The Mass Defective

Pathetic standstill

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 05:45:00 +0000

Spent half the day trying to get caught up on reading other blogs and I'm glad I did, it was good to see what others have been up to, even the negative stuff. I know I say it all the time, but I do want to devote more time to the whole blogging thing again, I just can't seem to motivate myself to do it. Can't seem to motivate myself to do much of anything anymore except play those mind numbing games on Facebook or my newest addiction, Pinterest.

My life has come to a pathetic standstill and I'm not sure what it will take to get me moving again. The sheer thought of having to be out and about everyday, or even just a couple days a week, interacting with others scares me to death and I immediately feel my anxiety level rising. I try to run all my errands for the week in one day otherwise I start to become to overwhelmed being around other people.

I am giving myself a year to get things together, because this time next year I want to be on the hunt for a job. I know I mentioned a couple of posts back that I'd look in November/December of this year, but I think it's best to just wait until mid-January. Why? Because I'm slowly saving money to take my daughter to Disney World for her 21st birthday with her best friend and her boyfriend (they're both helping pay as well). We're planning to do it as cheaply as possible by driving down in one night and staying at one of the cheaper hotels. We'll also save money because we're going during the off season. If I started a job in say November, I don't think they'd be happy with me suddenly taking off work for a week or so two months later. So it's best to just wait it out.

Of course if I can't learn to control my anxiety and anger every time I'm forced to be around the general public, I'm going to be stuck on disability for a long time to come. I'm not sure what the trigger is and why it's so bad. If I don't think about it, I can usually get out of the house without having a panic attack. But if for some reason my mind starts fixating on the fact that I'll be around others, I start to panic and make every excuse in the book to just stay home. Part of it is a mild fear of germs, especially since it's cold & flu season, but mostly it's because I have very little patient for stupidity lately. I can't handle the way people drive. I can't stand when they block the aisle in the grocery store. Stuff like that.

Used to be a time when I'd just let it slide and go about my own business, but now I'm much more likely to be confrontational. I'll yell at someone to move the fuck out of the way and remind them they aren't the only person in the store or the world. When I'm driving, I feel like ramming my car into all these stupid people that keep cutting me off because they can't drive and/or don't know where they're going.

I know I'm letting things get to me that I shouldn't, but I'm not sure how to stop it. Guess that's something I can work on in therapy. I'm sure my therapist will be happy to work on something for a change instead of just chit-chatting all the time. I'm not sure if she's yet realized that talking about my daughter all the time, which is what we've done for the last couple of months, is merely an avoidance technique I use to deflect attention off myself and my problems. You'd think she would know that, since she is the one that went to school to be a therapist, but she hasn't said anything yet. Hasn't said anything about how we should really get back to discussing me and until she does, I'm content to say nothing.

In protest

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 20:12:00 +0000

It was good to see some of my fellow bloggers blacking out their pages yesterday, as I did mine, in protest of the SOPA and PIPA legislation our Congress is suppose to vote on early next week. While censoring the internet isn't the intended goal of the legislation, the bills are so vaguely worded that censorship is what would ultimately happen. For those in the US that are not familiar the legislation (or those in other countries that are interested in learning more), I've been sharing this link: How SOPA would affect you: FAQ. It offers the fullest, yet easiest to understand, description of SOPA's potential impact on the internet.

One of the saddest things about the legislation is that it had such broad support in Congress, primarily because votes were being bought by lobbyists for the entertainment industry. None of our congresspeople bothered to ask any questions from the tech industry about what type of impact this would have on the internet, probably because I doubt most of them even read it. They just assumed it was an obscure law to stop offshore piracy of music and movies that no one would have any interest in. But that's how our Congress works these days and that's part of what the Occupy Wall Street movement is about. The citizens of this country voted these people into office and they're giving their legislative votes away to the highest bidder instead of listening to what their constituents want.

We need a serious overhaul of the system. Wish they'd pass legislation that bans lobbyists and forbids congresspeople and their employees from accepting gifts from outside sources that could potentially influence their decision making on any bill that comes before them. Make our congresspeople really earn the paycheck and outrageous benefits they've afforded themselves by demanding they be well informed about any piece of legislation they plan to vote on, even if that means delaying the vote. I'd rather have things move slowly and be done correctly than rush things through and have a nightmare mess to try and clean up. A good example is the healthcare bill that had so many facts and other pork projects hidden within its thousands upon thousands of pages of rhetoric that new things are still coming to light nearly 2 years after the fact.

Okay, before I keep going on and on about how much I really hate the political state of my country right now, I'm going to step off the soapbox. Let me just make one last comment. If anyone is wondering, yes, I do vote in every election and every primary. I also take the time to learn about each candidate and what they stand for before I decide who I'm voting for; and I feel this is something everyone should do instead of blindly voting for whoever. I think voting along party lines is a dangerous practice that's killing our government.

Sliver of optimism

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 20:19:00 +0000

Looking at the calendar, it's hard to believe we're already a week and a half into the new year. Time seems to be moving rather rapidly, but I'm sure it's just a temporary illusion. Let's review what's happened over the last month or so...

After my last post, I slowly began to feel better, but it was very, very gradual. Took me until the week before Christmas to get up the energy and desire to put up decorations and as soon as Christmas was over, I wanted them down again, but it took until this past weekend to do it.

I don't feel I have ever reached a point where I would consider my mood to be "normal", but I have at least gotten to where I don't feel the utter despair or ambivalence of depression, nor do I feel the extreme delusional high or giddiness of mania. I'm definitely still in a mixed state, just a very mild one, and this is as close to feeling "cured" as I have ever come since losing my mind in 2003.

I made unhealthy choices this past holiday season, primarily eating way more than I should have and I think I packed on 30+ pounds as a result. I didn't make any resolutions to lose the weight, since I believe resolutions are a way to set yourself up for failure even before you begin, but I have given serious consideration to making a weekly workout chart and scheduling some exercise and stretching into my day.

Despite the negative of the weight gain, I did make one major healthy choice at Christmas....I chose to not spend it with my family. While I did make amends with my younger sister & her husband, I have not done so with my brother and since he was going to be here for the celebration, I felt it was better to just leave. I didn't want to deal with uncomfortable silences or any sort of confrontation. I would like to know why he chose his relationship with our brother-in-law over his relationship with his own flesh & blood, but knew Christmas Eve was not the proper time to be bringing up such a touchy subject. Instead, my daughter and I spent the evening downtown having a four course meal at The Melting Pot. It was relaxing, fun and drama free. Couldn't have asked for a better time. Then on Christmas Day we both went to her boyfriend's house to celebrate with them. I actually surprised myself by accepting the invitation, but I'm glad I went. I had a good time.

New Years was spent at the party my sister threw at her house with one of her friends. I wasn't feeling mentally well, so I kind of stayed on the fringes and didn't jump into the conversation that much. I probably should have stayed home, but didn't want to cancel at the last minute. It wasn't horribly unbearable to be there, I just wished I had stayed at home, curled up on the sofa or in bed.

Not sure what all 2012 has in store for me, but I know there will be struggles. My daughter just turned 20 the other day, so that's an adjustment, knowing I no longer have a teenager. She's also started looking for her first apartment, so she'll be moving out sometime over the summer. She has new medical challenges to face, which won't be easy, but we'll do our best to get through them. Hopefully I can stay out of the hospital this year. I think if I can do that, then maybe I will start looking for a job come November/December.

I don't want to jinx myself and say it, but I will anyway. I'm a staunch realist and know my life is destined to be horrible, but right now there's a tiny sliver of optimism that I want to grab hold of and see where it takes me.

