Tag Archives: counting blessings

It’s a Baby!

It's Littlerbit, the Booper Trooper!

It’s Littlerbit, the Booper Trooper!

I live! Honest! And #2 has shown up finally. She was born here at home on the morning of the 16th, but I’ve been busy with her, and her big sister, and catching up a few people here and there on assorted and sundry life. And yes — she. It was our understanding that we were expecting another girl, but as you never know until you’re handed the baby, we preferred to not fully presume. I did feel it was a girl though, especially based on how extra-severe my chronic fatigue, nausea, and other such endometriosis-related symptoms seemed to be persisting. I figured — if it’s a girl, then that would mean more estrogen and other female hormones, and that could be making it super-crap.

I have to say, I am doing a LOT better this postpartum so far. Besides being in less pain and fatigue from a significantly shorter labour (when baby came, she came with all alacrity and speed, and like, 20 minutes of pushing), my base mood is a lot better ’cause yanno, turned the difficulty level down. I’m not breastfeeding this time because I’d much rather take my psych meds and be a sane mommy, and that also means I can take codeine for the assorted pain.

And yes, my Seroquel and I are reunited at last! I started with 50mg on the 16th, and am ramping that up by 50mg until I return to my previous dose of 400mg (200mg twice a day). I was up half that first night with my husband, because yanno, dealing with a person who doesn’t speak our language and doesn’t know how to communicate well, so we were both trying to support each other in sleeping and taking care of Littlerbit. I got to sleep the night through last night though, and oh.my.stars. I’m still way sore and exhausted (as can be expected), but I feel really freaking human and happy and stable.

And I can see how me being calm and happy is making for a calmer, happier baby. Funny how not having to use all your energy being scared of narcissist bullhonky frees up significant spoons, and the ability to  have one’s guard down and *gasp* relax and enjoy the ride! Mind, I’m certainly wary of the possibility of postpartum depression atop the bipolar, or worse, postpartum psychosis. But I think that because I am able to be more honest with myself about my mood and state gives me a much better chance of avoiding these things, and if they do crop up, dealing with them.

So anyways, hooray, and back to getting caffeine in me, hee hee. And then, if I’m feeling especially badass? FOLD ALL THE LAUNDRY. *flex*


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Nope, Not Yet

Alas, yesterday would have been an awesome day to have a kid. It was Friday the 13th, the moon was full, and Lilbit has referred to the baby as her ‘smooky baby’ since December. As this always struck me as a portmanteau of ‘smoky’ and ‘spooky’, it gave me hope! Plus, it’s sort of ‘my’ holiday; when I was in school, I threw a sleepover most every single Friday the 13th, and I was a goth in high school. It would have been most mete, but ah well — babies come when they’re ready, and this one seems to be happy moving into overtime jabbing at me through the skin.

As it were though, I’m not feeling too antsy now that I know the end is properly in sight. And also, because we got an unexpected child-free night last night. Lilbit is a good kid, but I think she’s been picking up on our antsy and acting it out, and a night without her in the house was very soothing to myself and the husband-fellow.


Crochet (Granny Squares!)

So for now, I’m just keeping myself distracted with crafting. I’d initially done a crochet blanket for the little one to match the one I did for Lilbit. It’s the same ‘pattern’, but different colours. It was pretty fun both times, and easy to make.


Ye Olde Stockinette Stitch (aka, the backbone of most knitting)

To help pass the time though (and use up a rather large ball of wool), I decided I’d knit a blanket as well. Lilbit has a purple one, so I figured — granny squares for both, purple for both, and all’s fair in crafting and love! For the purple one, I figured I’d go until it was at least 2 feet long, then call it done. and then I decided I’d go until I ran out of wool, or ran out of baby. This was one of those monstrously huge balls of wool… 400, 500 grams? Bigger? And it seems I’m probably going to run out of wool indeed. Ah well! This is one I made with carting the newborn around the house in, so if it’s a bit longer, I guess that’s okay too. I’ll keep going as long as I can, and then find something else to make.

