Daily Archives: January 2, 2018

Bye-Bye, Jobbie-Poo!

Well, I have to say that my first sojourn back into the 9-to-5 working world pretty much sucked balls!  Based on all the bullshit that happened prior to the job starting, I had some idea that this was a fucked-up company, but I truly had no idea that they would literally have me sit on my ass and spin for eight hours a day.  I’m sorry, that’s just not how I roll.  I need to work for my money.  What a complete and total clusterfuck this company was, I say!

After last week, when I honestly and truly ran out of bullshit things to do, things I made up for myself to do, I was so dreading going to work today, that I actually got depressed yesterday!  That is just so totally uncalled for.  So today, as I sat, and sat, and sat, I wrote a fantasy email to the boss that said something like “Look, I have nothing to do.  I know my contract goes to the end of next week, but unless you give me something to do, I think today or tomorrow should be my last day.”  Well, once the fantasy email was written, it was only a matter of hours until it was sent.  Then the boss came back with an email trying to make it sound like he was firing me!  “Uh, I spoke to Katie (account manager) and we agreed that today is your last day.”  Um, duh?  So, whatever.  I logged my time and picked up my belongings and said hey!  I have one hour.  Then the boss walked over and said there was no need for me to stay until the rest of the day, to get my things and go.  Yes, sir!  Fuck you very much!  And I was out of there like a flash!

My whole drive home was spent saying FUCK YOU to that company and that asshat of a boss.  My oh my did it feel good to leave there!!!!!

Suffice to say, I am not enthused about looking for another job.  But if I could just get a job where they put me to work!!!  I think I would be ok.  This has kind of pounded my self-esteem a bit though.  Dammit, life is just not easy sometimes.

Hope your week has started off with a BANG! too, but maybe a good bang!!  I guess this is ultimately a good bang!!  Now it sounds like I’m talking about sex.  Oh whatever.  Peaches!!

Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar and Work, Bipolar Depressed, Bipolar Disorder, Psychology, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Blogging, Depression, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Hip, Hip, Hurray for Christmas Vacation!

Hello, dear readers, and Happy New Year!

My family and I just got back from our 18-day vacation in the Caribbean, Disney World and Sea World, and boy are we tired. We didn’t even stay up till midnight to usher in the new year. But it was truly the trip of a lifetime, like three vacations in one, and what a time we had! We swam in the sea on Grand Turk…shopped in the Dominican Republic…explored Curacao…walked through the streets and took in the sights of Oranjestad, Aruba’s capital city. Then it was five days at Disney World (and there’s a story about my clumsy ass that’s kind of long, but it’s a really good story) and we finished with a full day at Sea World before flying back home.

That’s not to say there weren’t a few hitches. I came down with bronchitis on the very first day of the cruise, and I must have been running on pure adrenaline because in spite of all the coughing and wheezing, I only missed one day of our Caribbean adventure. If I’d been home, I’d have been sick as a dog. Several other family members acquired the crud as well, but we didn’t give in to it until the limousine ride home, where we all just sort of wilted.

Now, the story about the first night at Disney. We were all parked in front of the Cinderella Castle waiting for the fireworks and light show when Shelley and I decided we needed to use the restroom. There were what seemed like millions and millions of people and we had to fight our way to the bathroom in Tomorrowland. I never made it, because I tripped over something in the dark and fell, hard, on my right side. At first I thought I’d just scraped my leg and went on as if nothing had happened, when my son said, “Mom, you’re bleeding.” I said something along the lines of “It’s OK, I’ll clean it up when I get to the bathroom.” He stopped me and repeated himself emphatically, “No, Mom, you’re BLEEDING!”

