Tag Archives: sanity

It’s Just Another Day

In January, no less.

I don’t subscribe to the whole resolution thing. The popular ones are all supposedly about ‘self-improvement’, and more often than not these days, about ‘losing weight to get healthy’. Me, I’m a firm supporter of the Health at Every Size movement, because I think the extremes in diet and exercise people push themselves to in order to fit a narrow stereotype of ‘beauty’ is kind of horrifying, if only for how it destroys a body’s ability to regulate itself, and I guess they don’t like having metabolisms that work? Granted, I’m not telling anyone that they’re wrong for doing what they want to do either, just that it’s increasingly surreal to me how many people seem to act as if they’re not permitted to live until they’re a size zero (or ten. Or whatever number small somehow magically makes them ‘socially acceptable’). :/

I also find the concept of resolutions weird, insomuch that if it IS about self-improvement, why do so many people go for one throwaway day? I dedicated myself to self-improvement and self-discovery as a child, and adding some niggling ‘Look at me being good can I have a low-cal cookie?!’ to it just has never sat right with me. Once again — I accept that others might get some use out of the annual boot to the backside, but… *shakes head sleepily* It all seems like yet another marketing ploy to convince someone that they need a gym membership, or a new kind of diet product that completely neuters the good parts from food in the name of ‘health’.

So, I guess what I’m saying in my own sleepy way, is that I continue to dedicate myself to loving myself. I continue to dedicate to living my life as fully as I can, a task that is often quite chairbound due to severe chronic fatigue. I continue to dedicate to giving no fucks or damns as to whether or not I meet society’s expectations, because they are shallow and meaningless. The main point is that *I* am happy in my own skin, and that such happiness can radiate out and make my corner of the world a brighter place overall. After all, I’ve got way too much time and effort dedicated to fighting myself, so why waste more on other people’s silly expectations?! *grins*

Anyways, whatever your personal approach to the new year, I hope you are all having a lovely day.


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The Wrong Side of Bed

Today is one of those days where I feel like I got up on the wrong side of the bed. The entirety of my interaction with humankind online has done nothing but nigh-on infuriate me, and over pretty much nothing. I’m taking it as a hint to try and keep my head down and not talk to anyone; let’s see how well I do.

I’m also cranky ’cause I’m having stupid toe cramps. I’ve applied magnesium oil to my feet, I’ve had a little can of tonic water (the quinine is useful for cramp, though sources seem to suggest to not do it often or unless it’s severe), and I’m going to see if heat helps any. I’ve also got Icy Hot that I can apply and that *usually* is useful, but since it’s the tubs rather than the tubes, it requires an annoying amount of digging out. It’s not that the cramps hurt, per se, but they’re a relatively constant irritant, which then causes my anxiety to spike.

And then there’s the joy of breaking in a new computer. As happy as I am with my shiny new baby, it takes my wretches eyes and migraine-y head some time to adjust to the change. It’s a little thing, but when all the little things are stacking up against each other, they’re all sort of a big thing together.

Really though, it’s all just so hard because the ire doesn’t want to lie down in a timely fashion. Even if it has been a bit since I stopped taking the Zoloft, it still feels like there are some side effects. Perhaps it *IS* just what my non-Zoloft baseline was; I certainly have a hard time remembering after having a good half a year of taking it. I guess I wish my brain would ‘toughen up’ a bit so that I didn’t feel quite so floundery. I mean, I’m still doing passably well, but atop all the pregnancy crap, the little bits of braining bad do stick out.

Anyways, I should probably try to find a nibble of coffee or chocolate or something and avoid people. *nodnods* Hope everyone is doing well.


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Down the Pub

I guess it’s official — I consider the pub a safehouse now. This is the third or fourth time I’ve come down for things that weren’t related to Stitch ‘n Bitch, and find myself to be most comfortable amidst the people and noises. I’m here for a good cause too — one of the ladies from my SnB group is running a MacMillian Coffee Morning event… just in the afternoon, and the day after it officially took place. Which is great — it means the pub is hopping and cheerful.