So, in short — still waiting, still managing to stay cheerful and sane, though hopefully it won’t be too too much longer! I very much want to be back on my meds and to get a proper night of sleep. And, of course, because I look forward to seeing what continued progress I can make on improving my mental state once I have that foundation back under me. :D


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Any Day Now

[[Bif Naked - Any Day Now (Lyrics)]]

Whelp, we’re in the last official week of this pregnancy thing… woo? Woo. I’m just trying to keep busy, but not too busy; as the last day or two have shown me, I am still massively lacking in physical resources and I do myself more favours by staying at home as I can. I’ve been trying to get out a bit more in general, and yeah… just not enough there to handle it. Not that it’s going to be much better directly after the kid is born if last time was any indication, but I’ll handle that when it comes.

And that future handling should go better for one salient reason — having my bipolar diagnosis, and meds waiting for me on the other side of the birth. I’ve already got my first week of Seroquel measured up; my psychiatrist recommended I start at 50mg and go up by the same each day until I get to my old dose of 400mg. It’ll use up most of my odds and sods, but seeing how they’re there to be used, I cannot complain (and I’ve managed to save most of my stash of 25mg tabs as emergency top-up, not that I’ve needed them that often). That first week is going to be glorious, ’cause sleeeeeep. The husband will have the World Cup to keep him company, so he’s planning on handling most of the night things as possible so I can actually get a few nights of sleep while I get used to that medicine again. And ’cause, yanno, I’ve not slept the night through much since I came off on my birthday back in January, ha ha.

‘Oh but that’s not how it works with a newborn you don’t get to sleep!’

Ugh so, I’ve had more than my share of ‘That’s not how it works!!!!!’ people cropping up when I celebrate that I might actually get some sleep. I just sort of rub my eyetwitch away and try to not get facestabby. No shit Sherlock, I know that’s not how it usually goes. I do have a child already. I also know that the lack of sleep and lack of meds and lack of treatment last time meant that I’m still amazed I didn’t go completely off the deep end (I also made the mistake of trying to maintain an exercise regime, which I now know triggers mixed episodes and super-duper rapid cycling in me, ’cause so much hatred and OCD for it).I know it MIGHT not work out that I get to sleep, but at least what sleep I get will actually be of some depth, and hopefully, somewhat restful.

But really — what is it with people default assuming if someone is making a statement about something that they don’t have a lick of information that they’ve based that statement on, or are completely lacking in intelligence on the whole?! But blargh, I guess we’re all guilty on that count here and there. And, I admit, I’m a bit overly sensitive to being ‘treated stupid’ ’cause of my… charming… narcissism-laden upbringing. *cough* At least I’m starting to understand this, and find that my reactions to such triggering things are sloooooowly mellowing out. So that’s yay, especially since I’ve been doing all this work while off my meds and pregnant. I think most people would agree that is not the ideal combination for doing significant self-discovery, no matter how stable one is in pregnancy, but ah well… I’m awesome at going about everything ass-backwards? *grins*

Anyways, just checking in to say — tl;dr, I’m fine, we’re fine, things are fine. I might try to get another post out before the kiddo shows up, but we’ll see! Hope everyone out there is doing well. *gets back to knitting*


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Fresh Air

Hello from Post-Napland! Yeah, me and me usual aversion to naps has gone right out the window the past week or two; my rather achy body needs the rest, and I’m doing the wise thing and taking it. Thankfully, in spite of the usual poor results, it’s been mainly productive. My sleep hasn’t gotten too screwed up, my pain levels have gone down a tiny (tiny) bit, and well… hooray for all of that. I’m doing the best I can to take care of myself, and I think, I’m getting better at it one way or another.

Yesterday was Eurovision, which is probably one of my favorite things about living in Europe. It’s a silly good time with a lot of cheese, the occasional awesome song, and a lot of ‘Wait what why do people like this?!’ I wasn’t sure I was going to make it, to be honest — our plans involved a 4 hour round trip to see friends, as it was their turn to host (we try to see each other 4-5 times a year and alternate duties; the husband wanted to do a BBQ in July, so that set the order). Thankfully, we made it there and back in our individual pieces, and a good time was had. With the little one due next month, we’ve had to cancel our usual July-anniversary trip; it would be rather ass to expect my retirement-aged in-laws to cope with a freshly squeezed AND a four year old quite so soon for a weekend. So we’d taken a weekend off in April, but we still sort of needed to get away a bit.

