Tag Archives: Depression
It’s nearly 2 p.m. and I have yet to take a single medication. I know I am supposed to take them all in in a timely fashion every single day, spacing them out, blah blah blah…But honestly…Between the lithium and Trintellix side effects…I am in no hurry to take them even over time with or without food because yesterday…I waited, I had food, I took the meds…and wound up nauseous, my stomach ached, and my head hurt with sleepiness. (Humiliating to have to lay down in front of your child because your meds make you feel like you have the flu for an hour or two at random intervals.)
The psych professionals don’t take the meds so their only knowledge is from books and such so they can so easily say, “It’s normal, it’s no big deal, suck it up.”
The first week or two of Trintellex with it’s stomach agony and toilet ‘runs’ side effects…when it stopped, I was very open minded to sucking it up. THEN the nastiness returned and actually got worse. I cannot fathom any medical professional telling a patient to be okay with being in pain, being tied to the toilet, and feeling so sleepy you feel you need a babysitter for your child because you are so med-induced groggy.
NONE of them listen, even the best ones. Of course not, they don’t have to live with it every single day of their lives only to find their moods still swing randomly or their depression keeps tugging them under or their anxiety makes them want to drink a gallon of alcohol to dull the sensory overload. They. Don’t. Care.
We are supposed to take the meds, no questions asked, no protests, no ‘whining’, and we are apparently supposed to say thank you for the pain, embarrassment, and misery.
THAT is what makes me view psych meds the same way the TSA would view anyone of any ethnicity with a bomb-like item on their person. Potentially explosive and lethal. Mild grogginess, mild nausea, interrupted sleep, too much sleep…I can hang. But fetal position stomach agony, dating the toilet stomach issues, the constant near puking state-NONE of that is acceptable to me unless the medication has me dancing in the streets and listening to happy pop music and buying everything in bright neon colors out of joy.
For whatever depression ‘relief’ (what an oxymoron!) I may be feeling…The medication side effects are still kicking my ass, making me wary, fearful, and causing me to procrastinate taking the…medicinal toxins. I really despise the anti medication faction that comes with mental health care because most* of my meds don’t cause such misery…But in isolated cases, it’s relevant. More perturbing is the fact that it’s no longer a daily thing, it doesn’t matter if I take them with food or no food…The meds randomly mix up and cause me grief. Actually, grief makes it sound trivial. The word MISERY is more accurate.
Honestly, I am raising a child with no empathy or conscience, she appreciates nothing, she lies about everything, she takes and takes and rarely gives and even when I am bent over the toilet throwing up because the meds make me so ill, she’s making it all about her and how I am neglecting her needs…
The last bloody thing I need are meds that make me *that* damned ill with side effects. It’s not being non compliant, it’;s non being a quitter, it’s not being difficult. It’s me saying, I have way too much on my plate. It may be a fraction of what *others* deal with but with all my diagnoses…This is like trying to have a juggling contest with an octopus. I’m never gonna win cos 8 tentacles trumps two arms.
I’m not a wimp who can’t handle side effects.
I am, however, someone with multiple diagnoses thus multiple medications, all of which cause some side effect(s) and when they all combine, randomly…
The *cure* is *killing* me. At random intervals. WHO would rush to take the pills that causes this?
The past three weeks have been dedicated to getting used to an increased dose of quetiapine (now up to 600mg daily) and the introduction of valproate (500mg as Epilim Chrono). The fluoxetine has stayed the same at 20mg; psychiatrist wanted to double that dose to 40mg but I tried that once before and it triggered hypomania.
So far the valproate doesn’t seem to have kicked-in. Psych says this can take 2-4 weeks and couple of 6-8 weeks before noticing any change in mood. The valproate / increased quetiapine together have had a very sedating effect and at the moment this would seem to be the only side effect so far.
It’s been a real pain trying to get the prescription sorted with GP and pharmacy; the former seems to find it impossible to write a simple repeat prescription and the latter seem inept at getting a stock of quetiapine. Though I’ve noticed the past month that several people on Twitter have also reported problems of pharmacies getting stocks of it.
The school year has now ended and in the end I managed to have only 4 days off sick. I was aiming at having 0 days this academic year, after the several months I had off last year. I see these 4 days as failure, though no-one appears to agree with me.
I’m going away on holiday to the Med; I’ve worked bloody hard for it.
Yeah, I am losing my cool and only a fraction has to do with the 93 degree heat which isn’t much helped by a single window AC. I am at my wits’ end with my kid and all her friend drama and noise. She can’t play with more than one or two kids at a time so any time 5 or 6 kids are playing, inevitably there are fights and my kid bawling. The latest drama involved one of the older girls saying she is going to kick MY ‘big fat butt’ then a father getting involved and yelling at my kid because she dared protest his snowflakes throwing trash in our yard.
