Dear Psychiatrist and Staff,
You are all assholes.
You care more about collecting my co-pay than helping me.
You made me sign a release form so you can speak to my therapist who I see outside of your network. Then you don't even make an attempt to contact her to stay on the same page. Why did you even bother?
When I call your office I feel like I'm bothering you. Like I'm an annoyance. You brush everything I have to say off like it's just a dream. Like I'm not really experiencing things.
Forget calling you on the weekends. Your on-call staff sucks worse than all of you put together.
So yeah, basically? Thanks for nothing. A whole lot of nothing.
Assholes.
Sincerely,
Me
The girl you continue to ignore and avoid like the fucking plague. Assholes.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Dreams
In my dreams I'm always trying to get away from something. My deceased father is there, always the way I want him to be...not intoxicated.
My head is heavy this morning. The anger lurks. I'll bury it in food today. It makes me feel like shit after but in the moment, I forget how I really feel.
How I really feel.
You don't want to know.
It's Friday. Pizza night.
I just want to skip everything and go to sleep. One final slumber.
My head is heavy this morning. The anger lurks. I'll bury it in food today. It makes me feel like shit after but in the moment, I forget how I really feel.
How I really feel.
You don't want to know.
It's Friday. Pizza night.
I just want to skip everything and go to sleep. One final slumber.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
She's the chosen one, I just get to sit here and rot
I read on Facebook today about a friend returning to work after her maternity leave. She was happy to get back to her job. Why couldn't that have been me? Why did I have to suffer at the hands of postpartum depression? Why was I held under water gasping for a mere moment of air? Why?
Why do I continue to battle this, almost three years later? This is me now. The bipolar me. The me who constantly has to shield herself from these horrid thoughts in my head.
Why can't a knight just come along and swing his sword in the air? Can't he just slay this bastard for good?
Why don't I have a knight? Where's my fucking armour? Why does she get to have it and I sit here bleeding from lack of protection?
Why do I continue to battle this, almost three years later? This is me now. The bipolar me. The me who constantly has to shield herself from these horrid thoughts in my head.
Why can't a knight just come along and swing his sword in the air? Can't he just slay this bastard for good?
Why don't I have a knight? Where's my fucking armour? Why does she get to have it and I sit here bleeding from lack of protection?
Hitting a wall, again
I still feel like shit.
I feel depressed and angry.
I feel like I have nothing to look forward to.
I need something to look forward to, it gets me through.
God, I'm so bored with this life I lead.
The decision making is becoming harder again.
It felt like my head was clearing last week and now?
Not so much.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Shame on me
I shuffled into the kitchen this morning, sleep still fresh in my eyes. I took my pills and walked into the bathroom for a shower. Halfway through the shower I became really sleepy. Then the vision of the pills I swallowed flashed in my head.
OH. EM. GEE.
I did it again y'all. I took my p.m. pills this morning. What the fuck?
I can understand once but twice?
I finished getting ready for work and texted my boss about my screw up. I had to sleep it off for about an hour before I could drive.
I thought that freaking pill box was supposed to HELP me.
From now on? I'm taking my pills out and setting them next to the coffee maker the night before.
Ugh...
OH. EM. GEE.
I did it again y'all. I took my p.m. pills this morning. What the fuck?
I can understand once but twice?
I finished getting ready for work and texted my boss about my screw up. I had to sleep it off for about an hour before I could drive.
I thought that freaking pill box was supposed to HELP me.
From now on? I'm taking my pills out and setting them next to the coffee maker the night before.
Ugh...
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Brownie Fix - - A Novel By Ellen Cordona
Ellen Cordona is the author of Brownie Fix. She contacted me and asked if I would read her book and host a review on my blog. I don't host reviews for just any book and/or product, I have to believe in it.
Then I read the synopsis:
Chocolate. Love. Sex. Really, what else could a woman want in life? For Persey, the heroine of Brownie Fix, her days are fun-filled until what is normally one of life’s most fulfilling experiences, the birth of her son, leads her straight into a dark state of postpartum depression.
...and I agreed to do it immediately.
I settled in to read Brownie Fix and couldn't put it down. There were definite moments that triggered memories of when I was in the throws of postpartum depression and had to stop reading for a bit.
The style in which this book was written is like nothing I've ever read before on the topic of PPD. I'm so glad to come across a work of fiction on the subject.
There were definite moments that moved me to tears, laughter, many head nods and smiles. I was sad when the book ended and without giving the ending away, let me just say I fell in love with Persey from the very beginning.
I recommend Brownie Fix to anyone going through PPD or who has been there. Maybe you had a child and weren't sure it was PPD you were experiencing? Read the book. You'll be glad you did.
Then I read the synopsis:
Chocolate. Love. Sex. Really, what else could a woman want in life? For Persey, the heroine of Brownie Fix, her days are fun-filled until what is normally one of life’s most fulfilling experiences, the birth of her son, leads her straight into a dark state of postpartum depression.Wandering in her own postpartum hell, Persey meets people that are absurd, like the swinging neighbors who want a little more than a cup of sugar and a group of mothers who become whipped up in worship to a climactic furor. On top of the madness, she keeps seeing a yellow-toothed old man who acts like he wants to breastfeed from her. Or is it her imagination? Add the voices in her head that become louder and louder, and it's little wonder that Persey reaches for brownie mix to soothe her insanity.
Buckling under the pressure and lack of sleep from motherhood, Persey experiences the five stages of grief that lead her to uncover a buried secret, and gradually she begins to heal with the help of her family, friends, and, of course, brownies.
Buckling under the pressure and lack of sleep from motherhood, Persey experiences the five stages of grief that lead her to uncover a buried secret, and gradually she begins to heal with the help of her family, friends, and, of course, brownies.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
...and I agreed to do it immediately.
I settled in to read Brownie Fix and couldn't put it down. There were definite moments that triggered memories of when I was in the throws of postpartum depression and had to stop reading for a bit.
The style in which this book was written is like nothing I've ever read before on the topic of PPD. I'm so glad to come across a work of fiction on the subject.
There were definite moments that moved me to tears, laughter, many head nods and smiles. I was sad when the book ended and without giving the ending away, let me just say I fell in love with Persey from the very beginning.
I recommend Brownie Fix to anyone going through PPD or who has been there. Maybe you had a child and weren't sure it was PPD you were experiencing? Read the book. You'll be glad you did.
Cycling
I'm feeling depressed today.
I hope it's just because I forgot to take my meds last night. I don't really know how I screwed that one up. I bought the handy dandy pill a.m./p.m. box and yet I still forgot.
I drove to work today like I was drunk. I shouldn't have driven at all.
When I got to work I left the light off, closed my office door, and folded up my sweater like a pillow and napped for an hour. I feel a little better.
I already ate my lunch. I eat when I'm depressed or about to be depressed.
So yeah, it's coming. I wish it wouldn't. I'm too tired for a depression cycle.
I hope it's just because I forgot to take my meds last night. I don't really know how I screwed that one up. I bought the handy dandy pill a.m./p.m. box and yet I still forgot.
I drove to work today like I was drunk. I shouldn't have driven at all.
When I got to work I left the light off, closed my office door, and folded up my sweater like a pillow and napped for an hour. I feel a little better.
I already ate my lunch. I eat when I'm depressed or about to be depressed.
So yeah, it's coming. I wish it wouldn't. I'm too tired for a depression cycle.
Meds are meant to be taken at the right time
I forgot to take my meds last night. I'm such an idiot. Without much thought I took them with my a.m. pills. I am very foggy and tired because, duh, the one makes me really groggy.
Today will be interesting.
Today will be interesting.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Detour To Oz
The windshield wipers were having trouble keeping up with the rain, which spilled down in sheets. Gabby didn’t want to take her eyes off the road but snuck glances at the digital clock on the dash. Her anger escalated. There was no way she was going to make it; the storm halted her shot at making it to the job interview. She was already an hour late and there was no phone service.
“Damn it! This shit always happens to me,” she yelled. She pulled the car over to collect her thoughts. Gabby decided to keep going hoping to pass a coffee shop with WiFi and some decent phone service.
The wipers kept catching on something on the driver’s side causing them to pause. Gabby’s focus was on the outside of the window trying to pinpoint the problem. I don’t need this right now. I’m in the middle of nowhere. She thought.
Her eyes darted back to the deteriorating blade on the window when her car slammed into a detour sign. She slammed on her breaks causing the car to spin until it finally came to a complete stop.
“Fuck!” Her anxiety was mounting. Once her breathing was under control Gabby continued toward the detour route.
She must have driven about fifty miles without realizing; she was too focused on the wipers. That’s when the blades stuck for the last time.
The rain hadn’t let up at all and Gabby was instantly blinded. She carefully guided the car off the road and turned it off. She searched everywhere for an umbrella she knew didn’t exist.
Gabby wiped the driver’s side window with her palm trying to figure out her next step. She couldn’t see very well but she could make out the form of a red mailbox through the rainfall. She stripped off the button down cashmere sweater she wore and placed it over head. Grabbing for the handle, she forced the door open and the heavy rain instantly soaked her beloved sweater right through. Naturally, she thought.
With one stiletto healed foot on the ground, Gabby shimmied her pencil skirt clad body into the storm, heading toward the red mailbox.
The cottage before her replicated an adult sized gingerbread house direct from a fairy tale. She ran for the shelter hanging over the front door and knocked. The door opened and a woman with a beaming smile urged her inside.
“Thank you so much. My car…the windshield wipers…the rain…” she couldn’t complete her sentence.
Gabby was too busy taking in the scene before her. Under her breath she spoke, “Right out Wizard of fuckin’ Oz…”
The woman, wearing a fluffy pink dress and sparkling tiara said, “Yes, my home has that effect on people.” Her voice was gentle and kind, like that of a little old woman.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Gabby replied. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
The two stood in the foyer of the cottage. The walls replicated Munchkin Land. Gabby’s stare went to her feet where a puddle was forming right on the yellow brick road flooring. This is typical horror movie shit right here, she thought.
“I’m Gabby. The windshield wipers on my car are stuck. Would you mind if I waited here until the rain lets up?”
“Of course Dear. I’m Glenda. There are fresh towels in the powder room right over there. I’ll go make us some tea,” the woman said.
Gabby reluctantly followed the yellow brick road toward the bathroom. I should really leave. This woman is sick in the head. She opened the door and turned on the light. Gabby was instantly blinded with glittering wall to wall shelving of ruby red slippers. She closed and locked the door behind her. “I’ll dry myself off, excuse myself and get my ass back to the car. I’ll push it a few miles up the road if I have to,” she whispered to her image in the mirror. Her anxiety was peaking again.
When Gabby finished drying off she made a break for the front door, but she was cut off. “In here Dear. Come have a cup of hot tea,” the woman called out. One cup. One cup and I’m out of here. Gabby walked past munchkin figures made from wax; each held a lollipop in their grasp.
The theme continued into the sitting area where Glenda sat waiting. She sat beside her. On the couch opposite of them sat the figures of the Tin Man, Scarecrow and Lion, each with their own tea cups before them. She took a sip of tea without noticing that Glenda served it up in the most exquisite play tea set she had ever seen. She downed the tea like it was a shot of whiskey and urgently attempted to excuse herself.
She peered out the window, “It looks like the rain is letting up. Thank you so much for the towel and the tea but I have an interview to get to,” Gabby spoke.
“Don’t be silly Dear, the rain is falling just as hard as before,” Glenda replied.
Again, Gabby began to walk toward the front door but her legs buckled and she felt woozy. She collapsed to the ground and blacked out.
Several hours later Gabby’s eyes fluttered open.
“Hello Dear, are you feeling better?” Glenda asked.
