Daily Archives: September 5, 2014

I guess it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I am positively allergic to stress. Of any kind. Even the “good” kind of stress (which I haven’t had much of lately) can send me into orbit and kick off a mood episode. I’m sitting here typing and the “Pina Colada” song is on, and that brings back memories of when being stressed out consisted of not having enough money to go out cruising and clubbing. How I wish I had that kind of stress now!

Something’s up, I can’t quite put a finger on it but I think my current situation is really starting to get to me. I’ve forgotten my morning meds once this week, and almost did it a second time today but remembered in the early afternoon and took them. I also can’t figure out for the life of me what day of the week it is, and I was shocked when I got a call from Dr. Awesomesauce’s office reminding me of my appointment on Monday. I’d plumb forgotten all about it, thinking it was for the following Monday.

Good thing they called, or I’d have been charged for the missed appointment and Dr. A would be worried. I’ve never missed a session in all the time I’ve been seeing him, and I don’t aim to start now. But it concerns me that I forgot it at all, because those appointments are my lifeline to sanity and there’s some stuff on my mind that I need to talk to him about. Even when he doesn’t have all the answers, it helps to be able to unload without judgment.

As I expected, I didn’t get the job I interviewed for a couple of weeks ago. It’s just as well. I’d more than likely have come apart at the seams if I had gotten it and then crashed and burned again. I’m not sure how many more of those I’ve got left in me, at least where work is concerned. But the stress of NOT working (and making money) is also bad, and while it’s not the end of the world as I know it, I can see it from here and it’s not a pretty picture.

Will’s ongoing issues with getting his Coumadin numbers up to a therapeutic level also worry me. He’s almost there, but I’ve got to give him shots for another four days along with high doses of his pills, and I’m half afraid the numbers will end up going too high, putting him at risk for all sorts of bleeding problems. I keep reminding him to watch for signs of internal bleeding and monitoring his skin for new areas of bruising. It’s just another thing I can manage to an extent, but don’t have any real control over. I’ve taken care of patients whose numbers were so high I was afraid even to breathe on them, lest I cause them to bleed.

Naturally, I don’t want that to happen to Will, but the specter of the blood clots in his lungs also looms large. Ten years ago when I was working in the hospital, a patient in such a condition would be put on bed rest and set up with a heparin IV drip; nowadays, they let people walk around and have their nurse-wives give them injections that make their bellies sore and give rise to bruises of amazing colors and sizes.

Meh….now I’ve got that silly “Pina Colada” song stuck in my head. Maybe I should make myself a (virgin) Pina Colada and pretend I’m at the beach, chilling out with some Jimmy Buffett on the stereo and searching for my last shaker of salt. Except salt doesn’t go with Pina Coladas. What the hell, maybe I’ll top it off with an Ativan chaser. Now THERE’S some stress relief!

 

 

This morning I sifted through the blog posts I’ve written over the past year in order to piece together some sections for my book. I came across a post titled “Trust” which was written in the early days of my … Continue reading →

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Philosophy class, Political Science class, volunteering ten hours a week; three blog posts each week, study six hours per week, seeking writing opportunities, laundry, vacuuming, dusting, mopping, dishwashing, psychiatrist visits, therapist visits. AAAAAAAAHHHH! I’m feeling damned overwhelmed. I watch students who take a full class load, plus work full time and get good grades. I […]

The post Time Mismanagement appeared first on Insights From A Bipolar Bear.

I don't know how I manage it, but I continue to scrape my useless ass up off the bed around 5am, throw on some clothes in the dark, and go make a pot of coffee. I even mentally and emotionally sort of prepare myself for the bitchiness of a "non-morning person". As if that's an acceptable excuse at this age. There's no point in me trying to sleep through the spouse's 5am alarm and his morning noises anyway, so I get up, even if I'm exhausted, or am waking from a dream, thinking that it's someone else next to me! D'oh! That happens on rare occasion, and I normally don't know who that person is or is supposed to be. I am under the impression that he has begun to resent the fact that I don't (can't) work.

Somehow I managed to get through the wee morning hours with the grouchy ass spouse. Even though he called in to work and said he was going to be late, just so he could take his time getting out of here. He complained about work. Because of the holiday, it's only a 4-day work week.

Something ugly is growing inside, and wants attention from me. I am trying to avoid it.

They were let off early today as well, so I was caught sitting on the couch, still in my post-treadmill stinkiness and mess. At least I managed to force myself and beat yesterday's "record" without a problem. It's getting harder and harder for me to mentally force myself on the treadmill, but easier for me once I'm on it and make sure I'm watching something that will really take me away, no matter how many times I've seen it ("Supernatural" this time). I can't wait for the latest season to come out on DVD, even though I really can't afford it. Put it on the credit card and make the spouse pick up the interest fees as payback.

Speaking of finances, I remembered the last huge statement that one of the psychologists I was seeing (and stopped) sent me, thinking, "what if I fucked up and owed the fucker some money?" So very very very reluctantly, I went through the huge piles of bills again, his pages of statements, and remembered the fact that he cashed the last check I sent. I figured out that it looked like I actually overpaid, and that he owed me money, so I wrote a neutral note this time (haha), and am sending it along with parts of statements he sent me. He's an idiot, and I thing he pretended that he had an accountant in the first place. He didn't look like he could afford such luxuries, especially working less than 40hrs pw, I noticed.

I noticed it was dark this morning, and I realized I could maybe get out in the early mornings again. What's really fucking sad was that the last time I did it alone is recorded on a starschmucks card, showing a transaction from the last week of April! I saw it when I was finally adding some stars to the account, and checking on the value of a card I found. I almost burst into tears, but it was just too incredibly shocking and pathetic. It could be wrong, but probably not. They stopped printing bags with the "free coffee" offer trade-in for the bag. Cheapass motherfuckers. It is still really fucking sad that I can't remember the date that I last got out by myself. It must have been early May, using a coffee bag.

I'm considering going out tomorrow morning, but I really want to make it up the street a few more blocks to the drugstore, to pick up a couple of notebooks for journals since I can't use this computer. It would be light by then, at 8, according to the weather channel hourly reports (yeah, OCD about weather reports and being prepared) and it looks like it will be a bright day. I can't handle that shit, and I know it. I don't know know... maybe with a mouthful of my prescribed clonazepam for the day, a cigarette, sunglasses, ipod, and a hoodie? Who knows. I'll only know how I can do it, or if I can do it tomorrow. Fuck.

I'm off to shower before reading in bed. That will surely knock me out. I'll be up early again, trying not to wake that "something ugly" that seems to be growing inside. Maybe I can drown it out with coffee or distract it by making it outside? I've still got credit on that supid coffee card and need to use it.

Dread. Better go find my solar-powered watch for the person who never goes outside before I forget it's near the window and "lose" it... 

This is my baby.

She’s 17 years old.

She’s one of the best coping mechanisms that I have for dealing with all the stresses that bipolar and OCD cause me. When I’m having a bad day she helps calm me down. When I’m seriously on edge she’ll just curl up like this with me and purr her little heart out to tell me that everything is okay. (Yes, I know that cats don’t purr for those reasons. But still, it’s all fine and I’ll attribute that to it, and it helps me fine that way) And her being close and curled up with me just helps me quite a bit.

I don’t know what I’d do without this little snuggle-bug in my life. She makes my life better in so many ways.