I looked down and saw that he was right. Actually, I was gushing. My shoe and sock were literally full of blood. I squished over to what turned out to be a break room for the cast members, who were aghast at the sight of my lacerated leg and called the medics. In the meantime I was trying to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on the wound, which was pretty much useless as I continued to hemorrhage. When the medics got there, even they almost panicked and insisted that I go to the hospital. Of course I didn’t want to go to the hospital, I just wanted them to put a few steri-strips on the cut and let me go back to the festivities. But then I got a good look at it and knew a bandage wasn’t going to fix things; even so, it was Christmas night and I didn’t want to spend it in an ER. So I reiterated my objections, but the medics came right back with, “You’re going to the hospital. We’ve already called the ambulance to take you.”

Then commenced a wild wheelchair ride through the crowds, with the medics commanding people to get out of the way as they rushed me to the waiting ambulance. At one point during the drama, we passed by the area where I’d bled and there were workers spraying bleach all over the place. It must’ve been 50 feet between the place where I fell to the break room where I’d been evaluated, and I knew they were scrubbing the floor as well because I’d gushed blood all over it.

Long story short, I missed the fireworks show. Instead, I spent the entire evening in the ER getting 22 stitches and being upset that I’d ruined my shoes and kept the family from seeing the fireworks too. (I did finally get to use a restroom, thank goodness.) I think I was more worried about that than the leg. But by this time, I was beginning to find the humor in the situation and had Ethan take pictures of the injury before and after it had been sutured, and I posted them on Facebook. It was incredibly gruesome—it actually looked like I’d been bitten by a shark—and even though he’s a nurse, he got a little woozy when the PA started sewing me up and had to leave momentarily. I found that funny too. But he came back in after composing himself, and the three of us chatted like old friends during the procedure.

Anyway, there’s a lot more to the story of our Christmas Vacation, and I’ll tell it in a future installment of this blog. And even with jet lag and a LOT of overstimulation, I stayed on an even keel mood-wise, making life easier for everyone concerned. Bipolar? What bipolar? 😉


Depression Kills Again

Yesterday my sister texted to inform me her husband’s brother had been found in the basement, dead. He hung himself. This came after he had a nervous breakdown last week and spent time in the psych ward-two whole days, then they released him. Two days later, he killed himself.

I did not know this man, other than to say hey when he periodically appeared at family get togethers. He was two years older than, no previous history of depression, and a week ago he was in my mom’s kitchen, getting a plate of food for Christmas dinner, and today, he is gone. He left behind a devastated family, the second of this woman’s sons to commit suicide. Neither had psych histories. Drug histories, yes. Maybe that factored in. I was just stricken by this news, even though I did not know him well.

They kept him two days in the psych ward. They put him on Zoloft. They sent him home. Despite him telling them he was having visual and audio hallucinations, wanted to die. They sent him home. And now he’s dead. And I am furious with that hospital, and I am furious with mental health care in the United States. Depression is not benign. This is the 4th person I’ve known who has committed suicide. This is an epidemic. And things are only going to get worse, thanks to our current political regime and climate.

People seem to think I focus too much on my psychiatric disorders, as if they are my identity. This is not the case. I am passionate about the topic because so few people are. I want to advocate for better mental healthcare, I want to educate the public, I want people to get their heads out of their asses and realize…depression kills.

It nearly got me this last year.

And the saddest part is that I was under a psych nurse’s care. I was basically being blown off, disregarded, and not helped at all. I started thinking dark thoughts and a lot of them stemmed from her dismissiveness and seeming disbelief in the seriousness of my conditions. Part was the extreme anxiety, which was far worse than 6 years ago when I was left a single mom without a dime to my name.

This nurse didn’t show any interest when I told her about this.

She called me out for drinking and rather than making me want to stop…I wanted to do it more. Why not? If my psych professional doesn’t even believe I am disabled but trying to get better even while going down the drain…why should I want to suffer sober when she made me feel so worthless? And this was mostly before the last appointment, that last one just shoved me against a concrete wall. The day before the appoinment, I wrote “I wish I didn’t have to see this “do you want fries with that’ nurse doc”. My feelings have little to do with being called out for poor decisions. I own those. But a lot of my poor choices have been due to extreme stress, toxic situations, and feeling stuck with a psych professional who made my feelings of desolation more extreme.

