2 much testosterone

His One & Only

2013-04-23T14:10:00.002-04:00

Write a short scene set at a lake, with trees and shit. Throw some birds in there, too. By Dan Wiencek

The tree limbs were in that conscious divide, part of the way dying and part of the way springing back to life. It overlooked the once busy lake. At one time it housed children swimming within its shallows and fishing poles hanging where the water deepened.

Once a happy place of wonder and joy; now full of sorrow and angst. What appeared punched with blue now cropped into an abyss. Black and without feeling.

The house backed up to the reservoir where it always smelled like Thanksgiving. Perfect meals and baked goods formerly prepared without flaw. Now it stands as an empty birdcage. The house that no longer held onto relationships anew. It withered and dwindled into nothingness. Thoughts long forgotten. Memories shaded.

His love was lost. When she vanished, out went the smells and tastes and colors. She who created what once was. His cares were abandoned.

His once smooth exterior was now wrinkled and pining for the care of a woman. He was lost and aging. Almost gone.

Waiting.

Just waiting.

To join her again.

Black and white.

Growing Pains

2013-04-22T14:26:00.001-04:00

For approximately four years I have been going on and on and on, on this little blog mainly regarding mental health. I think it's time to shift gears and maybe grow up a little bit, in a sense.

I don't want to be known only as a blogger. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course! I would rather be known as a writer. Blogging has opened doors I didn't know existed. I just think it's time to transition in what I blog about.

For about a week now, I've been reading a lot about the writing process and what all it entails from the viewpoint of one author. I'm taking the advice written in one book specifically (Bird By Bird By Anne Lamott) that simply says to sit down at the same time every day and just write (among many other things). It's a lot harder than one might think.

What I'm getting at here is that I'm going to be writing a lot of essays in the days to come. Some will be blog publishing worthy and others won't. I'll take my chances. But that's where this blog is heading....it's growing up in a way.

I'd love for you to grow with me.

Whatever

2013-04-17T14:05:00.001-04:00

Ideas swirl in my head. Stories yet to be told. Stories that are so obvious in my mind's eye, but I lack the know how of getting it down on paper. Notes are scribbled all over. It's a puzzle with a dozen missing pieces. I don't know where they fit because I'm unable to connect the dots.

I'm amidst a bout of depression. I can feel it surging to life beneath the surface. It's taking away any of the creativity I have left within my soul.

I give up. Truly I do.

My Psychiatrist Broke Up with Me

2013-03-29T10:05:00.000-04:00

I have to work on this!

It's true.

My psychiatrist is moving on. Without me.

I had my last appointment with him yesterday.

I cried when I left.

At times I had issues with him, like any normal human would.

Sometimes I questioned if he had my best interest in mind when making decisions.

When I gave into his ideas and strategies, I was often feeling better sooner than later.

I've been feeling rather steady since the last crash where my doctor added a new drug to my list of daily pills I swallow. There's no generic of this drug and I am currently living off of samples. I cringe at the thought that someday soon I'll have to pay for it out of pocket.

I honestly thought it would be me leaving him rather than the other way around. I'm moving back to Colorado the first week of June. So I knew that someday soon I would be moving on, I just didn't think it would be now.

Yup, I'm trading in my flip flops for snow boots.

I left yesterday with handwritten prescriptions for my other medications to be filled when we land in the mountainous area.

Unless I have a complete breakdown before June, I will be psychiatrist free until I find a new one in Colorado.

Big changes are on the horizon. Really big changes. But I'm ready.

It's time to begin my life again rather than live the one that's been set up for me here in Florida. I've hit a dead-end here. It's time to be a free bird. I will fly and glide and follow the route I'm supposed to very soon.

The Best Coupon Sites on the Web

2013-03-27T15:15:00.000-04:00

Today we have a guest post which talks about finding the best deals and coupons online!

***

Finding the best deals online can sometimes be a challenge. There are millions of websites offering coupon codes, printable coupons and electronic savings. It can be dizzying to separate the deals from the scams. Fear not. There are great coupon and giveaway sites available that actually offer deals you can use. Check out the top coupon sites for the best deals on the web:

CouponMom.com

Started by a mom who simply wanted to save more on her groceries, CouponMom is the first stop on any serious couponer's list. This site links to hundreds of participating retailers who offer everything from discounts to free products. CouponMom also has an active user forum and handy dandy tutorials. By the time you finish perusing the site, you will be an expert in how to piggyback Catalinas, take advantage of BOGO deals and find out what double coupon.