Tumultuous relationship

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 22:18:00 +0000

Been having a tumultuous relationship with life lately, which is why I haven't posted. Sometimes I feel as if though I should write to get all this out, but then other times I realize it's already been written multiple times in the past and still nothing has changed so why waste my time.

Last week, I had my pdoc take a look at the mood journal I've kept for the entire year and I think he has finally accepted, as I have, that Major Depression and Borderline Personality Disorder were both wrong diagnoses and that I actually do have Bipolar. The latest diagnosis he marked in my chart is 296.63 - Bipolar I, most recent episode mixed, severe without psychotic features. His main focus of concern right now is on the mixed part. Given my history of suicide attempts and the fact that I have been having suicidal thoughts lately, I'd say that's a realistic concern.

Most of last week was spent in bed and it appears as if that's where I'll be spending most of the coming week. The week after Thanksgiving I had gone out and done stuff pretty much every single day, even if it was only something small, and it all became too overwhelming, overstimulating. I don't think the med changes the pdoc made have helped improve my mood any either. In fact, I think it has made things worse. He took me off Geodon, since I wasn't tolerating it and was gaining weight quickly; and put me back on the one medication I hate most, Seroquel. I only agreed to take it because there really aren't any other options left and it doesn't make me gain weight, in fact I usually lose weight on it. He also took me off imipramine, which is an older antidepressant.

Not sure if it's the Seroquel, the lack of an antidepressant or both, but ever since the med change I have been extremely angry and very aggressive. The rage just keeps building inside, growing stronger and stronger each day. Twice in the last week I have self injured, once by drinking heavily and the other with cutting, and neither are things I have done in quite some time. But I needed to do it. I couldn't suppress the rage any longer and letting it out on someone else would have deadly consequences.

I've yet to get into the holiday spirit, despite having helped with a NAMI holiday party a couple days ago. I just want Christmas to be over. I have no interest in it or anything else right now. It also doesn't help that I'm broke and will be lucky if I can afford to get my daughter more than just one or two small things. Neither of us wants to be here on Christmas Eve, when the family usually comes over, especially since the relationship with half of them will never be mended, so we need to find something to do that will keep us out of the house until about midnight on Christmas Eve that doesn't require a lot of money.

As for my therapist and revealing too much, the rage makes me silent, so we haven't discussed much during our last couple of sessions. I spend most of the time wishing I wasn't there, waiting for time to pass as she tries to pry even the simplest information out of me, like how my week went. I wonder if she thinks this is all an act, a rebellion to the fact that she told me she thinks I'm doing better. I was doing better for a little while there, and by better, I mean hypomanic, but now I no longer feel that way. I can feel myself sliding back down the rope I'd been using to climb out of the black hole, and I'm using all my strength just to hold on, there's no hope I'm going to be able to start climbing back up again.

Revealed too much

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 03:00:00 +0000

Ever feel like you've revealed too much about yourself to your therapist and now you're too anxious and embarrassed to go back? Yeah, that's how I feel. Because of the mania, I was overly talkative during our session on Monday and I ended up telling her things I have never told anyone. Filled her in on my postpartum psychosis days and how I wanted to kill my child and myself back then. How it was sheer luck that the exhubby was running late for work the one day I think I was far enough gone that I would have actually done it.

I never even told the psychologist that was supposed to be helping me at the time about wanting to kill my own child, why did I have to share it with her now? I know they would have taken my baby away from me back then, but that baby is now an adult, so maybe that plays into it. But I don't trust her. I don't trust anyone, so I can't seem to comprehend why I came clean or even how we got on that subject.

I keep thinking about that conversation and where it might lead. Does she think I'm going to spill more stuff? Did she write down in my chart that I was a potential baby killer in 1992? Are the people they send to watch me going to keep a closer eye on me because of that and the fact that I recently told her, my pdoc and wrote here that I was feeling homicidal at times? Is there another "self", like the ones I wrote about here, inside of me that is just now coming forward that's going to spill all of my secrets? If so, why didn't the others shut it up?

The swirl of thoughts about what has happened and what other life events might be revealed to the T are causing a great deal of anxiety. I haven't yet picked up the phone to cancel our appointment for Monday, but it is getting more difficult to resist the urge.

I know none of this makes sense. Spilling your guts is what therapy is about. It's about unloading all your baggage so you can live without such a heavy burden weighing you down. But for me it just keeps coming back to that lack of trust. What if she uses what I say against me? That's happened more often than not. Even for little things I say that people completely misinterpret. Being diagnosed as mentally ill, everything now comes down to my word against theirs, and I'm on the losing end of that battle no matter what.

The change in meds has had some impact, but I don't feel as stable as he made it sound I would be and I need to be stable. I'm supposed to be going out of town with my daughter, her boyfriend and his family for Thanksgiving, though last I heard that was no longer a sure thing. But if it does happen, I don't want to end up hiding in my room all day avoiding everyone because I'm too depressed. And I'm sure they wouldn't appreciate me dominating the conversation and interrupting everyone when they're talking if I'm manic.

In other news. my short term memory continues to deteriorate, so much so that I gave my own money to a gas station because I thought they had given me too much change back. Later I found out it actually was my money. I had totally and completely forgotten that I'd stopped at the bank to cash a check I'd been given for my birthday that's been sitting around here for weeks. I'd feel like an ass going back there now and saying, "Remember that $20 I gave you on Tuesday because I thought you gave me too much change back when I was here on Monday and I didn't want karma biting me in the ass for keeping money that wasn't mine? That actually was my money, I was just too stupid to realize it and I want it back."

I don't know if it's the meds causing all this memory loss, but if it continues to worsen, I'm going to have to make my daughter my legal guardian or I won't have any money left!

Actually hope for things

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 15:15:00 +0000

Haven't posted for awhile because I've been busy. Busy going from suicidal to homicidal to numb to manic and everything in between multiple times each day. Nightmare-ish would be an apt description for these last two weeks, though now I just can't sleep and I'm more manic than anything.

Finally saw my therapist this past Monday, after she cancelled on me again the previous week, making it three weeks in a row. I wasn't mad about the last one because I know her children are still little and it was Halloween. I used to take off work every Halloween too so I could help at school with the Halloween party and see all the kids parade around in their costumes. That was during my "sane" days. Oh, and it was also my wedding anniversary too, but I doubt I would ever have taken the day off just for that.

Anyway, the session has already become a vague memory. I remember her asking about how I'd been doing the previous three weeks and being unable to really recall much of anything so we just focused on how I was feeling that day, which was pissed off, manic and anxious. I also remember shedding a tear or two but I don't know why. I never seem to feel completely present when I'm in her office, which is probably a coping mechanism that allows me to avoid talking about anything difficult.

After meeting with her, I had an appointment with my pdoc. Someone screwed the scheduling up again, but at least I was able to see him. The card they gave me before I'd left without getting to see him in October had my appointment listed at 2:30 pm, but the automated reminder call I received said my appointment was at 3:30 pm. I called them before I went to see my therapist to verify the time and they said it was 3:30. I showed up at 2:30 anyway. With the way my luck goes, if I had waited until 3:30 they would have told me sorry, you missed your appointment and I would have been forced wait another month to see him.