Now my sister tells me mom wants to gift Spook with a tablet as a birthday gift. AFTER SHE BROKE MY TABLET. What does that teach the child? That everything is disposable,you don’t have to be careful or take care of things, and you can always get another. And I told my sister that much, which I am sure has steam coming out of my mom’s ears. Whatever. I’ve come to terms with the fact my mother is never going to change and she will do whatever she wants, no matter what I say, and she’ll do it to spite me. She thinks I am too strict a parent and can’t wait to usurp me at every turn. I’ve actually found a bit of peace because mom can buy her the tablet but I get to dictate what it can be used for, when, and for how long. Crazy grandma may think she’s usurping me,but it’s actually giving me the upper hand. When the kid misbehaves, mommy repos the tablet.
I must sound like an ogre. Too bad. The child has zero empathy, refuses any responsibility, and if I don’t start driving it into her skull now, she is going to be a terrifying monster by the time she is 13. I’m not here to be her friend or be liked, my job is keep her fed, clothed, healthy, educated and to teach her right from wrong. If my family isn’t on board, they will be seeing less and less of her. MY child, MY call.
Anyway, I just needed to vent. My last post was a pretty upbeat one but nature of cyclothymia-esque bipolar is pretty much neverending ups and downs. And day three in the extreme heat with my kid and her friends driving my central nervous system to overload…Yeah, it’s not puppies and rainbow territory. I can tell myself “I am happy, I am calm, I am healthy” a zillion times but what I WANT to be and what I actually am are two different things. Positive attitude is an excellent coping tool until you use it as a form of denial thus invalidating your right to feel depressed or pissed off or whatever emotion at the time prevails. So be positive, but don’t be an ostrich. Sand tastes awful, anyway.
I did my high-ish functioning yesterday by going to the shop to tear apart and destroy 2 junked LCD tv’s for R. I did owe him money and honestly, taking a hammer and smashing things and stomping on them..Cathartic, therapeutic, and no criminal charges. But as usual, by hour three, my nerves were deep fried and I could not wait to get home to my safe little hovel. Plus side, while we were there, Spook didn’t spew pea soup and she was moderately helpful when I asked her to throw some screws or whatever into the trash.
Most likely it’s the excessive heat and not the Trintellix actually working (made my stomach upset this morning, but it didn’t yesterday, kinda random) but…I am no longer buried in my safe bedroom crypt all day and night. I am in the living room where the air conditioner is, for all the good it does. Living in a tin box in high temps and high humidity with minimal air is pretty miserable all around and Mr. Forecastperson says we have 4 more days of this misery. Yay. NOT. But now I am in the living room, watching shows on the TV via computer vga hook up and also using my second non smashed screen laptop when I want to write or whatever. I’ve emerged from my coffin, as Spook calls my bedroom. Sorry but bright light disorients me so I do try to keep my rooms dark or dark-ish. Whatever tiny comforts can be found have to be embraced.
Now I am going to stop because I am afraid my sweaty legs are going to damage the computer and frankly, I can’t stand anything on me in this heat. Spook came home in 95 degree heat and even then, I put her in her bouncer and adored her that way. Can’t stand extra touching when it’s so hot and humid indoors I have cat hair clinging to every inch of bare skin.
You’re welcome for that mental picture.
So, okay, it’s only 91 today, but it’s gonna reach 98 by weeks’ end. Even with air and fans…the humidity makes it uncomfortable.
Good thing my brain is behaving today so it’s cool.
I was mildly irked by the nurse doctor’s staff pushing for the lithium level test and when I finally had it done…two days later I’m still waiting to hear if all is okay. I had to call them, then wait another 4 hours.WTF. This is hell for a paranoid with an anxiety disorder. Logically, if they don’t call, it’s likely nothing is wrong, right? My scumbag brain thinks not and insists on hearing yay or nay before it will calm down. Fortunately, when they finally got back to me…all tests came back normal. Not a fan of how that place operates, old regime was more on the ball.
Yeah, yeah, it just wouldn’t be Morgue without a complaint.
I talked to my sister last night, or more accurately, texted and she explained to me that mom is in the early stages of dementia and turning on everyone then she has no memory of doing it. I am trying to show compassion but considering the lack mom has shown me for my mental condition…it’s a challenge. At least I know it’s not personal, she’s still trying to turn my sister’s kid against her and he’s about to turn 19. I really don’t look forward to aging with my genetics, my future appears to be either Alzheimer’s or dementia. Shoot me instead.
I made it 36 hours without a real cigarette yesterday, just using the e-cig. Cos I ran out and am broke, not because I want to be a conformist hypocrite former smoker. Shoot me if I become that asshole. Suffice it to say…I broke and begged R to bring me a pack. He did and in return I brought frozen pizza to the shop today for lunch and watched the place while he ran to do an outcall. By hour 3, I really was crawling out of my skin. Heat, bright light, too much noise and input, I overload. Fled the scene like a bank robber driving away.
