had me less than confident in my driving ability.

We were back well before dark, to my relief. Came home only for dad to show up bbefore I even finished packing all her gifts in. They couldn’t make the party, couldn’t afford a gift, but they helped me out by spending nearly forty bucks getting her school supplies. (Hope the school doesn’t kick her out because the dry erase markers aren’t brand name.) I was hot and cranky and just wanted to them go. They didn’t stay long but when you’re uncomfortable and really need to go pee…Even a brief visit feels interminable.

Chilled for a bit. Mrs R called and invited us over for a bit. I went ‘cos I really wanted a free glass of wine. And that was what I had. She bought Spook ice cream for her birthday. Her and R were bickering and he was being a prime asshole (or himself, as she said) so leaving was a relief.

Home to chill some more. Spook was still awake at 11p.m. I tried not to sweat it, it was her birthday and all. Oddly, out of all that shit she got brand new…It was a grocery bag of discarded toys my sister’s friend sent home that Spook spent the whole night playing with. THAT. That’s why I don’t spend a ton and make a spectacle. I know my kid well and that’s how she is.

She slept, I slept. I was, however, rudely awakened at 3 a.m. Not by my kid. By Voodoo. Who insisted on headbutting me, making claw biscuits on my face, and yowling at max volume. Empty food dish. Had to get up, otherwise he’d pee on me. Getting back to sleep was a bitch. Panic kicked in, heart started pounding. No trigger. I pondered a Xanax, but rode it out for ninety minutes. Then an abrupt itching attack on my ankles began. For three days when it was cool and I stayed out of the sun and didn’t sweat…I was fine,barely itched at all. Little sunlight, sit outside with bugs biting me, and sweat, bam, I’m a mess. Fuck fuck fuckity fucker.

I got up before Spook, who slept in her own bed until six a.m. Then she came to my bed and slept longer than I did. I had to feed my vermin and needed my morning boost of sweet tea. I’ve been pondering a few yard sales, cos yesterday it was like, yeah, totally, cool, let’s do that. Now it feels like getting dressed and actually driving some place is too much to handle. Tapped out, drained, in need of recharge and reboot.

I survived. That’s about the best I can say, other than Spook had a blast and that’s what counts. The thing is, for every one time I manage to pull of the dish experience, there are ten failures. People only count the success and blow off the failures so I’m probably pronounced cured by them all now. They have no idea. Mainly because after trying to share and lean on them only to have “snap out of it” thrown in my face…Nope.

For some reason, I’ve been grinding my teeth for the last hour and my gums hurt. Maybe need to take half a Xanax, it seems to help with the grinding. Or maybe I’m already getting bent over all the school shit coming my way in the next week. (Yeah, reading that back, it sounds kinda wrong..Oh, well.)

Time to vegetate and regroup. Housework mocks me. I’m giving it the silent treatment. I’ve earned a break.

 

 


the sad hatter