Gabby tried to speak but she couldn’t. She was pinned to the floor by something heavy. She began to panic. A large plastic playhouse lay over her body, the heaviness boring into her chest. There was a small gap between her and the house and Gabby stole a glance at black and white stripes surrounding her legs. While she couldn’t see far, she felt different shoes on her feet. Gabby was paralyzed. She could only move her head slightly and dart her eyes around the room.
“How dare you rob me of my ruby red slippers witch! I want them back,” Glenda hollered as she waved a long silver wand with a glittered star tip. Gabby’s eyes welled with tears when she noticed beyond the tip of the wand was a knife.
A barefooted Glenda grasped the homemade wand in both hands and stood at Gabby’s head. Gabby looked from side to side. She wanted to scream back at Glenda to just take the damn shoes back but she knew there was a plan in place. She was part of this insane woman’s zany skit.
Gabby brought her head to center, tears spilling from both eyes. Glenda raised the wand above her head, the knife pointing down. She plunged it into Gabby’s chest repeatedly, blood spattering from her open wounds.
With the taste of copper flooding her taste buds, Gabby let out one final breath and closed her eyes.
Glenda rushed to the ruby red slippers and tore them from Gabby’s lifeless body.
“Thank you Dear,” she whispered.
Glenda returned the shoes to the shelf in her powder room.
Pride by Lauren Hammond
What if you were chosen to go from being a nobody to a somebody practically overnight, but in the process, you lost yourself? Beauty is only skin deep.
Pride is the latest novel by Lauren Hammond.
Synopsis:
At age fifteen, Angela Dunne was plucked out of the crowd at her local mall by modeling agent, Olivia Lennox.
After fighting her way to the top, Angela is catapulted into the world of magazine covers, photo shoots, and runway shows. She’s traveling the globe, modeling for the best designers, and living the life most girls her age could only dream of.
And it doesn’t take long for Angela’s rising stardom to go to her head. Being beautiful has become her obsession and her image is all she ever thinks about. Her family is ashamed of her. Friends don’t know her anymore. People in general can’t stand to be in the same room with her. The new Angela, finds pleasure in belittling those who aren’t as fortunate as her in the beauty department and treats those who aren’t up to her standards like they are insignificant.
Suddenly, Angela’s modeling career comes to a halt after an accident backstage at a runway show. Now, Angela has to come to terms with the fact that she’s no longer beautiful on the outside. She’s a freak, a monster with a disfigured face. For someone who was once so beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside, it’s up to Angela to dig deep down within herself and discover what the real meaning of beauty is.
When I first started reading Pride, I thought Angela was someone I would like to be friends with. Then Angela became a supermodel and her entire persona changed. I hated Angela at that point. I hated her so much I honestly almost stopped reading the book.
Lauren Hammond effectively helps raise awareness about bullying. Pride sends a message. Bullying sucks. Plain and simple, right? If only it were. This is a book I would like to see middle school age students study in class. Students should be allowed to pick it apart. Groups could be formed, bullying and non-bullying, and giant leaps toward students respecting one another could be reached.
You may wonder if your son could get anything from reading this book. I recommend Pride regardless of gender. It begins with love, continues with fierce hatred, and ends on top.
Pride is the latest novel by Lauren Hammond.
Synopsis:
After fighting her way to the top, Angela is catapulted into the world of magazine covers, photo shoots, and runway shows. She’s traveling the globe, modeling for the best designers, and living the life most girls her age could only dream of.
And it doesn’t take long for Angela’s rising stardom to go to her head. Being beautiful has become her obsession and her image is all she ever thinks about. Her family is ashamed of her. Friends don’t know her anymore. People in general can’t stand to be in the same room with her. The new Angela, finds pleasure in belittling those who aren’t as fortunate as her in the beauty department and treats those who aren’t up to her standards like they are insignificant.
Suddenly, Angela’s modeling career comes to a halt after an accident backstage at a runway show. Now, Angela has to come to terms with the fact that she’s no longer beautiful on the outside. She’s a freak, a monster with a disfigured face. For someone who was once so beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside, it’s up to Angela to dig deep down within herself and discover what the real meaning of beauty is.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When I first started reading Pride, I thought Angela was someone I would like to be friends with. Then Angela became a supermodel and her entire persona changed. I hated Angela at that point. I hated her so much I honestly almost stopped reading the book.
Lauren Hammond effectively helps raise awareness about bullying. Pride sends a message. Bullying sucks. Plain and simple, right? If only it were. This is a book I would like to see middle school age students study in class. Students should be allowed to pick it apart. Groups could be formed, bullying and non-bullying, and giant leaps toward students respecting one another could be reached.
You may wonder if your son could get anything from reading this book. I recommend Pride regardless of gender. It begins with love, continues with fierce hatred, and ends on top.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Looking but not seeing; Listening but not hearing
We're having a conversation. I just finished speaking and now it's your turn. I'm staring right into your eyes. I'm nodding my head. It would appear that I'm in perfect control of the situation. On the surface.
How many times have you seen a horror movie where someone is gazing into a mirror but their image had other plans? That's my mentality.While I'm holding your gaze and nodding my head, my mind wanders. Sometimes it's thinking about what I'll be doing later, what I'd rather be doing that moment, making a mental grocery list...Mostly I'm blocking out all background noise and creating an area where nothing exists. No decisions have to be made...and I won't be able to recall any of this in mere moments.
Life takes place all around me. Time passes without meaning. Without feeling. I'm hollow. An abyss. Completely vacant.
My favorite team is playing baseball and I'm looking at the TV screen. It's probably an exciting game, but I wouldn't know. Unless I force myself to watch all that is happening, I don't see a thing. It's a blur. Unfocused. Expendable.
Instances are ignored. Feelings get hurt. Tears fall. Very little control.
My senses are muted. The subtitles move too rapidly to make heads or tails.
I've failed.
I'm falling in slow motion. I'm about to hit the Earth and the parachute has failed.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Catatonia
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| Photo Credit: Jane Yolen’s, The Sea Man |
I've sunk to an all-time low...
So I'm out hitting up the sales at the grocery store when I walk by it. I keep going, glancing back over my shoulder. I get what I need and walk by it again. This time I check the price. Not bad. Yes folks, I got me a brand new a.m. - p.m. daily pill organizer.
Do you know how embarrassing it was to load that bad boy up when I got home?
Do you know how embarrassing it was to load that bad boy up when I got home?
Do your job right or get a new one!
"A friend is someone who can see the truth & pain in you even when you are fooling everyone else."
- Unknown
My girl @Frelle retweeted this, this morning. It couldn't be more spot on.
So yesterday at 3:45pm, I call the pharmacy to confirm that all four, yes four, of my prescriptions are ready for pick up. "Yes, yes they are...."
I drive on over to fetch 'em before going home.
"You have three, the fourth will be ready tomorrow, we had to order it."
Whaaaat? Did I not just call ten minutes prior to confirm they were all there? It wasn't her fault, she didn't answer the phone. It was the other girl's fault. The pretty one. She's lucky she was busy with another customer or I would have gone bat-shit-crazy on her ass.
I was supposed to start taking that new med last night. The new mood stabilizer. In the interim, I am weaning from the other mood stabilizer (it's so not doing its job) and decreased one of my antidepressants (I'm on two) so all this new shit doesn't clash.
Today? Even the sun shining is pissing me off. I'm dizzy as hell because of the Remeron (even though my doctor swears it's not that). I'm hungry but I'm not hungry. I just want to find a tree to sit under and wallow today. By myself. Too bad I live in Florida and it's still in the upper fucking 80's. Stupid Florida. I want to move.
I hate today.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The most moving post I have read all week!
"Today I am a woman who has been broken, fixed, broken some more and glued back together, for the interim, while she still tries to find a few missing pieces."
-Lexy Ellis, Author of Mammywoo
I "met" Lexy from Mammywoo on Twitter ages ago.
She's been there and back and there again. Postpartum Depression. It's everywhere it seems.
She too was recently hospitalized.
She went back to work yesterday. As I read her post leading up to that point, her words tore right through me.
Go visit Lexy and give her some hope. Some encouraging words. She needs it.
Allow me to introduce you to my friend - - Prescription Changes - - because I love the rollercoaster ride of side effects it brings!
I visited with my psychiatrist today. The guy who really doesn't remember me even though I've been seeing him for almost three years.
I arrived.
I fought with the receptionist, as I always do, about my co-pay.
I had my vitals taken (the lower number of my blood pressure is still elevated, what does that even mean?).
I filled out a "And how are you doing today?" sheet.
I sat in the waiting room.
I went into his office when he called my name but stared at the woman next to me in hopes he had the right girl.
He's not a therapist but I let him inside my head a little bit.
I'm still quite irritable even with all the medication I'm on and my anxiety remains elevated. He tweaked this antidepressant, added a new mood stabilizer, and is weaning me from another. When I go back to the pharmacy this afternoon I'll spend $40 I don't have on medication.
I feel like he's always down playing my symptoms.
Manic? Nah, you're just in a bad mood.
Hallucinations? Ack, it was just a dream.
What, you're dizzy? Slow down, you're going too fast.
Because, it can't be the medication, can it? Not in his eyes. Medication is his profession so there's no way he could get it wrong, right?
Right?
I arrived.
I fought with the receptionist, as I always do, about my co-pay.
I had my vitals taken (the lower number of my blood pressure is still elevated, what does that even mean?).
I filled out a "And how are you doing today?" sheet.
I sat in the waiting room.
I went into his office when he called my name but stared at the woman next to me in hopes he had the right girl.
He's not a therapist but I let him inside my head a little bit.
I'm still quite irritable even with all the medication I'm on and my anxiety remains elevated. He tweaked this antidepressant, added a new mood stabilizer, and is weaning me from another. When I go back to the pharmacy this afternoon I'll spend $40 I don't have on medication.
I feel like he's always down playing my symptoms.
Manic? Nah, you're just in a bad mood.
Hallucinations? Ack, it was just a dream.
What, you're dizzy? Slow down, you're going too fast.
Because, it can't be the medication, can it? Not in his eyes. Medication is his profession so there's no way he could get it wrong, right?
Right?
{Postpartum} Depression Changes Everything
You know that saying 'Having a baby changes everything'?
Well what if you have a baby and five years later you have another baby and ten years after that you have another baby and you didn't have postpartum depression with the first two, but with the third you became unrecognizable because of it?
Postpartum depression changes everything.
I was just 17 when my first son was born. I dropped out of high school, had him, and got my diploma in night school. I worked full-time at Burger King after I finished school. The night shift. My mother cared for my son while I worked and then we swapped when she had to go to work during the day. She was my crutch. Without her, I couldn't have done any of it. My son's father has never been in the picture.
I was 22 when I had my second son with my (now) husband. We hadn't been together too long when we found out. I have a hard time recalling events of him being a baby. His firsts and all that. I remember it being hard and not having a whole lot of patience. All I know is that today he's a fantastic kid whom I adore with all I have in me.
I was 32 when I had my third son with my husband. Everything was different when he came along. It had been ten years since I was pregnant and while the aches and pains weren't fun, being pregnant was great. I had the beautiful skin, great hair and nails, I did yoga a bunch and didn't gain too much weight. Then I went back to work and the postpartum depression hit me like a fucking mack truck.
I wanted to eat, sleep, and breathe the new life I gave birth to 24/7. When I was away from him, I was afraid he was being taken away from me. When he was with me I was afraid a freak accident was going to kill him and leave me with the guilt that I wasn't the one to go in his place. It has taken about two years for me to get my thought pattern to change. I'm able to leave him now without the guilt.
I've been pretty heavily medicated since I returned to work when he was 8 weeks old. This translates to me being rather foggy and relying on others to make most of the decisions in my life; but I still woke up every day, put one foot in front of the other, worked, paid bills, cleaned the house, cooked, etc...etc...etc...