This mom's claim to fame is that she spends nearly nothing on her grocery bills. She is also rumored to be the inspiration for the popular reality show series "Extreme Couponers" which features families who have turned cutting coupons into a full-time job. CouponMom.com is mainly for grocery coupons but offers great deals on household goods as well.

RetailMeNot.com

When it comes to finding the best deals on retail bargains, no site tops this one. RetailMeNot is excellent for finding deals on everything from new clothes to pizza coupons and furniture bargains. If you are planning a party, the site often offers Oriental Trading coupons that help you save big on tableware,

prizes and costumes. You can even find Oriental Trading promo codes that allow you to save big online. RetailMeNot is the favorite of budget fashionistas who want to look great without spending big bucks. The site allows users to share coupon codes with other members, giving site users access to savings across the Web. Find deals from major retailers like Pizza Hut, Target and Wal-Mart or grab a coupon for sites like Amazon and Shopify. When it comes to getting the best retail deals on the Internet, RetailMeNot.com is the leader.

FreeShipping.com

Finding a bargain online is peaches and cream until you get to the dreaded shipping fees. All of your savings are eaten up by the fees to get unite you with your new items. In some cases, the cost of shipping can exceed the price of the item. FreeShipping.com solves that problem. The site grabs free shipping deals from across the Web and delivers them to you in an easy to use format. Find absolutely free shipping from merchants like Best Buy, Land's End, Kmart and DSW Shoes. You can find shipping deals across categories and save hundreds of dollars on your purchases. No longer do you have to hunt and scour the Web for the best free shipping deals. With FreeShipping.com you can save your dough for your new duds.

CheapStingyBargains.com

If you are looking for the best deal on a new computer, laptop or tablet, CheapStingyBargains.com delivers. This site, which is dedicated to finding discounted electronics from across the Web is a one-stop shop for all of your electronic needs. Find free shipping on new laptops and shop all of your favorite brands. CheapStingyBargains. You can also snag printable coupons for cameras, GPS, video games and consoles to spend in store.

When you are looking for the best deal on the Web, the possibilities can be endless. Snag the best deals with coupon sites that deliver the best discounts in groceries, clothing, electronics and more on the Web. Find your best bargain today with the top Internet coupon sites.

Pneumonia and the Little

2013-03-26T15:08:00.001-04:00

Sick boy was real sick

Then he fell off the couch and needed head glue

Then the puking started and he just got worse

He ended up in the ER for fluids & the diagnosis of Pneumonia

After the ER

The first time he played with toys in over a week

More playing and less sleeping, the way it should be

His first meal in a week, Teddy Grahams

Pneumonia makes you tired

I'm happy to report that the little is in preschool today for the first time in a week and is making a full recovery. Thank you all who cheered him on with well wishes and prayers. Every one of them got right to him and he healed.

Once you have kids, nothing else matters. He's my most favorite four-year-old on the planet.

It really wasn't my fault -- An Accident

2013-03-18T15:38:00.001-04:00

If you've been reading me for the past few years, you'll know that my story started with having postpartum depression (PPD). Some of my worst fears flashed before me during this period of time. I was always concerned that my son would be taken from me in some way be it kidnapping or death or someone would get custody and be a better parent than I could ever be.

When I didn't recover from PPD and it rolled over into Bipolar Disorder, some of these same thoughts stuck with me. I realize now, these thoughts will be with me forever.

Several nights ago I had an experience with my son that I will never forget.

He was on his third day of preschool/daycare when he came down with a cold. His barking cough and spiked fever led me to make an appointment for him to be seen. I was able to get him in that afternoon at 3pm. We spent about 2 hours total between seeing the doctor and picking up some over the counter medications at the pharmacy.

After we got home, I dosed him up and then we lounged around for the rest of the evening. He wasn't eating much but was still drinking a ton of water, and he was in and out of sleep.

At one point, he was asleep next to me on the couch in the living room. He dosed off while watching TV with me. He was all bundled up, blanket drawn up to his neck. He was clasping his latest craze in stuffed animals, Mickey Mouse. Oh how he adores him. I happened to look down at Mickey at one point and noticed he was a bit dirty on his mouth. It looked like dry blood from my son probably scratching his skin until he bled a bit, or maybe a bloody nose during the dry spell we were having here in Florida.