I told him about how the TMS experiment went horribly wrong. He half says, half asks "you only had one treatment". I told him I had one full treatment, but that I was there 3 days. The first one being where they couldn't determine my motor threshold so I was asked to come back two days later after they'd spoken with their representative from the machine manufacturer. Told him how on the second day I endured the torture of excruciating pain for the full hour because they kept insisting it would decrease. Then I explained that on the third day, after spending the weekend scouring the internet, where every mention of the treatment says the pain should just be mild to moderate, I insisted that they had to have the machine at the wrong pulse strength or aimed at the wrong spot on my head because it shouldn't be causing such incredible pain. Said that the nurse talked to the pdoc that oversees the treatment (and by that I mean he kind of just stood there while the nurse did most of the motor threshold mapping, though neither seemed completely sure what they were doing because the machine is still new to their office and once the mapping was done, the pdoc left and wouldn't be back, the nurse does all the treatments) and then she tried to make some minor adjustments, but that didn't diminish the pain. Her demeanor and the fact that the pdoc wouldn't come redo the mapping made me feel like they thought I was just over-exaggerating the pain I was in. My pdoc didn't say anything in response to my experience, so who knows if he believes me or not.

Based on the symptoms of cycling he upped the Depakote and added Geodon back in to the mix. I'm not on the full dose of Geodon he wants me on because I had the same problem I had when I took it earlier this year in the hospital. It made me queasy, or maybe it was the double dose of Depakote, or even both. I cut the Geodon dose in half to find out and I've felt a little bit better every day since. On Monday I'll take the full dose of Geodon and see what happens.

The last few days I've been in a relatively good mood, though sometimes it's been too good of a mood. Wednesday was pretty bad. Talking nonstop, jumping from one topic to another so fast my daughter couldn't keep up. Kept interrupting her when she was talking. Feeling so antsy that it sent my anxiety off the charts. The anxiety was so bad I couldn't even write and could barely type, which is why I was talking to my daughter on the phone rather than just texting. Been spending money I know I shouldn't be but so far have been able to keep it somewhat contained. I'm not overdrawn and I have enough to pay my bills this month, but if I keep spending I will be broke before the end of the month.

Maybe once I get the Geodon increased my mood will level out. It'd be so nice to just feel good. To feel a sense of contentment. Nothing high, nothing low. I know that's just wishful thinking on my part, but while I'm feeling good, I actually hope for things to be better one day.

Surprising strength

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 04:55:00 +0000

Another week, another therapy appointment cancelled at the last minute. I had planned to just blow her off because I'm still angry over last week's cancellation and the major fuck-up by my pdoc's office earlier this month. However, her office calling to cancel meant I wouldn't have to explain my absence. Technically I wouldn't have been blowing her off because we never verbally discussed scheduling another appointment for this week when she cancelled last week. While there is an expectation that I will be there on Mondays at 12:30 pm, as that is the time slot she keeps reserved for me, it is never just assumed I'll be there, we always discuss it.

I know it's not fair to let my anger at my pdoc's office affect my interactions with my therapist, but frankly, I'm angry about everything related to the care, or rather lack thereof, I've received since I entered this nightmare known as psychiatric treatment back in 2003. I desperately want to extricate myself from the system, but yet I can't. It's a constant game of tug-of-war that's been playing in my head for years. I want it all to be over with and despite how overpowering the voices are that agree and demand I give up and die, there is surprising strength in that tiny little voice from somewhere deep within that simply whispers, "you can't".

DNR

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 19:10:00 +0000

While more and more people are being persuaded to view depression by its hypothetical scientific definition, that of being a chemical imbalance in the brain, a hypothesis that is still unproven, I view depression from a totally different perspective. Having seen and lived with the devastation it leaves in its wake, I know depression to be a tangible, voracious being that lives inside its victims, devouring their sanity and destroying their will to live. It's a parasite that can either multiply very slowly, thus extending a person's suffering for years and years, or it can rapidly multiply, ending a life before anyone is even aware there is a problem.

Unfortunately, I'm infected with the one that is causing an agonizingly slow death. Part of that is my own fault though, because even when there are clear and obvious signs all around me that it's time to take my last breath, I keep reaching out to be resuscitated just one more time. Having a child will do that to you, make you keep fighting even when you have no fight left.

The numbness I had been feeling for weeks finally gave way to the misery, sadness and hopelessness I knew was brewing just out of reach and I have spent the last two week either in bed trying to forget I exist or in tears. I'm still angry at my pdoc's office for their fuck up of cancelling my appointment and to make matters worse, my therapist called this week and cancelled at the last minute too. Not because she wasn't in the office though, but because of some archaic Medicare or Medicaid rule that says she can't see me unless a pdoc is on site and none happened to come in that day. It was another sign that I'm never going to win the battle.

If my daughter hadn't already made plans for us to go out this weekend with her best friend, I'm not sure I'd still be fighting, still taking the medications I know aren't helping. Monday and everything after becomes a whole other story though. I'm so exhausted from fighting what I know is a losing battle and I will probably begin the process of declaring defeat. I just hope I can finally say "do not resuscitate".

Conspiring against me

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 21:22:00 +0000

The gods, or whatever it is that wants me dead, is once again conspiring against me, turning every day into a living nightmare. Right now I want to scream, cut, drink, down every single pill I have in my possession, throw myself off a building, ram my car into a pole at 90 mph, etc. If it involves death or serious injury, I want to do it. I was even making plans to do things as I drove home from my pdoc's office, until I had a couple of "oh shit" moments. Oh shit, my daughter's home from school until tomorrow on fall break. Oh shit, it's my father's birthday. Oh shit, the kiddie and I have a full schedule next weekend.

Part of what has me so incredibly upset right now is the pdoc's office. I scheduled the appointment I was supposed to have with him today about six or seven weeks ago. Typically I see him every month but because he was going to be out of town, I had to wait a little bit longer. No problem I thought at the time. I have enough medication to last a couple extra weeks because I had stopped taking them for awhile.

I show up today and they tell me my appointment was cancelled, looking at me like I should have known this. I told them I never cancelled any appointment and I needed to see my pdoc. I told her I had tried the TMS and they would have cancelled those appointments, but there was no reason for anyone to cancel this one because it was with my regular pdoc, and certainly not cancel it without ever even telling me. The receptionist says his schedule is full and I immediately went into a massive panic attack. I'm not mentally stable right now. The imipramine he put me on last time does nothing except annihilate my sex drive and make me numb. But under that numbness I can feel myself coming unglued.

The only option they would give me was for my pdoc to call in refills on my prescriptions so I'd have enough until the next available appointment, which isn't until November 7th. I was shaking so violently from panick at this point, my voice was even shaking as I talked. I ask what the fuck am I supposed to do if the meds I'm taking aren't working? They just look at me in silence. Then some nurse comes over and tells me she wants me to have a seat so they can talk to my pdoc. I just wanted to get out of there so I told them to just make the appointment for November. I'm screwed anyway. Just let me get the fuck out of there.

As for the TMS, no one from the manufacturer ever called me back. I went to the next appointment and told the nurse I think they have the thing lined up wrong, that it's causing way too much pain. The nurse calls the pdoc that's in charge and tells him what I said. She then comes back and basically says they have it set up right, just try it again. I tried it again, as she tried adjusting it a couple of times and it was still just as painful. I told her I was leaving. There was no way I was going to endure that five days a week for five weeks. She asked if I wanted her to talk to the pdoc again, though I could tell she thought I was the problem, not the machine. I broke into tears and said no, I'll just chalk it up to another failed experiment.

No one had better ever call me a quitter if I fucking kill myself. I've tried every conceivable option to gain control of this fucking depression and then some. I'm just so fucking sick of trying anymore when everything ends in failure.

TMS

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Sun, 18 Sep 2011 23:12:00 +0000

Last Wednesday I went for what was supposed to be my first TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) treatment. Per Neurostar, the machine's manufacturer, TMS is "a highly focused pulsed magnetic field to stimulate nerve cells in the area of the brain thought to control mood". It's new, expensive and most insurance companies don't yet cover it, but as a volunteer guinea pig, I'm getting it for free.

It's supposed to be a non-evasive procedure and I figure as long as I don't have to swallow any pills, there really shouldn't be any bad side effects. Of course this is me we're talking about here, so the words "supposed to" and "shouldn't", never really work out the way they do for everyone else.