It’s not so good for the husband though — this isn’t a place he comes as regularly as I do. I know the levels of noise and people and clustering has been stressing him out, and I ended up snapping at him slightly and suggesting that he please to not be projecting it onto our daughter. Which isn’t fair — perhaps she was feeling as uncomfortable as him. It also belittles his particular mental health  make-up, and that’s not okay. It’s like I told him though — it might get on my nerves just as all my foibles get on your nerves. It’s not fair for me to think less of him for being discomfited. I’m just grateful that he’s willing to sacrifice the comfort of watching a football match he’s been waiting for for ages to come sit with me in a social, outside the house setting. He’s been able to watch most of the game via his laptop (free wifi, aww yiss), but of course, child-wrangling is eating into that.  I’ve been trying to be proactive about walking her around and the like, but she’s very daddy-clingy lately. Which is useful in getting this scribbled out, but not so much for letting him center and relax.

Anyhoos, hooray for leaving the house for social things twice in a week!


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And in the News

It seems today that mental health is the hot topic in UK news. Some of it is for fairly good reasons, like trying to appreciate the importance of early detection and treatment:

Mentally ill are ‘dying needlessly’

Call for children’s mental health checks at seven

And some of it for less good reasons:

Asda and Tesco withdraw ‘psycho’ patient outfits

It’s two steps forward, and one step back. And yet, it’s all steps forward, because hooray for a country where people can say, ‘Oh hi, that’s some insensitive stigmagtizing bullshit you’ve got goign on there’, and the retailers throw their hands and say, ‘Whups, my bad.’ It would/will be even better when we hit a point that this kind of BS never comes, but you guys know me — I like to celebrate the steps in the right direction.

Some would consider the proposed checks for children to be a bad thing, on a related tangent. While I can appreciate that folks might find the concept an intrusive step too far for the nanny state, I think there’s room for such an idea to do a lot of good. I can’t fathom how different my life would have been if someone had caught my bipolar much earlier down the line. Not that I’m displeased with my life (quite the opposite!), but I will concede not having to put up with years of suffering in silence would have been peachy. I also feel that if people are brought to the idea that some folks have mental health disorders at a younger age, it certainly has the potential to make people more open-minded and accepting of things. After all, no one is reputedly born making negative stereotypes.

But really, all in all, it boils down to teaching society that mental health issues are just as devastating as physical ones, if not worse. No, I’m not trying to make it a pissing contest; after all, there are any number of physical illnesses that are just as invisible as the mental one. My beloved heatherbat has a physical sign (his cane), and still gets treated like some sort of faker.

But then, I’m preaching to the choir yet again. Most of you reading are like me — someone with a mental illness doing their best to show that hey, we’re just like everyone else in wanting to have a decent quality of life, and doing the best with what we have.

And now, I’m going to drag my fatigued butt back to data entry. I hope everyone out there is some shade of okay.


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Slow Ride

Adjusting to mornings continues to happen/not happen at a super-crawl. I was wondering this morning if it is harder ’cause it’s only an hour shift; I found making the three hour shift from noon to nine tolerable. Granted, I also wasn’t medicated then, not that I can say yay or nay to if that has any blame in the current adjustment phase.

The courtesy copy letter about my last appointment showed up a few days ago. Whenever my psychiatrist updates my GP, there’s a letter. I’m guessing that’s a common thing, but I wouldn’t know either. It made me smile to see it there in text that I’m doing alright. Yes, there’s still some low grade depression, but it’s tolerable and muted, and is more likely than not to be related to my physical condition than my mental condition. It makes me happy that I’ve got my plan of action laid out — another pregnancy if possible, and then a hysterectomy. Oh sure, the best laid plans of mice and men, but I can’t see why (at least) the latter won’t be able to happen. I will have to make sure to stress how huge a quality of life issue it is. Because of the they-won’t-diagnose-the-damned-thing endometriosis, I’ve returned to a state akin to chronic fatigue. As I said to a kinnie in Lord of the Rings Online yesterday — I did dishes and folded laundry. That made yesterday a resounding victory. I don’t think it’s wrong of me to want slightly more, especially since I’m very positive there’s that actual solution.

