My mind's not broken, but it sure feels stressed. My body is not providing the support needed to keep the cogs well oiled. It's just a little off and I can't nudge it where I want it to go. I would like to visit normal for a while, just a little while. I'm weary.
I have decisions to make, but I hide under the covers rationalizing that if I get more rest, all will be well. Just postponed until I have to jump or be pushed in a direction not of my choosing.
Overwhelmed. Insufficiently medicated...I miss the thyroid medication! Unwilling to commit. Unwilling to trust my own instincts. Wanting to stay inside. Putting on my work face so I can make some money, then putting it in my pocket until it is next needed. My real face feels long, stretching down to the ground, in danger of being tread upon. I don't care if you tread on me! I just don't care right now! I just want to be someplace safe where I can step outside the world for a bit! If I had money, I'd take a vacation, if my workaholic ways permitted. If I allowed myself to feel joy.
This isn't holiday stress/melancholy/blues. This is a different size and a different flavor. I liberated myself from celebrating holidays I no longer wish to acknowledge. There is no pressure, no stress, no drive to create a perfect memory of a perfect day.
Nothing tastes good. Nothing is funny. The outfit I liked no longer appeals to me. The book I was reading has been cast aside. I no longer have a crush. I don't care about taking care of myself right now.
There are a dozen things that I need to finish or start. I don't care. If I had a traditional job, I'd call in with a "flu thing" and hide under the covers a bit longer.
But I drag myself out every day, put on my work face, do what has to be done, then put the work face away. And then crawl back under the covers and pray that this ache will end.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Sunday, November 25, 2012
And there's quicksand at the bottom of the hole
It's pretty clear from the title of this post that I'm not in a celebratory mood nor feel like giving thanks for anything. This year I am alone -- my son no longer lives in the same town, extended family is on the other side of the country, and friends have their own families or friends with whom they have a tradition of sharing Thanksgiving day. Kinda feeling on the outskirts here, but don't really mind all that much.
So I lie to people about how I spent the holiday. "I wasn't alone. I spent the day with some friends." And my nose grows longer with each telling.
I worked part of the day and was on call for the remainder. There is a sad, sad couple who both have dementia and some physical limitations. Thursday morning I helped them get their day started and put together a nice meal for them. They were grateful and that made me feel good, but the holiday pay rate was my focus. Just a mean old mercenary. But that attitude protected me from feeding the depression monster inside me.
At church today we had a guest minister who told a series of anecdotes involving people who learned they were terminally ill and how they died. ARGH!!!!!! I think the point was that we all benefit from living in a state of mindfulness, but I couldn't wait for the sermon to end so that I could give thanks that it was over and run out of the building as fast as possible!
I made the decision to eliminate a significant amount of stress by finding a less expensive place to live. Fortunately, I connected with another woman who lives alone and who has a room that I can rent. I don't know which makes me feel saddest -- the fact that I really can't afford to keep my apartment or the fact that the best I can do is rent a room. I think I mourn both. My friends say that things could be much worse. I know that. I would love to have someone acknowledge the fact that I am experiencing a loss. I am once again shedding belongings. I feel like I am losing my autonomy.
So I fell into this hole. The sides are slippery and water trickles down. It's miles deep, unlit, and there isn't even an echo in here. And there's quicksand at the bottom of the hole.
Plan of action: use the GLAD light, take my meds, blog, go to NAMI support group, find some seriously dark chocolate (medicinal)and mindfully stuff my face!
So I lie to people about how I spent the holiday. "I wasn't alone. I spent the day with some friends." And my nose grows longer with each telling.
I worked part of the day and was on call for the remainder. There is a sad, sad couple who both have dementia and some physical limitations. Thursday morning I helped them get their day started and put together a nice meal for them. They were grateful and that made me feel good, but the holiday pay rate was my focus. Just a mean old mercenary. But that attitude protected me from feeding the depression monster inside me.
At church today we had a guest minister who told a series of anecdotes involving people who learned they were terminally ill and how they died. ARGH!!!!!! I think the point was that we all benefit from living in a state of mindfulness, but I couldn't wait for the sermon to end so that I could give thanks that it was over and run out of the building as fast as possible!
I made the decision to eliminate a significant amount of stress by finding a less expensive place to live. Fortunately, I connected with another woman who lives alone and who has a room that I can rent. I don't know which makes me feel saddest -- the fact that I really can't afford to keep my apartment or the fact that the best I can do is rent a room. I think I mourn both. My friends say that things could be much worse. I know that. I would love to have someone acknowledge the fact that I am experiencing a loss. I am once again shedding belongings. I feel like I am losing my autonomy.