The first session never even got off the ground, because the pdoc and nurse running the machine weren't able to find my motor threshold, which is the amount of magnetic strength that is needed to move my right thumb. I should have known I was in for trouble with this when they pulled out the instruction manual, trying to figure out why it wasn't working. Eventually they said they'd have to contact their company rep and reschedule.

I went back in on Friday and they said the problem was related to the magnet I had for my VNS implant. The one they told me I had to bring with and tape to my chest to keep the VNS off, though I don't even know if the thing is even on any more. I think the battery died.

Anyway, they start moving the contraption around on my head, trying to find the motor threshold, which they tell me they were able to and things seems to be going better this time. At least they seemed to be until they actually began the first treatment. The total treatment is supposed to last 37 minutes. The machine cycles through intervals of 30 seconds during which, there are 4 seconds where the machine is actually emitting the magnetic pulse. During those 4 seconds, it's supposed to feel like light tapping on your head, and there can be some mild to moderate scalp pain.

What I experienced was neither mild nor moderate. Aside from child birth, this was the most excruciating pain I have ever felt, and I have a pretty damn high pain tolerance. During those four seconds, it felt as if someone were rapidly hammering a red hot nail into my skull in the same spot, over and over and over again. I was in tears. I told the nurse that it was hurting like hell, so they adjusted the pulse down. Unfortunately that didn't really change the level of pain, it just expanded the treatment time from 37 minutes to an hour.

I sat there and endured it because the nurse kept saying it's not uncommon for it to hurt the first couple of times. However, after coming home and doing more research online, I don't think it's supposed to be as horribly painful as I experienced it. I think they have the machine set up wrong, both in the amount of pulse I'm receiving and in the placement of the device on my head. The treatments are supposed to be 5 days a week for 4-6 weeks, but no one could endure a full course of treatment with the pain I was experiencing with just the one. That's why I think they have to have it set up wrong.

I have contacted the manufacturer, but had to leave a message because it was already after hours when I tried. I'm hoping they call me back first thing tomorrow morning because I'm supposed to go for another treatment tomorrow at 11 am. If not, I'll still show up tomorrow but tell the nurse they need to contact their rep before that thing goes back on my head because I don't think it should be this painful. They have to be doing something wrong.

Smooth move

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 22:49:00 +0000

Other than the rain, which wasn't even supposed to be in our area until the early evening hours (thanks you crappy Chicago meteorologists, cuz you ALL got it wrong that day), the move went fairly smoothly. The rain really wouldn't have even been a problem had one of the volunteers working that day directed us into the alley behind her building sooner. It wasn't until we were working on unloading a second cart full of stuff that someone told us there were covered parking spaces in the back.

While we knew the kiddie's apartment would be at least 5x bigger than the dorms at her last college, it wasn't until we walked in the room that we realized just how much bigger that really was. The place is HUGE. Her boyfriend's mom is going to buy a futon to fill up some of the open space, but even with that, there will still be plenty of room to do cartwheels or set up a dance floor, or whatever. And the place does have a kitchen. It's tiny, but functional. There's even a breakfast bar, but we need to buy some stools for it so she has a place to eat meals.

Moving her in was one hurdle that was fairly easy to get over. Dropping her off and leaving her there without her going into complete panic mode wasn't quite as simple. I knew she was anxious about being away from home again, but it wasn't until we were at the grocery store buying some basic staples for her fridge that she started breaking down into tears. I kept trying to reassure her that she'd be okay, she's done this before so there shouldn't be too much that was unfamiliar or unexpected. Plus this time around, I'm only 45 minutes away rather than 2 & a half hours. I can just hop on the train and come visit her any time I want.

After I left, she only had half an hour to pull herself together before she had to attend a mandatory meeting in her RA's room. When she called me following that meeting, she was back to being her old confident, talkative self again, which was such a sigh of relief. No getting so worked up that she was sick and puking for the entire first week of classes like last year.

The first couple of days have gone really well, though she isn't too happy with her chemistry class. While she did good when she took it in high school, she didn't score well enough on the AP test to get out of it in college, so the whole class is basically going to be an easy review for her. I told her to look at it this way, at least she won't have to put a lot of time into studying, time she can devote to studying biology instead, which she did poorly on in high school. The chemistry class will be an easy A, which will only help her GPA.

As for what I've been doing, I started taking some of my medications again. Last week I started back on the Depakote and yesterday I added in the Wellbutrin. I was starting to cry over every little thing and figured I'd better act now before things get worse. I even told my pdoc yesterday about how I'd gone off the meds at the beginning of the month and why. He wasn't upset and said he probably would have recommended temporarily going off them, but did say I should have called him.

Tomorrow I have an appointment to meet with someone regarding Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation therapy. Since I'm fairly familiar with how the procedure works, having attended a seminar about TMS at a NAMI conference a year or two ago, I'm really only curious about one thing....will I still have to take antidepressants if I do this. Ok, maybe I have two questions. The other one is, if TMS works, does that prove I only ever had depression and I'm not bipolar. Of course in order to do the treatment, they had better still be offering it up for free or I won't be able to try it. I know Medicare and Medicaid don't cover it. When my pdoc first mentioned it, he said they were still doing trials since they had only just gotten the machine. But that was months ago, so I'm not sure if they're still doing them.

Worry and wonder

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Sun, 21 Aug 2011 20:58:00 +0000

In two days my daughter moves into her new apartment at her new college and quite frankly, I'm far more nervous about this move than I was when she first went off to college a year ago. It's not a worry for myself and how I'll handle things. I think it's a fear that this new college won't live up to my daughter's expectations. For the price we're paying for everything, it sure as hell should be a million times better than the state school, but you never know if you're getting what you pay for with colleges until you're actually there, submersed in the curriculum.

Just seems like this time around, even though we have some familiarity with how things work, there are a lot more unknowns and I think that's what's giving both of us a ton of anxiety. Even just writing about this topic is causing my anxiety to jump off the charts.

Not sure if I previously mentioned this, but her new "dorm" is actually a studio apartment in a building owned by the school. It's typically meant to house two students, but she's getting it as a single. It's approximately 5 times larger than either of her dorm rooms last year, plus it has its own bathroom and maybe a kitchen. I say maybe because we've gotten conflicting information from housing and students that live in the building as to whether or not there's a fridge, stove/oven and sink, so we won't know for sure until we show up. The move in booklet they sent, which is specific for her building, says not to bring refrigerators, so we're hoping the students that told us there is a kitchen are right. Of course that would make the people in housing idiots, which I think will prove to be the case.

Of course knowing housing has provided wrong answers only makes me worry and wonder about what other incorrect information we've been given from other departments....specifically, financial aid and their handling of our Federal Direct Plus loan. If they give us wrong information on that, we're screwed come next semester because we'll be about $4,000 short of covering all her expenses. I think I'm going to ask my daughter to go into their offices the first week of school with a printed copy of our concerns and ask someone in person to verify that what we've been told is correct. I don't want this to come back and bite us in the ass come January.

As for me in general, I'm still off most of my medications, though I did start taking the Ativan again. The prescription is for 1-3 pills a day as needed, but I limit myself to one pill a day, taken at night before bed, unless I'm really, really struggling with the anxiety. For the most part, my mood is holding steady, though if I were asked to describe how I feel I doubt I could give a response. I'm not happy or sad, but I'm not numb either. I just am, that's really all I can say.

