Daily Archives: May 1, 2016

Failure

Does mental illness ever make you feel like you are just a failure at life? I often ponder this question. Especially when I know my mind isn’t working right but I can’t seem to fix it. For the first time in a year and a half since I started my meds I have really been struggling the last 2 or 3 weeks. Like enough to where I have found myself wondering if I am just completely losing it. The other thing that has hit me really hard is that I lived this way for somewhere around 20 years. I don’t honestly know how I managed to do anything much less keep job, take care of my kids, and stay married. I guess it’s just that I know better now and I can see a different way. I am frustrated because it’s like my meds just decided to completely quit working one day. I am still awaiting blood results and I’m hoping they will help to paint a picture of the problem. But geez Louise I hate it when it feels like I have to go backwards. I am exhausted from trying to keep it together and not go off on every person I come into contact with. On the bright side the new sleeping med my doc prescribed seems to be allowing me to get better sleep. For that I am grateful. 

Being a Christian is something that is important to me. And it’s very hard to separate trying to live like Christ from what is caused by my illness. And I don’t want to use this as an excuse to behave badly or to treat people the wrong way. I mean we are talking about a disease of the mind. It’s not like I can just cut it out and move on. I know nothing is that simple but when you can’t trust your thoughts It sure does make a lot of things difficult. And then I wonder just how much God is going to understand. I mean eventually you run out of excuses for the same thing. I sincerely hope that the fact that I get help and take my meds means He knows I am trying. That I want to be the best version of myself and that I want Him to get the glory. 

I truly don’t think like other people. I see things and look at the big picture in a different way. Most of the time it seems like no on can even grasp what I am saying much less understand it the way I do. I have had conversations in which I have to just abandon what I am saying because the person I’m talking to can’t even see what I am saying. It’s often a very lonely place. I have been told so many times that people just don’t understand and I should allow that to be ok. But it makes me tired. I get tired of being the employee that works hard and always shows up but I never really get much out of the deal. I’m tired of people acting like me being good is the greatest prize ever. When I’m thinking really what does that get me? A small raise, bosses that want me to work because they don’t have to babysit me? Those really don’t seem like things that are all that fantastic. 

So I will start this week hoping that my results come in quickly and that if I need a med adjustment it will do the trick to help me get back to feeling like I’m supposed to again. Be blessed today!!


Work Worries

Well I finished inputting the first five files for Dr. Flaky and asked her if I could come get more files.  She wanted to look at my work and get back to me and at long last, she did.  Unfortunately for me, she had nothing but criticism.  This is missing, that is missing, and I’m like, I can only enter data that is actually in the file!  Said much more nicely than that.  Nothing about how thorough I was, how consistent, how I scanned every single page of the damn file and uploaded it . . . Oh dear, work anxieties, like always, are coming out of the woodwork!  The wish for approval and positive affirmation are overwhelming.  And I’m not getting any of it!  Is this going to be the job for me?  Is she going to want to keep me?  Fear, fear, fear.  And after I invested (probably unwisely) FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS in my beautiful laser printer!!!  I haven’t even made that much back yet!!  I am not the happiest of campers today.  I don’t like having my insecurities brought out.  I like thinking that I’m the greatest worker that ever lived!  What if I’m not up to the job???  Well I guess that will just be more data to tell me the level of my disability.  Which scares me.  Part of me wants to think that I can go back to work at 100% functioning any time I want.  Maybe that’s just not the case.  Maybe I can’t.  I guess time will tell.  I will do my best.

It’s May 1st and in Boulder, Colorado it’s snowing, goddamnit!!  This is NOT how it’s supposed to be on May 1st!!!  It has snowed for the past three days, including today.  I am over it.  Looking forward, the temperatures are supposed to increase and then we’re supposed to have some rain.  I don’t care about rain, as long as we don’t have any more snow.  DAMMIT!  Nothing is going my way.  I hope to have a less pitiful post for you soon.  Hope you all are enjoying a stellar Sunday.  Peaches!


Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar Working, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Blogging, Hope, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Work Worries

Well I finished inputting the first five files for Dr. Flaky and asked her if I could come get more files.  She wanted to look at my work and get back to me and at long last, she did.  Unfortunately for me, she had nothing but criticism.  This is missing, that is missing, and I’m like, I can only enter data that is actually in the file!  Said much more nicely than that.  Nothing about how thorough I was, how consistent, how I scanned every single page of the damn file and uploaded it . . . Oh dear, work anxieties, like always, are coming out of the woodwork!  The wish for approval and positive affirmation are overwhelming.  And I’m not getting any of it!  Is this going to be the job for me?  Is she going to want to keep me?  Fear, fear, fear.  And after I invested (probably unwisely) FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS in my beautiful laser printer!!!  I haven’t even made that much back yet!!  I am not the happiest of campers today.  I don’t like having my insecurities brought out.  I like thinking that I’m the greatest worker that ever lived!  What if I’m not up to the job???  Well I guess that will just be more data to tell me the level of my disability.  Which scares me.  Part of me wants to think that I can go back to work at 100% functioning any time I want.  Maybe that’s just not the case.  Maybe I can’t.  I guess time will tell.  I will do my best.

