The new moon is the time when I set intentions, not only for the rest of the month, but I also reaffirm intentions that I previously expressed to the universe. It's also a time for reflection and review. I've had a good week!
I met three new clients. It is always an interesting adventure meeting someone new. I have a good attitude about my job!
Today I saw the man I used to have a crush on (note past tense) and we had a quick catch-up conversation, followed by a hug. My heart didn't flutter. Without waiting for him to ask, I shared a few things going on in my life. When he shared, I didn't care if he was telling me the truth or not. I am very pleased with myself -- no words of insanity came out of my mouth, no apologies for any previous behavior, no actions that I may later regret. I am calm, cool, and collected!
There are 5% fewer dirty dishes on my kitchen counter. I am a good housekeeper! (Okay, perhaps I am exclaiming about this a bit prematurely, but I figure any size improvement deserves some applause.)
I went to a meeting of the Depression and Bipolar Support group at the local NAMI chapter. Although it wasn't what I expected in that the group consisted of caregivers, loved ones, and interested parties in addition to those of us living the roller coaster life, it was a good experience. It felt so good to feel safe to be myself. NAMI also provides a weekly peer-to-peer group that I will try this week. I am not alone!
On Friday, my church is having a coffee house. I am putting the finishing touches on a short short story that I plan to share. There are some butterflies in my stomach that are emerging from their cocoons. I am proud of myself for doing a reading when I haven't done one in 30 years!
When I went grocery shopping today, I only placed one chocolate item in my buggy. I purchased healthy food. Next week I plan to drop in at the fitness center that I used to belong to and see if I can barter membership again. I am taking good care of my body! (I failed to mention that the wrapping fell off the chocolate item as I walked through my doorway and that lovely dark chocolate morsel has satisfied this hour's sugar craving.)
I discovered that by taking all of my meds at bedtime, I don't have to worry about the possibility of missing them in the morning. So far, so good. I am taking my meds!
Tonight I will light a candle, read my intentions aloud, and head to bed with sweet thoughts that will become sweet dreams. I will sleep well and have lovely, lovely dreams!
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
Welcome back, Zyprexa!
The evidence that I need to be back on Zyprexa continues to accumulate daily.
Yesterday evening someone knocked at my door, I looked out the peephole and didn't recognize the person. Then I heard them go upstairs and I realized it was my neighbor. When she was outside my door I heard her say something along the lines of "her car is here so she must be here."
Where was I? I was in the dark, being as quiet as possible. To my little mind, the only reason that I could think of that a neighbor would reach out to me would be to complain. Something had to be wrong. Maybe I parked too close to their car (can't happen -- there is a barrier between them). Maybe I've been loud when I come in from work late at night (not likely). Maybe I've been making too much noise down here (HA! I watch tv using closed captioning only, use earphones to listen to clips on my computer, and go into the most remote corner of the apartment when I am talking on the phone). And still I worry about disturbing someone and being forced to move. Or worse. Sheesh
Guess whose car wouldn't start this morning because the interior light had somehow been left on? Yep. I have a good Samaritan neighbor and I am a creature who hides in the dark, slinking away to avoid any possible contact with any other living thing. One of the reasons I remain in this apartment complex is because people are so friendly and helpful. But I am hiding out again. I am not using the common facilities. I am not attending the community events. I am in my cave wondering why no one likes me and how I can make amends for wrongs I've done -- or not done. Amends are always seen as unnecessary by other people and I want to slink away. Yes, I've shown my crazy.
Sunday is the beginning of the church year, the ingathering of my Unitarian family. I don't want to go. I want to hide out. I feel that I have let people down. I haven't been able to tithe. I haven't been able to help with any projects or provide assistance in any way. I don't want to see or be seen by the man I had (still not sure about that tense since I can't get him out of my mind) a crush on -- he's seen my hypomania in action "I haven't seen you in soooo long!(putting my hand in his) I'll save our seats. Hey, I want my hug! (putting my all into my half)" I feel like people are mad at me and there's really no reason. I am amazed when people speak with me, but I shouldn't be surprised. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I don't feel like I belong although I have incredible friends there who go out of their way to let me know that they care. I've used the flimsiest of excuses to flake out on a meeting with friends -- the excuses were valid, but I could have pushed myself. I'm ashamed to show my face. They have stood by me when no one else would and I..sheesh.