I do manage to average about 7 hours of sleep a night, so I'm not sleeping too much or too little, though to me it feels like too little. There's little motivation or desire to do anything, but I manage to at least get the essentials done. The house needs some cleaning, though I'm waiting until after Tuesday so all my daughter's stuff will be out of the way. Guess that'll be a good test of how I'm feeling. If I'm doing okay, I'll get everything cleaned in about two days without fighting it. If I'm manic, everything (and then some) will be cleaned in less than a day. If I'm depressed, most everything will still be dirty this time next week.

Off medications

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 23:40:00 +0000

After my last post, I spent the rest of the week in bed sick and on Saturday I made the decision to go off all medications, except the stuff I take for acid reflux. With the symptoms I was experiencing, I could tell that my body was still reacting to something or possibly having a new reaction to the Tofranil. Since there was no way to discern which it was, I figured I'd stop taking everything and see what happens. Today I'm finally starting to feel better.

When I told my therapist about stopping the medications, she immediately asked if I'd told my pdoc about my decision. Of course I hadn't. She then asked if I'd sign a release so she could talk to him for me, an offer which I promptly declined. I know he wouldn't approve of me being off medications. Besides, I haven't decided yet if I plan to stay off them or go back on them one at a time to see which one is giving me problems. Until I make that choice, I don't feel there's any reason to alert the pdoc.

A part of me doesn't want to go back on them, the part that desperately wants to feel alive again, like I did in June before I ended up in the hospital. I want to feel high on life and dream of the possibilities that await me instead of dreading every second of consciousness because I'm not dead yet. If I can balance the high with getting enough sleep, I think I'd be okay. Think I'd be able to maintain sanity and possibly return to being a contributing member of society. Get a place of my own and leave the last 8 years of hell behind me.

When I think back to how I felt in June, I can't help but think it proves my point that the drugs are what has caused all the psychosis, severe depression, dissociating and just plain dead feeling. Once I was off the medications I felt human again. Had I been able to sleep, I don't think I would have gotten so manic.

My therapist thinks I'll need to transition slowly from disabled to working, but I don't see how that could happen. Either I'm disabled or I'm not, I don't see an inbetween phase anywhere in there. If I don't go back on the meds and I'm stable, I need to get off my ass and get working full time, that's all there is to it.

Lesson in frustration and futility

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 00:34:00 +0000

Going to see my pdoc has become an ongoing lesson in frustration and futility. He seems to think it's the Geodon causing the allergic reaction and wants me to go back on the Wellbutrin, even doubling it. He then added another antidepressant, Tofranil, a tricyclic that I haven't tried or at least I don't remember trying it. Aren't all these antidepressants supposed to be bad for someone with Bipolar?!? He did mention doubling the dose of Depakote too, but didn't send that information to my pharmacy, so I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing with that one.

I told him about the anxiety becoming more and more severe. About the short term memory loss that my therapist is extremely concerned about, but he just seemed to dismiss all that. Throw more pills at the problem and hopefully something, in some combination will eventually work. That seems to be the only answer every fucking pdoc has. All those years of medical school and that's all they have to offer us.

Being so frustrated and literally in tears, I didn't even bother to tell him I can't sleep or that the spiders and shadows have returned. I'm sure he would have just thrown another pill at me for that if I had said anything. I'm so ready to just go off all these medications again and wing it. I can't see my mental health deteriorating any farther than it has already gotten and I'd have the benefit of no longer poisoning myself with all these drugs.

Willing to take that risk

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 14:56:00 +0000

Two days of no Wellbutrin and one of no Geodon has already started having a noticeable impact on how I'm feeling. I began having an allergic reaction to something two days ago and since so far my only known allergies are to medications, I decided to stop two of the three pills I was taking and just take Depakote. Turns out my hunch was right and it is one of the other two medications that was causing it. I see my pdoc later today, so I guess we'll see what happens.

My therapist was rather alarmed by the fact that I had absolutely no recollection of having seen her any time in the past month. She swears I was there the previous two weeks, and even told me things that she would only know if I had been there...or if someone were spying on me. I'm not sure which reality to believe, hers or mine. She said that I was much more open and engaged than I've ever been in the 2 years she's been treating me during those two visits. Yet if I were so engaged, then how come I don't remember any of it? There's not even a hint of familiarity.

While short-term memory loss is nothing new for me, my daughter can easily rattle off dozens of examples, it's odd for it to cover such an extended period of time. When my therapist asked me what I thought was causing it, I didn't hesitate in my response. Without a doubt, it's all these drugs that I've been taking for the last 8 years. Instead of helping, they're making the situation worse by killing off brain cells. I'm doomed to have a drug-induced case of Alzheimer's. Even if I stopped taking all of them now, I think the damage is irreversible.

I told her I want to get back to the days where wanted to fly, except without the horrible panic attacks if I didn't act on the urge. Overall, it is the best I've felt in at least 10 years. I felt normal and alive, something I haven't felt in far too long. I enjoyed being so productive. Of course her response was that mania is dangerous. I'd be willing to take that risk just to feel human again.

Glad July is over

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 00:05:00 +0000

Kind of not really that busy any more, but my head keeps thinking it should be so I'm easily distracted and my anxiety is off the charts. A lot of the things that were on the list to get done these past couple of weeks fell apart, but not until after we'd invested time and money, neither of which I had to spare. Should have expected nothing less, that's just how my life goes.

The wedding was cancelled due to a medical problem with the bride, but not until after we'd already printed all the invites and RSVP cards, and had prepared the paper for the reception cards. While I understand the bride's health is first and foremost, I really didn't have the money to buy the supplies we used and it sucks that everything is just going into the recycling bin. I've had to count every nickel and dime in my budget, and even take $100 out of the little I had saved towards my daughter's college expenses this year, because of money we put towards the invitations and it was all for nothing.

Didn't get to participate in National Dance Day, even after putting in the time to learn the routines, because we couldn't afford to get into Great America and couldn't find any mention of an event being held anywhere else in the Chicago area. Turns out even if we had, my daughter couldn't go (and I sure as heck wouldn't have gone alone) because she has spent this weekend helping her boyfriend's family pack all their belongings. The entire roof of their house and all the drywall needs to be replaced because of storm damage and the insurance company is putting them up at a hotel for the next month.

Still haven't dropped my car off to get the brakes done, which probably isn't a wise idea, but I just haven't had a single day where I wasn't using it and could leave it at the shop. I'm hoping I can do that sometime this week, but who knows. My daughter and her boyfriend are celebrating their 4th anniversary and his family is down to one car at the moment, so I might have to drive them around.

Scheduling classes for this first semester at her new college didn't go as well as the kiddie had wanted it to. The counselor that was helping her was running behind and wouldn't listen to my daughter about making changes to her major and what classes she wanted to take. I hated it because it was THE HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR and we had to walk outside, going from one building to another. Typically it's cooler when you're in the city because of the lake, but that was one of the few days where it wasn't actually cooler by the lake. In fact I think it was hotter because of the sun reflecting off the water.

Originally the kiddie ended up with a schedule she didn't like, no thanks to the moron that wouldn't listen to her, but the next day she was able to go online and switch things around. Then a day later they opened up spaces in other biology classes that were at better times instead of the 8 am class she was first assigned to, so now she has a schedule she loves.

One positive thing that I did get to do, my sister brought my nieces over to my house so we could have a little birthday party of our own the day before the huge one I wasn't invited to. It was SO good to see them again and see my sister. My daughter & her boyfriend were also there and we had a lot of fun. It was awkward at first, because the girls know their father is mad at me and I'm not allowed in their house, so they weren't sure how to react to me at first. But after a little while, it was like old times and we had a blast.