It’s May 1st and in Boulder, Colorado it’s snowing, goddamnit!!  This is NOT how it’s supposed to be on May 1st!!!  It has snowed for the past three days, including today.  I am over it.  Looking forward, the temperatures are supposed to increase and then we’re supposed to have some rain.  I don’t care about rain, as long as we don’t have any more snow.  DAMMIT!  Nothing is going my way.  I hope to have a less pitiful post for you soon.  Hope you all are enjoying a stellar Sunday.  Peaches!


Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar Working, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Blogging, Hope, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Work Worries

Well I finished inputting the first five files for Dr. Flaky and asked her if I could come get more files.  She wanted to look at my work and get back to me and at long last, she did.  Unfortunately for me, she had nothing but criticism.  This is missing, that is missing, and I’m like, I can only enter data that is actually in the file!  Said much more nicely than that.  Nothing about how thorough I was, how consistent, how I scanned every single page of the damn file and uploaded it . . . Oh dear, work anxieties, like always, are coming out of the woodwork!  The wish for approval and positive affirmation are overwhelming.  And I’m not getting any of it!  Is this going to be the job for me?  Is she going to want to keep me?  Fear, fear, fear.  And after I invested (probably unwisely) FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS in my beautiful laser printer!!!  I haven’t even made that much back yet!!  I am not the happiest of campers today.  I don’t like having my insecurities brought out.  I like thinking that I’m the greatest worker that ever lived!  What if I’m not up to the job???  Well I guess that will just be more data to tell me the level of my disability.  Which scares me.  Part of me wants to think that I can go back to work at 100% functioning any time I want.  Maybe that’s just not the case.  Maybe I can’t.  I guess time will tell.  I will do my best.

It’s May 1st and in Boulder, Colorado it’s snowing, goddamnit!!  This is NOT how it’s supposed to be on May 1st!!!  It has snowed for the past three days, including today.  I am over it.  Looking forward, the temperatures are supposed to increase and then we’re supposed to have some rain.  I don’t care about rain, as long as we don’t have any more snow.  DAMMIT!  Nothing is going my way.  I hope to have a less pitiful post for you soon.  Hope you all are enjoying a stellar Sunday.  Peaches!


Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar Working, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Blogging, Hope, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Senses and Sensitivity

When I was a child, I was often told that I was “too sensitive” – meaning that I took things too much to heart, especially criticism and the taunts and bullying of other children. It was something that I assumed was innately wrong with me, and that I didn’t know how to fix.Sensory Overload in Children

These days, however, I’m too sensitive to sensory input.

I used to be able to write or read or edit with music on (instrumental music, at least). I used to be able to hold a conversation while the television was on. I used to be able to drive a car and look at the scenery around me.

Not anymore.

A fan is about all the sound I can handle while I write, and sometimes quiet is the only thing that will calm my nerves. I can barely process remarks anyone makes about the TV show we’re watching. And if I’m driving, I never even notice a deer in a field off to the side of the road. I doubt that I would notice a hippopotamus.

I’ve written before about my brain being overwhelmed with too much input, meaning too many thoughts, anxieties, and fears. But over the years – at least since my last major meltdown – I have trouble processing more than one sensory signal at a time.

It’s not just a matter of focusing in too completely on just one thing. (I have in the past entered into some movies so thoroughly that I’ve nearly killed my husband when he has asked questions like, “Will you look at this pimple on my back?” or whispered to me, “I think I know what makes that spaceship fly.”)

My ability to focus – to concentrate intensely – has been a casualty of my mental disorder. At my lowest point, I couldn’t even read a book, which is something I’ve been doing since I was three or four. I still can read only one chapter or one magazine article in a sitting

Now that I’m recovering (thank God and Drs. R. and B.), I can concentrate enough to read, and write, and edit. What I can’t do is separate out multiple sources of information on the way from my senses to my brain. If my husband talks while a TV show is on, it’s not just that I can’t make sense of what he’s saying, I can’t process either signal – the TV or him. It’s all a jumble.

If I went to cocktail parties (I don’t), I would be unlikely to have an intelligible conversation because of all the ambient noise and clashing voices. I recently went to a workshop that held a mix-and-mingle event on the first day. Having people chatting all around me was not just distracting, but almost painful and immobilizing. Focusing on one person at a time was the only way I could get through it.

And forget about Chuck E. Cheese or Cici’s Pizza! No. Just no. Video arcades – are you kidding? It’s a good thing I have no reason to frequent places like that. When I go to a regular restaurant, I have to ask not to be seated near any birthday parties or office functions. I wish they had a “no screaming” section.