My father always worked in law enforcement and was subject to changing shifts every few months. At a very early age I learned how to be quiet -- not seen or heard. If I caused a disturbance, if the bear was awakened, I would be punished - spanked with a belt or a switch - hit if I didn't cry and hit if I did. I knew where to hide, knew how to be quiet, and have been spending most of my adult life trying to unlearn those skills that helped me survive. That wasn't paranoia.
Continuing to be fearful is a separate issue and is groundless. Being fearful when there is no evidence that I am in danger or in trouble is sick. I am sick and need my medicine to help me heal.
Tomorrow I get to sleep in late and don't have to work. I have already taken the half tablet (5 mg) of Zyprexa and I'm determined to sleep as long as needed for the drug to work its magic.
Will I be able to continue this? Not sure. It costs so much. Taking it will interfere with being available to work night shifts. I will have to make sure that I have 8 - 12 hours available for sleeping. In a way I will once again feel imprisoned, sentenced to be apart from everyone else because my brain has betrayed me, a prisoner of my meds. But I know that it will help free me from anxiety, worry, fear, terror, the dark thoughts that lead me to seek the dark places.
Yesterday evening someone knocked at my door, I looked out the peephole and didn't recognize the person. Then I heard them go upstairs and I realized it was my neighbor. When she was outside my door I heard her say something along the lines of "her car is here so she must be here."
Where was I? I was in the dark, being as quiet as possible. To my little mind, the only reason that I could think of that a neighbor would reach out to me would be to complain. Something had to be wrong. Maybe I parked too close to their car (can't happen -- there is a barrier between them). Maybe I've been loud when I come in from work late at night (not likely). Maybe I've been making too much noise down here (HA! I watch tv using closed captioning only, use earphones to listen to clips on my computer, and go into the most remote corner of the apartment when I am talking on the phone). And still I worry about disturbing someone and being forced to move. Or worse. Sheesh
Guess whose car wouldn't start this morning because the interior light had somehow been left on? Yep. I have a good Samaritan neighbor and I am a creature who hides in the dark, slinking away to avoid any possible contact with any other living thing. One of the reasons I remain in this apartment complex is because people are so friendly and helpful. But I am hiding out again. I am not using the common facilities. I am not attending the community events. I am in my cave wondering why no one likes me and how I can make amends for wrongs I've done -- or not done. Amends are always seen as unnecessary by other people and I want to slink away. Yes, I've shown my crazy.
Sunday is the beginning of the church year, the ingathering of my Unitarian family. I don't want to go. I want to hide out. I feel that I have let people down. I haven't been able to tithe. I haven't been able to help with any projects or provide assistance in any way. I don't want to see or be seen by the man I had (still not sure about that tense since I can't get him out of my mind) a crush on -- he's seen my hypomania in action "I haven't seen you in soooo long!(putting my hand in his) I'll save our seats. Hey, I want my hug! (putting my all into my half)" I feel like people are mad at me and there's really no reason. I am amazed when people speak with me, but I shouldn't be surprised. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I don't feel like I belong although I have incredible friends there who go out of their way to let me know that they care. I've used the flimsiest of excuses to flake out on a meeting with friends -- the excuses were valid, but I could have pushed myself. I'm ashamed to show my face. They have stood by me when no one else would and I..sheesh.
My father always worked in law enforcement and was subject to changing shifts every few months. At a very early age I learned how to be quiet -- not seen or heard. If I caused a disturbance, if the bear was awakened, I would be punished - spanked with a belt or a switch - hit if I didn't cry and hit if I did. I knew where to hide, knew how to be quiet, and have been spending most of my adult life trying to unlearn those skills that helped me survive. That wasn't paranoia.
Continuing to be fearful is a separate issue and is groundless. Being fearful when there is no evidence that I am in danger or in trouble is sick. I am sick and need my medicine to help me heal.
Tomorrow I get to sleep in late and don't have to work. I have already taken the half tablet (5 mg) of Zyprexa and I'm determined to sleep as long as needed for the drug to work its magic.
