Daily Archives: November 3, 2015

Fifth Grade Math

My young one is asking me questions about fifth-grade math, and I don’t know how to help he her. I feel so helpless. Anything beyond long division is beyond me now. I don’t even know basic algebra anymore.

I’ve never liked numbers–my mom tells me it took forever for me to learn them compared to the alphabet. ANd I believe it. My middle one has a math-and-science brain, so I’m looking for her to do well in life. She wants to become some type of engineer. SO we are happy about that. My husband has a math brain, particularly about money. So he’s an accountant. Usually my youngest doesn’t need help with her math homework either, so today is unusual.

I went to see my therapist today.  We talked about BOb going off on his trip next week.  She wanted to know how I felt about that I told her I was generally okay with it but wondered by it was so sudden. It’ll be a good chance to meet up with my mom and dad without him and dad being antagonistic.  So we will see.

Had a dental cleaning too,  Not much fun.  But I had no cavities, so that is a good thing.  I really hate going to the dentist. Nothing against them personally–I’ve always hated the dentist.  So that was my morning.   SO the rest of the day has to be better than that :)

Splitting the Dose


I didn’t think this would come in handy, but there you go. *whistles*

One thing that Dr. K made clear to me last time I saw her is that if I wanted to, I could take my Seroquel morning and night to try and keep things smoothed out. I hadn’t really thought about it until last night, and then again this morning when something disturbed by equanimity before I could even get caffeine in me. I’d commented on it to my husband, and then went ahead and took 200 of the 500mg I had in my pillbox for this evening.

So of course, care to guess who was living in Cloud City all day? Yeah… it’s not been great. I commented to my husband again that I should probably not repeat it because man, fog upon fog. He pointed out wisely that I was technically with a bit too much in my system right now, and that I should give it a bit more time to see if it does any good. I’ve taken my 300mg and am going to top it up with with some melatonin, so fingers crossed it does me good tonight.

Equanimity aside, I’ve been feeling a bit low lately anyways. I’m torn between wondering whether I should ask for a change in my meds now, or wait until I get my next appointment through and ask then. I’m thinking a bit more Zoloft might be called for, but I’m not sure that it’s bad enough to warrant worrying about it yet. Y’all know how it is, rowing this same patch of wossitdoodle. I’m probably more depressed than I realise, but what can I do about it? Oh wait, that’s what I was talking about.

Anyways, we’ll see how that goes. I mainly just wanted to take a second to check in and note that I shifted when I was taking the Seroquel around so that I would hopefully remember to think on it more later.

Hope y’all out there are well.


Oh Lordy, It’s H. Pylori!

Wow, just when I feel like I’m really cookin’ with gas, I find out that I am actually cookin’ with gas!  H. Pylori, to be exact.  A stomach infection!  What the holy hell??  An innocent little appointment with the gastroenterologist to check in and say, Hi, I haven’t been able to go without this here proton-pump-inhibitor for fourteen years, that’s all!  My primary care physician says that’s kind of a long time.  For someone who achieved her first ulcer at four years old, I say, fourteen years is not that bad.  BUT!  Allegedly, it’s not good to turn off all of the proton pumps in the stomach!  What the fuck do I know?  So, the gastroenterologist says, let’s do a few blood tests!  Let’s do an upper endoscopy (scheduled for next week).  I, being a person who loves to give up my blood and loves medical procedures even more, said sure!

So, I got a call back saying hey! You have H. Pylori, an infection in the stomach!  Let’s get you on some antibiotics!  No, not one antibiotic!  Not even two!  You get to take THREE antibiotics!  Because you never get enough yeast infections!!  Let’s go for total certainty!!  So, I am on three antibiotics.  I AM SO LUCKY!!!  All those good microbes I was trying to cultivate in my gut with super-expensive probiotics should be wiped out in the next few hours.  My guts keep gurgling ominously.  There may be an explosion in my near future.  Is that TMI?

I’ll tell you one side-effect of H. Pylori that I did not get: WEIGHT LOSS!!  H. Pylori, you bitch!!!  How could you deny me that?????  I swear, my body doesn’t even do sick right!