I guess that’s about it for the moment. My brain continues to stay blissfully blank-esque. It might make writing harder to do, but hell… it sure beats jagged abusive thoughts pounding me.


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Don’t Cross the Seams!

Once again, I am a sucker for pop culture reference. I can’t help it — the lack of filtering ability bipolar comes with means I absorb pop culture like a sponge. While it makes for a stupid human trick of remembering all sorts of pointless things, it also eats up a lot of spoonage because it’s hella intrusive.


This week was definitely about seams though — I finished the little sweater! I had to do the sleeves first, which was all sorts of stripy, Freddy Krueger-gone-patriotic cute:

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Doing the seams was definitely a bit of the mixed bag thing. I found a great tutorial on horizontal mattress stitch, and as you can see, it made for a very clean join:

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Though I can’t say the same of the darker areas, hee hee. The seaming on the sleeves and shoulders are functional at best, and when I was picking up stitches around the neck, I pulled from the wrong side of the piece. It’s fine functionally, and not horrible visually… hopefully I’ll get it more correct next time. But on the other hand, I sort of got the hang of normal mattress stitching on the sides as well, so it’s all progress in the right direction. I used this video for my side seam guide, if anyone was interested. Even with the sound off (one reason I don’t watch videos on my computer; I dislike it making noise at me ever), the quality of the video and the demonstration makes sense.

The finished product:

IMG_2170 IMG_2171 IMG_2172

IMG_2182The next pattern in the book is a matching hat. I meant to let myself have a break before starting it… but I failed in that regard. I definitely have a full-blown knitting addiction at this stage, hee hee. But then, I also have found myself wondering — perhaps this is seriously the limit of what my spoons can do right now. And in that, I’m maxing out my productivity in a hobby that is fulfilling and not terribly wearying. It doesn’t require nearly as much thought as writing, and it doesn’t necessarily require me to deal with other people (e.g. – social networking, which I think can fairly be considered a hobby).

Or perhaps depression is trying to trap me in an isolation bubble, and I’m enjoying myself too much to keep my guard up. I managed to easily talk myself out of going to the last Stitch ‘n Bitch meeting, though I was basing that on a valid medical reason (slept all day). At work, I’m always in this haze that excludes everyone else. I don’t know whether that’s a depression thing, or a self-preservation thing, but it means that I couldn’t tell you the name of anyone else in that building who I’m not related to (only a slight exaggeration). Having said that, it could just be a side effect of my mind being so wonderfully still by comparison to the before times. So maybe it’s that relaxation thing that I’ve heard so much about, ha ha. I don’t know — I’m just continuing to muck through each day as they come, trying to eke out what enjoyment I can!

I hope everyone out there is having a good weekend.



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Drag Drag Thunk

Hello from Blearyland, pre-noon, third can of Dr. Pepper of the day. I come at this with the most ironically fitting of songs playing on Grooveshark; how quickly I can slip into 90s moody nostalgia!

There’s not too much going on in the brainbox, as one might figure in this pre-noon world. I do find myself mulling on whether or not my knitting is a subconscious attempt at super-isolation. After all, I can easily claim that I need to be left alone to make sure I don’t mess things up, especially at this early learning stage of things. I’m not about to stop knitting, but yanno… simple mindfulness is always a Good Thing™®.

I know I’m isolating a bit, ’cause my online socialization is starting to fall by the wayside. I’ve not been by Google+ in months now, and I’m finding it really hard to talk myself into checking my blog reader(s). Which is vexing, ’cause I mainly follow friends ’cause hey, people I care about enough to invest energy in following. I just… there’s a sort of lack of damns? Which sucks, ’cause obviously — I like the people I follow; this is why I follow them and wish to engage them. Maybe it’s a minor depressive funk and it’s doing a great job of lying to me. Or… I don’t really know. I hope it passes soon, ’cause I really would like to get back on the ball with that.

As intimated though, it’s hard to pick up the what’s going on of right now. Since starting on the antidepressant, I’ve felt blissfully even and stable. Perhaps it’s still a slope down, but one with an even milder incline/decline, thereby making it harder to pick out. I don’t know. I’m still feeling some feelings you wouldn’t believe, which is to say what I would consider a more normalized and pleasant and within a reasonable range of response. If only I could read my own mind though, ha ha!