My son is 2 1/2 now. When I see him I quiver with delight. I can't talk about him without a huge smile on my face. When I see photos of him I blow him kisses and pretend to squeeze his little cheeks. I don't think I love him more then my other two but I do know that I love being a mother to a toddler more in this stage of my life than I did with the other two, when I was much younger.
I'm a changed person. I used to be really uptight and went by the book and a strict schedule. If that schedule was thrown off for any given reason, I lost my shit. Today I'm much more flexible and lax in my ways. My head seems to be clearing up finally, after all these years of medication.
I like me today. Do I wish I didn't have to suffer from the depression up until now? Well, sure, that's the obvious. I'm at peace with it now though. I am who I am because of what I've been through. It has been a huge life lesson for me.
Am I occasionally selfish and want to be left alone (sans kids)? Absolutely! But I'm at my happiest when all three are around me. Especially when they're laughing.
So yeah, postpartum depression changes everything; but some good can come out at the other end too!
Well what if you have a baby and five years later you have another baby and ten years after that you have another baby and you didn't have postpartum depression with the first two, but with the third you became unrecognizable because of it?
Postpartum depression changes everything.
I was just 17 when my first son was born. I dropped out of high school, had him, and got my diploma in night school. I worked full-time at Burger King after I finished school. The night shift. My mother cared for my son while I worked and then we swapped when she had to go to work during the day. She was my crutch. Without her, I couldn't have done any of it. My son's father has never been in the picture.
I was 22 when I had my second son with my (now) husband. We hadn't been together too long when we found out. I have a hard time recalling events of him being a baby. His firsts and all that. I remember it being hard and not having a whole lot of patience. All I know is that today he's a fantastic kid whom I adore with all I have in me.
I was 32 when I had my third son with my husband. Everything was different when he came along. It had been ten years since I was pregnant and while the aches and pains weren't fun, being pregnant was great. I had the beautiful skin, great hair and nails, I did yoga a bunch and didn't gain too much weight. Then I went back to work and the postpartum depression hit me like a fucking mack truck.
I wanted to eat, sleep, and breathe the new life I gave birth to 24/7. When I was away from him, I was afraid he was being taken away from me. When he was with me I was afraid a freak accident was going to kill him and leave me with the guilt that I wasn't the one to go in his place. It has taken about two years for me to get my thought pattern to change. I'm able to leave him now without the guilt.
I've been pretty heavily medicated since I returned to work when he was 8 weeks old. This translates to me being rather foggy and relying on others to make most of the decisions in my life; but I still woke up every day, put one foot in front of the other, worked, paid bills, cleaned the house, cooked, etc...etc...etc...
My son is 2 1/2 now. When I see him I quiver with delight. I can't talk about him without a huge smile on my face. When I see photos of him I blow him kisses and pretend to squeeze his little cheeks. I don't think I love him more then my other two but I do know that I love being a mother to a toddler more in this stage of my life than I did with the other two, when I was much younger.
I'm a changed person. I used to be really uptight and went by the book and a strict schedule. If that schedule was thrown off for any given reason, I lost my shit. Today I'm much more flexible and lax in my ways. My head seems to be clearing up finally, after all these years of medication.
I like me today. Do I wish I didn't have to suffer from the depression up until now? Well, sure, that's the obvious. I'm at peace with it now though. I am who I am because of what I've been through. It has been a huge life lesson for me.
Am I occasionally selfish and want to be left alone (sans kids)? Absolutely! But I'm at my happiest when all three are around me. Especially when they're laughing.
So yeah, postpartum depression changes everything; but some good can come out at the other end too!
Allow me to introduce you to my friend - - Prescription Changes - - because I love the rollercoaster ride of side effects it brings!
I visited with my psychiatrist today. The guy who really doesn't remember me even though I've been seeing him for almost three years.
I arrived.
I fought with the receptionist, as I always do, about my co-pay.
I had my vitals taken (the lower number of my blood pressure is still elevated, what does that even mean?).
I filled out a "And how are you doing today?" sheet.
I sat in the waiting room.
I went into his office when he called my name but stared at the woman next to me in hopes he had the right girl.
He's not a therapist but I let him inside my head a little bit.
I'm still quite irritable even with all the medication I'm on and my anxiety remains elevated. He tweaked this antidepressant, added a new mood stabilizer, and is weaning me from another. When I go back to the pharmacy this afternoon I'll spend $40 I don't have on medication.
I feel like he's always down playing my symptoms.
Manic? Nah, you're just in a bad mood.
Hallucinations? Ack, it was just a dream.
What, you're dizzy? Slow down, you're going too fast.
Because, it can't be the medication, can it? Not in his eyes. Medication is his profession so there's no way he could get it wrong, right?
Right?
I arrived.
I fought with the receptionist, as I always do, about my co-pay.
I had my vitals taken (the lower number of my blood pressure is still elevated, what does that even mean?).
I filled out a "And how are you doing today?" sheet.
I sat in the waiting room.
I went into his office when he called my name but stared at the woman next to me in hopes he had the right girl.
He's not a therapist but I let him inside my head a little bit.
I'm still quite irritable even with all the medication I'm on and my anxiety remains elevated. He tweaked this antidepressant, added a new mood stabilizer, and is weaning me from another. When I go back to the pharmacy this afternoon I'll spend $40 I don't have on medication.
I feel like he's always down playing my symptoms.
Manic? Nah, you're just in a bad mood.
Hallucinations? Ack, it was just a dream.
What, you're dizzy? Slow down, you're going too fast.
Because, it can't be the medication, can it? Not in his eyes. Medication is his profession so there's no way he could get it wrong, right?
Right?
A Quote From 'Pride' By Lauren Hammond
" I longed to be one of those (rain) drops - free and falling - with a predictable path already set in place."
-Angela Dunne from Lauren Hammond's book "Pride"
I've been reading this book and will soon host a review on my other blog shortly. This quote really stuck with me while I was reading. It's so fitting for what I'm going through.
I too would like a predictable path, Angela.
Pride is available now at Amazon.
Synopsis:
Beauty is only skin deep.At age fifteen, Angela Dunne was plucked out of the crowd at her local mall by modeling agent, Olivia Lennox.
After fighting her way to the top, Angela is catapulted into the world of magazine covers, photo shoots, and runway shows. She’s traveling the globe, modeling for the best designers, and living the life most girls her age could only dream of.
And it doesn’t take long for Angela’s rising stardom to go to her head. Being beautiful has become her obsession and her image is all she ever thinks about. Her family is ashamed of her. Friends don’t know her anymore. People in general can’t stand to be in the same room with her. The new Angela, finds pleasure in belittling those who aren’t as fortunate as her in the beauty department and treats those who aren’t up to her standards like they are insignificant.
Suddenly, Angela’s modeling career comes to a halt after an accident backstage at a runway show. Now, Angela has to come to terms with the fact that she’s no longer beautiful on the outside. She’s a freak, a monster with a disfigured face. For someone who was once so beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside, it’s up to Angela to dig deep down within herself and discover what the real meaning of beauty is.
A Funny
A two-year-old is kind of like having a blender, but you don't have a top for it.
My youngest is 2 1/2. You do the math.
Oh. Em. Gee.
A Quote From 'Pride' By Lauren Hammond
" I longed to be one of those (rain) drops - free and falling - with a predictable path already set in place."
-Angela Dunne from Lauren Hammond's book "Pride"
I've been reading this book and will soon host a review on my other blog shortly. This quote really stuck with me while I was reading. It's so fitting for what I'm going through.
I too would like a predictable path, Angela.
Pride is available now at Amazon.
Synopsis:
Beauty is only skin deep.At age fifteen, Angela Dunne was plucked out of the crowd at her local mall by modeling agent, Olivia Lennox.
After fighting her way to the top, Angela is catapulted into the world of magazine covers, photo shoots, and runway shows. She’s traveling the globe, modeling for the best designers, and living the life most girls her age could only dream of.
And it doesn’t take long for Angela’s rising stardom to go to her head. Being beautiful has become her obsession and her image is all she ever thinks about. Her family is ashamed of her. Friends don’t know her anymore. People in general can’t stand to be in the same room with her. The new Angela, finds pleasure in belittling those who aren’t as fortunate as her in the beauty department and treats those who aren’t up to her standards like they are insignificant.
Suddenly, Angela’s modeling career comes to a halt after an accident backstage at a runway show. Now, Angela has to come to terms with the fact that she’s no longer beautiful on the outside. She’s a freak, a monster with a disfigured face. For someone who was once so beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside, it’s up to Angela to dig deep down within herself and discover what the real meaning of beauty is.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
A Thought
I'm beginning to wonder...
Am I really bipolar or did I just have a nervous breakdown?
There's a lot of shit going on around me all the time. Maybe stress just threw its hands up in the air and said, "Enough already! Take a break!".
I have an appointment tomorrow to ponder just this.
Am I really bipolar or did I just have a nervous breakdown?
There's a lot of shit going on around me all the time. Maybe stress just threw its hands up in the air and said, "Enough already! Take a break!".
I have an appointment tomorrow to ponder just this.
A Thought
I'm beginning to wonder...
Am I really bipolar or did I just have a nervous breakdown?
There's a lot of shit going on around me all the time. Maybe stress just threw its hands up in the air and said, "Enough already! Take a break!".
I have an appointment tomorrow to ponder just this.
Am I really bipolar or did I just have a nervous breakdown?
There's a lot of shit going on around me all the time. Maybe stress just threw its hands up in the air and said, "Enough already! Take a break!".
I have an appointment tomorrow to ponder just this.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
College Football - - Wordless/Wordful Wednesday
'Tis the reason for (college) football season!
I posted this on Facebook last week and just had to share it with my spermie soldiers!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
That Black Dog
Did you know Winston Churchill was bipolar?
"What a creature of strange moods [Winston Churchill] is - always at the top of the wheel of confidence or at the bottom of an intense depression." - Lord Beaverbrook (1879-1964)
In Dr. Jay Carter's book, Bipolar The Elements of Bipolar Disorder A Practical Guide, he tells a story called, "The Bank Robber". The story goes, there was a man in his late forties who robbed six banks. He was separated from his wife of twenty-three years. When he robbed the banks, he apologized to the tellers as he told them to put the money in his paper bag. He was caught because he parked in front of a police station with his license plate falling off the back of his car. A police officer told him it needed to be fixed and actually helped him to do it. Later, the officer saw the video of the bank robbery and was shocked to see it was the same guy whose license plate was dangling off his car. The officer remembered the plate number and so the robber was caught. The man was robbing banks because he was sure that if he had enough money, his wife would come back to him. He was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder while serving his time in jail for the robberies.
That's the gist of it anyway. The man was manic when he was robbing the banks.
I bring the story up because it just goes to show you that people with the disorder come from all walks of life. Each of us experiences our manic episodes differently. Dr. Jay Carter states that 9% of the time, mania is euphoric and the other 91% of the time, it is angry/rageful. That's scary.
"What a creature of strange moods [Winston Churchill] is - always at the top of the wheel of confidence or at the bottom of an intense depression." - Lord Beaverbrook (1879-1964)
In Dr. Jay Carter's book, Bipolar The Elements of Bipolar Disorder A Practical Guide, he tells a story called, "The Bank Robber". The story goes, there was a man in his late forties who robbed six banks. He was separated from his wife of twenty-three years. When he robbed the banks, he apologized to the tellers as he told them to put the money in his paper bag. He was caught because he parked in front of a police station with his license plate falling off the back of his car. A police officer told him it needed to be fixed and actually helped him to do it. Later, the officer saw the video of the bank robbery and was shocked to see it was the same guy whose license plate was dangling off his car. The officer remembered the plate number and so the robber was caught. The man was robbing banks because he was sure that if he had enough money, his wife would come back to him. He was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder while serving his time in jail for the robberies.