I got a hold of Mickey and slid my way out from under the boy. I went into the kitchen and started washing off Mickey's face. I glanced up as my son sat up, right out of a deep slumber. I continued to wash away when I heard a loud THUMP! There was no mistaking this sound. It was that of my sons head colliding with the very metal coffee table.

I ran in as fast as I could and picked him up. I cannot describe the amount of blood that covered his head. I grabbed him immediately and applied pressure to the cut. Due to being practically asleep when it happened and being on a few over the counter drugs he was out of it. He cried at first but then was talking gibberish. It scared me to death. I immediately thought I was going to lose him. My worst possible nightmare was coming true.

After I got some control over the bleeding I called my husband and screamed for him to get home. When he arrived I was waiting in my car ready to head to the emergency room. By now, the bleeding was under control but I was worried my son would fall asleep and he wouldn't wake up.

We ended up spending 6 hours in the ER, 4 in the waiting room and 2 more in the room we were assigned. Luckily from what we were told, it's an old wives tale that kids shouldn't go to sleep after a head injury (I'm still out on this one, I think just the opposite). We were told as long as he cried right away and his pupils were reacting, he was going to be okay.

In the end, his wound was glued back together. The glue is purple and that's what my son refers to it as, "Purple head".

Purple Head

He's okay now. Still recovering from that nasty cough of his but he's okay. It's taking all I have in me not to say this was my fault. I mean, if I weren't so clean obsessed, I would have just let Mickey have a stain until laundry day.

It's very difficult to play this over in my head. All that blood.

Sometimes accidents happen. We as mothers should really try to remember that. Not everything happens for a reason, some may fight that statement but I believe it to be true. At least, now I do.

From Little Guy to Little Man

2013-03-13T11:36:00.000-04:00

Shadow

There's this boy in my life. He just turned four. He went from a toddler to a little boy over night. He used to call certain things by a name he gave it and now he calls it what it is (from Wee-Room to Living Room). It breaks my heart.

He turned four and went from staying home with his daddy to starting preschool three times per week. Today is his third day. He went from clinging onto me whenever we were out and about to saying good-bye and waving me off.

I know where he is and I know he is thriving. He is meeting kids his own age and even talks to me about them by name. His memory has grown three sizes.

Yesterday he had a strawberry ice cream cone for dessert. He held it on his own and powered through its deliciousness. From beginning to end. His motor skills are fine tuned and oiled.

I used to call him in the middle of the day and talk to him. I love hearing that little voice on the phone. Instead of talking to me, now he talks to teachers who are teaching him each day.

This kid is the love of my life (as well as his brothers and his father). He filled my heart with more than I thought could fit over the past four years. I love watching him grow up (and use the potty more often) but I also love it when we sit together and cuddle. How much longer will he let me do that?

He's a toddler no longer and has grown into a little man. I look forward to many more firsts and some lasts (like diapers).

My dear sweet boy, how proud you have made me.

Thank you for choosing me to be your momma.

He's Legally an Adult Now

2013-03-11T11:48:00.000-04:00

I have an eighteen year old son. He's my oldest. I kicked him out of my house the day after Thanksgiving last year.

When my son started the 7th grade everything went down hill. Prior to 7th grade he was an honor student and a member of the student council. His place on the student council was the first to go and it was a major red flag. Being a member just wasn't the cool thing to do.

His grades began to plummet and they had gotten progressively worse as the years ticked on.

Right before he was set to start high school we moved to a new town. A new town meant a new school. He started his freshman year on the up but it didn't last. His interests in things like cooking declined. At one point he was talking about going into the culinary arts as a career. Then discussion of joining the Marines started. Nothing stuck.

His friends were all new and I didn't know any of them really. I don't know if it was because of his choice in friends but he began to smoke pot. He also began sneaking out of his window after curfew.

My husband and I are very strict parents. School is number one and friends are number 2. We asked for a consistent report card with nothing below a B. I mean, if school is your priority this shouldn't be hard. Well, he started taking home Ds and Fs. We knew we had to do something but no matter what we did, it wasn't enough.

I started searching his room on a regular basis. Everything that came out of his mouth was a lie and I had to search his room in order to get answers. The truth. The last time I searched I found a good amount of pot in his closet. I wanted to teach him a lesson so I called the police. The cop who showed up gave him a good talking to and took the weed. A report was submitted but nothing was going to come of it.