Just being in a different place, especially one that my brain processes as safe… it’s good! I think that’s probably true of most people; after all, we’d not have our ‘usual’ hang-outs and the like if we didn’t deem them safe places. I have to wonder if that’s why it’s been easier for me to skip out on Stitch ‘n Bitch lately. Besides the pain factor of being so heavily pregnant and having been so for months, I’ve been off my meds since we switched pubs, so my anxiety has been severe at best. I certainly hope to make one of the next two sessions, since I’d like to see my local friends at least once before the baby comes, but… we’ll see. Taking care of myself, remember? If anxiety is a factor, then staying home and resting is probably the kinder thing to do in my current state. They’re not going to stop being my friends if I can’t make it until July or August, and it also spares me the trouble of dealing with well-meaning neurotypical folk denying my stress in experience in an attempt to be ‘supportive’.

Past that, just working on not being afraid, and not dwelling overly on the past. The initial glut of realization was a lot at once, and I’ve just been letting it sink in for now. I had a dream earlier that, I think, was my brain attempting to process further and let go of some things. Waiting for so long in the hopes my parents would change and actually give a crap about me and my hurts meant that I’ve only very recently learned the rudiments of letting go of things. I won’t beat myself over being so slow coming to it though, ’cause that serves no purpose — nolites te bastardes carborundorum. If I beat myself up for letting myself be poorly used, then that’s exactly what I’m doing to myself. It’s not my fault that I wanted to try and be loving and fair. What’s ‘my fault’ is that I AM a loving and caring person who wants to give people a fair shake, and I’ll happily own the ‘guilt’ of that all my days, hee hee.

For now, sweet blessed caffeine and further recovery from yesterday. While I spent most of the day to this point in bed resting to make up for the trip yesterday, I’m still feeling a bit rough. Emotionally stable, yes. Happy, yes. Physically? Well, this too shall pass!

Hope everyone out there is doing well.


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Deity on a Donut

I figured that C-st on a Cracker might offend some of my Christian readers, so I was trying to figure out the best pairing using deity… I figure it’s a pretty good one, ha ha. Unless you’re one of those people who get huffy and insist it’s a doughnut, and really, I’m too cranky to argue over that one. *grins*

Still, it is apt. I have been in rather severe back pain the last couple of days. Is the kiddo on a nerve? I’m not really sure. I’m not really sure exactly where the kiddo is, though I have some guesses. All I know is that something might be pinched, but that there’s definitely ridiculous levels of pain necessitating lots of laying down. I’m not really good at laying down. I can’t nap ’cause it makes me feel significantly worse in spite of chronic fatigue making me feel non-stop exhausted. Like, makes me feel like I have been beaten with hammers worse; that doesn’t even take into account how much it screws up trying to maintain a sleep schedule, which as we know, is a VITAL thing in the Battle Against Bipolar. Because I’m tired, laying down too long risks falling asleep, and whelp. Thankfully, this laptop battery lasts a couple of hours, meaning that I can distract myself for a bit, and hopefully enable myself to not be flat out too long.

Not that laying down helps much, but right now, I’m sort of desperate for relief. I’ve tried that, hot baths, magnesium oil, Deep Heat. I had a friend using me as a Bowen Technique test case, though that didn’t seem to do much either. By the same token, I’m not inclined to cough up £40-60 for a massage that will likely only give very minor relief. I just sort of sigh — the muscles are all screwed up and out of place and full of relaxin. And of course, with my luck, it’s not just lower back — it’s all of the back, ha ha. I can hope that, like I think, part of it is a trapped nerve and the kiddo will shift and give me some relief, but. We’ll see. ‘Only’ another 40+ days… though of course, that’s a long time when pain is factored in (especially when the most powerful painkiller I can take is paracetamol/Tylenol, and that’s reputedly giving my baby ADHD ¬¬).