That's the gist of it anyway. The man was manic when he was robbing the banks.
I bring the story up because it just goes to show you that people with the disorder come from all walks of life. Each of us experiences our manic episodes differently. Dr. Jay Carter states that 9% of the time, mania is euphoric and the other 91% of the time, it is angry/rageful. That's scary.
That Black Dog
Did you know Winston Churchill was bipolar?
"What a creature of strange moods [Winston Churchill] is - always at the top of the wheel of confidence or at the bottom of an intense depression." - Lord Beaverbrook (1879-1964)
In Dr. Jay Carter's book, Bipolar The Elements of Bipolar Disorder A Practical Guide, he tells a story called, "The Bank Robber". The story goes, there was a man in his late forties who robbed six banks. He was separated from his wife of twenty-three years. When he robbed the banks, he apologized to the tellers as he told them to put the money in his paper bag. He was caught because he parked in front of a police station with his license plate falling off the back of his car. A police officer told him it needed to be fixed and actually helped him to do it. Later, the officer saw the video of the bank robbery and was shocked to see it was the same guy whose license plate was dangling off his car. The officer remembered the plate number and so the robber was caught. The man was robbing banks because he was sure that if he had enough money, his wife would come back to him. He was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder while serving his time in jail for the robberies.
That's the gist of it anyway. The man was manic when he was robbing the banks.
I bring the story up because it just goes to show you that people with the disorder come from all walks of life. Each of us experiences our manic episodes differently. Dr. Jay Carter states that 9% of the time, mania is euphoric and the other 91% of the time, it is angry/rageful. That's scary.
"What a creature of strange moods [Winston Churchill] is - always at the top of the wheel of confidence or at the bottom of an intense depression." - Lord Beaverbrook (1879-1964)
In Dr. Jay Carter's book, Bipolar The Elements of Bipolar Disorder A Practical Guide, he tells a story called, "The Bank Robber". The story goes, there was a man in his late forties who robbed six banks. He was separated from his wife of twenty-three years. When he robbed the banks, he apologized to the tellers as he told them to put the money in his paper bag. He was caught because he parked in front of a police station with his license plate falling off the back of his car. A police officer told him it needed to be fixed and actually helped him to do it. Later, the officer saw the video of the bank robbery and was shocked to see it was the same guy whose license plate was dangling off his car. The officer remembered the plate number and so the robber was caught. The man was robbing banks because he was sure that if he had enough money, his wife would come back to him. He was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder while serving his time in jail for the robberies.
That's the gist of it anyway. The man was manic when he was robbing the banks.
I bring the story up because it just goes to show you that people with the disorder come from all walks of life. Each of us experiences our manic episodes differently. Dr. Jay Carter states that 9% of the time, mania is euphoric and the other 91% of the time, it is angry/rageful. That's scary.
Sunday Bloody Sunday
I wish I could just lie here throughout the day, in my bed. It's 10:30 and there's chores to be done. It feels like it's going to be an overcast kind of day in here FL; I can tell even with the blinds drawn. No visual hallucinations last night but I was hearing sounds. I awoke at 5am like normal, I don't know why my body does that. I stayed awake in bed for an hour before giving in to my tired eyes. At least I don't have to leave the house today, that's a plus. Sundays are the hardest. It means struggling to find sleep at a decent hour and my alarm going off too soon for the work week to begin again. Yeah, Sundays are the hardest. I feel depressed today. I will fight it the best I can but my mind feels weak today.
Sunday Bloody Sunday
I wish I could just lie here throughout the day, in my bed. It's 10:30 and there's chores to be done. It feels like it's going to be an overcast kind of day in here FL; I can tell even with the blinds drawn. No visual hallucinations last night but I was hearing sounds. I awoke at 5am like normal, I don't know why my body does that. I stayed awake in bed for an hour before giving in to my tired eyes. At least I don't have to leave the house today, that's a plus. Sundays are the hardest. It means struggling to find sleep at a decent hour and my alarm going off too soon for the work week to begin again. Yeah, Sundays are the hardest. I feel depressed today. I will fight it the best I can but my mind feels weak today.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
I've been thinking....
I get so irritated when I'm in a euphoric state and the people I'm surrounded by are in a bad mood.
That must be how our loved ones feel when we're depressed.
When we're depressed, life happens all around us, and we miss out. Our loved ones want nothing more than to fix us when we're broken (depressed), but they can't because they don't know how. Hell, we don't even know how. And so maybe they get angry, not directly at us (okay, maybe sometimes), and that just makes us even more depressed and then maybe the rage begins to build.
I need to remember this when other people are in a great mood and I'm not.
It's really hard to hold back sometimes isn't it?
I could be sitting in my office doing my own thing and you interrupt me even for just a moment to say hello? That can trigger me to want to get up in your face or scratch myself until I bleed.
I hate myself when that happens.
That must be how our loved ones feel when we're depressed.
When we're depressed, life happens all around us, and we miss out. Our loved ones want nothing more than to fix us when we're broken (depressed), but they can't because they don't know how. Hell, we don't even know how. And so maybe they get angry, not directly at us (okay, maybe sometimes), and that just makes us even more depressed and then maybe the rage begins to build.
I need to remember this when other people are in a great mood and I'm not.
It's really hard to hold back sometimes isn't it?
I could be sitting in my office doing my own thing and you interrupt me even for just a moment to say hello? That can trigger me to want to get up in your face or scratch myself until I bleed.
I hate myself when that happens.
Hallucinations
I've heard of hallucinations before. Who hasn't? Hallucinations with your eyes closed? News to me. I've done a bit of research. Please feel free to add to and/or correct me where I'm wrong.
Hypnagogia is sleep onset and the transitional state between wakefulness and sleep.
Hypnopompia refers to the state of waking up from sleep.
Mental phenomena that occurs during this "threshold consciousness" phase or, hypnopomic state, include lucid dreaming, hallucinations, out of body experiences, and sleep paralysis.
From what I have read, the hallucinations that occur when our eyes are closed include seeing speckles, lines, geometrical patterns, and/or hearing sounds like your name being called, the doorbell, crashes and bangs, sometimes strange smells are present.
I've had different experiences than those I've read on various websites.
A little over a week ago, I was asleep on my living room couch when a woman with a hooded sweatshirt, hood on, walked between the couch and coffee table. I turned toward her as she brought her finger to her lips, shhhh, and beckoned me to go with her. I bolted upright and she was gone. (Have I already blogged about that?)
Last night it was my husband sitting upright in bed speaking jibberish, me lying next to him. When I opened my eyes, he was asleep with the pillow over his head, which is how he sleeps. This happened twice. The second time he was lying down speaking jibberish, sans pillow over his head.
These weren't dreams. I was awake with my eyes closed.
Are my medication adjustments/additions from when I was hospitalized kicking in and causing this? What does all of this mean?
I have a message in to my dr. That was 4 1/2 hours ago anyway. Why do they wait so fucking long to call back?
Hypnagogia is sleep onset and the transitional state between wakefulness and sleep.
Hypnopompia refers to the state of waking up from sleep.
Mental phenomena that occurs during this "threshold consciousness" phase or, hypnopomic state, include lucid dreaming, hallucinations, out of body experiences, and sleep paralysis.
From what I have read, the hallucinations that occur when our eyes are closed include seeing speckles, lines, geometrical patterns, and/or hearing sounds like your name being called, the doorbell, crashes and bangs, sometimes strange smells are present.
I've had different experiences than those I've read on various websites.
A little over a week ago, I was asleep on my living room couch when a woman with a hooded sweatshirt, hood on, walked between the couch and coffee table. I turned toward her as she brought her finger to her lips, shhhh, and beckoned me to go with her. I bolted upright and she was gone. (Have I already blogged about that?)
Last night it was my husband sitting upright in bed speaking jibberish, me lying next to him. When I opened my eyes, he was asleep with the pillow over his head, which is how he sleeps. This happened twice. The second time he was lying down speaking jibberish, sans pillow over his head.
These weren't dreams. I was awake with my eyes closed.
Are my medication adjustments/additions from when I was hospitalized kicking in and causing this? What does all of this mean?
I have a message in to my dr. That was 4 1/2 hours ago anyway. Why do they wait so fucking long to call back?
I've been thinking....
I get so irritated when I'm in a euphoric state and the people I'm surrounded by are in a bad mood.
That must be how our loved ones feel when we're depressed.
When we're depressed, life happens all around us, and we miss out. Our loved ones want nothing more than to fix us when we're broken (depressed), but they can't because they don't know how. Hell, we don't even know how. And so maybe they get angry, not directly at us (okay, maybe sometimes), and that just makes us even more depressed and then maybe the rage begins to build.
I need to remember this when other people are in a great mood and I'm not.
It's really hard to hold back sometimes isn't it?
I could be sitting in my office doing my own thing and you interrupt me even for just a moment to say hello? That can trigger me to want to get up in your face or scratch myself until I bleed.
I hate myself when that happens.
That must be how our loved ones feel when we're depressed.
When we're depressed, life happens all around us, and we miss out. Our loved ones want nothing more than to fix us when we're broken (depressed), but they can't because they don't know how. Hell, we don't even know how. And so maybe they get angry, not directly at us (okay, maybe sometimes), and that just makes us even more depressed and then maybe the rage begins to build.
I need to remember this when other people are in a great mood and I'm not.
It's really hard to hold back sometimes isn't it?
I could be sitting in my office doing my own thing and you interrupt me even for just a moment to say hello? That can trigger me to want to get up in your face or scratch myself until I bleed.
I hate myself when that happens.
Hallucinations
I've heard of hallucinations before. Who hasn't? Hallucinations with your eyes closed? News to me. I've done a bit of research. Please feel free to add to and/or correct me where I'm wrong.
Hypnagogia is sleep onset and the transitional state between wakefulness and sleep.
Hypnopompia refers to the state of waking up from sleep.
Mental phenomena that occurs during this "threshold consciousness" phase or, hypnopomic state, include lucid dreaming, hallucinations, out of body experiences, and sleep paralysis.
From what I have read, the hallucinations that occur when our eyes are closed include seeing speckles, lines, geometrical patterns, and/or hearing sounds like your name being called, the doorbell, crashes and bangs, sometimes strange smells are present.
I've had different experiences than those I've read on various websites.
A little over a week ago, I was asleep on my living room couch when a woman with a hooded sweatshirt, hood on, walked between the couch and coffee table. I turned toward her as she brought her finger to her lips, shhhh, and beckoned me to go with her. I bolted upright and she was gone. (Have I already blogged about that?)
Last night it was my husband sitting upright in bed speaking jibberish, me lying next to him. When I opened my eyes, he was asleep with the pillow over his head, which is how he sleeps. This happened twice. The second time he was lying down speaking jibberish, sans pillow over his head.
These weren't dreams. I was awake with my eyes closed.
Are my medication adjustments/additions from when I was hospitalized kicking in and causing this? What does all of this mean?
I have a message in to my dr. That was 4 1/2 hours ago anyway. Why do they wait so fucking long to call back?
Hypnagogia is sleep onset and the transitional state between wakefulness and sleep.
Hypnopompia refers to the state of waking up from sleep.
Mental phenomena that occurs during this "threshold consciousness" phase or, hypnopomic state, include lucid dreaming, hallucinations, out of body experiences, and sleep paralysis.
From what I have read, the hallucinations that occur when our eyes are closed include seeing speckles, lines, geometrical patterns, and/or hearing sounds like your name being called, the doorbell, crashes and bangs, sometimes strange smells are present.
I've had different experiences than those I've read on various websites.
A little over a week ago, I was asleep on my living room couch when a woman with a hooded sweatshirt, hood on, walked between the couch and coffee table. I turned toward her as she brought her finger to her lips, shhhh, and beckoned me to go with her. I bolted upright and she was gone. (Have I already blogged about that?)