One night he showed up late at home. I was asleep but my husband wasn't. Our son was clearly drunk and high but it was like pulling teeth to get any answers out of him. He started throwing up but insisted that he had gotten food poisoning. We were really tired of all the lies.

I gave him a good talking to. Set up new rules if he was going to remain living at home. He even signed a contract, which he broke within a week. The last time I went into his room late at night and saw he was missing and his window was partially open, was the last straw. I closed the window so he couldn't get back in and waited for him to knock on the front door.

We kicked him out.

He has a job now and was living steadily at a friend's house. He rented a room. Apparently there were no rules because he started skipping school 2-3 times a week. His grades show that he's not on track to graduate even though he swears he's going to. You might say it's my fault that all this is happening because I kicked him out and I'll tell you you're wrong. Parents get a lot of heat based on our kid's actions. I'm tired of hearing that. We did everything right as far as I'm concerned.

In a few months we're moving out of state and he's not coming. He claims to want to stay where he is (now bouncing between 3 houses and I swear he's also dealing drugs). He doesn't care about his education. He says he wants to work to have enough money to have fun. We thought kicking him out was going to mean a complete turn around but we couldn't be more wrong.

I have two younger sons. My oldest doesn't ever see them. We won't allow it. He's a bad influence. But you know what? Even if he were allowed, he doesn't even try.

I'm at a loss of what to do. I miss my son but he needs to learn his lesson. I know he's at that age where he's not supposed to like us, his parents. Eventually he'll come back, right? Maybe one day he'll even thank us.

This post was inspired by Raising Cubby: A Father and Son’s Adventures with Asperger’s, Trains, Tractors, and High Explosives by John Elder Robison. Parenting is a challenging job, but what challenges does a parent with Asperger's face? Join From Left to Write on March 12 as we discuss Raising Cubby. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Walmart Beggars

2013-03-06T09:42:00.000-05:00

There's something that has gotten on my nerves over the years but since this past Christmas specifically...

Those pesky kids (and adults) standing outside of Walmart begging me for a donation.

Look, I shop at a local grocery store for sale items and meat. Then I hustle on over to freaking Walmart, which I hate but have no choice because of its damn affordability, for all the other stuff I need.

Every time, EVERY TIME, I come out of there, someone is asking for money. It's not cool. I give to some and not others and it's really hard to pick and choose but I do. I always give to veterans and for any form of cancer.

Whenever I say something like, Look...I just don't have cash on me and you respond with, Oh that's okay, we accept checks. Checks? Are you kidding me? You better be kidding me because your face is about to get pummeled by my fist. I'm honestly waiting for these folks to purchase that app on the phone where you can swipe a credit/debit card. When that happens I will scratch the living shit out of your fucking eyeballs.

Think about it. If I were to donate say a dollar to the people standing outside of Walmart every time I'd go mad with anger knowing that I could have bought a cool purse or something? I'm kidding. It would go toward the toilet paper that costs almost $10 these days for a twelve-pack. I'm still kidding, I'd upgrade to the better brand of pinot grigio. That's a true story.

To all the Boy Scouts...nobody wants your freaking popcorn. Ever. Can't you sell chocolate bars or something equally as enticing?

To all the Girl Scouts...I've already bought from you at work so when you get all diva on my ass coming out of Walmart after I had to fight with the damn cart and every stupid fucker in that place, I want to open fist slap your ass into tomorrow.

To all the idiots trying to sell me a newspaper subscription...do people even read the hard copy anymore? I get my news online from reliable sources like TMZ so fuck the hell off.

Then there's all these "in-between" assholes standing out there. I make an attempt to make eye contact and smile but when I walk on by you and you shout nasty comments to me it makes me want to run you over with my car after I spend 20 minutes looking for the fucking thing (What's up Walmart? What's with the grass and trees separating the parking spaces? I have to go all the way the fuck around to get to my car after I picked the wrong section!).

So seriously...stop with all the begging of the money. I have very little of it as it is and I'm not about to go all broke for your stupid ass. Delicious thin mints or otherwise....

Most Common Cancer: Lung Cancer. Are you at risk?--At The Allegiant

2013-02-21T15:49:00.000-05:00

I'm so very excited to announce that I am now a contributing writer at The Allegiant.

My first article was published today:

Most Common Cancer: Lung Cancer. Are you at risk?

Please take the time to head over and read it-comment-share it. You might learn something you didn't know about lung cancer. For instance, did you know smokers aren't the only people who have lung cancer?