So I fell into this hole. The sides are slippery and water trickles down. It's miles deep, unlit, and there isn't even an echo in here. And there's quicksand at the bottom of the hole.
Plan of action: use the GLAD light, take my meds, blog, go to NAMI support group, find some seriously dark chocolate (medicinal)and mindfully stuff my face!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Anxiety Attack, Seroquel, Going Forward
It's been a long time since I've had an anxiety attack. Today's episode was clearly the result of my aversion to visiting one of my clients. I don't like him. I hate going to his house. I would really like to ask that I be reassigned to someone else. But I don't speak up. I'm afraid of not being called for available assignments if I ask to be released from this one.
In a very short period of time I went from thinking about how much I dreaded going to his house to throwing up. Then more nausea. Throwing up again. More nausea. Finally calling the office to ask to reschedule. Permission granted. Now I am calm, no nausea, just slightly shaken.
I've been going through a little rough spell brought on by reverting to my old workaholic habits. Yet I acknowledge that I really need to cut back on the hours that I work. I can't sustain a 40+ hour work week. I've started the process of obtaining help from the government.
Voices and paranoia came back briefly. I asked for help and am now taking Seroquel. It's a lovely fit for me and I have rested so well -- refreshing, deep sleep. Bad stuff now gone.
I am working out the details of a new living arrangement. I advertised through my church newsletter and a member's friend responded. It looks like I will soon be living in one end of a large mobile home. The owner and I got along and I think, personality wise, this could work. She was upfront about a health issue that she has and how she welcomed having a caregiver in her home. I told her about riding the roller coaster; she didn't hesitate. Her sister shares the diagnosis. As long as I take my meds, I'm welcome to live in her home. The challenge for me is just living with someone else (other than my son). I've told her I need my alone time, that I spend a good deal of time sleeping, and that I'll be respectful. Her only concern was how we might handle having an overnight guest! How I'd love to have a man in my bed! I think this will work and the savings for me are significant. But I wonder how well I'll adjust.
I love the NAMI support group! It's so nice to not feel alone any more. It's a pleasant surprise to discover that a member of the group also attends my church!
Next challenge: Purging my stuff and not creating chaos in my new environment.
In a very short period of time I went from thinking about how much I dreaded going to his house to throwing up. Then more nausea. Throwing up again. More nausea. Finally calling the office to ask to reschedule. Permission granted. Now I am calm, no nausea, just slightly shaken.
I've been going through a little rough spell brought on by reverting to my old workaholic habits. Yet I acknowledge that I really need to cut back on the hours that I work. I can't sustain a 40+ hour work week. I've started the process of obtaining help from the government.
Voices and paranoia came back briefly. I asked for help and am now taking Seroquel. It's a lovely fit for me and I have rested so well -- refreshing, deep sleep. Bad stuff now gone.
I am working out the details of a new living arrangement. I advertised through my church newsletter and a member's friend responded. It looks like I will soon be living in one end of a large mobile home. The owner and I got along and I think, personality wise, this could work. She was upfront about a health issue that she has and how she welcomed having a caregiver in her home. I told her about riding the roller coaster; she didn't hesitate. Her sister shares the diagnosis. As long as I take my meds, I'm welcome to live in her home. The challenge for me is just living with someone else (other than my son). I've told her I need my alone time, that I spend a good deal of time sleeping, and that I'll be respectful. Her only concern was how we might handle having an overnight guest! How I'd love to have a man in my bed! I think this will work and the savings for me are significant. But I wonder how well I'll adjust.
I love the NAMI support group! It's so nice to not feel alone any more. It's a pleasant surprise to discover that a member of the group also attends my church!
Next challenge: Purging my stuff and not creating chaos in my new environment.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Recreating Myself?
It was way overdue. I finally made the appointment to see the medical professional who arrives at the magical mixture of pills that assists in my management of my silly brain.
What we talked about has shattered my self image. I'm contemplating life changes that feel foreign to me. Control. I think I would have to surrender control.