Last night it was my husband sitting upright in bed speaking jibberish, me lying next to him. When I opened my eyes, he was asleep with the pillow over his head, which is how he sleeps. This happened twice. The second time he was lying down speaking jibberish, sans pillow over his head.
These weren't dreams. I was awake with my eyes closed.
Are my medication adjustments/additions from when I was hospitalized kicking in and causing this? What does all of this mean?
I have a message in to my dr. That was 4 1/2 hours ago anyway. Why do they wait so fucking long to call back?
Friday, September 16, 2011
Love Thyself
"I love myself exactly as I am. I no longer wait to be perfect in order to love myself."
"I come from the loving space of my heart, and know that love opens all doors."
"I choose to feel good about myself. I am worthy of my own love."
---Louise L. Hay
Love is the focus of this post. I am hard on myself most of the time. I think sometimes we need to take a step back, breathe, and realize that hey, I'm worthy of the love others give me. Why not love myself in the process?
"I come from the loving space of my heart, and know that love opens all doors."
"I choose to feel good about myself. I am worthy of my own love."
---Louise L. Hay
Love is the focus of this post. I am hard on myself most of the time. I think sometimes we need to take a step back, breathe, and realize that hey, I'm worthy of the love others give me. Why not love myself in the process?
Quotes
A life lived in fear is half lived.
- Anonymous
- Anonymous
I'd like to be reminded of this quote when I'm not depressed. I tend to be in fear of the depression's return rather than live in the moment. In the precious present.
The question should be, is it worth trying to do, not can it be done.
- Allard Lowenstein, 20th Century American Diplomat
- Allard Lowenstein, 20th Century American Diplomat
And I'd like to keep this in mind when treatment options are presented to me, no matter how silly I think they may be.
Is it hypomania or something else?
If a hypomanic episode must last for four or more days (by textbook terms) what is it considered when you're just in a euphoric mood and it drops instantly because of one trigger or another? What the hell does that mean? Is it just a bump in the road of hypomania if you're mood is back on the up the following day or when you get over what triggered you in the first place? This illness is too fucking confusing. No wonder people get misdiagnosed all the time.
A close bloggy friend commented on my post from yesterday, "I get fizzles. As fast as it comes it goes. I won't lie, I love that feeling. For me, other people's moods really rub off on me. I'm not sure how to shield myself from that."
It's exactly the same for me, as I said above.
So please, someone explain what all of this means. What am I to expect? Am I going to turn schizophrenic in the end?
? ? ?
A close bloggy friend commented on my post from yesterday, "I get fizzles. As fast as it comes it goes. I won't lie, I love that feeling. For me, other people's moods really rub off on me. I'm not sure how to shield myself from that."
It's exactly the same for me, as I said above.
So please, someone explain what all of this means. What am I to expect? Am I going to turn schizophrenic in the end?
? ? ?
Quotes
A life lived in fear is half lived.
- Anonymous
- Anonymous
I'd like to be reminded of this quote when I'm not depressed. I tend to be in fear of the depression's return rather than live in the moment. In the precious present.
The question should be, is it worth trying to do, not can it be done.
- Allard Lowenstein, 20th Century American Diplomat
- Allard Lowenstein, 20th Century American Diplomat
And I'd like to keep this in mind when treatment options are presented to me, no matter how silly I think they may be.
Is it hypomania or something else?
If a hypomanic episode must last for four or more days (by textbook terms) what is it considered when you're just in a euphoric mood and it drops instantly because of one trigger or another? What the hell does that mean? Is it just a bump in the road of hypomania if you're mood is back on the up the following day or when you get over what triggered you in the first place? This illness is too fucking confusing. No wonder people get misdiagnosed all the time.
A close bloggy friend commented on my post from yesterday, "I get fizzles. As fast as it comes it goes. I won't lie, I love that feeling. For me, other people's moods really rub off on me. I'm not sure how to shield myself from that."
It's exactly the same for me, as I said above.
So please, someone explain what all of this means. What am I to expect? Am I going to turn schizophrenic in the end?
? ? ?
A close bloggy friend commented on my post from yesterday, "I get fizzles. As fast as it comes it goes. I won't lie, I love that feeling. For me, other people's moods really rub off on me. I'm not sure how to shield myself from that."
It's exactly the same for me, as I said above.
So please, someone explain what all of this means. What am I to expect? Am I going to turn schizophrenic in the end?
? ? ?
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Banishing the Negative
Last night my mind started working overtime. So many thoughts at once, it was hard to process it all. I stayed up a little later than usual but felt refreshed this morning. I don't know how. I woke up a bunch in the early morning hours to my husband nudging me to stop snoring (if you have suggestions to help me stop, I'm all ears).
It felt like a hypomanic phase is about to/has start(ed). At least it did. I was so "high" this morning and now I just want the day to end. I hate the way that happens. It just fizzles out, like that, nothing.
I spent a good part of my day worrying about a friend who is suicidal. I've been chatting with people who know her on and off throughout the day, and even called her office to get some information. She's fine. Or as fine as I'm able to know. But you know what? I'm pissed.
I don't know if I'm pissed that my so-called mania didn't escalate and keep hold (maybe I was just in a really good mood for a short time?), or if I'm mad at my friend for trying to take her own life, or if I'm mad at myself because I really didn't try to stop her (because deep inside, I still kind of get her wanting an "out"), maybe it's partially that I hate when other people bring me down when I am up, and on and on she goes.
I think it's time to remove myself from the filth that is bad relationships. Relationships gone sour, if you will. It can't be healthy for my mental well being. It's not healthy for anyone's mental well being, but when you have a mental illness, it's that much worse.
I want to get there. To that place. The place where I can speak in a positive manner and banish the negative.
It felt like a hypomanic phase is about to/has start(ed). At least it did. I was so "high" this morning and now I just want the day to end. I hate the way that happens. It just fizzles out, like that, nothing.
I spent a good part of my day worrying about a friend who is suicidal. I've been chatting with people who know her on and off throughout the day, and even called her office to get some information. She's fine. Or as fine as I'm able to know. But you know what? I'm pissed.
I don't know if I'm pissed that my so-called mania didn't escalate and keep hold (maybe I was just in a really good mood for a short time?), or if I'm mad at my friend for trying to take her own life, or if I'm mad at myself because I really didn't try to stop her (because deep inside, I still kind of get her wanting an "out"), maybe it's partially that I hate when other people bring me down when I am up, and on and on she goes.
I think it's time to remove myself from the filth that is bad relationships. Relationships gone sour, if you will. It can't be healthy for my mental well being. It's not healthy for anyone's mental well being, but when you have a mental illness, it's that much worse.
"My heart is open. I speak with loving words."
--Louise L. Hay
I want to get there. To that place. The place where I can speak in a positive manner and banish the negative.
Banishing the Negative
Last night my mind started working overtime. So many thoughts at once, it was hard to process it all. I stayed up a little later than usual but felt refreshed this morning. I don't know how. I woke up a bunch in the early morning hours to my husband nudging me to stop snoring (if you have suggestions to help me stop, I'm all ears).
It felt like a hypomanic phase is about to/has start(ed). At least it did. I was so "high" this morning and now I just want the day to end. I hate the way that happens. It just fizzles out, like that, nothing.
I spent a good part of my day worrying about a friend who is suicidal. I've been chatting with people who know her on and off throughout the day, and even called her office to get some information. She's fine. Or as fine as I'm able to know. But you know what? I'm pissed.
I don't know if I'm pissed that my so-called mania didn't escalate and keep hold (maybe I was just in a really good mood for a short time?), or if I'm mad at my friend for trying to take her own life, or if I'm mad at myself because I really didn't try to stop her (because deep inside, I still kind of get her wanting an "out"), maybe it's partially that I hate when other people bring me down when I am up, and on and on she goes.
I think it's time to remove myself from the filth that is bad relationships. Relationships gone sour, if you will. It can't be healthy for my mental well being. It's not healthy for anyone's mental well being, but when you have a mental illness, it's that much worse.
I want to get there. To that place. The place where I can speak in a positive manner and banish the negative.
It felt like a hypomanic phase is about to/has start(ed). At least it did. I was so "high" this morning and now I just want the day to end. I hate the way that happens. It just fizzles out, like that, nothing.
I spent a good part of my day worrying about a friend who is suicidal. I've been chatting with people who know her on and off throughout the day, and even called her office to get some information. She's fine. Or as fine as I'm able to know. But you know what? I'm pissed.
I don't know if I'm pissed that my so-called mania didn't escalate and keep hold (maybe I was just in a really good mood for a short time?), or if I'm mad at my friend for trying to take her own life, or if I'm mad at myself because I really didn't try to stop her (because deep inside, I still kind of get her wanting an "out"), maybe it's partially that I hate when other people bring me down when I am up, and on and on she goes.
I think it's time to remove myself from the filth that is bad relationships. Relationships gone sour, if you will. It can't be healthy for my mental well being. It's not healthy for anyone's mental well being, but when you have a mental illness, it's that much worse.
"My heart is open. I speak with loving words."
--Louise L. Hay
I want to get there. To that place. The place where I can speak in a positive manner and banish the negative.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
I'm a new mom? GASP! Now what?
My sister recently gave birth. To twin girls. Ack! They're too adorable for words.
Right? I do not kid!
It's hard for me to offer advice to new mothers because I don't want to scare any of them away. I could boast about sleeping when the baby(s) sleep, not rushing back to working out (as if) to shed some of that baby weight (let your body heal, you've put it through hell!), or the "What the fuck is that coming out of my vag?" type questions.
No.
I want to continue to raise awareness of Postpartum Depression. You may have it and think, "How could I have PPD, I'm not even depressed!?" But hey, you don't necessarily have to be depressed to have the illness.
Maybe you're feeling overwhelmed....What was I thinking having a baby?
Maybe you're not bonding with your baby like you thought you would...It's just not going by the textbook.
Maybe you're raging mad, irritated, just plain angry...And you just don't know why.
Sleep? What's that?...You're afraid to sleep because if you do, you can't check on the baby to make sure he/she is still breathing...to make sure he/she is okey-dokey.
Maybe you're having thoughts of throwing your baby out the window?...Will he/she ever stop crying?
There are so many symptoms of Postpartum Depression. You don't need to have have them all to be diagnosed, but help is available. I know how hard it is to ask for help, believe me, I've been there (thus the creation of this blog). Making that first call is the hardest. Maybe you can start with your OB/GYN or a friend or family member who can walk you through it.
You're not crazy.
You're not alone.
You're going to be okay.
It's hard for me to offer advice to new mothers because I don't want to scare any of them away. I could boast about sleeping when the baby(s) sleep, not rushing back to working out (as if) to shed some of that baby weight (let your body heal, you've put it through hell!), or the "What the fuck is that coming out of my vag?" type questions.
No.
I want to continue to raise awareness of Postpartum Depression. You may have it and think, "How could I have PPD, I'm not even depressed!?" But hey, you don't necessarily have to be depressed to have the illness.
Maybe you're feeling overwhelmed....What was I thinking having a baby?
Maybe you're not bonding with your baby like you thought you would...It's just not going by the textbook.
Maybe you're raging mad, irritated, just plain angry...And you just don't know why.
Sleep? What's that?...You're afraid to sleep because if you do, you can't check on the baby to make sure he/she is still breathing...to make sure he/she is okey-dokey.
Maybe you're having thoughts of throwing your baby out the window?...Will he/she ever stop crying?
There are so many symptoms of Postpartum Depression. You don't need to have have them all to be diagnosed, but help is available. I know how hard it is to ask for help, believe me, I've been there (thus the creation of this blog). Making that first call is the hardest. Maybe you can start with your OB/GYN or a friend or family member who can walk you through it.
You're not crazy.