Still, at least my mental state is holding steady. Which is especially good, since my appointment letter came through… and is the week I’m due to give birth. Um… yeah… naw, that’s not gonna work. So I’ll have to call next week and get them to bump it back, which means I probably won’t get to see anyone until August or September. Sigh? A teensy bit, but at least my prescriptions are on repeat, and I’ve already got my basic plan of action organized for getting back on my meds, and getting my doses ramped up to where they were. Part of me wonders about going for less, but then I remember how super-mega-horrible depressed I was after Lilbit was born, and yeah… taking my meds properly is the smart idea to avoid postpartum depression atop bipolar depression. And I know that if things are too severe, I can take myself to A&E and talk to the on-duty psychiatrist, so that’s a boon. And I’m a lot better in tune with my mood and mental health now, so… woo? *waves tiny flag*

Anyhoos, as I am in need of not being in pain, I am going to console myself in some freshly baked cake, and then crawl into bed. Yes, cake — Lilbit and I have been making baking dates the last couple of weekends, and it has been joyful. Even as bad as the pain levels are today, I wanted very much to make one of my favorites with her — Coca-Cola cake. It’s a bit fussy, but completely worth it. Plus yanno, bonding with my kiddo and sharing one of my favourite hobbies instead of hiding from everyone… sort of nice. *pats slightly less broken brain*

Hope everyone out there is doing well!


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Delight and Terror

Whelp my dears, my parents’ attack against me has begun as of the other night. Which is to say, they finally took note of my last post; how wicked of me to politely and kindly suggest that I had been mistreated! What a malicious person I obviously am for having feelings of my own! A friend reminded me that I could set up an IP block, so I did — they’ll get a white page now. Maybe they’ll just try from another IP address, but ah well. I long ago accepted that no matter what I do, as long as they disagree with it, it’s ‘wrong’. So it goes, so it goes. All I know is that I will not be bullied out of my spaces. I will not be silenced and forced to comply. It’s new ground and it is terrifying, but I have a wonderful support network reminding me that I’m doing the right thing for me and my family.


I have to say though, this post-week has been mainly satisfying. I’ve not felt that great physically, but my sleep has been fairly decent, and my brain is just… well. Skittering, but making connections and processing and figuring stuff out, which is my constant delight. I’ve been able to tune into my family a bit better, which is awesome. I’ve got a great family here, and being more functional within the unit is really, all I could ever want. I can see places now where I was just completely shutting down to avoid risking repeating problematic behaviors, and in general, just… carrying the weight of my pre-recent life was destroying what limited functionality I could muster. Which isn’t to say I wasn’t doing anything, just that I couldn’t do as much as I wanted. I still can’t do as much as I want, but heck, even little things like managing to stay on top of the dishes and leave the house once in awhile are awesome. Yeah, I’m pretty good at masking my lack of functionality, ha ha.

Really though, I’m starting to feel a measure of resilience I’ve never felt before in my life. Yes, I felt more stable than normal last pregnancy, and less stable than medicated this time around, but I can’t think of a time I’ve actually felt resilient. I guess that’s what happens when one firms up the boundaries of their world? Oh sure, I know my brain will find its ways to shiv me, ’cause that’s what a bipolar brain does, but. Maybe it means my future lows will be less severe? I certainly fully intend to get back on my meds the second this kiddo is born — I pretty much completely lost the ability to hold it together whatsoever after Lilbit was born. While I have learned so much since then, and healed a lot of my wounds, I’m aware that my chances of postpartum psychosis and depression are higher than average. Heck, it’s what finally pushed me into seeking diagnosis! Not that I hit psychosis last time, but my depression went from crippling to unreal. I certainly don’t want to see that again.

So tl;dr – things are good, and I have chocolate chip cookies ’cause Lilbit insisted we make a batch so she could eat the dough. Good kid, ha ha.


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Coming Out Acon

Hello, my name is Raeyn (well okay, it’s not REALLY, ha ha), and I am the adult child of a narcissist.

I’ve been trying to find the right words to encapsulate this concept for long years now, you see. I’ve known for a very long time that my relationship with my parents was problematic and abusive, but I didn’t have the framework to express it. And then, going around Wikipedia, I found two relevant articles:

Narcissistic Parent:


I realized fairly young that my mother only seemed to treat me as if I existed as an extension of herself. I found this problematic, especially coupled with the fact I was told at age four (yes, four, the same age as my baby girl) that I had to be a grown-up to help raise my (then) two siblings (later three). So not only did I end up having to fill in as the parental unit from a young age, I also was expected to be the emotional support for hell, both parents. So ‘technically’, I’ve been an adult for 28 years. But you know, I’m not supposed to be my own person. Yeah, doesn’t make sense to me either.

