Daily Archives: August 20, 2013

Controlled chaos

Four days into Lithium and I can feel a difference. It sounds nuts, and maybe it is, but I am no longer this emotional livewire, jumping to offense, choking on hatred because people suck, feeling fragile and defensive.

I am…well, if you remove the anxiety, I am a deadwire. Distant from the turmoil inside, numb to what just last week was festering under my skin. Aside from tearing up watching the end of “Pay it Forward”, the chaos that lives inside me and churns constantly feels slightly more controlled.

And as I come off of Cymbalta I have little doubt this controlled deadwire space will not stick.

The anxiety has already erupted like the Mt Vesuvius of disorders, an allergen that does not respond to anti histamines, this churning broiling bubbling boiling intensity of nerve endings on fire beneath my skin. Every time I hear a siren, I swear it’;s a firetruck going to my burning home. I see a cop car, it must be coming for me, even though I haven’t so much as jaywalked in the last ten years. My ear itches and suddenly the old superstition becomes this etched in stone “people are talking about me, plotting against me” thing. Someone waves at me and it’s “What are they staring at? Do I have something hanging out of my nose?”  It never fails that if one aspect comes under control, the other goes out into the stratosphere.

Things at home have returned to normal. Suddenly the kids whose mother said they couldn’t be here are back, along with the usual suspects..I guess it depends on how bad they want their kids to go away, the willingness to believe rumors and lies. I could do without all this noise and fussing but it’s sort of a relief because the scumbag brain has been beating me up mercilessly over my social cursedness impacting my kid badly.


I just want a cool shower, a warm meal, and to curl up.

She starts pre-k tomorrow.

I am anxious simply because I have no idea where I am supposed to take her. Class room three, well, never having been there, it’s not telling me much. It’s her first day, but I’m the one who is having panic attacks. Very definition of narcissism, making it about me.

Well, technically I didn’t chose to, the stupid anxiety disorder just swooped in and dictated “This is new and uncharted territory, it is scary YOU MUST FREAK OUT NOW NOW NOW!”

It’s only 4:30 pm.

Today has seemed interminably long.

Not a horrid day. Nothing major.

Just cramps and backache from hell and no slack being cut in any fashion.

At least at the end of it all…There’s bedtime.

And that hasn’t been much consolation lately because my kid isn’t sleeping through the night.

I used to say I’ll sleep when I am dead.

Now it’s like I am the walking dead and I still can’t get any sleep.

Be too easy to pop Trazadone every night.

I may have to tonight, the pre-k jitters and all.

God, I am pathetic.


Today has been utterly exhausting.

First of all, my apartment was invaded by hordes of tiny cat fleas from the gazillions of cats that flood Jerusalem like a heaving tsunami of fur.  Someone long ago had the bright idea of bringing in cats to get rid of the rats, and it worked very well.  We have no rats here.  What we have instead is a steadily increasing population of feral felines with no natural predators.  So they spread themselves and their associated vermin as far as the eye can see, and farther.

So today was the day of the extermination.  The exterminator, Simi, is a nice guy.  He doesn’t speak a word of English so my Hebrew got a workout.

My dog, Noga, has an ear infection, so after I let Simi in to do his thing, I went to the shuk to buy a muzzle for Noga so I could take her on the train.  That’s the law.  400 shekel fine (about 120 USD) if you get caught without.  Noga took it like the champ she is.

We got to the vet OK, and found out that we were illegal in a number of bureaucratic ways, so we fixed that.  The bureaucracy fix plus the exam and the medicine for the ear infection amounted to around NIS 650, which is around $200.  An expensive day.

Then I had to leave Noga at a friend’s while I washed the poison off the floors–not an easy thing, because the floors are made of chunks of stone with some kind of mortar loosely holding them together.  This apartment is cobbled together from materials that range all the way from the 1700s to the 1960s.

Now I’m washing the sheets and towels that were exposed to the poison.  I’m washing them in a friend’s machine, and he has just discovered that a guest from America brought him a present: Bedbugs.  OH NOOOOOO!!!!!  So after washing these sheets in 90 degree Centigrade water (100 C. is boiling) I’m going to take them right down to the laundromat and dry them on HOT HOT HOT.

Meanwhile I have no sheets to sleep on.  I was planning to borrow some from said friend, but…nooooo…..

So it’s almost 6 pm, and my strength is gone.  I’m hoping the linens place in Davidka Square is still open, but first I have to muster the strength to walk over there.

I’m very grateful that Marci came through early with her interview last Wednesday, and it was a powerful one at that.  I’ve had a rash of people canceling at the last minute, and she saved me from having to interview myself!

Tomorrow, however, you will get to hear from me, as my interviewee this week was unable to make it.  So tune in for the next edition of Breaking the Silence of Stigma, tomorrow morning starting at 7:00 EST, as I reveal the deepest darkest depths of my journey with mental illness and stigma.

A Call For Support

Reblogged from The Bipolar Place:

I've been pretty busy lately with one thing or another, but something I really wanted to get a post out about is Faces of Mental Illness.