I understand that sensory processing difficulties sometimes occur in persons with autism spectrum disorders (ASD) and/or ADHD. I have never been diagnosed with ASD, though I may have manifested Asperger-like traits in my youth (well, OK, in my adulthood too). And I have been told by doctors that I have hyper-sensitive nerves. Is that the same as what I experience? I don’t know.

Most of the research and discussion of sensory processing and bipolar disorder occurs in the context of children, though I never noticed such difficulties when I was a child. But just as articles about autistic adults are rare (except, of course, for the high-functioning) and learning disabilities are forgotten about as soon as a person leaves school, it seems that sensory processing problems in adults also get little attention.

I can’t be the only one dealing with this.

As I learn more about my own difficulties and conditions that affect others, there is one conclusion I’m rapidly approaching:

Neurodivergent is neurodivergent. We may have different diagnoses, but there is much we share.


Filed under: Mental Health Tagged: ASD, being overwhelmed, bipolar type 2, concentration, mental health, mental illness, my experiences, neurodivergent, sensitivity, sensory

Scatterday Showers

April Showers Bring May Flowers.

Actually, today brought rain that ruined our standing yard sale plans. This made it cold which made it hard for me to find any give-a-damn.

My father made an unannounced visit.  Then said he needed to use the bathroom, which is family code for “I do have to piss but now I can also go inside and note what a shit housekeeper Niki is and tell everyone about it.”

I would love it if I were merely paranoid. My family really is that passive aggressive.

Then he started in on how the oil in the car was low and he did a snap interrogation of what all I was “hauling” in my car.

Nothing like being 43 and being treated like a child.

It’s like, if I weren’t already depressed, that would do the trick.

Shitty as his visit made me feel…

I was able to throw myself into  a shower, clean clothes (minus underthings) and I took my kid out to Dollar Tree so she could spend what allowance she had left. Outings with the “I want” monster may be  a normal kid thing…but it is not less stressful for me simply because “it’s a kid thing”. I view it as a respect thing. If she doesn’t respect me enough  to listen and obey me…what’s the point?

Then came the child’s demands. I played with her. Tea party. Her wedding to her invisible husband. Her party for her invisible friend Melissa’s party…And no matter how much I did, she still cried and accused me of hating her, not wanting her, ignoring her…I am one person, battling a crippling depression, still giving all I have to give…and my child wants more.

I’ve got nothing left to give. I am TRYING, for fuck’s sake.

That may well be the most insulting thing about bipolar dis0rder.

To try so damned hard and for it to never be enough for those around you.

So I tried to be “normal” and make it up to my kid by taking her out for supper at KFC. (Child support can be used for that, right?) We went inside and ate, not because I wanted to but because the death trap car that barely ran in the cold rain today…has no window able to roll down for drive through.

I was impressed. She behaved well, ate almost all her food.

Then I felt guilty for spending money on take out rather than at home.

I spent the entire day with the end goal of writing once my kid zonked.

I can barely string sentences together as it nears 11 p.m. because life has sucked the life out of me. It sounds whiny and weak but this is…

This is bipolar. As much as it sucks and drives away those we love…Those we love need to consider the flip side.

We don’t try to be annoying. We don’t wish to alienate.

This is just bipolar reality and YEAH. You better have a pair of brass ones to handle it. Otherwise, you’re not remotely as strong as we are.

Truth. Hurts.


The Tribe Has Spoken

…loud and clear. I am NOT allowed to go off my meds, or change my hair (that’s the latest itch I want to scratch). Well, I can change my hair if I want to, but I probably shouldn’t until I get a handle on whatever’s gotten into me.

I announced my thoughts to my family as well, and what they said was “No”. As in no no no no no no no, a thousand times NO! They know as well, or better than I do that it’s never a good sign when I want to cut my hair—by myself—as that only happens when I’m becoming manic. I can’t count the number of times I’ve whacked my hair off when I got a wild hair up my butt. It was always in the spring or summer when this happened; I haven’t taken the scissors to it in years now because my son-in-law would have a conniption if I did, but all of a sudden I want a hairstyle I wore in the last century. Think Debra Winger in Urban Cowboy. You know, long loose curls. (This from someone who has wanted straight hair all her life and now has it, thanks to the attentions of a master stylist.) I have a very nice, sleek, up-to-date ‘do, but here I am wanting to go back to the ’80s. WTF is up with that!?

It’s funny, I don’t feel manic, but something is definitely different and it’s not due to the weather because it’s been cloudy and cool until today. While I have racing thoughts, I’m not overly gabby and I’m not arguing politics on Facebook; I also have some agitation going on but I don’t feel like cleaning everything that isn’t red-hot or running for the hills. I don’t have the stamina for that anyway…my back aches ferociously with very little activity, so I spend a lot of time on the sofa bouncing my leg.