Now, I’d initially thought about coming on here with a laundry list of all the crap I’d been put through, to make some big denunciation… but I changed my mind. For one, why do I want to give her a list of things for her to claim I’d made up to hurt her? You know, like I’ve apparently made up my diagnosed bipolar; I’ve been reliably told she is claiming (or at the very least, implying) this. I don’t know why I’m surprised — this is the same woman who would loudly tell people I made up my sexuality, who told me to quit making stuff up when I begged in high school to get checked for ADHD because I was doing so poorly. Who, well… as said, it’s easy to get listing. Suffices to say, I am 32 and in poor health because it was established early on that I was ‘making up’ anything and everything about my health. I feel that here, in my health space, I should state that much though. Y’all know I’m busting my butt to turn that around though, and I hope that 2015 or 2016 will see things on a much better keel. :D

I had chosen back in February to go no contact with my mother/parents. I won’t get into the specific chain of events (once again, no fuel for the fire), but I finally hit a point where I couldn’t take it anymore and started blocking her everywhere. I hadn’t even heard the phrase ‘no contact’ then — I just knew I had finally (rather belatedly) gotten long past the point where I should tolerate having my exceedingly clearly defined borders violated. I wasn’t even mad, and I’m still not mad — I just had to accept that no matter what I did, I was going to be treated like I was wrong, and that I deserved better. I do deserve better, and asked myself the simplest of questions — would I let anyone else treat me like this? The answer was an emphatic no. I would not, and had not for a very long time. So why should blood excuse it? Simple answer — it doesn’t.

Since then, I talked to friends who had undergone similar decisions, as well as combing the internet for those right words to frame the situation for me. I figure that the name of my blog alone gives a pretty big clue to my desire to label and compartmentalize things, hee hee. And of course, finding useful blogs and resources to double-check that my instincts on things were on the ball. For anyone else who thinks this sort of stuff sounds familiar, here’s some good resources:



As for no contact, it’s what it says on the tin — you don’t talk to them ever again. End of. You don’t respond to their emails or calls, you don’t acknowledge mail that comes, and that’s that. Yes, it’s a nuclear option, but the fact of the matter is that we set our own damned boundaries. If someone, parent or otherwise, cannot respect them, then they should not be in your life (exception: small children. They’re still learning, obviously). If going no contact is something you have considered, here’s a couple of good reads:



and unfortunately:


Both of those blogs are pretty darn solid on the whole, and are great resources. I’ve already taken care of contacting family members that I wish to preserve relationships with, so they knew that I had gone no contact and why. I’ve also let friends know that I have gone no contact, and asked them to respect their access to me, and my privacy. So far, it’s been an overwhelmingly positive response, because my friends know me to be a competent, confident person who knows and respects herself. And I do — in spite of the massive amounts of damage growing up in this situation has done to me, going no contact was so ridiculously freeing because I could start picking apart some of it.

And sure, I’ve got a lot of work yet to do, but I can see that I am pretty darn awesome and worthwhile. That I am not a malicious person, that in spite of constant gaslighting and minimizing, I am sure of myself and my actions. I accept that I cannot have a relationship with my mother or her husband, and I am at peace with it. And with this letting go into this space, I am free. I am free. I am free. I am free to live my life for myself and my family. I am freed of the weight of my past, and can finally make the most of the fresh start life gave me… seven years ago. Ah well, better late than never, am I right?

Mind, I still am going to be a bit quiet about some of my life stuff for the time being. I refuse to be budged from my established public space, but I continue to make use of my private word spaces on the daily to fill in any gaps that I cannot express here at this time. So no, I’m not denying myself any writing need, hee hee. I can say that the depressive spell has passed though, and my sleep has been a bit better and less pained! I’ve had a pretty high level of functionality in the past week, which I’m not counting on lasting, but I’ve certainly been enjoying. My family is well, and my life can only be classed as awesome and fulfilling. This is definitely an amazing year for us all.