Well I am off to the dentist to drain my bank account. I have some really good looking chompers, but man!  They cost me thousands of dollars a year.  If they ever find my dead body somewhere and go for dental identification, they’ll say “This fucker sure wasted a lot of money on her mouth!”  I just thank Jugdish that I have the money to do it.  For now, anyway.  I’m gonna go eat a peach.  Ow!  The pit!  That’ll be another seven hundred dollars . . .

Filed under: bipolar sick, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar

Bipolar Disorder Infographic

The Highs & Lows of Bipolar Disorders. Nothing new, just a new name for Manic Depressive. Then 5,000 number of years ago that manic-depressive disorder was documented. Now 5.7M adult Americans affected by bipolar disorder (or 2.6% of population) today. 25 average age for beginning of bipolar disorder. 50/50 men and women get bipolar equally, but women are three times more likely to experience rapid cycling with B.D. Bipolar disorder is 6th leading cause of disability in the world. 9.2 number of years subtracted from your lifespan if you have B.D. 8 in 10 number of those with B.D. who think about suicide at least once in their life. 1 in 12 number of those in general who will think about suicide in their life. A Worldwide Condition. Number of people with bipolar disorder in: Australia = 238,957. UK = 723,248. Germany = 989,095. Canada = 390,094. Iran = 810,038. India and China each have 12 to 15 million people who are bipolar. Cause Unknown (Mayo Clinic). Theories: biological differences in their brains. Neurotransmitter imbalance. An inherited trait. Diagnosis Facts: 70% people with bipolar who receive at least 1 misdiagnosis. 25% people who receive correct diagnosis within 3 years. 23% chance that a child will be bipolar if 1 parent is. 66% chance when both parents are bipolar. Signs and Symptoms: Mania: inflated self-esteem or grandiosity, unusual talkativeness, racing thoughts, distractibility, agitation, unrestrained buying sprees, sexual indiscretions or foolish business investments, unusual behavior with high potential for painful consequences. Depression: depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, such as feeling sad, empty, hopeless or tearful, can appear as irritability, markedly reduced interest or feeling no pleasure, feeling worthless, decreased ability to concentrate or indecisiveness, recurrent thoughts of death or suicide, or suicide planning or attempt, significant weight loss when not dieting, weight gain, or decrease or increase in appetite, either insomnia or sleeping excessively, fatigue. Fact: 25% of those diagnosed with bipolar disorder commit suicide. Getting help: If you think you may hurt yourself call 911. Call a suicide hotline number – in the US call (800) 273-8255 National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK www.suicidepreventionlifelife.org. Use same number, press 1 to reach the Veterans Crisis Line. Other options: Reach out to a close friend or loved one. Contact a minister or spiritual leader. Make an appointment with your doctor, mental health provider or other health care provider. Treatment Options: Medication (mood stabilizers, anti-depressants, anti-anxiety meds), Psychological counseling (psychotherapy), Light and Dark therapy (focus on sleep-wake cycle), Education (managing symptoms) Lifestyle management (avoid alcohol & drugs, minimize stress), Mindfulness meditation, Acupuncture, Electroconvulsive therapy (in the most severe cases), Support (from trained groups, plus family and friends). Famous Celebs with Bipolar Disorder: Demi Lovato – actress, pop singer. Carrie Fisher – actress, Princess Leia, Jean-Claude Van Damme – rugged action star, Linda Hamilton – actress, Terminator 2, Sinead O-Connor – Irish rock star, Vincent Van Gogh – according to Doctor Who, the best artist in the history of the Universe. Brought to you by topcounselingschools.org. Sources: healthresearchfunding.org/40-profound-bipolar-disorder-suicide-statistics, statisticbrain.com/bipolar-disorder-statistics, nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/bipolar-disorder/index.shtml, mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/bipolar-disorder/basics/causes/con-20027544
Infographic by TopCounselingSchools.org


Filed under: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Mania, Mental Illness, Mood Cycling Tagged: Bipolar, depression, infographic, mania

Sneezle weasels

I’ve always tried to “goofify” the grosser or uncomfy parts of being human so my kid laughs instead of screeches in terror. Like rats in the hair? Nope, those are hair ferrets. Ear infection? Nope, those are taters growing in there. Cough? Don’t go swallowing all them crunchy bones cos they gotta be coughed back up..And runny nose and sneezing..