So yeah, no idea what’s happen — I’m just swinging moment to moment and doing my best to harness serenity and grace. And patience, I can’t forget about patience!

I hope that everyone out there is doing alright.


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Good morning from the evil world of pre-noon. Man, do I need more caffeine…

Yesterday morning was another up and out of the house early sort of day too (though with Lilbit in school, they’re all going to become days like today). I was in to see my psychiatrist for a check-up, and I was rather pleased — I knew it would be a quick in and out-esque appointment. And it was… after 50 minutes of waiting. The main doctor I’m seeing these days is usually hella prompt, so that really wasn’t appreciated. He did apologise and explain why, but still… blech.

Often, whatever doctor I’m in to see will have a student in to observe. And that’s fine by me — I’m very happy to let them learn from me and my situation. So of course, that made things a teense slower as he explained my history. I don’t mind — it meant that he hit the ‘trying to have a kid’ thing before we could re-introduce it. I think we’re on the same basic page there — I expressed what I think will be the right thing to do with my meds during the latter half of my pregnancy. My suggested plan is to come off of the Seroquel in the latter half of my pregnancy to avoid the possible complications that would force me into a nasty horrible hospital birth; I emphatically wish to home birth again (it’s fine if that’s your thing. I don’t like them due to my (step)dad almost dying a lot, and hopefully will never be an inpatient in my life). I’d still want to stay on the Zoloft, but for the most part, I would hope that my mood would be similarly stable to my previous pregnancy.  We’ve agreed that if I manage to catch before my next appointment, then I’ll get in contact and set up to see the doc sooner.

We also agreed to leave the meds as-is for now, which is fine. Upping my dose of Zoloft would double it ’cause I’m only on 50mgs right now, and as long as I’m mainly doing okay, I’m happy to hold off on that in case I need the higher dose in future to help smooth out the mood foundation. It’s certainly why I don’t want to come off my meds unless I absolutely have to — I agree with him that I am at a point where it does me the best good to be medicated for my own mood stability.

For now though, it’s time to return to my caffeine stability. I hope everyone is doing well.


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S’Too Early!

First off, thanks to everyone who read my last post and understood that I wasn’t getting at anyone. I just… *REALLY* needed to vent. It upsets me how set up ‘normal’ society is to hold up not-that-great treatment of self as a desired norm — as someone whose brain does a good enough job kicking its own ass, I cannot understand why I’d want to complicate things. *chuckles*


I come to you today live from the office. Yessh, it feels good to be back at ‘real’ work, hee hee. I love being at my mother-in-law’s house, mind, but our basement office space is a cooler temperature and it’s pleasantly quiet and isolated. Which is good — waking up earlier means that it feels like it takes a lot longer to come to. I’ve adjusted fairly well these first couple of days; I’ve been coming to in a fairly alert state, and rousing at the time I wanted to with the help of the nudging alarm clock thingie. In that, I’m feeling optimistic about transitioning to an earlier time. I don’t know if I’ll swing it around to seven am with the husband-fellow and child-person, but we’ll see. At least I’m getting up earlier enough to give her a hug and a kiss before she’s off to school.

It will be interesting to see how the shift affects my health, mentally and physically. I’ve always been keyed as a night person — even in Kindergarten, I used to ask why I couldn’t go to school at night. During the summers, myself and the sister after me would generally stay up until sunrise, because it’s what felt right to do. My husband is of the same cloth, but is more pragmatic about things than I am, which is why he’s the one to cart Lilbit to school in the mornings. It will give/does give me time to come around after hitting my sleep cycle correctly, both of which we know are vital to me not spending the day in bed.