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A Month, A Lie

There’s no denying it — I’m ‘enjoying’ a depressive episode, and have been for a few weeks now. I’m thinking it’s been about two, and today? I’m trying to tell myself that it’ll only last a month and that I’m halfway through it, go me, etc.

Aah rationalizing, what would we do without it?

I know that this will pass when it passes, but I’m frustrated (to say the least). I also suspect that it’s a bit to the mixed episode side of life in spots, which… thanks brain, you’re a real douche? Take yesterday — I was having a badass, child-free vacation/staycation day (we can’t take our July holiday due to newborn, so we opted to squeeze in a weekend now). My hair is the ‘right’ colour again, I managed to epilate my armpits (mmm, painful xD), and all in all was just enjoying the crap out of myself. And then a friend asked an innocuous question and it was somehow incredibly triggering because it ‘forced’ me to admit to my number one insecurity. Hell, I’ll say it here, ’cause the damage is already done — I’m incredibly insecure about my intellect. I know that I’m smart, and that I’m smarter than some while being less smart than others. I’m fine with all of this. But it all ties into a lot of crap about my upbringing and how people treated me, and well. I don’t want to get into that right now, ha ha.

I ended up taking a 25mg Seroquel last night to shut up my brain, and get a good night of sleep. Part of my brain wants to punish me for that, but the rest of it is too relieved to put up with it. I don’t think anyone is going to deny me my home birth plans for 25mg of Seroquel once when I am not coping as well as I hoped to be. Having said that, I don’t know either. I don’t think I can make clear enough how completely unlikely it is for me to be able to have a healthy, non-surgical birth in a hospital environment. I accept I’ll have to be holed up there if/when the hysterectomy happens, but as the plan is to be there FOR surgery, and not for pushing a kid out, it doesn’t matter if I have a comatose nervous breakdown. I rate my chances of having one at about 100%, ’cause I know me and I know there’s way too much stimulus in that setting. But anyways, I should move on from that before my brain tries to catastrophize.

Still, when feeling down and hell, I can freakin’ taste my brain pumping out the bad chemicals, it’s good to take stock of things. This pregnancy is significantly harder on me physically than the last one. Physical pain aside, my chronic fatigue hasn’t been this severe since before I fell pregnant with Leah five years ago. I suspect that the endometriosis is actually being worsened by this pregnancy somehow, though I’ve not found anything ‘properly’ medical to justify this theory, just the experiences of other women who have said the same thing (which might be the best I find; endometriosis is woefully lacking in understanding). While I could probably keep my mood afloat if I wasn’t so fatigued, I could probably hold it together better. If I didn’t have bipolar, I could probably fly to the moon on ass rockets. *coughs* Which is to say I realize that playing ‘If I wasn’t’ is a horrible game with no winning, so I try not to. I just want to not be in such freaking intense mental and physical pain.

On the up shot, I’m a lot better at understanding some of the mood crap… yay? I’ve been making efforts as well to cut toxic people out of my life so that I’m not blowing resources I need to keep myself sane justifying my existence to people intent on denying my right to be. And in doing that, I’ve managed to make a lot of little breakthroughs in understanding ways that my brain is broken, which is flat-out awesome. Well, except for realizing that like, everything in the entirety of existence is triggering and I don’t know how to fix that, but. BUT. Understanding why is awesome, and gives me hope that I can fix those bits of brain wiring into something less ridiculous. Mind, now isn’t exactly the ideal time to be dealing with this level of brain-pickery, but life doesn’t exactly operate with convenience in mind, ha ha.

Anyways, this too shall pass. I know it, because that is the way of things. It might not go as fast as I want it to, but I can do my best every day to not let it bury me. :)


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I’d meant to get back into the, at least, once a week posting groove. It seems that I’ve slightly failed in that lofty goal. Ah well, it doesn’t mean I can’t try try again to get the axle repaired, and the wagon rolling (presuming I don’t get dysentery and die).