Sneezle weasels. They are kicking my ass today. I was doing okay when I first woke up. I only wanted my sinus pressurized head decapitated a fraction of what I did yesterday. Nose even seemed to have dried up, cough settled down. Maybe that medicine is working…Oh, but no.

One entry into the petri dish to drop her off and the ALLERGIES attack like demented clowns from outer space and my misery starts all over again.

For this reason, I pondered another “fuck it” day because moving about as required to clean involves stirring up dust and bending and getting the drainage all aggravated. Instead I blackmailed myself into doing the cat boxes with “You may not watch this show until it is done.”

So, yeah, it got done, I even started the laundry. Unfortunately, the sneezle weasels have me tied to the tissue box again thanks to the “dust free” cat litter having, well, dust. For fuck’s sake, I’m one step from living in a plastic bubble and I bet my stupid body would find a way to react badly to that.

Seriously when you feel like such shit you can’t enjoy a damned cigarette…it’s cataclysmic and depressing. Smoking is my one joy in life which decreases or manages my stress, robbing me of that is just so fuck off and die, world. (And no lectures on how it’s unhealthy and nasty and like kissing an ash tray, cos personally, I don’t know why all non smokers going around kissing ash trays so they know smokers taste  that way…)

The time change is fucking with me. It’s only 10 a.m. but my internal clock is demanding I go pay rent right now cos I normally have it paid by ten. I have until the 5th, ffs. But I’ve never paid it after the third around noon so I can’t let it slide, no, nope, not one little bit. And after yesterday’s bumper incident…Driving seems pretty fucking daunting and risky to me now. Especially when a random sneezle weasel could attack mid traffic and I could crash into a cement mixer which could pour onto me and encase me in the car…

Okay, drama for humor’s sake,but I seriously am wary.It’s normal, I know, blah blah. Thing is, last time someone smashed into me, I was out and about the whole day, a little shaken but not traumatized. Because I was in a stable mind/nerve place. Right now, I’m a bit like a trainwreck with a plane crash in the mix. When shaky like this, it’s best to limit my exposure to anything that could trigger me. Still gotta pay the rent and fetch the spawn though. Calling Dr. Xanax…

Now, this is in no way a complaint but one of those observations where life throws you a curveball…How is it I get my ductwork fixed so I have heat? And now we’ve got a week of seventy degree weather so I can’t even determine if it’s helping or not? Because it’s warm in here with no heat. Guess making that second appointment for the insulation wasn’t such a bummer, after all. (The guy who got under there said he could not believe how much of it was all loosely connected or completely disconnected, still hoping he doesn’t turn the landlord into city code enforcement, cos then we all be out the in streets. And there’s no indoor plumbing and wifi out there, so nope, no thanks.)

I guess it’s like stroking out for a week in hundred degree weather then you get your AC fixed only for that bitch Mother Nature to swing down into the fifties where the last thing you need or want is air. FFFFUUUUU.

I can’t determine what my mood is cos I have so much sinus congestion I’m not sure I feel anything but a desperate need for my ears to pop. That alone makes “getting on with it” difficult. Like needing to burp. Until it happens, you’re just suspended in miserable lingo going through the motions. Hell, were it not for this sneezle weasel allergy/sinus thing, I might be in a good mood. I can’t tell for my baseline, when physically ill, is to a truly miserable pain the ass cos I can’t deal with this kind of weakness. I’m used to the mental shit. Physically, I’ve always been healthy as a team of oxen hopped up on Red Bull. Getting my ass kicked by some sneezing and a runny nose pisses me off. Badasses do not have runny noses and cough until it hurts so bad they want their mommy.

Stupid asinine pissy little physical ailments turning me into a wuss.

And don’t think it went uncommented by R-sole when I declined Mangoritas and told him how shitty I was feeling. “I guess you won’t be willing to come in and do me a favor…I’ll just get Mark.”

No, “Are you okay?’ No snarking, “No booze, you must be dying!”