You're not alone.
You're going to be okay.
Bipolar Blogging
In August 2011, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder (Type II). At that time I started a new blog but have since decided to merge that blog with this one.
At first I felt like I needed to separate the two because this one was born out of postpartum depression. I was ashamed.
Over the course of some time, I will be importing all my posts from the other blog here under the label of "Bipolar Blogging" to keep things in order.
1/4/2012
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
How Can a Therapist Help?
I've been to see a therapist twice since my Bipolar diagnosis.
My first session was a "bring her up to date" hour. I also walked away with a workbook about handling my emotions. At first, the book seemed like it would help. The further I read, the more I realized the book wasn't focusing on the present. It was more or less gazing into my past, sort of blaming my parents for my upbringing if you will. It got me nowhere.
My second session was different. I was in a fit of anger upon arriving. A ball of nerves and anxiety. We chatted. She explained that I was born with the illness and my having postpartum depression was probably the trigger which set it off. There was no one to blame. (I should add here, I wasn't angry when I walked in because I HAVE Bipolar Disorder, I was angry for the sake of being angry. It was one of those "things" being Bipolar that just happens.) I walked away with two more books. One was a workbook, which focused on getting my anger under control and the other was a plain English book all about Bipolar; one to give to family/friends to help them understand the illness.
The workbook? It was full of contracts. Contracts with yourself. Seriously? Oh...One of the ways to get a grip on your anger? Stare at a tree. I shit you not. Now, I can break down the beauty of just about anything as good as the next guy, but staring at a tree is not going to help me not want to punch you if you look at me the wrong way. Needless to say, the remainder of this book was similar to that of staring at trees and suck. El sucko if you ask me.
The other book? *Love* I wrote about it here.
I have another appointment one week from today.
I'm weary about going back. How is my therapist going to help me? When I first sit down, I initially feel uncomfortable. It's like going on a blind date. Do I strike up the conversation? Is it okay to get cozy on the couch and just unload?
What is therapy for? How can talk therapy help an individual with Bipolar Disorder?
My first session was a "bring her up to date" hour. I also walked away with a workbook about handling my emotions. At first, the book seemed like it would help. The further I read, the more I realized the book wasn't focusing on the present. It was more or less gazing into my past, sort of blaming my parents for my upbringing if you will. It got me nowhere.
My second session was different. I was in a fit of anger upon arriving. A ball of nerves and anxiety. We chatted. She explained that I was born with the illness and my having postpartum depression was probably the trigger which set it off. There was no one to blame. (I should add here, I wasn't angry when I walked in because I HAVE Bipolar Disorder, I was angry for the sake of being angry. It was one of those "things" being Bipolar that just happens.) I walked away with two more books. One was a workbook, which focused on getting my anger under control and the other was a plain English book all about Bipolar; one to give to family/friends to help them understand the illness.
The workbook? It was full of contracts. Contracts with yourself. Seriously? Oh...One of the ways to get a grip on your anger? Stare at a tree. I shit you not. Now, I can break down the beauty of just about anything as good as the next guy, but staring at a tree is not going to help me not want to punch you if you look at me the wrong way. Needless to say, the remainder of this book was similar to that of staring at trees and suck. El sucko if you ask me.
The other book? *Love* I wrote about it here.
I have another appointment one week from today.
I'm weary about going back. How is my therapist going to help me? When I first sit down, I initially feel uncomfortable. It's like going on a blind date. Do I strike up the conversation? Is it okay to get cozy on the couch and just unload?
What is therapy for? How can talk therapy help an individual with Bipolar Disorder?
How Can a Therapist Help?
I've been to see a therapist twice since my Bipolar diagnosis.
My first session was a "bring her up to date" hour. I also walked away with a workbook about handling my emotions. At first, the book seemed like it would help. The further I read, the more I realized the book wasn't focusing on the present. It was more or less gazing into my past, sort of blaming my parents for my upbringing if you will. It got me nowhere.
My second session was different. I was in a fit of anger upon arriving. A ball of nerves and anxiety. We chatted. She explained that I was born with the illness and my having postpartum depression was probably the trigger which set it off. There was no one to blame. (I should add here, I wasn't angry when I walked in because I HAVE Bipolar Disorder, I was angry for the sake of being angry. It was one of those "things" being Bipolar that just happens.) I walked away with two more books. One was a workbook, which focused on getting my anger under control and the other was a plain English book all about Bipolar; one to give to family/friends to help them understand the illness.
The workbook? It was full of contracts. Contracts with yourself. Seriously? Oh...One of the ways to get a grip on your anger? Stare at a tree. I shit you not. Now, I can break down the beauty of just about anything as good as the next guy, but staring at a tree is not going to help me not want to punch you if you look at me the wrong way. Needless to say, the remainder of this book was similar to that of staring at trees and suck. El sucko if you ask me.
The other book? *Love* I wrote about it here.
I have another appointment one week from today.
I'm weary about going back. How is my therapist going to help me? When I first sit down, I initially feel uncomfortable. It's like going on a blind date. Do I strike up the conversation? Is it okay to get cozy on the couch and just unload?
What is therapy for? How can talk therapy help an individual with Bipolar Disorder?
My first session was a "bring her up to date" hour. I also walked away with a workbook about handling my emotions. At first, the book seemed like it would help. The further I read, the more I realized the book wasn't focusing on the present. It was more or less gazing into my past, sort of blaming my parents for my upbringing if you will. It got me nowhere.
My second session was different. I was in a fit of anger upon arriving. A ball of nerves and anxiety. We chatted. She explained that I was born with the illness and my having postpartum depression was probably the trigger which set it off. There was no one to blame. (I should add here, I wasn't angry when I walked in because I HAVE Bipolar Disorder, I was angry for the sake of being angry. It was one of those "things" being Bipolar that just happens.) I walked away with two more books. One was a workbook, which focused on getting my anger under control and the other was a plain English book all about Bipolar; one to give to family/friends to help them understand the illness.
The workbook? It was full of contracts. Contracts with yourself. Seriously? Oh...One of the ways to get a grip on your anger? Stare at a tree. I shit you not. Now, I can break down the beauty of just about anything as good as the next guy, but staring at a tree is not going to help me not want to punch you if you look at me the wrong way. Needless to say, the remainder of this book was similar to that of staring at trees and suck. El sucko if you ask me.
The other book? *Love* I wrote about it here.
I have another appointment one week from today.
I'm weary about going back. How is my therapist going to help me? When I first sit down, I initially feel uncomfortable. It's like going on a blind date. Do I strike up the conversation? Is it okay to get cozy on the couch and just unload?
What is therapy for? How can talk therapy help an individual with Bipolar Disorder?
Monday, September 12, 2011
PPD to Joy - - SpeakEasy Free Telephone Support Chats with Yael Saar
Yael Daphna Saar is the author of PPD to Joy. She is much more than that to me though. Allow me to explain.
Most of my readers know I have been battling depression for the past 2 1/2 years and that my latest diagnosis is Bipolar Type II. I have come to know a community of women (and some men) online who have been more supportive than I could ever have imagined. Some don't believe an online friendship is real. Well, I'm here to tell you that they are, in fact, real. Some of my closest friends are online friends. Scratch that. MOST of my friends are online friends. We support each other through thick and thin and I love each of them like whoa.
Yael is extraordinary. She goes above and beyond to help women battling the demon that is postpartum depression. She lost her mother to the illness. She almost lost herself to PPD as well but she was able to turn that around. She has dedicated herself to others, like you and me and your loved ones, to battle the illness as well. Without her? Many of us would not be where we are today.
I'm here to raise awareness for Yael's PPD SpeakEasy Free Telephone Support Chats! These free chats by phone take place on the second Tuesday of each month at 8:30pm EST. However, for the month of September, Yael is offering THREE PPD Speak Easy Chats! So mark your calendar. September 13th @ 8:30pm EST, September 18th @ 2:00pm EST, and September 27th @ Noon EST. These are the dates to remember. Why is she doing this? Yael is turning 40 and PPD to Joy is celebrating its one year anniversary. Let the celebration begin!
How can you help?
Tweet! Tweet! Copy and Paste:
Talking to other mothers w/ #PPD saves lives. Join @yaelsaar for 3 free&loving #PPDSpeakEasy support calls in Sept. http://ow.ly/6oo9Y
Or this:
Motherhood is hard. Sharing makes it easier. Join @yaelsaar for 3 free & loving #PPDSpeakEasy support calls in Sept. http://ow.ly/6oo9Y
Go "LIKE" PPD to Joy on Facebook and spread the word on your wall by copying and pasting the following:
Do you know about the PPD SpeakEasy support chat for mothers? A free, confidential & loving phone call. There is nothing quite like talking to other mothers who “get it”. This monthly chat is hosted by Yael Saar of PPDtojoy.com. In September, to celebrate her birthday, Yael will be holding 3 chats: Tuesday Sept.13 at 8:30 pm, Sunday Sept.18 at 2:00pm, Tuesday Sept. 27 at noon (all times Eastern). For more info and sign up click here: http://www.ppdtojoy.com/support/speakeasy-call/
You can also visit this post for a complete list of ways to help.
Postpartum depression is real. Postpartum depression is a tough battle. We need to raise more awareness about postpartum depression. Please, help in any way you can and thank you in advance!!
Disguised Symptoms
Men have the upper hand when it comes to mental illness. They're never asked, "Where are you at in your cycle?" by a psychiatrist and/or therapist.
What I'm saying is, if a man's bipolar symptoms are on the rise, they're just that...bipolar symptoms. When a woman has bipolar symptoms on the rise, it may be PMS disguised as bipolar symptoms. And really y'all? That just plain sucks.
I like being a woman, mostly, but having to stop and think....Am I just PMS'ing or is mania right around the corner, is annoying.
On Friday, I had a panic attack. I was at work sitting in our kitchen eating my lunch. Out of nowhere my heart began to pound. I had a coworker feel it and he too agreed that my heart might just explode out of my chest. I was concerned that maybe one of my medications was causing this. I started to get anxious that something was going to happen, something bad. Not because of my heart rapidly beating, just one of those things that accompanies an attack such as this.
I ended up at my psychiatrist's office on Friday afternoon. By the way, want to know the quickest way to get your psychiatrist to call you back? Drive on over for an emergency visit a half hour before he/she is scheduled to go home for the weekend to ask if you were still coming. Mine? Called me fifteen minutes before he was scheduled to leave. It just so happened, I was in the parking lot.
All in all, we could have had our "session" over the phone because I walked away worse off then when I went in. He wanted to put me on Seroquel, which I can't afford. We have had that conversation in the past. He wanted me to fill out a medication assistance form to see if I could get the pills for free but I don't qualify. Bummer.
So I went on to ask him what the maximum dose is of my mood stabilizer. I'm at the maximum. He said it's only FDA approved for where I'm at for bipolar patients but for seizure control, it could go higher. He asked if I'd like to "try" going up in dose. I'm done with being a guinea pig and told him so. He followed that up with a, "Then why are you here?" I knew he really just wanted to leave, he didn't have my best interest in mind, at all. This made me angry. I agreed to up the dose just to get out of there but have no plans on actually doing it.
Now I'm taking my antianxiety medication three times a day until I get leveled out again, or until my womanly cycle returns to "normal", if there is such a thing.
Some days, I wish I were a guy. Or better yet, that a guy had to experience a period and all that goes with it. Period.
What I'm saying is, if a man's bipolar symptoms are on the rise, they're just that...bipolar symptoms. When a woman has bipolar symptoms on the rise, it may be PMS disguised as bipolar symptoms. And really y'all? That just plain sucks.
I like being a woman, mostly, but having to stop and think....Am I just PMS'ing or is mania right around the corner, is annoying.