It took a week or so for me to come to my senses, and offly it was R, without meaning to do so, made me realize simply be saying, “Does this woman know you?” And she doesn’t I got stuck with her because of their staffing issues and I was afraid to ask to switch back at first lest I be insulting or non compliant. Then when I worked up the courage to ask about switching back, she said she wasn’t offended either way and I thought, well, that’s cool…So I stayed, even though every appointment made me feel worse than the last. And when you have disorders of the mind, it is so easy to villify yourself at every turn. You don’t like someone’s bedside manner, it must be your fault for being disordered in the head.

It was this constant self doubt brought on by her and R, and this newfound level of psychotic anxiety that got me to wake up and realize…”No, she does not know me, I do know me and this is not even close to my norm. I may be out of bed and functioning by I am doing it for everyone but me. I am serving R, I am sleepwalking through being a parent, I get no joy out of life, yet my stress and anxiety level are worse than anything I can remember…”

I did something I don’t advise anyone to do, but I quit Trintellix cold turkey. And within days, I was feeling less anxiety and also, less depressed and more in control of my feelings. How about that? Now it could be a temporary thing from coming off a bad medication and I could go down the rabbit hole in a week or so.

To combat that, I have excised R from my life. He texted me around 11 pm Friday berating me for not agreeing with him that Republicans and Trump are our saviors. He said he credited me with more intelligence than to believe fake news and have an opinion other than his. So the next night when he asked when I was coming back to ‘work’ cos he found this great car for me…It was so easy to tell him I was done. Work, to me, means 40 hours a week, taxes withheld, and I have legal rights against having my intelligence insulted for having different political views. By berating me over something so personal yet expecting me to be his indentured servant…he ensured being told to go to hell. Though I was slightly more circumspect than that about it. Not that it mattered. His response was “You’re not making sense” and “I need the key back so I can find your replacement.”

So today I returned the key and his friend’s wife has taken over my spot. Yay for her. She probably is doing it even for no gas money. And you know, I have never feel more free in my life. All the guilt I thought I would feel…not there. I may be hurting myself in the long run, but as I told his deaf ears, I will never respect myself if I let someone else buy me a car. And by that, I mean, I will never respect myself being under someone’s thumb. Not that he cared. He was miffed by my disobedience but made it very clear how insignificant I am. As if six years without even a Christmas or birthday text didn’t tell me.

Again, I may crash and burn soon. For now..I feel free and stronger and less stressed. I am having less trouble with my kid now that R is no longer sucking the life out of me. And for the psych nurse (or Doctor, as it says on the script bottle) to be so callous and dismissive of how toxic this situation was for me, as well as not recognizing that my entire personality and symptom set had metastasized with this medication…It’s damn near criminal. Now I put in 6 years of off and on servitude trying to keep myself relevant enough to at least have a half assed current reference when I get well enough to work…and because she was of no help, the bridge has been burned and I had to do it. I was heading for a meltdown. A simple note from her saying I was not in medical shape to meet his expectations could have prevented so much stress as well as the negative reference he is going to give, even if not asked…No amount of therapy could have made that situation better, only a psychiatric professional could have given me a legit escape route. She may have thought she was giving tough love but what she did was force me to burn a bridge when I was fully prepared to take the mature route and give notice and all that. He pushed me with the insults to my intelligence, but it was ultimately her lack of support or even concern that resulted in everything going to hell.

It’s done now, I am free, and I am doing better. No thanks to her.

And my sister’s marital in law’s suicide really help put things into perspective for me. I only have so much energy, as most of us with mental conditions do.We can only balance so much before the tipping point. I would much rather spend that time on causes that make me passionate, that help others, than being some narcissist’s whipping boy. (girl, whatever.) Maybe I bare some responsibility, though I’m not convinced as I tried to tell him for two months I was melting down. He just wouldn’t hear me and I was waiting for a professional to say, “Maybe this just isn’t the time, I can write a note so he can’t hold it against you.”

I am apparently my only advocate right now and I think I am doing a damn fine job at doing what is best for my mental health. Without a degree.