So how am I doing, exarctly? I’m fairly alert, though my head is a teense foggy. I’m feeling a bit goofy and euphoric, which… no idea how to parse that at this exact moment. Perhaps I’m swinging out of a light patch of depression? I know I’ve speculated that there could very well be some underlying my mainly stable state, and it’s why I’m contemplating asking my psychiatrist to up the antidepressant dose very slightly when I see him next week. It’s quite obviously helping, so we’ll see what he thinks about that. He might not want to up it since we’re trying to get pregnant, but on the other hand, it’s not like an SSRI is a significant pregnancy risk. The Seroquel is definitely a questionable factor, and I have hopes I can convince him to let me come off of it in time to be fine for a home birth — no hospitals for me, no no… too many anxiety-causing lights, people, and noises.

Whatever the overall picture, the snapshot of the moment is just fine. I hope it’s as well for all of you.


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Things have been going pretty darn well lately. I might feel a bit run down and flu-ish, but my mood has been stable.

Until this morning. I got shivved by an anxiety spike.

You see, I once engaged in the dieting paradigm. Once, after my child was born. My body made it abundantly clear that my metabolism wouldn’t stand for it, brought all the weight lost back in a matter of weeks plus some, and stayed that way for over a year (I got down to 127, and it spiked back up to 154). After a year, I randomly lost a stone, and my body has hovered around 140lbs since then. It’s a good and fine weight; it’s not the 120lbs I was when I got pregnant with my daughter, but it’s a healthy weight, and it doesn’t bother me. My only bodily concern is that people will mistake my adorable remnant of belly chub as pregnancy and try to touch me, because nausea means I can’t stand anyone to get near my stomach (and I don’t think pregnant ladies are public property, ripe for the touching either). Since then, I’ve discovered the Health at Every Size movement via the most fabulous Ragen Chastain, and find it to be a most reasonable and sane approach. After all, I should and do worship my body for doing all sorts of fabulous things for me, like breathing and moving and twirling around! After all, who really takes care of things they hate?

Now, my one social activity that I’ve found and meshed well with is Stitch ‘n Bitch. Unfortunately, almost everyone in my group is dieting. And because I’m one of the smallest people there, anything I try to share of my one diet experience goes in one ear and out the other. I say that my body lost weight on its own metabolism steam, and people assume I’m happier and healthier because I’m thinner. Um… body size has little to do with actual health or happiness, but as said — in one ear, and out the other. I shrug, sigh, and try to drown out he fact most of them are in that smug phase where they believe the weight they’ve lost will stay off, and flat-out refuse to recognize how screwed up their metabolisms are from repeated dieting attempts. It’s their choice, after all, and I can certainly respect that’s what they want to do. I won’t cheer them on for it, but I’ll try to at least be polite.

So this morning, another person fell into the clutches of Slimming World. I shrugged and sighed, until another member of our group suggested we should turn our Stitch ‘n Bitch group into a Slimming World club. It’s been a few hours now, and my heart still physically hurts from the massively severe anxiety spike that caused. Not only would that make it not possible for me to attend the *one* social thing that I have found and am happy to regularly attend, but that’s about as bad as say… randomly declaring it a prayer meeting ‘because most of us are Christian’. Dude, you can pray and worship if you want. You can diet if you want. Do.not.force.it.on.me. It’s not funny, it’s not clever, and man… seriously, did I mention that my heart still physically hurts a few hours on? Because it does, because deity forbid I refuse to let the media and governments tell me I should panic over an arbitrary number they change on a whim, just because. Correlation does not imply causation, and it would do us all very good to remember this.

Beyond that, I’m just trying to be mindful of my sleep. My little one starts full time school tomorrow morning, and while I don’t have to get up to take her to school, I don’t want to be holding up myself and my husband in getting to work. I’m not super-optimistic about my ability to rise earlier and not be horrendously physically ill from it (true story), but I’m trying to convince myself that it should be less dire because it’s still after sunrise. I’m also going to start taking my Seroquel an hour or two earlier and see if that helps me make the shift. Fingers crossed, right?

For now, I am going to go find a beverage, ’cause it’s sweltering here. I hope everyone is having a good one.

Also, if anyone does have a different opinion on this matter they wish to share, by all means — just keep it polite. It’s not going to change my mind though. :)


[[radio edit]] I feel I should addendum that nobody is actually going to change our group to a dieting club. It was just one gal talking to another and, I presume, offering it as a polite jest. Doesn’t make it any less triggering though.

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