I'm not sure what to expect from August, but I'm glad July is finally over with. I see my therapist tomorrow and my pdoc on Tuesday, neither of which I'm looking forward to. The voices in my head have started trying to convince me again that medications are poisonous and even though I've been taking them, I've started to see the shadows and movements out of the corner of my eye. The voices are also back trying to persuade me to stop therapy, that it's pointless to go. Should make for some not so good appointments. Can we skip August and just go to September?

I can collapse after

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Sun, 17 Jul 2011 00:36:00 +0000

Ah yes, today is the 7th anniversary of my blog, which in blogland easily equates to 70 years since it's rare for people to keep their blogs going for a year much less seven of them. As I've said time and time again though, I write this blog for me, not for anyone else, which is why I've kept it going so long. If I wasn't typing here, I'd be writing all these thoughts down on paper. It's just so much easier to do it here.

I've been busy lately and haven't had much time to post. It's the crazy kind of busy where you don't know if you're coming or going, or if you got everything done that needed to be done because there's always something else being added to the list. From the looks of things, this isn't even going to let up until August 3rd, at the earliest. The only reason I'm posting now is because I chose not to attend a benefit concert that I feel guilty for not attending (it's a fundraiser to benefit my daughter's friend with leukemia and the American Cancer Society) and I'm taking a break from working on wedding invitations.

No, not my wedding, there won't ever be another one of those in my future. My best friend's daughter, or the closest thing I have to a best friend, is getting married and when my daughter heard that they were just going to buy blank invites at Walmart and have them printed at Kinkos, she said we should make them instead because she's a crafting maven. Unfortunately, when my mood is not stable, I also have quite a bit of crafting skill, so I've taken the lead. It's not something I really wanted to do because I know how much my daughter loves designing things, but I really couldn't stop myself from doing it.

We've got five different invitation designs that we're going to print with five different fonts and then let her pick which one she likes, or if she prefers, she can pick different elements from each and we can combine them into one. We were able to get swatches of the color palette she's chosen for her dress and the bridesmaid's dresses, so the elements we have are almost a spot-on match. Just have to print them, glue the pieces together and get them mailed out to her so she can make her choice. We then have to get an assembly line together and make about 60-70 of the final product. Hopefully all by August 1st.

The kiddie and I are participating in National Dance Day on July 30 and need to learn the routines. We're planning on learning the easy and intermediate routines, and hopefully the master routine or at least part of it. If I were 20 years younger and still a dancer, I'd be doing all three for sure, but I'm old and out of shape, so we'll see what happens. They've teamed up with Six Flags to hold dance events at those theme parks across the country, but I don't want to pay some $40 per ticket to get into the nearest Six Flags. I'm hoping they'll just hold a free event in Millennium Park like they did last year.

Tuesday we're going to see West Side Story, Wednesday the kiddie registers for classes at her new college, Thursday I must drop my car off to have the brakes replaced and I have to clean the house. Friday my oldest brother, and one of the two siblings that is still talking to me, comes in from California for a visit.

Saturday is my niece's birthday party and since half the family still won't talk to me, I'm not invited. The other events that have passed had me a bit depressed and angry, but this one is going to be especially hard to get through because this is one of the nieces that I am/was extremely close to and this will be the first time I've ever missed her birthday since she was born. I'm sure I'll be crying any time I have a minute where I'm not busy.

So yeah, there's a lot going on right now and at times, I have to force myself to keep going. Today is the one rare moment I took for myself and I'm trying not to let the guilt get to me (and as I wrote that I just received a text from my daughter about the show that's going on right now). Ugh! I just keep telling myself I can collapse after August 3rd, as soon as I get home from seeing my pdoc.

Give it another week

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 22:34:00 +0000

Upped the dose of Geodon to 120 mgs like my pdoc told me to, and guess what, couldn't tolerate it at all. It wasn't helping calm my racing thoughts so I could fall asleep and when I did eventually get to sleep, I'd wake up in the morning feeling worse than hungover. I couldn't even stay in an upright position for more than 10 minutes without feeling like I was going to pass out. It would take 4-5 hours just to feel well enough to move and when I did, I was either extremely exhausted or in a manic state, nothing in between.

Dropped the Geodon back down to 60 mgs, so I'm essentially back where I started from, only now I'm taking a tiny dose of Seroquel so that I at least get some sleep every now and then. Not even sure what to do. I'm just angry and tired of dealing with this crap. Fighting the illness is hard enough, but battling it AND an extreme sensitivity to medications is just grueling.

I didn't even give up on the increased dose of Geodon after the first morning of feeling like I was dying. I tried to fight through it and not let it slow me down, hoping the awful side effects would eventually diminish. After taking the stuff for five days, no such luck. In fact, I think things were starting to get worse.

Don't see the pdoc until August 2nd and I'm not sure if I should just keep on with my own med routine or tell him I can't tolerate the higher level of Geodon so he can possibly adjust things. I hate, hate, HATE calling my pdoc and therapist outside of my regular appointment times. And for now, with what I'm taking, I can tolerate how I'm feeling even though I seem to ping pong back and forth between depressed and manic or remain in a mixed episode. Maybe I'll give it another week and see how I'm feeling.

Dropped into the shitter

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 21:01:00 +0000

Given my long established history with my pdoc, I'm beginning to think he's finally put a note on my file that says I'm a very serious danger to myself and if I call about anything, action must be taken immediately. When I called him before I went into the hospital for being manic, I didn't have to wait hours for a return call. I didn't even have to wait half an hour. He called me back in less than 10 minutes.

When I called his office yesterday to see if he had anything sooner than the 18th (an appointment I'd made when I had my last regular visit with him on June 9th before I'd landed in the hospital), I was initially told he didn't have anything available. I'd even explained to the receptionist that I'd only been out of the hospital a week, wasn't sleeping again and that my mood was tanking fast, but she still said I'd have to wait until the 18th.

After being put on hold for a few minutes, she comes back and very specifically asks, "is this a medication problem" and when I said yes, suddenly an appointment was available. After I hung up, I was worried that she'd misunderstood me and I'd just been given an appointment to see one of the medication nurses who are only authorized to provide refills should you happen to run out of your meds in between pdoc visits. I had plenty of pills, they just weren't working.

Rather than call back and get clarification, mainly because I was already in the midst of a massive panic attack over having to call his office yet again outside my regular appointment time, I figure I'd just show up and hope for the best. I believe the medication nurses see people on a first come first serve basis and since I was given a specific appointment time, I just kept my fingers crossed that I'd be seeing my pdoc.

My pdoc was concerned that my mood has dropped into the shitter so quickly, but more troubling is that I'm in more of a mixed episode than anything. I told him about wanting to cry or always being angry. Of how my mind won't shut off and I still have a ton of things I want to complete, but the other moods are making it impossible to get anything done. He asked if this has ever happened before and was surprised when I said yes. I never thought it was anything related to being manic. I just figured I was trying to rebel against the depression and get things done, but the depression was winning out. I didn't really know anything about mixed episodes before this past year.

Concern for my own safety made me bring the flurazepam I had leftover for him to dispose of so I don't try to overdose on them. Unfortunately, I never even thought to bring the temazepam since they were in a different spot. The temazepam is probably more deadly because I still have another refill left on those and if I were to break down in a depression and get it filled, I'd have about 50. Maybe next time I see him I could bring those to him too. I've thought of just trying to destroy them myself, but can't bring myself to do so.

My current regimen is now 500 mgs Depakote, 60 mgs Geodon and 1 - 3 mgs of Ativan a day for panic attacks. If I'm not feeling better or getting more sleep within a week, I'm supposed to up the Geodon to 120 mgs once a day and add in 100 mgs of Wellbutrin. Other than the Depakote, the rest is what I was on before I went into the hospital, so I questioned his decision to repeat the process.