Some of the information is quite shocking.

Thank you all for your continued support over the years.

Pamela

I'm With the Band Today #WithTheBand

2013-02-19T08:42:00.000-05:00

Today I'm over at Band Back Together where I shared a story about something that happened to me about a year ago.

My post is titled Never Threaten Suicide Via Social Media.

It may bring up old memories for a lot of you who were involved that day. For that I apologize.

This post has been written for a very long time and I thought it was time to share.

Today, I'm alive and stable and doing rather okay.

It's not that I don't want to, it's that I can't...

2013-02-14T10:55:00.000-05:00

They say it takes two weeks to form a habit.

This holds true when you decide to work out.

I got into a pretty good rhythm. I would wake up before work and run using the Couch to 5K program. Then after work, I'd come home and unwind with a thirty-minute yoga session.

I was feeling great.

Then the depression came back. My medication was upped and I wasn't able to wake up that early anymore. I tried. My alarm would go off at 5:15am and I'd roll over and turn it off. I couldn't see straight. There was no way I could run like that.

Then my medication was lowered back to where it was and a new medication was prescribed. Now I'm dealing with one pill that gives me insomnia and the other that makes me want to pass out. I struggle with getting to sleep and so I also struggle with waking up in the morning.

I haven't cried in a while. I don't know if it's because my body is just over the act of doing so or if there's nothing left in me, or maybe I've graduated to full on anger as opposed to part-time anger.

I'm angry. Holy shit, am I angry.

It's not the type of angry that builds either.

If I don't like how something is going, I snap. Instantly. People are scared of that but they're also over it too. Like, why can't she just control her emotions kind of over it.

It's partially the bipolar disorder itself and partly the medication which elevates it.

I'm mad at myself because I stopped working out completely. I know I feel better when I do it but depression makes you take a step back and evaluate things but at the same time, it rules all so it doesn't really matter what you want to do. It's what it's letting you do.

I'm not trying to make excuses. I honestly just can't do it.

For a while, I lost my appetite so it was kind of okay that I wasn't working out because I wasn't going to be gaining any weight due to lack of eating anyway. Then the depression dropped a few notches into the "worse" category and so I started eating for comfort. Today the waist on my jeans is a little more snug than it was three weeks ago when I was running.

I do the calculations and realize how far I would be in the C25K program had I stuck with it. And that pisses me off even more than ever.

I don't care who you are...keeping up with a workout regimen while in the depths of despair is tough as shit.

Then I think that once I'm out of the woods, I'll start back up again. Then the thought gets knocked down flat right away because---the depression will be back, not that it's completely gone away this round. I don't know when but it's coming. And it's going to last even longer next time.

So that's where I'm at. I'm tangled in this web that bipolar disorder created for me and with every movement, I sink a little deeper.

I'm not as excited as I once was about certain things. And that completely fucking sucks.

Right now I'm walking the tightrope and my balance is shifty.

I'm not sure when the rope is going to stop wiggling so I can make it across.

Who's to Blame?

2013-02-13T09:15:00.000-05:00

I try to arrange it so I can pick up all my monthly medication at one time. This can be up to six per month at times. Yesterday was pick-up day.

On the long drive home I dug through my bag in search of some chapstick. My hand went about grabbing at everything trying to find it without looking. My hand felt the orange bottles varying in sizes, depending on the quantity of pills in each when it hit me...

After doing a bit of math (carry the five) I realized what I had available to me. Over 30,000mg of a very strong drug. "Enough".

This may make some of you gasp. You know, the thought of suicide.

Here's the thing, and this is from my own personal experience....once you've been suicidal, it sort of stays with you. It never leaves. The different ways you could do it when triggers are alert and present. The thought enters my mind more than I'd like to admit.

Triggers are around every bend-tucked in a million different crevices.

I got to thinking about that...my psychiatrist knows of my suicidal tendencies from the past. He knows I even had a set date one time (I landed myself in the hospital for shock therapy instead). It always involved swallowing pills before other actions could be taken. To numb the pain.

Fully knowing that I would use pills as a starter, isn't it rather destructive of the doctor to hand out pills like candy, in huge quantities?

When you've been seeing a psychiatrist for as long as I have (almost 4 years) you learn the right words to say if you're trying to get out of that corner you may have painted yourself into. You instantly install a zip-line above and grasp it tightly, to wiggle your way to freedom once again. The sad part is, most of these doctors know you're doing that but what can they honestly do about it? Nothing.