On Friday, I had a panic attack. I was at work sitting in our kitchen eating my lunch. Out of nowhere my heart began to pound. I had a coworker feel it and he too agreed that my heart might just explode out of my chest. I was concerned that maybe one of my medications was causing this. I started to get anxious that something was going to happen, something bad. Not because of my heart rapidly beating, just one of those things that accompanies an attack such as this.
I ended up at my psychiatrist's office on Friday afternoon. By the way, want to know the quickest way to get your psychiatrist to call you back? Drive on over for an emergency visit a half hour before he/she is scheduled to go home for the weekend to ask if you were still coming. Mine? Called me fifteen minutes before he was scheduled to leave. It just so happened, I was in the parking lot.
All in all, we could have had our "session" over the phone because I walked away worse off then when I went in. He wanted to put me on Seroquel, which I can't afford. We have had that conversation in the past. He wanted me to fill out a medication assistance form to see if I could get the pills for free but I don't qualify. Bummer.
So I went on to ask him what the maximum dose is of my mood stabilizer. I'm at the maximum. He said it's only FDA approved for where I'm at for bipolar patients but for seizure control, it could go higher. He asked if I'd like to "try" going up in dose. I'm done with being a guinea pig and told him so. He followed that up with a, "Then why are you here?" I knew he really just wanted to leave, he didn't have my best interest in mind, at all. This made me angry. I agreed to up the dose just to get out of there but have no plans on actually doing it.
Now I'm taking my antianxiety medication three times a day until I get leveled out again, or until my womanly cycle returns to "normal", if there is such a thing.
Some days, I wish I were a guy. Or better yet, that a guy had to experience a period and all that goes with it. Period.
Disguised Symptoms
Men have the upper hand when it comes to mental illness. They're never asked, "Where are you at in your cycle?" by a psychiatrist and/or therapist.
What I'm saying is, if a man's bipolar symptoms are on the rise, they're just that...bipolar symptoms. When a woman has bipolar symptoms on the rise, it may be PMS disguised as bipolar symptoms. And really y'all? That just plain sucks.
I like being a woman, mostly, but having to stop and think....Am I just PMS'ing or is mania right around the corner, is annoying.
On Friday, I had a panic attack. I was at work sitting in our kitchen eating my lunch. Out of nowhere my heart began to pound. I had a coworker feel it and he too agreed that my heart might just explode out of my chest. I was concerned that maybe one of my medications was causing this. I started to get anxious that something was going to happen, something bad. Not because of my heart rapidly beating, just one of those things that accompanies an attack such as this.
I ended up at my psychiatrist's office on Friday afternoon. By the way, want to know the quickest way to get your psychiatrist to call you back? Drive on over for an emergency visit a half hour before he/she is scheduled to go home for the weekend to ask if you were still coming. Mine? Called me fifteen minutes before he was scheduled to leave. It just so happened, I was in the parking lot.
All in all, we could have had our "session" over the phone because I walked away worse off then when I went in. He wanted to put me on Seroquel, which I can't afford. We have had that conversation in the past. He wanted me to fill out a medication assistance form to see if I could get the pills for free but I don't qualify. Bummer.
So I went on to ask him what the maximum dose is of my mood stabilizer. I'm at the maximum. He said it's only FDA approved for where I'm at for bipolar patients but for seizure control, it could go higher. He asked if I'd like to "try" going up in dose. I'm done with being a guinea pig and told him so. He followed that up with a, "Then why are you here?" I knew he really just wanted to leave, he didn't have my best interest in mind, at all. This made me angry. I agreed to up the dose just to get out of there but have no plans on actually doing it.
Now I'm taking my antianxiety medication three times a day until I get leveled out again, or until my womanly cycle returns to "normal", if there is such a thing.
Some days, I wish I were a guy. Or better yet, that a guy had to experience a period and all that goes with it. Period.
What I'm saying is, if a man's bipolar symptoms are on the rise, they're just that...bipolar symptoms. When a woman has bipolar symptoms on the rise, it may be PMS disguised as bipolar symptoms. And really y'all? That just plain sucks.
I like being a woman, mostly, but having to stop and think....Am I just PMS'ing or is mania right around the corner, is annoying.
On Friday, I had a panic attack. I was at work sitting in our kitchen eating my lunch. Out of nowhere my heart began to pound. I had a coworker feel it and he too agreed that my heart might just explode out of my chest. I was concerned that maybe one of my medications was causing this. I started to get anxious that something was going to happen, something bad. Not because of my heart rapidly beating, just one of those things that accompanies an attack such as this.
I ended up at my psychiatrist's office on Friday afternoon. By the way, want to know the quickest way to get your psychiatrist to call you back? Drive on over for an emergency visit a half hour before he/she is scheduled to go home for the weekend to ask if you were still coming. Mine? Called me fifteen minutes before he was scheduled to leave. It just so happened, I was in the parking lot.
All in all, we could have had our "session" over the phone because I walked away worse off then when I went in. He wanted to put me on Seroquel, which I can't afford. We have had that conversation in the past. He wanted me to fill out a medication assistance form to see if I could get the pills for free but I don't qualify. Bummer.
So I went on to ask him what the maximum dose is of my mood stabilizer. I'm at the maximum. He said it's only FDA approved for where I'm at for bipolar patients but for seizure control, it could go higher. He asked if I'd like to "try" going up in dose. I'm done with being a guinea pig and told him so. He followed that up with a, "Then why are you here?" I knew he really just wanted to leave, he didn't have my best interest in mind, at all. This made me angry. I agreed to up the dose just to get out of there but have no plans on actually doing it.
Now I'm taking my antianxiety medication three times a day until I get leveled out again, or until my womanly cycle returns to "normal", if there is such a thing.
Some days, I wish I were a guy. Or better yet, that a guy had to experience a period and all that goes with it. Period.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Panic
Yesterday I sat, the end of the day approaching with my wine glass full, pondering the panic attack that hit at lunch time. At the time, of course, I was sure the end of time as I knew it was here.
My heart pounded, I became flushed, I was afraid of the unknown. I had a coworker of mine place his hand on my chest to assure me that yes, heart explosion was near and I needed to call my dr. stat.
I called and was told to head on over.
He suggested pills I can't afford and got aggravated with me when I turned them down. Honestly, we could have done all that by phone, minus the copay.
He was in a rush. I was his last patient and he was home free for the weekend.
He said I needed to relax.
So? I'm done with him. I have a few refills left on my existing meds. I haven't decided yet if I should slowly start weaning from them, or keep refilling and taking them until the refills run out and see him again for more.
I was mad when I left. Fuck that, I was livid. I left work, again, to give my disorder more attention. I fed it, just like it wanted. Asshole.
On my way home, I pulled over, grabbed the box cutter from my bag I slipped in the night before, and I cut. And you know what? It felt good. The pain took my mind off the bullshit. The day before was the first time I ever self harmed.
I'm so fucking over fighting mental illness.
My heart pounded, I became flushed, I was afraid of the unknown. I had a coworker of mine place his hand on my chest to assure me that yes, heart explosion was near and I needed to call my dr. stat.
I called and was told to head on over.
He suggested pills I can't afford and got aggravated with me when I turned them down. Honestly, we could have done all that by phone, minus the copay.
He was in a rush. I was his last patient and he was home free for the weekend.
He said I needed to relax.
So? I'm done with him. I have a few refills left on my existing meds. I haven't decided yet if I should slowly start weaning from them, or keep refilling and taking them until the refills run out and see him again for more.
I was mad when I left. Fuck that, I was livid. I left work, again, to give my disorder more attention. I fed it, just like it wanted. Asshole.
On my way home, I pulled over, grabbed the box cutter from my bag I slipped in the night before, and I cut. And you know what? It felt good. The pain took my mind off the bullshit. The day before was the first time I ever self harmed.
I'm so fucking over fighting mental illness.
Panic
Yesterday I sat, the end of the day approaching with my wine glass full, pondering the panic attack that hit at lunch time. At the time, of course, I was sure the end of time as I knew it was here.
My heart pounded, I became flushed, I was afraid of the unknown. I had a coworker of mine place his hand on my chest to assure me that yes, heart explosion was near and I needed to call my dr. stat.
I called and was told to head on over.
He suggested pills I can't afford and got aggravated with me when I turned them down. Honestly, we could have done all that by phone, minus the copay.
He was in a rush. I was his last patient and he was homefree for the weekend.
He said I needed to relax.
So? I'm done with him. I have a few refills left on my exixting meds. I haven't decided yet if I should slowly start weaning from them, or keep refilling and taking them until the refills run out and see him again for more.
I was mad when I left. Fuck that, I was livid. I left work, again, to give my disorder more attention. I fed it, just like it wanted. Asshole.
On my way home, I pulled over, grabbed the box cutter from my bag I slipped in the night before, and I cut. And you know what? It felt good. The pain took my mind off the bullshit. The day before was the first time I ever self harmed.
I'm so fucking over fighting mental illness.
My heart pounded, I became flushed, I was afraid of the unknown. I had a coworker of mine place his hand on my chest to assure me that yes, heart explosion was near and I needed to call my dr. stat.
I called and was told to head on over.
He suggested pills I can't afford and got aggravated with me when I turned them down. Honestly, we could have done all that by phone, minus the copay.
He was in a rush. I was his last patient and he was homefree for the weekend.
He said I needed to relax.
So? I'm done with him. I have a few refills left on my exixting meds. I haven't decided yet if I should slowly start weaning from them, or keep refilling and taking them until the refills run out and see him again for more.
I was mad when I left. Fuck that, I was livid. I left work, again, to give my disorder more attention. I fed it, just like it wanted. Asshole.
On my way home, I pulled over, grabbed the box cutter from my bag I slipped in the night before, and I cut. And you know what? It felt good. The pain took my mind off the bullshit. The day before was the first time I ever self harmed.
I'm so fucking over fighting mental illness.
Friday, September 9, 2011
My Psychiatric Facility Stay ^ Part 3 ^
It was a restless night. The nurse's station was right behind me. All I wanted on that first night was to resign to my room with my book and go to sleep. Instead I was on display for all to see.
I kept my back to the nurses and slept as much as I could. Each time I dozed off, something startled me from sleep. Just like any other hospital, the night shift crew just didn't know how to be quiet. They didn't seem to care how loud they were being.
I couldn't leave the common area alone, even to use the bathroom, at any time while the suicide watch was in place.
At one point during the night, a psychiatrist came over to the nurse's station from the men's ward. He went into detail about how one of the men tried to kill himself that night. He made a noose out of his bed sheets, stuck one end into the door to his room, closed it, stood on a chair, and jumped. I shouldn't have heard that. I don't think the doctor should have shared that information with anyone who wasn't immediately involved in this man's case. It was appalling.
The next morning I was seen by an MD and I took my meds. I went with the group to breakfast and returned for a group session. It was more like a bitch session, actually. The women went at each other for not holding places in the med line while they smoked or being quiet while others were watching a movie. Silly shit.
I asked one of the techs to accompany me to my room so I could take a shower. I needed something, anything, to pass the time until my assigned psychiatrist decided to make his way to the facility to meet with me for my evaluation.
(The remainder of my stay is very foggy to me now. There was a lot of eating, a lot of group sessions, a lot more eating, a lot of sitting around, and, did I mention we ate a lot? It was strange to watch the girls who had been to this facility before smuggle food back to their rooms.)
Just after lunch on my second day at Wekiva, my doctor showed up. Dr. M. The man who made my psychiatric facility stay a living hell. The doctor who ordered the suicide watch for my already uncomfortable first night, the one who didn't take the time to see me on my first night to evaluate me like he should have. Almost 24 hours to the minute, Dr. M arrived to evaluate me. That's the rule. You have to be seen within 24 hours of arrival.