Sleep continues to be a mixed bag, though I’m holding up well enough. My husband continues his sojourn to the couch; I miss his presence, but not the snoring that was waking me bolt upright! I think the couch has been helping his back pain, so the separation is not a complete write-off. While I think my sleep cycles are starting to smooth out and that I’m waking less throughout the night, I’m trying to not overthink it; staring down the clock and thinking about it too much are reputedly things that make getting back to sleep a bit harder to pull off (though I’ve also seen it said that if you wake up, bumble around a bit before trying again; I guess it’s a ‘your mileage may vary’ sort of thing). The main point is that I am sleeping, and feeling mainly rested, so that’s going to have to suffice for now.

Mood-wise, I’m doing my best to be mindful. Yes, pregnancy hormones take their toll, and I sometimes feel a bit like a bouncing ball, especially if there’s something that makes me sniffly! I’m not a sniffly sentimental sort particularly, so it’s a bit amusing and annoying. But it’s not particularly detrimental; the moment of impact passes, leaving no dents.

45880035Having said that, I’m definitely having to practice a bit of mindfulness. Scumbag brain had already demonstrated that it’s rediscovered some of its capability to catch me when my guard is down. That’s the upside of mainly giddy pregnancy hormones, and the main reason I deemed coming off of my meds an acceptable risk — yes, it sucks and it takes a little bit to shake off the anger or depression that scumbag brain’s bullshit brings with it, but it’s insulated enough that we’re talking maybe a few hours of being angry or depressed at the worst. Really, it’s been more like 20-30 minutes of ‘extreme’ mood, and then back down to something saner. So certainly, it’s not ideal… but it’s definitely better than non-medicated non-pregnant states.

I do look forward to getting back on my meds though, and will as soon as the kiddo is born — here’s a baby, husband! Now, pass me my pills now. *giggles* I just have to think about how severely my mood tanked the second Lilbit was born to remind me; I went from default bad to ‘Why am I even alive. Nobody here cares about me, only my ability to produce children’. Which is utterly unfair, as my in-laws love me very much and are a wonderful part of my life. While I am ‘lucky’ to be Bipolar II and not have to deal with mania, and did not have to deal with postpartum psychosis, it was terrible enough for me to finally bite the bullet and seek help. So in that regard, I’ve a rather snarky thaaaaaanks to that experience, but absolutely no desire to repeat it.

Past that, I’m just dealing with the physical demands of being pregnant. As everyone oh so kindly notes — yes, I’m ‘already’ huge. That’s what happens when you take a relatively small frame, abs that have been stuck in the ‘out’ position for four years, and shove a fetus behind it. At least I’m far enough along that I can feel said fetus squirming and wiggling fit for a greased pig most of the time, which is a complete comfort to my oddly fretful brain. I was totally laid back in my first pregnancy; I guess I’m a bit more stressed by it this time because I absolutely never want to do this again (so hard on a body!), and because having some time to heal my mood and responses compliments of diagnosis and treatment, I’m already a lot more emotionally invested in this particular bundle of cells. I guess it’s because I look forward to closing this chapter of my book, and opening the one where my family is ‘finally complete’, perhaps? I’ve lived enough life and had enough experiences to know I prefer when things are settled and squared away to what-ifs and potentiality.


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The Longest Week

This week is going by very very slowly. I guess I might have to accept that I’m going to have to sever a relationship I value. So be it, but fingers crossed that it doesn’t encroach on my birthday (Saturday). At least we’re back to work this week, so that’s helping me keep busy and avoid moping, as does the company in general. I think that’s been the most pleasant surprise of the week — usually, when I’m hurting, I want to be left very much alone. That I can do both at the same time (albeit without necessarily socializing with people, just being near them), well. It’s probably a good thing, I reckon.

Tomorrow is my last day on Seroquel for the foreseeable future. I feel that the draw-down has been going very well all in all, and my biggest concern at this point is my sleep. Those of you who have also taken Seroquel know that it’s a fantastic sleep aid, and I know that when I forget a dose, I’m up clear to morning (or near enough). I’ve also started having a glass of warm-ish milk at night, so I’m hoping the soporific affects of that will be of assistance in lieu of the meds. It will probably be a bit rough the first few nights, but I can also hope that having had a regular sleep schedule for months (I had to shift it when Lilbit went back to school in September, ’cause we were getting up an hour earlier — very rough!) will assist… I guess we’ll see, and I’ll report back on that as it goes.

I can’t think of anything else to add, so I won’t. Hope everyone is doing well.


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