Hi. I'm a workaholic and I've been in overdrive lately, especially the past two weeks. Last week I worked 76 hours; 48 of those were 12-hour shifts on consecutive nights. To this was added my usual 4 hour shifts and some odd hours here and there. This week I worked 60 hours; 24 of those were 12-hour shifts on consecutive nights. The frightening part is that I'm physically tired, but feeling a little high, too. It's hard to determine if my willingness to work so much was tied to my fear of not surviving or tied to the high that comes from pushing myself. From past experience, I know that this behavior results in a crash-and-burn -- what my prescriber called a psychotic break.
Prior to this work binge I was already experiencing paranoia and hearing voices. I have arrived at a few ways of lessening the impact of these symptoms -- reminding myself that without evidence in support of negative "talk" that I hear, the voices are not real. It keeps the anxiety down, but is exhausting. Besides, by the time I am experiencing the symptoms, I'm past the point where I should have asked for help.
The Zyprexa has helped in the past. Although the sleep is deep and cleansing, it feels like it takes forever to fully awaken. The language issues (the wrong words keep coming out of my mouth -- like "mouse" for "mouth")are not very helpful when working with my clients.
So we begin trying out new drugs. And scheduling enough sleep time to allow them to work.
Meanwhile, I've had to admit that the maximum time that I can work without feeling overwhelmed is a mere four hours. If I have a break of several hours, I can work another shift without problems. The trouble is that I've accepted consecutive shifts where there has only been 30 - 45 minute breaks and those were for travel.
Working 4 hours a day, or possibly a few hours more, means that I can't support myself. Tomorrow I begin knocking on doors. I go to agencies that can help me explore housing options, medical care options, and the possibility of disability.
"Disabled" is not a term I'm comfortable applying to myself. No matter how difficult life has been, I've always been able to get through tough times. Of course, then I collapse. I've always taken care of myself and others. Well, maybe taken care of others more than myself. Taken care of others at the expense of my own wellbeing.
Time to re-examine my core self. Who am I? What are my goals? What are realistic expectations? Is it realistic to expect to have a life of prosperity, filled with true friends, good health, and love (my declaration of New Year's Day)? What is a realistic housing situation for me? Must I always be alone?
Pondering.
What we talked about has shattered my self image. I'm contemplating life changes that feel foreign to me. Control. I think I would have to surrender control.
Hi. I'm a workaholic and I've been in overdrive lately, especially the past two weeks. Last week I worked 76 hours; 48 of those were 12-hour shifts on consecutive nights. To this was added my usual 4 hour shifts and some odd hours here and there. This week I worked 60 hours; 24 of those were 12-hour shifts on consecutive nights. The frightening part is that I'm physically tired, but feeling a little high, too. It's hard to determine if my willingness to work so much was tied to my fear of not surviving or tied to the high that comes from pushing myself. From past experience, I know that this behavior results in a crash-and-burn -- what my prescriber called a psychotic break.
Prior to this work binge I was already experiencing paranoia and hearing voices. I have arrived at a few ways of lessening the impact of these symptoms -- reminding myself that without evidence in support of negative "talk" that I hear, the voices are not real. It keeps the anxiety down, but is exhausting. Besides, by the time I am experiencing the symptoms, I'm past the point where I should have asked for help.
The Zyprexa has helped in the past. Although the sleep is deep and cleansing, it feels like it takes forever to fully awaken. The language issues (the wrong words keep coming out of my mouth -- like "mouse" for "mouth")are not very helpful when working with my clients.
So we begin trying out new drugs. And scheduling enough sleep time to allow them to work.
Meanwhile, I've had to admit that the maximum time that I can work without feeling overwhelmed is a mere four hours. If I have a break of several hours, I can work another shift without problems. The trouble is that I've accepted consecutive shifts where there has only been 30 - 45 minute breaks and those were for travel.
Working 4 hours a day, or possibly a few hours more, means that I can't support myself. Tomorrow I begin knocking on doors. I go to agencies that can help me explore housing options, medical care options, and the possibility of disability.
"Disabled" is not a term I'm comfortable applying to myself. No matter how difficult life has been, I've always been able to get through tough times. Of course, then I collapse. I've always taken care of myself and others. Well, maybe taken care of others more than myself. Taken care of others at the expense of my own wellbeing.
Time to re-examine my core self. Who am I? What are my goals? What are realistic expectations? Is it realistic to expect to have a life of prosperity, filled with true friends, good health, and love (my declaration of New Year's Day)? What is a realistic housing situation for me? Must I always be alone?
Pondering.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Good Week and New Moon
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!
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!
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.
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