Nope just that disappointed father thing like me getting a sinus infection is inconvenient to his needs, business and social. What the fuck ever.

I haven’t had my meds yet today as I ran out and forgot to drop the script off yesterday.Truthfully, a part of me wants all but Xanax to fuck off and die. I mean, all the cool kids are declaring themselves cured without meds, I should just jump on the band wagon, right? Except I tried that, many times, for the same stupid reason, and guess what? Some of us can’t do without mood stabilizers or anti depressants. It may make us less fun, less creative, more mundane yet for those of us who have suffered diagnosed bipolar for ten plus years…We know that for whatever that manic buzz is worth, however long it might last and revive us…There are too few bridges left to burn, all courtesy of undiagnosed bipolar and the raving manic episodes.

So much to my own chagrin, I will go get my meds like a good little girl and choke them down and accept that…much as I want to write and be miss social fucking butterfly (or at least, ya know, take my kid to see a movie without puking)…I can’t afford anymore “off my meds, all cured” delusions of grandeur. I envy those who can. Because likely it means you weren’t at all bipolar but misdiagnosed because doctors hand bipolar for moody adults like they do ADHD for hyper kids. Sometimes, moody is just moody.

But for me…this is the ugly reality. I’ve got no chances left to go off the rails. And I guess the fact that even amidst a soul crushing depression and crippling anxiety period, I can admit I need those soul killing meds, means in spite of whatever is wrong with my brain chemically…I’ve grown up enough to realize what is necessary. Not what is best or what is fun or what is right for Kimmy-Kong and Lamey Amy…

and FYI, don’t anyone go taking that rant personally cos it ain’t about you. It’s about me, always has been. I see others doing well without the plethora of meds and I want to be them, because damn  it, I am smart and strong and I am a badass and if they can go off their meds, and be good, then I should be able to, as well…But I can’t. And because I’ ve grown up so much, I won’t.

Just know those who can do it…I envy you. Bad as my life with meds is…it is so much worse without them. Just ask anyone who’s been around unmedicated me. Oh, wait, you can’t cos I ran them all off with my insanity.

Yep.Pills. Refills. No thrills.

I guess if I want thrills I’m gonna have to go old school like Beavis and Butthead and find some hallucinogenic toads to lick.

Maybe the toads will make friends with the sneezle weasels and have some sneezeltoadsels.



[New Post]: Welcome SA blogger, Bipolar to Happiness aka Kerri Williams

Bipolar to Happiness is a successful South African Blogger who shares her story with us. You can follow her on her blog, on twitter (@bipolartohappy) and on her Facebook page. Fifteen […]

Ah yes, another doctor’s appointment, another fiasco!


Here we go again! I had an appointment with a new endocrinologist, Dr P, my first appointment. I got there on time, signed in. I was called in to the examining room by a young woman with bright red braids. She signed in to the computer, looked at me and said “How do I know you have thyroid problems?” I said I have Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, I’ve been treated for it for the last three years. She said: How can you prove you have this? I told her my TSH was 102 (the normal is 0.2 – 5) when I was diagnosed, I am on 125 micrograms of Synthroid. She said: Do you have any paper work, any ultrasounds, any scans? I said no, I wasn’t told to bring any, if I had been told to bring those, I would have. But I do have a thyroid condition. She said this doctor will not see me unless I give her the number of a doctor who can provide substantiation. So I gave her the name of my psychiatrist, Dr. E and his phone number, because he recommended this doctor to me. She sent me back to the waiting room. A few minutes later, she came out in the middle of the full waiting room and announced “That is the number of a psychiatrist, we need the number of a real doctor.” What?! A psychiatrist IS a real doctor, I exclaimed! She said no, a real physical doctor. I again reiterated that a psychiatrist is a real doctor who treats real illnesses. I told her I do not want to speak with you anymore, I want to see the doctor I came to see. She said he will not see me unless I give her the name of a real doctor. So I gave her the number of my old endocrinologist and she left. I just sat there, fuming by now, what the hell is this, intimidation and blackmail central? I considered just walking out, but I stayed to see what this new doctor would be like. Then I saw this new doctor, I explained to him how I’d been treated and he simply laughed me off.