I've been working with Laura SQ from Mrs Bipolarity & Laura P. Schulman from  Bipolar For Life, on creating the real faces of mental illness. Initially it was in reaction to Brian Williams' stigmatising negative comments on mental illness.

Read more… 256 more words

Great thanks to bpshielsy at The Bipolar Place for sending this shout-out for support for our joint project--joint being bpshielsy, Mrs. Bipolarity, and myself. This project was inspired by TV anchorpeople behaving badly, grossly discriminating against people with mental illness. We want to show the world that people who happen to have mental illness are just....people, that's all. Please come out and support us, support YOU, and help make the world a better place for all of us.

Running Away

I wrote this a few days ago...before my son got out of prison and arrived on my doorstep with nowhere to go.

I need to get away from here. If I don't then I really will die. I need to clear my head and I can't do it if I stay here. My mind is so full of crap, all mixed up so I can't work out what's what. I don't want to hurt anybody and if I stay I'll end up hurting everybody. It probably is selfish to up and leave but I have no choice. I need to sort things out and I can't do it here.
I know things wont disappear if I go but it will give me breathing space.There's so much stuff I need to make decisions about and I just can't do it. I feel broken. Maybe if I get away I can try to fix things . It doesn't matter what anyone says, things will never get back to how they were. It's impossible. Once something is done, it's done. I feel ugly on the inside and outside. I feel like damaged goods. I don't think anyone is ever going to want me fully. I need to be able to survive on my own. I need to start again and I can't do it without leaving. I'm no use to anyone at the moment anyway. I've got nothing to give. All I do is take and I hate that. 
I don't know how long it will take. It doesn't mean I won't come back. Maybe it won't be any different but I feel like this is my last chance to try and make things better. I don't want to be this way. I need to work out what I've done wrong to get me where I am and what I can do to put it right. All I can do is try.

I obviously can't go if I have my son here. I don't know if I really would have gone. I often feel like running away but that's different, what I'm talking about is making a fresh start. I'm getting suffocated by doctors and pills and people. I just want to be me again. I want to be happy and at the moment I'm not.

Insomnia Thoughts, early Tuesday

Can you really be in love with someone you barely know? Maybe I’m in love with the image I have of them in my mind. Or maybe I’m just in love with love. In any event, feeling those butterflies again is a nice reminder that life goes on, even after so many broken hearts.

Filed under: Self Discovery Tagged: crush, insomnia, love, thoughts

Where’s my bad day pill?

For those of us with mental illness, there are just some days that are so grueling from a mental standpoint, we would give a kidney for a pill to just make us sleep through that cycle of our illness.

Throw in a few more factors and a bad day becomes a shit day and you REALLY want that pill to make it go away.

Shark week has begun and decided this month it is going to be uber painful, make me uber irritable, and cause me to have fatigue from hell.

Never mind, because in spite of not feeling well and telling R so, he still wanted me to come to the shop and look at this computer tower he can’t figure out.

No rest for the wicked, or the sick, not in his world, anyway. Machete through the belly? Suck it up and do my bidding.

So when I got four blocks from home and realized I had a flat tire…I reciprocated by making him leave work to come help me. Like he’d ever be able to draw a parallel though.

I did go by the shop, with my kid in tow, and said I would bring the tower home with me and try to figure it out. Of course he expects me to drop everything to do so and when he finds out I have not, he is going to be salty as fuck. But I truly feel that bad. I mean, my kid took a nap today and I curled up and nodded off. I don’t take naps,like, ever. So to nap means I am really not physically up to par. His lack of compassion gives me even less motivation to tough it out.

On the plus side, we only saw one kid today, and she was here all of ten minutes before her mom came to get her. She did come back, but Spook was asleep so I sent her home. It has been soooo fucking peaceful. God. My kid and I have gotten along well since we woke from napping. She ate a full supper, took a shower without a tantrum, let me read to her…And while my neurotic brain is kicking itself for somehow tainting her and “running” off her friends…My logical brain knows the truth and my stressed out central nervous system just feels utterly relieved. I love kids, but man, I can’t do 6 kids a day, 7 days a week.

R’s wife texted asking me to come to the shop tomorrow and try to program a remote for her since R can’t seem to get it. I am being bribed with a pack of smokes. Hopefully day two of shark week will be less brutal.

Last night, after taking my Lithium, I experienced a massive headache and nausea like days of old, like I was going to throw up, yet couldn’t. Those were the side effects that made me go off Lithium in the first place because even after three years they never went away and not even eating first made it better with any consistency. I hope this is not the case. I hope maybe it’s coming off the Cymbalta. I hope it’s anything but one more med that works but I can’t tolerate. The medi go round has gotten so very old and I am so very close to giving up on myself. Maybe the meds don’t work because I am beyond repair.

But I am hoping for the best.

At least I am not bursting into tears and melting down that way now. It’s an improvement.

Now…I am going to have a brain bleed because my kid wants me to read a sixth Dora book to her. I hate Dora.

But Swiper is kinda cute.

Yep. I am indeed beyond repair.

Flash in the Pan; right

This week’s Flash in the Pan  - Flash Fiction Challenge ;   Red from The M3 Blog  is offering up the challenge and anyone can join the fun,  Just link your […]