Daily Archives: August 13, 2013

Up I Go Again

Once again, Saturday was the magical weigh in at Weight Watchers.I gained 1.5 pounds. That may not sound like much, but sadly this was the 6th week in a row I’ve gained. Feeling discouraged, but hanging on because I know the program works. On the plus side, I met with two other members who are also struggling with their meds. Taking meds, like me, which slows the metabolism and increases appetite. I wish I could place all the blame on the meds. Sure, they make it substantially harder to lose or maintain weight, but there are other factors.

The primary problem is me. Well, a part of me…it’s all my behavior. I use to log long hours devoted to exercise. This allowed me to splurge on a regular basis, but I still lost weight because of all the walking I do. Once I went back to school everything changed. My exercise decreased dramatically, but I didn’t curtail my food intake. It’s pretty easy to see how/why I gained weight.

I’m sure I posted about all this before, but I had to bring it back up again because I have recommitted to focus on the program from this point on. The 15 pounds I’ve gained is going to start wearing off again. Maurice has recommitted as well. Weekends are the toughest and when this past the weekend ended we both did a pretty good job of not overindulging in food.

Is This What Normal Feels Like?


(Formerly) Live from the sanity bubble!

And really, am I greedy for wanting more? Things aren’t perfect, but as we know, perfection is a dangerous distraction. I’m a recovering perfectionist myself, and I know just how detrimental the concept is when applied to anyone, regardless if it’s done externally or internally. I might be a bit tired. My brain might be a bit on and off, but I feel like I’m actually doing a better job of living right now. I’m spending more time paying attention to my family, which of course, is always an awesome thing. I know that my husband appreciates it, ’cause it spells him enough that I’ve actually spotted him trying to play video games when the kiddo is awake. I’m happier, I think he’s happier, and I’m sure the little one likes having another person to pester for attention (which I’m not so good at doling out when I’m trapped in my sanity bubble).

Then I find myself asking the stupidest question — do I want too much? Deity forbid I want to feel good and enjoy life by default, ha ha. Obviously, I know it can’t all be good times, even for the most neurotypical person. But my baseline has been so pleasant since I started the antidepressant in late May that I have hopes that it can be just that little bit better. Pandora’s box is open for me — there’s actually hope. It’s sort of neat. It doesn’t trick me into thinking I should stop my meds (perish the thought!), or that I should take on gargantuan tasks, but well enough that I’m at least feeling able to challenge myself in little ways, like going for the NaNoWriMo badge this month over at 750words.com. I’m hoping that it will stretch me to a point where I can tackle ‘real’ NaNo in November again… we’ll see.

I also accept that I cannot do all the things I used to do when I was so broken that adding more weight to the pile wasn’t going to make a difference to my health (’cause yanno, health didn’t exist). And as good as I do feel, I have to keep reminding myself that I am still mentally ill, and will always likely be. I don’t feel particularly burdened by this, but then, I’ve only known definitively for less than two years, so it’s not had time to make me feel anything but relieved to know. But as said, there’s hope these days — it makes me think that maybe I’ll be able to take on doing more things that I enjoy and that I won’t find them to be a crushing burden. After all, now that I’m kind of out of the sanity bubble, I’d like to stay in the ‘real’ world.

So yeah, I guess I can say I’m worried I’ll screw it up somehow, or I’ll become complacent and get shivved by the bipolar. Which, I guess, is my true normal, ha ha. I guess if I can keep myself busy, but not too busy, it will be alright… if still dancing along the knife edge. Just ’cause it seems to be blunted to the intensity of left-handed safety scissors doesn’t mean it’s still not a narrow ledge, easy to fall off of. Still, if I can manage this semi-serene thing, the balancing should stay a bit easier. At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.


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Loser blues

For three days now my brain has been telling me what a loser I am. The mental illness is a pathological liar, I know, but I feel like I am being brainwashed.

It’s been a week from hell and I am not coping with any grace.

Last week, my cat had kittens, dropped them all over the driveway, then refused to take care of them so I buried four kittens over the weekend.

I can’t escape the heathen neighborhood kids, they pound on my door until I open it then basically rush in and won’t leave. I feel like I can’t even come home and relax because they’ve ruined my safe space and make me feel stalked.

I saw the new counselor again today. She’s slightly more useful than sunshine spewer but not by much. That place’s “positive attitude” toward counseling about drives me bonkers. I need to be told when I am off my gourd and not seeing things clearly. But that would be negative and they don’t do that. Useless.

Went to the shop because he said he had something for me to do. He proceeded the whole day doing it himself while I twiddled my thumbs. My mood started out low and pissy, dodging his multiple calls. He actually called my dad and stepmom trying to locate me because I didn’t answer four phone calls. That ticked me off. But then for no reason, I went manic and even though everything sucks and I suck…I went manic.

Came home and someone had ripped open my mail and stolen it, leaving me empty envelopes. Called the cops. Through the grapevine, found out it was this 5 year old girl Spook plays with. My mail was returned and the cop talked to the parents.; Who didn’t even make her stay in for the night, they sent her back to my house to play. She steals my stuff and then I am supposed to babysit her? These are some of the most worthless parents I have ever seen.

The kids overflowed the toilet, didn’t tell me, so I had a damn wading pool in the bathroom. One of them decided to climb into my car to play, which infuriated me because it could run the battery down.

Now I have had my call from R in a drunken frenzy firing off all he wants done tomorrow. I dared to ask if I could leave as soon as I got it all done and he made this snorty noise and snarked,”{If you can get it all done, you can leave whenever the hell you please.”{


I am exhausted. I just have nothing left. My brain won’t shut off, it keeps freaking out over all this stuff and seething with sheer irritation. Nothing good comes from associating with others. nAt least not the vapid locals who care only for themselves. I can’t even muster up the energy to fix myself supper even though I am hungry. My body feels so battered and achy and sore. My damn ovarian cysts have been acting up, doubling me over more and more frequently. My head hurts. I feel sleepy but scumbag brain isn’[t don telling me what a loser I am.

Day from hell.

I think it’s time to suck it up and talk to the doctor about going back on Lithium.  The cymbalta is just setting off the mania and causing the mood swings to be too extreme. At this point, being where I feel everything to my bone marrow, I’d welcome lithium numbness. My life is in a depressing spot, and I have a manic fit, which makes people think I am perfectly happy and hunky dory. I come home and my mood crashes into subterranean space.

Not working for me anymore.

Lithium worked wonders. The side effects left much to be desired though.

I am such a loser.

No, I am not, I am human and I fail.


I cannot handle this shit, I am a loser.

No, you’re stressing because it’s been anxiety for two weeks and your mood is low, you are fine all things considered.


I hate my damned brain.