Feeding The Fire: New Year, Same Issues

Ready. Set. Sail! There’s this weird unsteadiness I get whenever I think about my blog. It feels almost unnecessary but at the same time crucial to the bipolar community. I write mostly about a symptom hardly anyone on the planet has. Heck, some days, I don’t even believe it. Maybe I’m just weak. Maybe it’s … More Feeding The Fire: New Year, Same Issues

A New Day

Well now it’s my second day of writing on my blog again.  Finding stuff to talk about might be difficult but I am going to try.

My mood has improved over the last while. I think the mixture the doctor gave me is finally working. Though my insurance company is giving me grief about the rexulti so it should be interesting how I’m going to be continuing to take it, I hate to play full price or have to depend on samples. I hate it when things are out of my hands.  I’ll know in the next few days.

Otherwise I’m excited to see what this year brings. Now if it wasn’t so damned cold.  I don’t think I could get my hubby to go out let alone go out myself as I don’t have a winter jacket. Time to shop on amazon and get a coat I guess.

I’ll be back tomorrow.



Making Progress

Already making progress on submitting things in the new year–I’ve sent out five submissions so far.  We will see how things go.

I coughed a reflux cough last night.  I was up until 3:30 or so trying to get to where I didn’t; wake the house up coughing.  The frustrating thing is that I would quit coughing and then go to bed and once I relaxed enough to go to sleep, I would start coughing again.

The two oldest are trying to pack up with stuff to go back to school and to the co-op job.  THe middle one is a little bit of a wreck over it and doesn’t want my help.  I think reality is setting in for her

Hopefully my class will make and they will be good students.  I am waiting on four more to sign up but would welcome more than that.  Enough for good discussions.   But I will just have to wait on that.

I am still stuffy as well but not as bad as earlier.  i think I am on my way up from all of that.  Now fi we can just get Bob healthy too that would be great.

Here’s to everyone shaking off the winter doldrums and having a happy January!


Penny Positive #42

From An Optimist’s Calendar

(We’re half-way through my stack of Penny Positives.  Some days I think they’re just too obnoxious.  Some days I need to see them to remember life can be more than my currently distorted view.  It’s -16 degrees this morning, but I’m making myself get out of my pajamas and go walk in the Y’s warm water.  I’m on a Difficult Road at present, and waiting for that beautiful pay-off.)

The act of being observed

Just hear me out here. Ive been through some crazy shit these last few months, but we’ll get to that in another post. Lets just say my level of anxiety is beyond out of control.

Just today, Ive taken 2 klonopin (I had almost weened myself totally off them), choked down a teaspoon of Kratom, smoked by CBD vape, done breathing exercises, cuddled myself in a dark blanket fort, took a long hot shower with loud music – all to handle a day of…nothing.

Look, I know I’m my own harshest critic, and that I perceive being judged even when I’m not, but when the judgement and criticism keeps getting dropped around like fairy dust I can’t take my mind. I live in fear of moving, breathing, any perceptions – even if I know I’m doing what is best for my life.

I need to be living on my own again. Bless my mom for taking me in, I love her and she’s amazing, but I need to breathe. Even tonight, locked in the bathroom screaming along to Alanis Morisette, finally starting to relax muscles spasming from stress and breathe enough to lower my pulse below 110 for the first time all day, in an instant it was all replaced with “Mom’s going to realize this is weird, she’s going to know I’m upset and there’ll be questions, I need to get upstairs to take my meds, don’t cry…” and when I got upstairs, quietly got in a nice nightie, and stuck an ice pack on my head (this week’s therapy advice is that extreme changes in temperature can quickly decrease intense emotions) I of course got the concerned “Are you ok? You seem to be having a tough day…” and all I wanted to do was scream LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!

How messed up is that?

In the same instant I want to collapse right there on the floor and bawl and beg to be held.



New Year’s Resolutions

Love more Worry less Exercise more Eat better Laugh more Stay stable Finish my memoir…