Will I be able to continue this? Not sure. It costs so much. Taking it will interfere with being available to work night shifts. I will have to make sure that I have 8 - 12 hours available for sleeping. In a way I will once again feel imprisoned, sentenced to be apart from everyone else because my brain has betrayed me, a prisoner of my meds. But I know that it will help free me from anxiety, worry, fear, terror, the dark thoughts that lead me to seek the dark places.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
My brain was vacuumed overnight
Now that it appears possible that I may be able to afford all my meds (just not all in the same month), I am trying to establish a minimum effective dosage. The Zoloft is best every day, the Lamictal works if only taken every other day, and the Zyprexa is the only unknown factor of my magic mind formula.
A couple of nights ago I took a dose of the Zyprexa and slept deeply. I had trouble awakening at my scheduled time, but managed to get up and muddle through the morning. What lovely, satisfying, issue resolving, liberating dreams I had! Such incredible cleansing sleep!
The down side is that it knocks me out and keeps me out for 10 - 12 hours. If I try to cheat myself of those hours of rest, I spend the day in zombie mode.
So frustrating! I am able to maintain employment, but mostly that is due to the fact that I work short shifts and can control the amount of stress to which I'm exposed. I'm almost in workaholic mode; if I'm offered hours, I almost always accept them. It's the only way I can afford meds. I'm in survival mode and that's enough stress.
But I do need that lovely nocturnal cleanse.
A couple of nights ago I took a dose of the Zyprexa and slept deeply. I had trouble awakening at my scheduled time, but managed to get up and muddle through the morning. What lovely, satisfying, issue resolving, liberating dreams I had! Such incredible cleansing sleep!
The down side is that it knocks me out and keeps me out for 10 - 12 hours. If I try to cheat myself of those hours of rest, I spend the day in zombie mode.
So frustrating! I am able to maintain employment, but mostly that is due to the fact that I work short shifts and can control the amount of stress to which I'm exposed. I'm almost in workaholic mode; if I'm offered hours, I almost always accept them. It's the only way I can afford meds. I'm in survival mode and that's enough stress.
But I do need that lovely nocturnal cleanse.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Paranoia, my old friend...
It's time to talk of you again.
Time to get back on the Zyprexa.
I used a client's computer to write a post and didn't think about clearing the browser's history. ARGH!
So I've begun to worry that someone else who may have used the machine (another caregiver perhaps) has discovered my little secret. This being in the closet business is hard to maintain and keeps me on edge. I worry that people who know me will suddenly treat me differently. Fear me. Reject me. Ignore me. Shun me. Close the door and throw away the key. There's nothing I can do.
How do I explain that the day I learned my diagnosis and the day my son was born have been the two happiest days of my life?
How do I say that the medication just smooths out the ragged edges of my personality? That I am only able to leave home every day because I take my meds? That the world is no longer a terrifying place? That those super enthusiastic, pun cracking, mind-going-mile-a-minute, demonstrably affectionate, face lifted up to soak in the light of the sun or the moon, really excited to be here moments are hypomania? That I am only a danger to myself, not to others? That without the meds I will come up with any excuse to stay away from everyone, to stay in the bed, to ignore the phone and email, to sit in a dark corner hugging my knees or curl up as though awaiting a rebirth? That I was sketched in pencil and the best thing that could happen is to be erased?
Things are starting to get better. And I have committed self-sabotage. I thought I was past that.
Time to get back on the Zyprexa.
I used a client's computer to write a post and didn't think about clearing the browser's history. ARGH!
So I've begun to worry that someone else who may have used the machine (another caregiver perhaps) has discovered my little secret. This being in the closet business is hard to maintain and keeps me on edge. I worry that people who know me will suddenly treat me differently. Fear me. Reject me. Ignore me. Shun me. Close the door and throw away the key. There's nothing I can do.
How do I explain that the day I learned my diagnosis and the day my son was born have been the two happiest days of my life?
How do I say that the medication just smooths out the ragged edges of my personality? That I am only able to leave home every day because I take my meds? That the world is no longer a terrifying place? That those super enthusiastic, pun cracking, mind-going-mile-a-minute, demonstrably affectionate, face lifted up to soak in the light of the sun or the moon, really excited to be here moments are hypomania? That I am only a danger to myself, not to others? That without the meds I will come up with any excuse to stay away from everyone, to stay in the bed, to ignore the phone and email, to sit in a dark corner hugging my knees or curl up as though awaiting a rebirth? That I was sketched in pencil and the best thing that could happen is to be erased?
Things are starting to get better. And I have committed self-sabotage. I thought I was past that.
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