I came up with a one-liner joke when I was trying to go to sleep last night that I almost posted on Facebook. I don’t know why, it just popped into my head. It goes, “Sexting: junk mail”. Well, my son laughed at it…

Speaking of whom, he and I went to see my sister today. Louise lives in an assisted-living community in a small town that is way off the beaten path, so we don’t get out there very often. Ethan is a lot of fun to be with, especially one-on-one, and we had a great time during the drive to and from the facility. We talked about booze, palm trees, moving to Texas and other matters of consequence. (No, I’m not kidding about Texas—the “boys” have some ideas about moving us all down there sometime after Ethan graduates from his Bachelor of Science in Nursing program.) He used to go to horror films with me when he was a teenager because he was the only one in the family besides me who liked them. So we enjoyed each other’s company as we drove through the warm, sunny afternoon and paid our visit to Louise, which was cut short by a text from his boss asking him when he was coming to work! He didn’t even know he was on the schedule, so we made a beeline for home and then he rushed off to work, an hour and a half late for his 2-10 shift. Oops…

Anyway, the verdict is in so I won’t be doing any experimentation with my meds. I still want to, but I’m an adult and adults don’t always get to do what they want, particularly when it’s not in their best interests. As my hubby reminded me, I feel and act normal BECAUSE of the meds. Duh.

 

 


The Tribe Has Spoken

…loud and clear. I am NOT allowed to go off my meds, or change my hair (that’s the latest itch I want to scratch). Well, I can change my hair if I want to, but I probably shouldn’t until I get a handle on whatever’s gotten into me.

I announced my thoughts to my family as well, and what they said was “No”. As in no no no no no no no, a thousand times NO! They know as well, or better than I do that it’s never a good sign when I want to cut my hair—by myself—as that only happens when I’m becoming manic. I can’t count the number of times I’ve whacked my hair off when I got a wild hair up my butt. It was always in the spring or summer when this happened; I haven’t taken the scissors to it in years now because my son-in-law would have a conniption if I did, but all of a sudden I want a hairstyle I wore in the last century. Think Debra Winger in Urban Cowboy. You know, long loose curls. (This from someone who has wanted straight hair all her life and now has it, thanks to the attentions of a master stylist.) I have a very nice, sleek, up-to-date ‘do, but here I am wanting to go back to the ’80s. WTF is up with that!?

It’s funny, I don’t feel manic, but something is definitely different and it’s not due to the weather because it’s been cloudy and cool until today. While I have racing thoughts, I’m not overly gabby and I’m not arguing politics on Facebook; I also have some agitation going on but I don’t feel like cleaning everything that isn’t red-hot or running for the hills. I don’t have the stamina for that anyway…my back aches ferociously with very little activity, so I spend a lot of time on the sofa bouncing my leg.

I came up with a one-liner joke when I was trying to go to sleep last night that I almost posted on Facebook. I don’t know why, it just popped into my head. It goes, “Sexting: junk mail”. Well, my son laughed at it…

Speaking of whom, he and I went to see my sister today. Louise lives in an assisted-living community in a small town that is way off the beaten path, so we don’t get out there very often. Ethan is a lot of fun to be with, especially one-on-one, and we had a great time during the drive to and from the facility. We talked about booze, palm trees, moving to Texas and other matters of consequence. (No, I’m not kidding about Texas—the “boys” have some ideas about moving us all down there sometime after Ethan graduates from his Bachelor of Science in Nursing program.) He used to go to horror films with me when he was a teenager because he was the only one in the family besides me who liked them. So we enjoyed each other’s company as we drove through the warm, sunny afternoon and paid our visit to Louise, which was cut short by a text from his boss asking him when he was coming to work! He didn’t even know he was on the schedule, so we made a beeline for home and then he rushed off to work, an hour and a half late for his 2-10 shift. Oops…

Anyway, the verdict is in so I won’t be doing any experimentation with my meds. I still want to, but I’m an adult and adults don’t always get to do what they want, particularly when it’s not in their best interests. As my hubby reminded me, I feel and act normal BECAUSE of the meds. Duh.

 

 


Days

Typically my day consists of sleeping until noon and then watching the same 3 shows every since afternoon.  It kills time until hubby gets home and sort of keeps me busy.

Weekends are much harder. Hubby is here but he wants to do things on his computer and shows that I have no interest in. I’d be fine with that if weekend TV didn’t suck when it’s not football season.

My house is a freaking mess. I need to clean it but am so unmotivated to do anything physical.

My shrink wants me to take my latuda and 2mg of Xanax first thing in the morning, it’s made me kind of sleepy feeling all day but I’m also restless. It’s a very strange feeling.

I watched DeadPool with my hubby and could not sit still for more than a minute, it’s driving me crazy.