Wow! Here is me, an unsuspecting person, coming to see this doctor for the first time and this is how I get treated! There are so many things wrong here that I don’t know where to begin!

Ok, first off, you do not challenge a patient to prove that they have an illness! Why the hell would I be wasting my time in crummy, crowded waiting rooms talking to idiotic women whose iQ is probably borderline moron, if I didn’t absolutely have to.

Secondly, you do not come into a waiting room full of strangers and announce that I have given you the number of a psychiatrist! I mean yes, I blog about my illness, and if I choose to tell the whole waiting room that I see a psychiatrist, that is my business. But, and this a big but (haha) you with your idiotic red braids and rude manner do not have the right to announce it on my behalf. Ever heard of HIPA? And anyway, no doctor is going to give you my information over the phone unless I have signed a release, which I had not.

Three, so a psychiatrist is not a real doctor! Then, by extension, the illnesses he treats are not real illnesses. WTF are you saying here and what century are you living in, the 6th century?

Four, the doctor laughing me off! Really? Your staff is obnoxious, rude, confrontational, doesn’t respect my privacy, and you are going to laugh me off?

Just writing all this down is upsetting the hell out of me again. Damn! I mean really?

So here’s what I’m going to do about it, I am going to write to this doctor about the unprofessional, disgusting, rude way I was treated. He works at Norton hospital. I am also going to cc this letter to the CEO of said hospital. That is all I can do. If they have any professionalism and ethics at all, I should receive an apology. I am not a vindictive or even a negative person, but something like this can not be simply forgotten. Something has to be done about it.

And obviously, I am not going to see him again. Aaaaaarrrrggghhhh! Can I not get a break with all these morons with MD and DDS degrees and their inept, moronic employees?

Ok, I’m done. I’m going to do some deep breathing now, maybe watch some Golden Girls and get over this nasty episode, yet another nasty episode. Geeez! I’m seriously leery of going to see anymore doctors.

Oh and I am going to enlighten my psychiatrist about the fact that he is not a real doctor, poor guy was operating under the misconception that he was a real doctor! Hahaha!

And the hits just keep on coming…

So in addition to the sinus/allergy misery and my shrink basically causing my hope to sHrivel up and die..I thought I’d grab a sammich before I fetched Spook from school.

Instead my car got rear ended at this clusterfuck spot on the main drag cos some assfuck in front of me put on their brakes, I put on mine, and the girl behind me drove right into my bumper.

At which point EVERY anxiety trigger starts screaming in my head.




Fortunately aside from her plate holder being bent,there was no damage as it was more a bump than a slamming hit. We showed insurance cards to prove we were both covered but as no damage was actually done and we both had to get our kids…No need to call the cops or insurance company. She was very cool about it, cos ya know, even if I’d done the instant braking on purpose the law says whoever hits you from the rear is responsible. We shook hands and went on our ways.

I was rattled beyond words. Why oh why when I get that bad juju vibe in my gut do I insist on “pushing my boundaries outside the comfort zone”? If it feels off, follow your fucking gut, not the asstrash know nothing professionals.

Suffice it to say, I went to get my kid and came straight home and now…I don’t want to drive. Ever. Again. No, no, no. Too much random potential and the car belongs to Satan herself and…

Throw this sinus agony into the mix and…I even turned down free Mangoritas cos I just feel that damned shitty.

My self esteem can’t take many more beatings. I will either sink into quicksand or go ballistic with a nail gun. Seriously, I am reaching my breaking point here. And as a matter of fact, just because it all hasn’t killed me, it has NOT made me stronger. It has made me a fucking train wreck who can’t talk on a damned phone or socialize or even enjoy a walk outside.

I am just gonna write this day off cos we all know if you feel sick physically as well as mentally, there’s really nothing to be done but sleep and hope it reboots the brain by morning.

On one final ending note…I WANT A BOX OF PUFFS WITH LOTION. I’ve been through two generic boxes of tissue today and now my nose looks like Rudolph’s and feels like I took sandpaper to it. Guess I only become a princess when the cheap stuff causes me pain.