Daily Archives: June 25, 2015

Buh bye evil trileptal

Ding dong, the wicked witch is dead. Or at least I convinced the shrink to take me off that nasty Trileptal and he agreed, though he was going for the increased dose bit and I shut him down. My kid was a perfect angel, quiet, played on her LeapPad, making me look like a drama queen liar declaring herself the mother of devil spawn yet showing up with an angel. Bloody hell, that kid lives to troll me. But I was grateful.

I took out my papers. He didn’t show any interest in seeing them. I made a good case. He raised my Xanax by 0.5, which is a relief. Everything else stays the same. I see him again in a month, by which time he’ll determine if the Cymbalta stays or goes. The issue of Lithium was tossed out and I said, “I really, really don’t want to do that.” To which he said, “You really can’t control that.” Comforting for a control freak to be told one more thing out of her control.

I told him,as he referenced my many med failures again, that I felt like he was giving up on me and not taking me seriously. He assured me he does take me seriously, he is not giving up on me, and I am not his worst med resistant patient by a long shot. Honestly, I felt like he heard me out on some stuff. Other stuff, it was like he steered away or dismissed. Like side effects. The one thing we kind of need these professionals to understand are a major factor in us being compliant with the med treatment.  I told him about how hazy I am and how I let my kid out looking like a rag muffin, that I am overwhelmed. Hopefully saying buh bye to the Trileptal will help. If this haze is my new state of being, I may as well give up now. This is ass trash.

Today has been unmotivated feel shitty do nothing day. I haven’t showered in two days. I just now dry shaved  my legs for the first time in a week. I did do dishes last night, then I had no energy to cook supper for myself. Not that it matters as I gained a ton of weight since my last appointment and my give a fuck has left the building. I don’t eat that much, liquids are my problem. I’ve cut down soda intake but started guzzling sweet tea. Whatever. I’m too broken to care how I look anyway. I even took in pictures of myself during stable periods to show the doctor that what he’s seeing now…is not me. I mean, I haven’t dyed my hair in months so my gray roots are in your face and I have the dye…Just not give a damn. I think about doing it. Just can’t make it happen.

Kind of like how making my kid a Nutella sandwich without crust seems as taxing as climbing a mountain. I don’t even know what this is. Every time I think I’ve seen the rock bottom of the mental illness spectrum, I find myself in an even worse mind state. All the med changes and bad reactions over four months probably has my wiring more fucked up. Feels hopeless at this moment. I know I’m just “hungover” from all the time in the dish with the doctor appointments and dealing with R. Yes, it’s a thing, hangovers from dealing with the dish of petri. It takes too many sporks. Leading to a sporkless day like today where I lolled in bed, awake, but shielding my aching head from light while my kid bounced around me with her Elsa doll that shrieks that godforsaken chorus from “Let it go.” Yes, mommy needs no light and low noise, so let’s get this doll with no volume button in her face and wonder why she’s grumpy.

Though I’m starting to wonder if grumpy has become my default setting. Guess the next four weeks will tell. Get the trileptal gone for good, keep doing the split Cymbalta thing, take Xanax more regularly now that I can do it without feeling like a druggie abusing them. All I can do is muddle through.  I even voiced my concerns to him yesterday about the seasonal affect thing and he said we wouldn’t let it get that bad, we’d do something preemptive. He tossed out Wellbutrin since it allegedly helps seasonal depression, and I think I was on it once before but it made me too groggy. I dunno. It was one of the better appointments, least I didn’t walk out wishing he’d get hit by a bus full of Juggalos.

I am contemplating cooking myself a decent supper. I’m still not feeling it. My head still hurts. But hey, my kid has actually been turned down to four today. That always helps. And it occurs to me…I’m nearly four weeks done with summer vacation and she hasn’t driven me to the Rubber Ramada yet. Little victories.

In other news…Juju popped out five kittens during the night. Two of them are bobtails like Voodoo. And she seems to be taking to the first time mom thing okay. Unlike Nightshade who has had five litters, no fewer than four a pop, and only two of hers have survived because she is a shit mother. One would think the newbie kitties would have me higher than a kite since they’re like heroin for me. The fact I can’t even work up some joy and just keep thinking, fuck, more mouths to feed and find homes for. Not pessimism, just so overwhelmed.

So…no more evil trileptal. More Xanax. Four weeks to straighten out and see if this current regime will take. I’d do about anything to avoid Lithium. All the blood work does me in, can’t stand going to the hospital for the blood draws. Needles don’t bother me, it’s all the people. Icky. And it’s not that I am anti social. I just can’t handle too much people contact, the cost is too high for me.

Sad thing is, I’ve been in this dark mind space so long, I want to go off all meds just to spark a manic episode and FEEL something positive. I won’t do it, but damn, I want to. I hate feeling so apathetic, so numb, so dead.

Shit. Just occurred to me today is R’s birthday and I didn’t even text him. Meh. He doesn’t do that for my birthday. You get what you give with me. Besides, it’s not like I want to engage with others even minimally today, I just feel socially obligated.

Damn social programming is the bane of my existence.