Last time I was only on 60 mgs of Geodon, which he said has more of an anti-depressant effect at that level, plus the 100 mgs of Wellbutrin, so it was possible that being on too much anti-depressant medication without anything to offset it might be what triggered the mania. I only took 120 mgs of Geodon twice, which wasn't enough to undo the damage quickly enough and wasn't on a mood stablizer when everything originally boiled over. Hopefully this combination will help. Or at the very least, I'd like to be back in that euphoric state where I was getting stuff done rather than in this mopey, brain hurts from no sleep one.

And to make matters worse, I got my period and the allergies that have suddenly sprung up over the last 5 years are making me even more miserable. I just can't win...ever.

Beginning to crash

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 03:30:00 +0000

After being on a manic high for weeks, I'm beginning to crash...HARD. Wish I knew what the exact cause was, but I know one of the contributing factors is not being able to sleep again. Temazepam and flurazepam haven't worked, not even when I took the two of them together for several nights in a row. It's frustrating because all the medications that knock everyone else out cold have absolutely no effect on me whatsoever.

The only thing I seem to be capable of the last couple of days is crying and I'm doing everything I can to suppress the urge. I don't want to cry because I'm afraid I'll get sucked into the negative emotions I know are lurking below the surface and soon I'll be drowning in them. That won't lead anywhere good, I know this from past experience.

Besides the crying, the only other emotion is rage and I'm trying to suppress that one even more because I'm afraid if I don't, I'll hurt someone else. No one in particular, just some random fucking shithead that deserves it, like the bitch that nearly ran me over when she ran a stop sign in the parking lot at the grocery store while talking on her cellphone. The bitch had her young daughter in the car with her, or I probably would have beat the crap out of her.

I plan to call my pdoc tomorrow and see if I can get an earlier appointment than the one I have in two weeks, but I'm not going to hold my breath that I actually do. I know how quickly his schedule fills up. If things keep going the way they currently are, there is no way I'm going to make it two weeks without hurting myself.

Little else to do but read

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Fri, 01 Jul 2011 23:02:00 +0000

When I was in the hospital, I happened to come across the book, The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest. It was quite a surprising find because the only other things on the barren bookshelves were a handful of very outdated magazines, a section of newspaper that was a month old, a couple of small jigsaw puzzles that were missing a lot of their pieces and some crayons.

I'd read the first book in the series, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo; and while I wasn't as impressed as so many others were with it, it was still a fairly interesting read. I knew Stieg Larsson had managed to write three books and turn them in to his publisher shortly before he passed away, but I had always assumed they were three separate books which contained some of the same characters, kind of like James Patterson and his Alex Cross character. It never occurred to me that the three books were connected along one continuous story line.

So as I read the first pages of the third book, I'm basically reading spoiler after spoiler of what is in the second book, The Girl Who Played With Fire, that I hadn't read yet. Kind of upsetting, but I tried not to let it get to me because there was little else to do but read, especially when you're always awake. I managed to read the entire 550+ page book in less than 5 days. I probably could have read it all in one day, but one's brain does not function normally when you've been sleep deprived for a week. It's hard to make out the words on the page when you're hallucinating and they keep moving.

I'm now trying to decide if I should even bother to go buy the second book and read it, since I now know pretty much everything that happens in it. My roommate in the hospital suggested that I should just get it from the library, but after I explained the OCD tendencies that kick in whenever I try to get books from the library, she said to just buy it. There might be more to the story than what I already know.

Suppose I should finish reading The Grapes of Wrath, a book I've been trying to read for several months now and I've only made it to chapter 6. Progress on it has been stymied, at first by being too depressed to concentrate, then I was too manic to concentrate. Maybe tonight would be a good time to open it up and see if I can make any progress.

I checked myself in

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 16:37:00 +0000

Wasn't feeling better the day after my last post so I talked it over with my daughter and I checked myself into the hospital. The level of care at that place continues to deteriorate. Seems like most of the staff they've been hiring are people with absolutely no compassion or understanding of mental illness. My theory is that they probably couldn't get a job at one of the nearby medical hospitals because their attitudes stink, so they settled for the mental hospital which will hire anyone cuz if crazy people complain they can just dismiss our allegations as being delusional and paranoid. Now the staff is bitter that they couldn't land a better job and they take it out on the patients.

At times I felt like they were deliberately testing my patience. As has been the case the last several times I've been inpatient, they put bananas on my meal trays despite my menu being clearly marked that I'm allergic to them. The staff would then get mad at me for refusing to eat the other food on the tray, not understanding that the minute they put the banana on there, they contaminated everything else.

They would also arbitrarily enforce rules, but usually only for me. Supposedly, patients are not allowed to keep their toiletries in their rooms if it's stuff they brought from home. This must be a new rule because I've never heard of it any other time I've been there. The previous rule was that they had to just all be kept in a plastic bin, you couldn't leave them laying around the room on the furniture for sanitary reasons. Anyway, when I was admitted, I was issued a bin to keep my stuff in, but no one ever told me I couldn't keep it in my room the whole time. I was admitted on Wednesday and then on Saturday my bin disappeared. When I asked where it had gone, I was told of the new rule. Funny thing is, they didn't take my roommate's stuff. She still had her bin with all her toiletries sitting on her desk. So apparently this supposed "rule" only applies to me.

My pdoc had gone on vacation the day I was admitted. Wish he would have mentioned he was going out of town or I might have reconsidered going to the hospital. In his absence I was assigned to someone else. At first the guy seemed ok. He was pretty thorough during our first meeting, which was on Thursday, and asked a lot of questions. He upped the dose of Geodon my pdoc had me on to 80 mgs twice a day and gave me a different sleeping pill. Took the first dose of 80 mgs after dinner that night and by 8 pm I was feeling incredibly nauseous and felt like I was going to pass out. I had to cut my visit with my daughter short because I felt so awful.

I told my nurse how I was feeling and he told me if I felt like passing out to go lay down. 15 minutes later he's standing in the doorway yelling at me that they're having group and snack time. 10 minutes after that he's back telling me to come to the med room to take the sleeping pill. It was only 8:30 pm. When I told him I wasn't ready to take the other pill since it was still early and wasn't sure if it was a good idea to take something I'd never had before when I was already feeling sick from the other medication, he said he was going to write in my chart that I was refusing the medication. What an asshole.

The temp pdoc came to see me early Friday afternoon and I told him what had happened with the Geodon and why I hadn't taken the sleep medication. He switched me to Depakote and agreed to start me on half the normal starting dose to make sure I could tolerate it first. That was the last time I saw him. He didn't bother to see me on Saturday, even though I later found out he'd been there all day. Didn't come on Sunday. All I could think was, what if I hadn't been able to tolerate the Depakote? I'd have been sitting there all weekend unmedicated and getting worse.

As it was, I still wasn't sleeping, even with the sleeping pill he ordered. I was told on Friday by my nurse that if I wasn't able to sleep that night, they'd page the doctor to see what else we could try. At around 1 am when I told the staff I still couldn't sleep, they refused to call him. I was hallucinating and experiencing all the other negatives from long term sleep deprivation, so on Saturday I resorted to drastic measures after the doctor failed to see me. I actually had my daughter sneak me some Seroquel from home. Thankfully she obliged or I would probably still be in the hospital not sleeping.

On Monday, I figured my regular pdoc would come see me in the morning since he was back from vacation and I know his office hours are in the afternoon and evening on Mondays. When that didn't happen, I explained to the day staff how the other pdoc hadn't seen me since Friday and I was getting worried they'd forgotten about me. I was assured that someone would definitely see me that day. The later in the day it got, the more worried I got. After dinner, I explained again to the evening shift that it had now been three whole days since I'd seen a doctor. The charge nurse finally agreed to page my doctor and see if he would be coming in that evening. She paged him several times and he didn't answer.