I had a very pleasant chat with Dr. M after I initially complained about my first 24 hours. In fact, he made me feel very much at ease. We went over my entire medical history from when the depression started up until that very day. He diagnosed me with Bipolar Type II. It made so much sense. I wasn't happy about the diagnosis, but knowing that what I was going through had a label made it easier to accept.
It was Saturday. He told me in advance that he wouldn't return to the facility until some time on Monday when we would discuss my discharge. Give it a few days for the meds to get in your system he assured me. I felt better.
He released me from suicide watch and I could return to my room. This little freedom was luxurious. I could pee with the bathroom door closed! I could lie in bed and read or take a nap!
I followed the schedule to the minute. In between group sessions I used the phone to call my husband, kids, mother, sister and friend.
When dinner came and went on Monday I began to grow agitated. Once again, where was my doctor? What are his priorities? He only had one other patient on the women's side. This other patient was there for alcoholism. She was in no hurry to leave. In fact, while a group of us were gathered in the common area she said she was there to get sobered up for a month. Then she'd start drinking again. She was a stay at home mom and complained, "What else is there to do?". I overheard her on the phone with her husband to bring her nail polish, specific shoes and her hair straightener. What? Were we going to play beauty parlor at some point? How ridiculous!
Shortly after dinner Dr. M arrived to see me. We talked about how I was doing and were the medications causing me any immediate side-effects. I voiced how tired I became after taking them but thought it was a combination of the meds plus lack of sleep from my first night.
I explained to him, again, that my psychiatrist outside of the hospital said I should be hospitalized for a few days; to take a break from my day to day life and get on some new medication. I figured that's what I had been doing and I was ready to go home. Dr. M wanted me to stay one more night. The following day, Tuesday, a group meeting was to take place where everyone in the facility could have input on my stay to date at Wekiva. It was already late in the evening. I hesitated but Dr. M promised to arrive the following day by noon. I caved.
I joined the ladies for a movie that night and went to bed early. I had breakfast and was happy. I was going home!
Noon came and went. I had lunch. A meal I was supposed to be eating at home.
More time ticked on. I joined group sessions. I participated. I was angry but I didn't show it. I took advantage of the sessions and the, albeit little, skills provided to all of us.
I had dinner. Another meal I was supposed to be eating at home. I should have been sharing pizza with my husband and sons hearing stories of their first two days of school. Two days I missed because I was in a psychiatric facility.
I spoke with the nurse in charge. I asked her if I could see another doctor. There were so many going in and out of the ward. I would have to put in form for a change of doctors. That would take 24 hours. What if my doctor decided not to discharge me tonight, I thought to ask. I could leave against medical orders (AMA). I needed to fill out a form and sign it. The doctor would have to sign in and I could leave. I went ahead and completed the AMA form and tucked it into the blue folder I carried around with me, you know, just in case.
7pm. Dr. M arrived at Wekiva at 7pm. When I joined him in the vacant room I threw out a snotty, "Hello Mr. 12 O'Clock!". He laughed it off. Things come up and whatnot. I was not amused. We went through the how are you doing and other basic questions. Did I think I needed to increase my Remeron dose? No, everything's cool. Okey-Dokey!
"Here's the thing, Pam. The staff says your behavior has been erratic. I want you to stay until Thursday morning!" (I should throw in here that I was visited by one of the directors that day who told me my insurance would cover my stay through Thursday. What a coincidence!)
"Thursday! Erratic behavior? I've been following the schedule! I've been participating! I've been thankful! Sure I may have been late to a group or two but that's only because this place doesn't have clocks in the rooms! I want to go home today. I can ride the rest of this out at home under the eye of my psychiatrist whom I've been in touch with all along. He's already called in my prescriptions for my new medications. I just have to pick them up on the way home."
"Thursday!" He was firm.
I thought I'd be cute and whipped out my AMA form.
"Then sign this. I want to leave. Now." My blood was beyond boiling.
"Tomorrow." He said.
"No, now!"
He got up to leave the room.
"Then I'll follow you around for the rest of the night until you do sign it." I was serious. He laughed and left the room. I followed him around like a puppy.
"Tomorrow." He repeated, waved me off, and he entered an office, closing the door in my face.
I walked to the common room fuming. I screamed some profanities, yes, I screamed. I considered kicking over a large trash can filled to the top but withheld. Some of the other residents tried to approach me to calm me down but I walked away. I walked down a hallway still yelling. One of the techs ran over, put her arm around me and told me I better stop my behavior or it would only get worse from there.
I walked back to the nurses station and pleaded with her to help me.
"He has 24 hours to sign the AMA form." She explained.
"Are you fucking kidding me? What is it with this place and the 24 hour rule?" (Yes, I said fucking. I screamed it actually.)
We discussed this back and forth. I yelled some more. My anxiety level was sky high. I was losing control of the situation. I had lost it in fact. My control was checked at the door once I arrived at Wekiva on Friday.
Dr. M exited from the office he closed the door in my face from a few minutes earlier. He said to come with him, I couldn't behave this way, I needed to calm down. The nurse came with me.
I was led to his office. He closed the door. Then he threatened to Baker Act me.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
On Edge
I called my psychiatrist this morning because my anger is soaring. I don't even like it when someone walks past my office and looks at me. Speaking to me? Even worse. Spit it out and get on with it.
The nurse called back to get more information and said he'd be in at 11am. She'd call me back.
A different nurse called me back just now. One I've never spoken to before. My dr. wants to see me tomorrow, he insists on it. What?
Last time he insisted I go in to see him I ended up in the hospital.
I can't see him tomorrow at the location he's at. She's passing this along and will call me back.
This scares me.
The nurse called back to get more information and said he'd be in at 11am. She'd call me back.
A different nurse called me back just now. One I've never spoken to before. My dr. wants to see me tomorrow, he insists on it. What?
Last time he insisted I go in to see him I ended up in the hospital.
I can't see him tomorrow at the location he's at. She's passing this along and will call me back.
This scares me.
Bipolar Defined
My therapist gave me a copy of a book:
Bipolar: The Elements of Bipolar Disorder, A Practical Guide By Dr. Jay Carter
I love this book.
The back cover says so much in itself and I wanted to post it here for others to read:
Great leaders have had bipolar disorder (Napoleon, Churchill). It's genetic. Brilliant film directors, actors, artists, and doctors have had bipolar disorder. These are people who can think faster than others. They may get impatient with others who do not talk as fast as they do. They think "out of the box" and can be very creative. They can go days without sleep. They can be very charming and witty with a great sense of humor. They can also be angry and obsessed. They have no trouble getting in your face. They may be truthful to a fault. They notice things no one else notices. They may be jealous and possessive of their significant others even though they may be prone to infidelity themselves. They are usually charismatically attractive. They can figure out ways to get things done. They are very communicative and they are good listeners factually (even when they don't seem to be listening), but they may not be good listeners to another's feelings (when manic). Conscience may stand by the back door of their awareness when they are manic, and hits them full force when they are depressed. Some need medication to function, and some do not. The ones who do not need medication may have friends and family who wish they would take some anyway. They are nature's pioneers. Is Mother Nature mutating for the next evolution of man?
Right?
I will be posting more in the near future regarding this book. Check out my vlog where I read the poem titled "Bouncing" from the book.
Bipolar: The Elements of Bipolar Disorder, A Practical Guide By Dr. Jay Carter
I love this book.
The back cover says so much in itself and I wanted to post it here for others to read:
Great leaders have had bipolar disorder (Napoleon, Churchill). It's genetic. Brilliant film directors, actors, artists, and doctors have had bipolar disorder. These are people who can think faster than others. They may get impatient with others who do not talk as fast as they do. They think "out of the box" and can be very creative. They can go days without sleep. They can be very charming and witty with a great sense of humor. They can also be angry and obsessed. They have no trouble getting in your face. They may be truthful to a fault. They notice things no one else notices. They may be jealous and possessive of their significant others even though they may be prone to infidelity themselves. They are usually charismatically attractive. They can figure out ways to get things done. They are very communicative and they are good listeners factually (even when they don't seem to be listening), but they may not be good listeners to another's feelings (when manic). Conscience may stand by the back door of their awareness when they are manic, and hits them full force when they are depressed. Some need medication to function, and some do not. The ones who do not need medication may have friends and family who wish they would take some anyway. They are nature's pioneers. Is Mother Nature mutating for the next evolution of man?
**
Right?
I will be posting more in the near future regarding this book. Check out my vlog where I read the poem titled "Bouncing" from the book.
On Edge
I called my psychiatrist this morning because my anger is soaring. I don't even like it when someone walks past my office and looks at me. Speaking to me? Even worse. Spit it out and get on with it.
The nurse called back to get more information and said he'd be in at 11am. She'd call me back.
A different nurse called me back just now. One I've never spoken to before. My dr. wants to see me tomorrow, he insists on it. What?
Last time he insisted I go in to see him I ended up in the hospital.
I can't see him tomorrow at the location he's at. She's passing this along and will call me back.
This scares me.
The nurse called back to get more information and said he'd be in at 11am. She'd call me back.
A different nurse called me back just now. One I've never spoken to before. My dr. wants to see me tomorrow, he insists on it. What?
Last time he insisted I go in to see him I ended up in the hospital.
I can't see him tomorrow at the location he's at. She's passing this along and will call me back.
This scares me.
Bipolar Defined
My therapist gave me a copy of a book:
Bipolar: The Elements of Bipolar Disorder, A Practical Guide By Dr. Jay Carter
I love this book.
The back cover says so much in itself and I wanted to post it here for others to read:
Great leaders have had bipolar disorder (Napoleon, Churchill). It's genetic. Brilliant film directors, actors, artists, and doctors have had bipolar disorder. These are people who can think faster than others. They may get impatient with others who do not talk as fast as they do. They think "out of the box" and can be very creative. They can go days without sleep. They can be very charming and witty with a great sense of humor. They can also be angry and obsessed. They have no trouble getting in your face. They may be truthful to a fault. They notice things no one else notices. They may be jealous and possessive of their significant others even though they may be prone to infidelity themselves. They are usually charismatically attractive. They can figure out ways to get things done. They are very communicative and they are good listeners factually (even when they don't seem to be listening), but they may not be good listeners to another's feelings (when manic). Conscience may stand by the back door of their awareness when they are manic, and hits them full force when they are depressed. Some need medication to function, and some do not. The ones who do not need medication may have friends and family who wish they would take some anyway. They are nature's pioneers. Is Mother Nature mutating for the next evolution of man?
Right?
I will be posting more in the near future regarding this book. Check out my vlog where I read the poem titled "Bouncing" from the book.
Bipolar: The Elements of Bipolar Disorder, A Practical Guide By Dr. Jay Carter
I love this book.
The back cover says so much in itself and I wanted to post it here for others to read:
Great leaders have had bipolar disorder (Napoleon, Churchill). It's genetic. Brilliant film directors, actors, artists, and doctors have had bipolar disorder. These are people who can think faster than others. They may get impatient with others who do not talk as fast as they do. They think "out of the box" and can be very creative. They can go days without sleep. They can be very charming and witty with a great sense of humor. They can also be angry and obsessed. They have no trouble getting in your face. They may be truthful to a fault. They notice things no one else notices. They may be jealous and possessive of their significant others even though they may be prone to infidelity themselves. They are usually charismatically attractive. They can figure out ways to get things done. They are very communicative and they are good listeners factually (even when they don't seem to be listening), but they may not be good listeners to another's feelings (when manic). Conscience may stand by the back door of their awareness when they are manic, and hits them full force when they are depressed. Some need medication to function, and some do not. The ones who do not need medication may have friends and family who wish they would take some anyway. They are nature's pioneers. Is Mother Nature mutating for the next evolution of man?
**
Right?
I will be posting more in the near future regarding this book. Check out my vlog where I read the poem titled "Bouncing" from the book.
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