Today has been a runaround day.  Luckily Rachel remembered tutoring was earlier than usual today so we got there on time, then my daughter called to say my daddy had dropped by in his hot rod–he was in Jackson to get hearing aides and came by to visit.  He didn’t stay long enough for us to get to see him; he went on to the Veterans Affairs Medical Center.  I can only imagine the stares he’s getting around town driving that car.  (If you’re in Jackson, be on the lookout for a star-spangled old-timey car and wave if you see him).  We had to go to the store because I forgot an ingredient for dinner tonight, then we tried to go to the pool, but I realized we wouldn’t get back in time to be able to get ready for ballet practice.  So we turned around.  Protests all around.  But that’s the way life is sometimes.

Reading one of the books for my class–it’s identified as semi-autobiographical by the author but is simply so much drivel.  I can already write better than this woman can.  It’s outrageous.  I won’t say more because I don’t want to give it more attention than it deserves.  I’m just going to finish it and move on to the next one.

I need to refill one of my meds today.  So add that to the list of stuff to do.  I go to the pharmacy at least once a week for my various meds.  I feel like I should get a punch card–fill it with visits and get a scrip for free as often as I’m there.  Or something.  They know me by name there now.

Still so tired all the time.  We will see what happens as the rest of the day unfolds.  Have to go do a ballet bun now.  Have a good weekend!

This is my house.

Kitt O'Malley:

The Bloggess Jenny Lawson’s post This is my house blew me away with its wisdom about self-care and setting limits. She gets a myriad of requests to write about various causes and responds “I just can’t,” and:

“This is my house. You are welcome here. You are wanted. You are allowed to leave links of posts or articles you think this community would say “Oh, I needed that” to. You are welcome to talk and visit and make friends and to realize that each of us is flawed and human and (in the grand scheme of things) knows nothing. Because I’ve come to know that the only thing I really know is we could all do with a little more kindness. Both in giving and getting.” ~ The Bloggess Jenny Lawson

Jenny’s post is long, but well worth reading.

Originally posted on The Bloggess:

The greatest gift in the world is to grant a kindness to another. The amazing thing though is that the aforementioned gift is one you give yourself. It may be a small thing. Leaving a flower for the tired woman at the coffee shop. Telling a stranger that they have such kind eyes. Listening happily to a story told by an elderly friend or relative who has told you the same story a million times. Nodding in solidarity even when you don’t completely understand. Letting a friend or a stranger yell hurtful things at you because you hope it will help them let go of a small part of that anger…that it will open up room in them for the greater things that they deserve.

This is the way the world goes. Small, mean acts affect the next person who in turn amplify that anger or sadness and take it out on others who suffer…

View original 2,646 more words

Filed under: About Mental Health, Health Tagged: boundaries, Jenny Lawson, kindness, limit setting, saying no, self care, selfcare, setting limits, The Bloggess

Writing Envy Redux & My Dog Lucy Is Writing A Book!

  My hound Lucy looks twice as focused as this dog when she spots a fly!     I’ve written before about my writing envy. (It wasn’t pretty.) And while I’d love to rhapsodize how much brilliant writing inspires me to better my … Continue reading

Update on My Major Depressive Episode

Update on My Breakthrough Depressive Episode
 In my last blog, I attempted to describe my disappointment that, despite my everyday compliance with bipolar, I still had a breakthrough major depressive episode. I hope I was able to convey the steps I took and the adjustments made by my psych support team.

It’s been a week or two now and I rested and well adjusted. This is amazing to me as my depressive episodes, in recent years, would last much longer. I am able to utilize my skill set tool box appropriately to reset my emotions. Yes, it felt debilitating and yes, I felt like I am fighting a losing battle but, taking immediate action was the right thing to do. The therapeutic support received provided me the encouragement that I can “ride the wave” back to recovery.

I couldn’t be happier that I have the help I need to hop back on my road to recovery. Some of the unconscious skills I used on my own are as follows:

1. I remained compliant with my mode of treatment.

2. My therapist changed my every 2-3 week appointments to weekly. And I concurred ensuring I was there every week despite, my initial dismay.

3. I forced myself to get up, dressed, showered and went outside. I’d sit watching my puppies play, enjoying the flourishing health of my new garden, and being among others in any means I could.

These are just a few initiatives I am doing. I’m sure mediation would be handy. I fear that I may end up becoming distracted and return to beating myself up rather than loving myself. Keeping up with my mood chart may have keep me accountable of my negative thought processes. Again,I fear that rather than adjusting my thinking, I would become more obsessed by the rabbit hole I am in and not the ladder skills to climb myself back out.

I feel well enough to getting back on the everyday horse of recovery. Keep fighting the good fight.And be grateful that this was not a drawn out process that may have easily fallen into disaster. Most importantly, I must continue to believe in myself, accepting that set backs may come along. I know now that I can remain calm and pursue the love and hope I have to recover.

If Physical Health Problems Were Treated like Mental Health Problems

Originally posted on Writing Away the Anxiety:

View original


Today is the day I have been waiting for for about 7 months, and I find that I do not feel relief. I find that I am extraordinarily anxious and scared. Today is the day that I get to tell my side of the Bipolar story. I have no idea who will be there. I […]