Daily Archives: March 16, 2017

Painting

I still haven’t painted. I got all the things I need, I have instructional videos. Bob Ross has so many I can follow along with I’m just not motivated to do it and I’m also afraid of doing it. Pretty dumb huh? Oh well.

I don’t know why I decided to write today but I thought that I ought to check in and give a wassup.  😛

I haven’t been in the best of moods. Usually I have day after day of depression. Right now I am on 3mg of Rexulti and 300mg of Wellbutrin for my depression. I think I need something else in there but I’ll work that out on my next shrinks appt.

Oh and I dyed my hair dark pink. So that’s fun.

Anyhoo going to go now..

 


The Truth About Mental Health Treatment, Meds, And Memory

The last few days have been a challenge, to say the least. Shark week arrived early (likely due to all the stress from the car problems and such) and while it explains my gamut of emotions, including the white hot rage at being forced into a holding pattern for car repairs, followed by my idiot father reducing me tears after a phone call…It’s still one more bitter pill to swallow. Not only am I mentally off kilter, but once a month I become emotionally off kilter to the nth degree. And honestly, when I am in the grips of the monthly dysphoria, I can tell you to fuck off and really mean it, without guilt. Give me a few days, I’ll apologize when our regularly scheduled amount of crazy resumes.

What I have found this week is that…my intelligence has really suffered, be it age, that infamous Nardil incident that nearly killed me and resulted in some brain damage, or if it’s side effects from the plethora of meds I am taking trying to fix myself up into some semblance of…functional…Fact is, in addition to the limitations of mental imbalance, I am also experiencing limitation from the meds to treat it.

I spent 3 days in a row at the shop, repaying R for all the time and effort he put into getting my car fixed…It has been brutal because A,) shark week pain and dysphoria, B.) Week two of trying to wean myself from Pristiq and the ensuing brain zaps and fog of withdrawal (driving me to take a 50mg every third day because damn it, those brain zaps and the fog are making me feel whacked out) and C.) because of my meds/ memory limitations and not being able to meet the expectations R has of me.

He has been trying for 5 years to teach me to read electronic schematics. Well, that’s a joke because my memory of numbers lasts about 2 seconds and me asking what was it again, annoys the fuck out of me. Like I am doing it purposely to annoy when in fact, it frustrates me to hell and back, too. Then he was trying to get me to comprehend PNP vs NPN resistors and such on the schematic and frankly…what he sees so clearly as an arrow pointing up or down…to my disheveled mind, it was like looking at a foreign language. I couldn’t tell for sure which was pointing up or down. How pathetic is that? And it really pissed him off and humiliated me because I am trying my best and scumbag brain just doesn’t get it.

The other day I even forgot how to count in fives and fucked up some change he gave me. Just…wasn’t there. Memory bank was blank.

So in addition to all the crap going on with my hormones and my meds and my very existence…I am supposed to hold my head up high when I can’t even interpret which direction a fucking arrow is pointing.

I was supposed to be paying him back by helping but instead I just got him more mixed up. Yay.

So while six different people this week have taken shots at me for not having a job..I have to come to terms with the fact that I may NEVER be able to hold any job I worked in in the past because my basic grasp of things is so fubar. Can’t keep numbers straight? Nope, no cashiering in my future. Can’t remember two seconds after what was asked of me? Guess even stocking shelves would be out. Hey, how about going back to school and learning a trade? Wait, I can’t do numbers, I can’t tell what way an arrow points, and I can’t carry out basic tasks because I forget them two seconds after being asked.

My future is not so bright I gotta wear shades. Fact is, short of working for myself or finding some uber understanding human to employee me, flaws, disabilities, and med side effects..even if the shrink says I am ready to work…I am screwed. I mean, seriously, so altered I can’t tell what way an arrow is pointing???? And I mean, I was in gifted classes in school so I am  not stupid but for whatever reason, my brain is failing at the most menial simple tasks.

I am not giving up on being well enough to work. It’s just not at this moment and I guess my cross to bear is listening to all these assholes around me tell me I seem perfectly fit for work to them if I would “snap out” of my moods.

It’s a barb wire cross to bear because here we are, taking these meds to get well, yet the meds make us have side effects as hindering as the original illness if not worse.

On another front, war has erupted in my family. My sis found her dream car and asked dad to cosign. He refused as the car cost more than blue book, needs tires, etc. Well, somehow, my sis got the loan and got her dream car. Now they are all pissed off at him and I am trying to remain neutral and be happy for my sister (mom thinks I am jealous cos it’s a shiny black car but really, I LIKE what I drive, why can’t anyone get that thru their thick skull????). So my dad called today and wants a dog sitter as usually my mom does it but since he refused to cosign the loan and dared call the car for the piece of crap it is outside the shiny paint job…Now he wants me to dog sit. Which involves a 25 mile round trip to their armpit town for 8 hours so they can run around and get haircuts and shit and he rubbed it in “your brother has to work.” Because the message isn’t clear enough already.

They offered to pay me.

I don’t need the money or anxiety of being outside my safe space that bad. In fact, I’d rather peel my flesh off with a paring knife than go babysit the dog. I am not a dog person. I like the dog, mind you, sweet dog, but dogs are so needy what with having to walk them and all the barking and slobbering and wanting  to play. Ugh.

It’s pathetic they’ve spoiled the dog so much they even need a sitter because if left alone, ever, he will  bark incessantly til the neighbors call the cops. And this man is judging me???

GRRR. I have spent all week at the shop pretty  much. My weekend should be mine. But since there’s war on all sides, if I turn down the “job” then I will be dragged further into it all. Mom and them will get all nasty about “they usually pay ME to watch the dog.)