Came home and was running an instant daycare. Then came the wailing about can the devil girls eat supper with us…I said if they’d eat spaghetti, sure. That’s easy and cheap enough to make in bulk. Then I had to run out for the ingredients and took all 3 girls with me. What can I say, some days I am calmer and strong enough to do such things. I unfortunately never know when I am going to be a badass semi normal person or when I am going to rapidly circle the drain and become a weakling wussy basketcase. It’s like a sucky lottery, all I ever win is wimpy basketcase. The rare occasion I get to feel like a badass…winner winner chicken dinner, no salmonmella included. YAY.
Another cool thing, R gave me a brand new antenna thingie a customer gave him and now, we have 6 TV channels whereas before we had zero. One of them is even good!
So, that’s the current tale from the crypt. Proof I can give credit to good things when it’s due.
Catch you next mood swing…Don’t go too far.
The passing of time
Is not flawless
Minutes on the hour
Can be torturous
The ticking in the air
Is never serendipitous
The movement of my hand
Or a voice incredulous
Can contort heart rates
Its when the sunshine dissipates
And sometimes sets fate
That I am most afraid
Fear my breath is stolen
Depression lingers and waits
For if my guard sets down
The devil somehow anticipates
My weakened and fragile state
The clock on the mantle
The watch on my wrist
The very existence I emulate
Much to my dismay
The second hand has now
Made me a slave
I cannot count the seconds
Left in my life
By all accounts
They are for whatever reason
Keeping me alive
Does FEAR stand for Fuck Everything And Run, or False Evidence Appearing Real? Right now I want to Fuck Everything And Run. I am in fear because of this damn job search and the state of my finances. I am afraid that I am burning out my family because of my constant NEED. I am afraid that I won’t be able to work a full-time job. I am just a ball of FEAR. I got quite suicidal a couple of hours ago, but imagining my family getting the news was enough to bring me back from the edge and set my ass over to the computer to apply for some jobs. Then I became fearful again. Jesus! What is going to become of me?? I know I was in this horrible place before I took the CEH test, and then I passed it. Sometimes it’s darkest right before dawn. I know. Well, it’s dark right now. I hate that my mood can plummet to the depths of despair and I want to kill myself. I wish I had more faith in life. It’s just this damn fear taking over. I don’t know what to tell myself.
If this were someone else’s blog I’m sure I’d comment and ask if they contacted their therapist or their doctor. And the answer to that is No. Because I don’t want to go into the hospital. I think that would be a giant step backwards and would just stress me out more. I think I need to ride this out and work through it and keep applying for jobs. Hope that doesn’t sound like bullshit but that’s what I truly believe.
Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar and Anxiety, Bipolar and Stress, Bipolar and Work, Bipolar Coping, Bipolar Disorder, Mental Illness, Psychology, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar Disorder, Blogging, Depression, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader, Suicide
Roughly two months ago, I was talking about “still waters” and not rocking the boat. I always have these fantasies that those feelings of stability will have some sticking power, but I have been downright down and depressed and agitated lately, and more lately than that, physically ill and the most exhausted I have ever been. All through this period, I stopped caring about things.
At first it was a conscious decision, like, “eff that.” Then it became quieter, until I wasn’t reaching out to anyone but I was doing my best to keep up pretenses and did a lot of cancelling appointments, making excuses for why I couldn’t/wouldn’t be there/had disappeared.
I am not right on top of pulling myself out of this sinkhole, but I am more aware of it, at least. I have started smoking again (yeah, I know, I know, I know) and am going through the whole beating up of myself over that failure. I have barely been to the gym in the last month, and have even given up on my calorie tracker, MyFitnessPal, most days. I am trying to resurrect all of that slowly, but to lay it all out there, it’s not working for me.
I have let issues get so big, piles so high, and issues so neglected that I am extremely overwhelmed. Overwhelmed to the point of panic attacks and almost nightly nightmares, which is not a good place to be. I haven’t felt like reaching out to anyone, somewhat because the response I am afraid I will get it how PROUD people are of ALL MY HARD WORK. When it comes out here that there has been no hard work, just continued survival and nothing else, I don’t want to have those words ringing in my ears.
On a related note, I get so sick of myself saying, things are great, things are mediocre, things are terrible, and then up and down and back all over again, that it is a lot of the reason why I don’t blog often. If I am this sick to death of me, I don’t figure anyone else wants to hear this shit either.
Filed under: Life Worth Living Tagged: anxiety, Bipolar, depression, overwhelmed
Most of the time I credit a proper diagnosis of bipolar axis 2 and mood stabilizers with saving my life, saving me from myself. Face it, manic episodes rarely end with us feeling better about ourselves no matter how good they feel at the time. No mania= stability I never knew before.