He finally showed up around 9 pm and had wanted me to stay another day, but I talked him in to letting me go that night. I said that just being able to sleep for two nights in a row had a dramatic impact on how I was feeling. I was tempted to tell him the measures I had to go to in order to get sleep because the staff and other pdoc had failed to help, but figured if I did that, they would ban my daughter from ever visiting in the future.

So now I'm home and a bit unsure how I'm feeling. I went to a DBSA meeting last night and they felt that I was still manic because I kept talking, which is so out of character for me. I was also feeling hyper, like I wanted to run a marathon, but I tried to keep it in check as best I could. I don't see my pdoc until July 18th, but I might call and reschedule that to a sooner date just in case. I don't want this to get worse again.

No swan dives

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 23:35:00 +0000

No swan dives in the middle of the night. The anxiety was so great that I was forced to leave the house shortly after my last post and I was driving around all night looking for a place that was high enough to jump from. There are plenty of places around here, just none that are accessible without a key, especially in the middle of the night when all the businesses are closed. Sadly, most of the parking decks near me are built into the ground so they are usually only 2 stories above ground. If I wanted two stories, I'd just climb on my own damn roof.

After driving around for about two hours, I managed to be first in line at Starbucks when they opened at 5 am. Wasn't really a line though, I was the only one there. Still wide awake and not sure what to do, I drove over and parked across the street from the hospital and called the intake department. Told them what was going on and surprisingly, the woman on the other end seemed rather blasé about the whole thing. She wanted my name, but I wouldn't give it to her. If she had been able to look up my history, I'm sure her attitude would have changed to one of urgency and I wasn't sure if I needed to be locked up again.

My therapist was aware of the mania because I had seen her earlier in the day. She was concerned and wanted to call my pdoc, since he still doesn't seem to think I have bipolar, though I clearly do. I told her about the list in my head, how it had to be followed in order and that killing myself wasn't on it, though it is times like this that I feel I'm far more dangerous to myself. Not only is there mania, but there are mixed episodes too. I'll be buzzing around flitting from one task to the next and suddenly start bawling.

All these emotions that I haven't been able to feel now want to come out all at once, and I don't want to feel them. I wanted to feel them when I actually was depressed and numb. Now that I'm feeling hyper, I don't want to be fucking crying. I don't want to feel hurt that I'm still being rejected by most of my family.

I did end up calling my pdoc, once I was able to remain calm enough to do so. He called back rather quickly and told me to stop taking the Wellbutrin, double the dose of Geodon from 60 to 120 mgs and take an extra 60 mgs immediately. He said if I don't feel better by the end of the day or tomorrow to go to the hospital. I took the extra 60 mgs, 1 mg of Ativan for the anxiety and some Benadryl for my allergies. That finally knocked me out at about 11 am and I slept til about 2 or 3 pm. Not much sleep, but I'll take it.

Anyway, in addition to cleaning just about every inch of the house, I was awake at 3 am Thursday scouring the web for financial aid stuff for the kiddie. We were still about $10k short of what she needs for school so I figured I'd help her search for scholarships and stuff. When she finally woke up on Friday, I began asking her all these questions, so we ended up working on her financial aid for most of the day.

Since my credit still sucks from when I was married, though most of that has begun to reach the statute of limitations and has dropped of my credit reports, not to mention the fact that I don't have a job, I figured there was no way I'd qualify for the Federal Direct Plus loan to help her out, but I had to at least apply in order for her to qualify for additional money from one of her other federal loans. I applied for the full $10k and was shocked as hell when I was approved.

I'll just pay the interest on it while she's in school (maybe a little towards the principal if I have extra to send) and the principal will be deferred til she graduates, at which time, she can pay for it. Even if she can't for some reason, $10k over 10 years at 7.9% interest isn't too much for me to afford even if I'm still on disability by the time payments begin. Sure beats the interest rate we'd have to pay if either one of us had to get a private loan from some random bank.

So she's now set for her sophomore year in college, the house is cleaner than it's been in years and I'll probably be in the hospital again. What a week it's been.

Go and fly

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 07:54:00 +0000

It's 3 am again and today I feel like I could fly. I keep obsessing over where the nearest structure is that is high enough for me to swan dive of off. I want to see how long I'd float through the air. Skydiving would be nice, but there are no skydiving places open at 3 am.

I'm not suicidal, I just truly want to go flying right now. Maybe it's the mania that's plagued me since the 14th. I've gotten a lot accomplished since then. The house is immaculate. I've cleaned things that probably haven't been cleaned since I moved in here 7 years ago and I'm not done. The list keeps growing.

That damned list in my head. Right now, at the head of the list is flying. Things are supposed to be done in order, flying can't jump to the front of the line. The next thing on the list was to clean out the cupboard above my desk and reorganize it. I told my therapist I'd do the list in order. But the urge to fly is so incredibly overwhelming. It's driving my anxiety through the roof. I'm physically shaking and my hands are cold & clammy because I'm fighting against the urge to jump in my car and find a place to fly.

Not sure what to do. My brain says go and fly...

Wish I had died

noreply@blogger.com (Sid) — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 07:54:00 +0000

It's well after 2 am and it doesn't appear that I'll be able to get any sleep tonight. Took my Geodon and Restoril at around midnight, and while I am tired, my brain is currently in overdrive and won't shut down so I can fall asleep. The culprit is the ruminating thoughts over still being shunned by my family for trying to kill myself in April.

Everyone was invited to my sister's house for a Father's Day barbeque yesterday, everyone except me and my daughter. The excuse I was given for why the old people were going over there was because my sister needed to do laundry and couldn't come over here. I know she's very busy lately and I understand her inviting people over so she could get other things done around the house. However, that's no excuse for why I wasn't invited to join them. The old people tried to cover up the fact that my brother was also there, but I knew he was.

As I've said before, I understand why they were initially mad at me. Attempting suicide just days before my brother-in-law was scheduled to go into the hospital to have his cancerous thyroid removed couldn't have been a worse time. They were already extremely stressed over that and I made things worse. But it's not like I planned it that way. It's not as if I decided...oh hey, I think I should make their life an even bigger living hell right now by committing suicide.

I will never regret trying to kill myself, but I will forever regret having sent the text I did to my sister, especially because of how much it hurt her and my family. If I could go back in time and change that part, I would in a heartbeat. But I didn't send the text in the hopes of being rescued and I didn't specifically pick that sister to send it to. My sole focus that night was on dying. I had a brief moment where I realized I hadn't left a note for my daughter, so I sent a text....to the last person I'd texted that wasn't my daughter. If the last number had been that of a friend or even a radio station, they would have been the ones to get the text. Unfortunately, my sister's number was next in line after my daughter's.

While I understand their anger, no one's even bothering to take even a second to try and look at things from my perspective. No one's ever thought, wow...how sick is she, how much pain is she in that she felt suicide was a reasonable option. They don't care. They all think they know what depression is and as my older sister said in a nasty email to me months ago "I don't know you any more and I can't deal with any of your problems", said after her comments about how I'm not the only one with problems, so I know they don't understand just how sick I am, and really don't give a flying fuck to even listen or educate themselves about mental illness.

And people wonder why I'm not more open about my illness. Even if I had given full disclosure of what's been going on with me since I was 13, they wouldn't care. They wouldn't try to understand and be supportive. They would have simply rejected me far sooner than they did. I know this and I should just accept that I've finally gotten the one thing I'd always wanted as a child....I'm basically an only child now. But it hurts like hell because I love my siblings. I love my nieces and nephews, especially my younger sister's two daughters. Now I doubt I will ever get to see them again.

I really wish I had died that day. I really do.