Daily Archives: December 10, 2012
I wrote this poem last year but it is one of my very favorite things I have ever written and what better place to show it again ? Romantic M’Day is for love right? Head over to Edward Hotspur’s to see all that is romantic and mushy and sweet this week and every week on this … Continue reading
(And yes, I AM taking a survey :p)
even though there is nothing physically keeping you from functioning, you just feel “off” in such a way that it could easily qualify as being sick?
Today is like that.
Oh, I am up and functioning, forcing myself to do everything I avoided all weekend because I was just in Paranoiatown because ya know, I wouldn’t want someone to show up and determine my home unfit for my kid…
But I just don’t “feel” good.
I don’t feel like functioning. Breathing seems too daunting a task. If I didn’t have a kid, I would probably take a “metal health day” from the shop (pleading some sort of physical ailment, of course, because mental stuff isn’t real).
I may still do that, since his buddy Mark is going to be there “keeping him company” for two days. I like Mark, but considering my current mind frame, the last thing I want is to go be around a shiny happy prankster.
Now, I am NOT a moron, and I am NOT in denial.
I know this is my fault.
Drinking with psych meds is dangerous and stupid and counterproductive since it causes depression.
I owe my idiocy.
But many a day has befallen the same way where alcohol wasn’t involved. Seems to be the nature of the beast with cyclothymia. Up, down, and all around every two hours.
I tried to explain it to the shrink, because she asks how my moods are. Well, Lamictal helps a lot, I still cycle, but it’s more often than not like tripping down a couple of steps than falling headfirst down an entire flight of stairs. I don’t think she gets it but I don’t push it. I don’t want her changing the Lamictal. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. It lacks the numbness and side effects and lab work of Lithium, and the others did no good and made me sick. Lamictal it is.
It’s such a catch 22. Don’t drink with psych meds.
But when the psych meds don’t fight against certain symptoms of your illness and you start going down the rabbit hole with depression, paranoia, and panic…and alcohol helps, for that time, anyway…It’s kind of hard not to slip down to that level, even if it is not wise. Your immediate concern is surviving that whole existential nihilism “i should kill myself because i serve no purpose and life is pointless anyway” train of thought/frame of mind. The aftermath seems like a decent price to pay to not, ya know, kill yourself because your brain won’t shut up.
The shrink thinks I need antipsychotics. I have tried those. They did not help, none of them. They put me in a walking coma, sleeping 12 hours a day, and nothing got better. That includes the newer ones that supposedly “work better.”
My paranoia is rooting in anxiety and insecurity. The panic spawns it all. I have one bad thought and the next thing I know, my brain has galloped away with the possibilities of all the bad things that could befall me. It breeds more panic and paranoia, rinse lather repeat. I don’t believe this is a learned behavior or personality quirk as it was barely noticable prior to pregnancy and childbirth, sans a few long term episodes during a depression from hell.
I think my brain chemistry was altered, and of course there was the whole depo provera debacle which got my hormones all fucked up…
I am prattling. I hate when I do that.
Anyway…I own my idiocy and I am up and functioning, but my mind is telling me to go back to bed. I will do battle with it, but it gets exhausting fighting your own mind.
Anyone else ever feel like this?
I’d be interested in your stories, if you do.
It helps to not feel so alone.
It all started when my mother was frying potato pancakes this evening. It is the second night of Chanukah and our tradition is to eat greasy things during the eight day holiday, then go on a collective diet.
So I was in the kitchen looking morose, and my mother suggested that I needed to get out and do things with people (she is an extrovert). I said, “what people?” And she said, oh, you know, just people,”. And I said, “I don’t like just hanging around with random people. It gives me the creeps.” And she says, “what are you, antisocial or something?” And I say, “What, you’re only now figuring this out? I’ve been avoiding people all of my life and only now it’s dawning on you that I really do not enjoy people?” So she mumbles something about yes, she had noticed something like that, and asks me if I think the latkes need more salt.
Just to heighten my level of disease awareness, this very week I received the news that I am the unwilling hostess of yet another opportunistic disease. You see, my immune system went south about four years ago. To date no one knows why. I have had five negative HIV tests, so it’s not that, thank God, although there are times when I wonder whether my quality of life might not be better, given the excellent antiretroviral therapies we have now. When my Medicare kicks in, in a month or so, I hope, I will go see an immunologist and try to get this sorted out. For now I just feel like a walking bag of viral and fungal infections. I feel like I should walk down the street as in times of old crying, “Unclean! Unclean!” Luckily there are no streets, where I live.