Recently, though, I have come to realize that the very medications that saved me from the downfall of manic episodes…has rendered me spineless. I don’t spout off my true feelings anymore, at least not often, because the meds make me so stable, I invalidate my own feelings and thoughts. I don’t want to offend by saying mean things during a mood swing or depression. I don’t want to feed everyone’s notion of me as unstable and unable to be objective. I don’t do confrontation and often standing up for yourself leads to exactly that.
I don’t miss making poor choices during mania, but I sure do miss my spine. I never felt victimized and invalidated when I was speaking my mind without stopping to question and second guess myself and avoid anxiety inducing situations.
These days the worst of it is dealing with my family. Since the lice incident when they treated my kid with chemicals knowing damn well I don’t approve, I haven’t spoken much to my mom or sis. Not that this is unusual, I can go weeks without bothering to speak to them or my dad’s faction. For this latest jaunt of silence, it’s been their utter disrespect for my wishes and invalidating me as a parent with my kid. Maybe my mom called me a bad word, maybe she didn’t, it’s established that my kid lies. A lot.
It hit me earlier today why I started calling my mom by her first name, when I disconnected from her completely. It tipped that direction when she yelled at me how my sister’s friend B was more of a daughter to her than me. But the day mom screamed at me and called me a fucking bitch in front of Spook..That was when the true cut was made. In that one incident, my kid learned she could pit the family against me and stir up all kinds of trouble for me and sympathy for herself.
And no, I am not transferring, I am not giving her too much credit. Kids pick up on these things. God knows I did with my parents constantly fighting, I would side with the fun parent over the parent who was right. Til I got older then got more objective and that was when mom turned against me entirely, viewing me as an agent for my father. Because ya know, making sure she didn’t bounce checks and get our power shut off was a bad thing for him to put me in charge of. But yeah, kids pick up on tension, on people who don’t agree…And mine has gone to the max with “I’m gonna tell Grandma” at every turn. Or “Grandma and aunt B don’t do it that way, they say you’re wrong.”
So in addition to the lingering discontent of the lice debacle, I think there are too many cooks in the kitchen making my kid think she doesn’t have to mind me and she doesn’t have to respect me because god knows, no one else does. Limiting her contact with the whole lot seems the best move to make.
How to explain it to them without starting a family war, though. My family is not logical. They view books as boring. They don’t even really believe bipolar is real, they just think I am moody and using it as an excuse not to own my behavior. Some people you just can’t reason with.
And they do NOTHING for me aside from occasionally buy my kid school clothes or crap toys she breaks in an hour.So why do I fear pissing them off by asserting my right as a parent to keep my kid away from what damages our relationship? They won’t change their behavior, ever. They never have and I’m 44. So something’s got to change and while I don’t wish to keep her from them entirely…I think the once or twice weekly thing is too much. She lies, she blames everyone when she does something wrong, she screams in my face, she defies me at every turn…And letting her go see people who hold her responsible for nothing and think everything she does is so adorable..she’s not learning anything.
Worse, she’s been going to church twice a week for a year now and her behavior is regressed. The church isn’t reaching her, either. But she still preaches to me, even this morning, about how I should go to church and she even said that I’m “into” the devil. Um…I think Satanism is too much of an organized religion, I had a friend who sent me info on it cos he practiced and damn, it was almost like the time I went with R to his Episcopal church. All that formality and ritual. And I don’t believe in conscienceless hedonism anymore than I believe in a church that condemns birth control and gay people. One thing I told her when I agreed to let her do the church thing was not to preach to me and question my beliefs. Yet she does it daily.
I went off track there, mainly because I was offended by her implying I’m a Satanist just because I have a devil doll that was a gift. (Like I would pay $70 even for a Wednesday 13 doll.) I don’t mind owning my idiocy but being accused of things that simply aren’t true really pisses me off. In fact, I am still furious about a lithium blood draw from 2007 that declared me positive for amphetamines. No, I had taken cold medicine which any lab tech will tell you often causes a false positive. Still, it’s in my file because the doctor didn’t believe me. I admitted to her I’d tried cocaine as a teenager, occasionally smoked some pot every ten or so years, so there was no reason to lie about speed. Wow, talk about off track. I really need Focalin back, fuck you insurance prescription assholes.
To get back on track…My spine is AWOL and I blame the mood stabilizers. I should not have to fear standing up for myself but I do now. Maybe because the very medication description invalidates my feelings even to myself. I am mood and unstable, so I must not ever have legit feelings thus any time I speak up I must be wrong.
Logically, I know this is not the case.
Unfortunately, I am not dealing with logical people, I am dealing with my hot tempered family who eats each other alive over every flaw but won’t accept their own. Anxiety here is warranted.
I am open to any advice on dealing with difficult family members. I got nothing.