Just a big bag of family shit drama I don’t fucking need.

Is it wrong to pray for an abrupt case of Flubola before Saturday?

So…that’s been my week.  Amazing I remember so much but hey, the embarrassing failures always stick. Too bad the rare instances of when I do well slide off like I am coated in Teflon.


“Say You’ll Remember Me” – Wildest Dreams (Taylor Swift)

Ready. Set. Sail! I’m not ready to really write about this yet but I had to get it off my chest and I don’t care what anyone thinks. Mark pretty much told me yesterday he couldn’t do it anymore. That he is done with fucking over my relationship with my husband. We talked for a … More “Say You’ll Remember Me” – Wildest Dreams (Taylor Swift)

Spree

So I got a check from Delta Magazine and went and spent it on music this time.  I bought 12 CD’s with less than $100.  I was proud of the good shopping I did.  SO today I plan to listen to them all straight through.

My youngest got picked up yesterday for her trip to my mom’s.  Hopefully they will have fun.  My oldest went kayaking on her trip to the Grand Canyon, so we know she is having fun.  The middle one is upstairs in her room right now but plans to go watch MSU girls’ basketball with her best friend through the weekend courtesy of Bob’s parents.  SO hopefully she will still have had fun on her spring break.

Got an interesting invitation yesterday.  National ALliance for the Mentally Ill in MS asked me to serve as their representative on a panel discussion a local psychiatric facility is having on spiritual practice and its place in mental health treatment.  I got really excited about the topic once I found it out since that is my whole message.  It’s going to be in late April.

I had planned to write all day today but I’m not sure about that.  I’m not sure what I can work on.  I have the essay that is due at the end of the year and another one that has been forming in my mind for a few months, so I may work on those.  Otherwise I’m not sure what I could work on.

I feel pretty good this morning.  I got up early right after Bob left and took out the garbage since he was running late and have been up ever since. I need to go take my meds If I’m going to stay up.  Hope everyone has a good rest of the week.

 

 


Reset

It’s Week 2 of the latest Bronchitis Bout.  Like bipolar disorder, there’s really nothing new about getting month-long lung crud.  It happens.

Sorta amazing, really, this blasé acceptance of whatever the day brings.  I’m not always this cool, but it’s such a gift when I can be.  Seems to me I was raging right up to the point of chills and fever.

A physical shock often resets my bipolar rheostats.  Two weeks ago, I was text-wailing at my friend Lily, taking offense wherever I could find it, and wrestling paranoid thoughts to the mat.  Today, I did laundry and cleaned up cat barf with nary an emotion in sight.

Except a little glee.  I started a goofy spread in my art journal based on something I cut out of an old magazine years ago: “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”  I worked on this one little piece while my laundry tumbled, and it just made me happy.

Sorta amazing, really.


Barnes and Noble Hide and Seek

“Hey, wanna play hide and seek?” is an odd question to ask a random adult in Barnes and Noble, but that didn’t stop four-year-old Olivia.

I was sitting there, reading books with my husband, when this Olivia kid came and sat next to me. She had bobbed brown hair and huge blue eyes. She wanted to know about my book, so I told her about it. Then I asked her about her book. Then, well…let me break it down for you:

Olivia: I love reading so much.

Hazel: Good! Reading is really good for you.

O: I can’t actually read, obviously. I look at lots of pictures. Wait! I can read some words. I can read “sam” and “top” and “tip.”

H: Wow, that’s great!

*we awkwardly both go back to reading for about three seconds*

O: Hey, do you wanna play hide and seek?

H: Ummm…we’re in a Barnes and Noble. You can’t play hide and seek in a Barnes and Noble.

O: Sure you can! You could hide behind that column, you could hide behind the trash can, you could hide under that chair…

H: Right, okay, yes. I understand that you CAN play hide and seek here, but it’s just that…ummm…people don’t.

O: We could.

H: Right. Uh….well…

At this point I looked at my husband, and he looked back at me like, “Are you seriously going to turn down little four-year-old Olivia?” I looked around for this kid’s parents, and I saw a haggard lady who looked like her grandma. She gave me a quasi-apologetic look that seemed to say, “Sorry…but at least she’s not bugging me for five minutes.”

So I played hide and seek with the kid.

I’m not joking.

She hid first (behind a display of stuffed animals), and then it was my turn. I asked how high she was going to count, and she said, “I can count all the way to TWENTY!” Whoa. Dream big. I’ll have time to hide in Madagascar with that kind of head start. I hid behind a case of books, but she said my coat gave me away.

Then it was her turn to hide. I said I would count again, but she turned to my husband and said, “I want HIM to count!” Picky picky. Andy asked how high he should count, and she said twenty. He looked sad and said, “But what if I’m not as smart as you? What if I can’t count to twenty?” Olivia channeled some major teenage sass, put her hand on her hip and said, “Seeeeriously?” in a way that clearly meant, “I know you can count to twenty. This is a very serious game of BN hide and seek. We don’t mess around.”

He backed off and said okay, that he would count to twenty. Then he did, but only after pretending not to know which number came next a couple of times. And then I couldn’t find her! Seriously! I was thinking, “Oh crap. I lost a kid. I lost a kid. This is very bad.” Finally I looked at the old grandma lady. She pointed under a low kids’ table, and I found Olivia there. Phewf!

After that, it was (thankfully) time for Andy and I to meet our friends for dinner. We laughed so hard all the way out of the store. I’m sure I looked like a total idiot, but I don’t care.  I think life is a little too serious sometimes; it is probably good to get dragged into an involuntary game once in a while.