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Daily Archives: July 16, 2012
Disinformation and Misinformed Folks, Mid-Afternoon Mental Moment
Hello Fine People and Welcome to another ..oh, that’s right we can’t ay it here anymore, another DAY THAT SHALL NOT BE NAMED.. I told you it would start all over again on Friday didn’t I? And I was right by gosh! I really need to make a Monday Unamed Day sign but I haven;t … Continue reading
Pocket full of ick
I’ve been tapering off of Celexa and taking Effexor XR for a week now. The ride is bumpy because you just get locked in a darkened room in your mind and all you want is for the pills to work like Aspirin. You’re in pain, you take a couple, and you feel better.
Psych meds don’t work that way, perhaps the most bitter pill of all to swallow.
I am bored. I was writing for 6 straight days. Then I hit the wall, which is normal for my writing. It leaves me lost, though.
My focus is crap so reading is pretty much impossible.
The heat sucks the life out of me.
I just feel…down. Lonely. But not really in the mood for company or activity. GAHHHHH, I hate my own brain, it sucks.
There have been certain changes in my life i am not okay with, like a former close important friendship changing to little more than acquaintance who occasionally bothers to speak to me because they have someone in their life now. This person has done this before, and it irks me, because when things fell apart,I was there for them to vent to. To be basically shunned is hurtful and pissing me off. I’m ready to wash my hands of it, fickle people do nothing but cause pain. And it’s not some petty jealousy thing. I’ve entertained the notion, but fact is, I don’t want to live the lifestyle my friend lives therefore there’s nothing to be jealous of. I just get frustrated being heaved aside every time something better comes along. That’s not a friendship.
Maybe I am being unfair, God knows I don’t handle change well. And in this current depression my feelings are all amped up to ten. It just hurts is all to need your friend and try to talk to them only to be left hanging and then dismissed if you speak up about it. God, it makes me sound like a needy teenager. Ick.
Both of my pockets are full of ick right now since someone informed me another friend only keeps me around because I make their life easier and they’d get stuck doing everything for themselves.
How is that not depressing?
My one rayo of sunshine is my daughter but the bruise on my boob where she bit me proves even that is a double edged sword.
It just seems nothing ever changes for the better and I am stuck in this rut and I feel trapped and hopeless. And while part of it is the depression, part of it is also the fact this town is dying and there just aren’t many jobs available. When you have a hundred people applying for one position, someone with my wonky history isn’t going to get to the front of that line. I’m treading water and having panic attacks when I think that this is as good as it gets. I want better for my daughter and for myself.
I want people to stop treating me like I am disposable and have no feelings, too, but that’s not likely to fucking happen. In fact, I’d bet everything I own if I dared to speak up about it, I’d be told to quit being so hypersensitive and people have lives outside of me so grow up.
God, speaking honestly while in a depression just makes me sound like I am having some big pity party. One more pocket full of ick.
I just want the Effexor to kick in and do something. I am so tired of feeling this way.
Motivation
When I was younger, as most of us did, I took for granted my ability to get up and get doing things. I could procrastinate all day and all night, because I ‘knew’ that I was best at the last possible minute. It’s so stereotypical as to be hilarious; I’m sure I wasn’t the only one that subsisted on coffee and late nights rather than foresight, planning, and good sleep. And I kept reinforcing to myself that it was the ‘right’ pathway because I managed to squeak by on the tasks I was attempting to achieve. My body could take the hit (though to be fair, by my teen years I was already so weak and ill from probable endo that I couldn’t feel any worse), and I’d be just as ‘good’ as ever.
Once I managed to get a better fix on my mental health state, I realized that it was a lot wiser to operate on the premise that the sooner something was done, the sooner it was over. It gave me some minor drive to get things done… emphasis on minor. While I might have sobered up shortly after I moved here, I was still weak and ill and depressed; it’s only been this year that I’ve had the boon of diagnosis and medication. Still, the realization was as breakthrough of sorts, and is useful for those times when I can get my head out of the clouds.
Alas, my head is firmly fogged over right now, and it’s harder to see the point when my cognitive processes can’t see past the end of my nose. And that’s a place where depression can try to tag on and pull one under – when you cannot see the point of doing anything, why bother? Chores will need to be done over and over again, bathing, waking, moving… why bother? What’s the point of it all? It beats the snot out of me, but I’m doing my best to not let those thoughts break through and take over. My motivation is to not crash on that sort of burg, yo. It’s not much, but yet it’s everything at the same time.
<3
Tweaking the Cocktail
My meds were changed recently and the follow-up with the psych is tomorrow. I still haven’t made a gynecologist appointment …
Brain Worms
OK, I know the title is gross. Horrifying, even. How do you think I feel? I have brain worms.
I don’t know, maybe you do too. My friend Shmuel, who knows a lot of things, says he has them too. In fact, he maintains that everybody has them. I beg to differ, but I’d love to hear from you, dear readers, whether you do or do not have brain worms.
” Brain worm” is a term that refers to phrases of music that play themselves over and over and over and over and over, in your head. The sounds are specifically from inside your head as opposed to true auditory hallucinations, which sound like they’re coming from outside your head, for example through the wall sockets or the sink faucet or just anywhere.
Brain worms can either be phrases of music that you know (the one that is playing in my head right now is part of an old-time fiddle tune, which has been rather pleasant but now it’s getting mucked up with some other not-so-nice cacauphonous mess), or in my case, often hard rock guitar riffs that I have never heard before. I don’t even like hard rock.
The phrases are so clear that I can sing them. They are often intrusive to the point that I lose my train of thought.
I asked my psychiatrist about them. He didn’t know anything. He told me I’m a doctor, go look it up. That infuriated me, and if he hadn’t been so good to me over the years when I was really struggling I would have fired him on the spot. But then, there are no psychiatrists in my area that are accepting new patients, so I’m stuck. He called in some clonazepam, which has done squat. To his credit, he did say that he thought it might be seizure related, and I do have cingulate gyrus seizures which cause me olfactory hallucinations if I don’t take my antiseizure medication. Fortunately the smell hallucinations tend to be of something nice baking. I shudder to think what they
could be, Heaven forfend. So adding another seizure med does make sense. It just hasn’t worked.
I Googled “brain worm” and found a “crazy forum” that had a lot to say about it. Some found it related to OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). I do score fairly high on the OCD tests, so maybe that’s it. Other people said that increasing their doses of AAPDs (Atypical Antipsychotic Drugs) helped. I do take Seroquel, and it helps with my PTSD symptoms, but it’s so sedating and mind-numbing that for now I’m just putting up with the intrusive tunes in my head. Talk about I-tunes! Aargh.
Thankfully the inner guitarist tends to shut up when I’m listening to “real” music. I might have to turn into one of those nutters who walks around with stereo headphones on 24 hours a day.
Copyright 2012 Laura P. Schulman all rights reserved
Posted in Read Along