So I'm wondering...would a psychiatrist be held partially accounted for if his patient followed through with the attempt? Should the psychiatrist only hash out weekly quantities? Should the psychiatrist only dispense the meds to a family member who can dish out the doses everyday?

How could he be held accountable for all patients in this way? Hundreds in some cases. But also, how could he NOT?

(I'm not suicidal right now so please don't worry about that. Like I said, the thoughts are always there. Sometimes they're buried deeper under the surface than other days.)

What's the solution? Is this even a problem?

Paranoia on the Rocks

2013-02-06T10:06:00.001-05:00

It was another day. Eye contact was avoided at all costs. Then he stepped into my office and I froze up.

"How are you?"

Pause...

"I'm fine." I responded, head down.

"You don't look fine."

"I'm not. I just said that so you would leave quicker."

I took a chance and tipped my head upward, locking eyes with his.

"Do you need to go home?"

The lump was building in my throat.

"Probably... " I replied with broken words, "If I talk about it, I will cry."

He hurried out of my office as the phone rang, which I answered with the voice that says -speak fast and hang up, I'm crying over here-it was difficult.

A few hours later, I was in my car heading to the pharmacy for a new prescription. The one that was going to take an hour to fill. So I skipped the task and went home instead.

I was surprised to see a package I was waiting for, sitting on the kitchen table, days early. A new ring. A wedding ring.

I slipped off the old one and grunted the new one on. Same size my ass. The rest of the night was spent Googling ways to get it off.

I tried oil, soap, Windex, lotion, ice...it's still on my finger. It hurts but isn't cutting off circulation. It's sort of keeping my mind off other things.

And here I sit, in yoga pants that need washing. Forcing food into my body. Latuda takes away my appetite. Can't go wrong with that...

Another day home from work, fully knowing people are whispering about me. Whispering about shit they know nothing about. The sad part is that it matters to me what they say. What they think. Because tomorrow I will mostly be ignored, which gears up my paranoia.

This is all I can handle right now. I will sit and stare and wish this stupid fucking ring to let go.

Bring on the Klonopin

2013-02-05T10:17:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was brutal.

Today sucks.

I don't give a fuck about tomorrow.

I feel side-swiped...

2013-02-01T08:44:00.000-05:00

I spent the entire day yesterday waiting for my phone to ring.

Each time it rang, I died a little more inside.

I wasn't getting any answers.

New questions were provoked, which couldn't be answered until the next time the phone rang.

It was beyond frustrating.

Go back to your old dose of Seroquel...

Go back on Lithium...

Try Deplin, but only for three weeks because after three weeks you'll run out of samples and then you won't be able to pay the $115+ it will take to maintain...

Try Latuda....again though, just for a month because there's no generic version and I simply LOVE prescribing shit people won't be able to pay for down the line...

I was back and forth with my psychiatrist's nurse for five cycles.

The sixth time my phone rang it was a different nurse and I was in no mood to have to explain things from the beginning. So that's what I told her.

Then I quickly brought up my health insurance website in search for a different psychiatrist. I am very limited in my choices unless I want to drive really far away, which I don't.

I picked up the phone and called my doctor's office back and gave them hell.

I feel like he's messing with my care! Have HIM call me back!

I was home from work by the time my phone rang for the last time yesterday. I sobbed like a crazy person for about twenty minutes. I told him my concerns, my worries, my fears....I research every drug that is placed into my body before taking it. It's not like I'm hitting up insane websites to get answers either. My doctor made it very clear that HE IS THE DOCTOR AND KNOWS MORE THAN THE INTERNET! By the end of the phone call, I was instructed to pick up my free samples of Latuda and see what happens.

My doctor promised that he could give me an endless supply of Latuda and not to worry about the funding. The reason I question this is because I was placed on Seroquel by him and was given samples of it. Four pills. FOUR. He wouldn't give me anymore and so I'm to believe he's going to pump me full of Latuda samples to my heart's desire? I call bullshit!

I woke up today knowing that it is a new day. My worries are still with me and my fear is even stronger than it was yesterday. I will be picking up the Latuda samples and I will try to keep an open mind but it's going to be extraordinarily difficult.

On my way out the door my husband asked if I was okay. I said I wasn't. I also said that I don't think my doctor cares. When I'm in his office, face to face, I feel like he truly cares but once I leave, I'm just another chart in a pile of hundreds. Then my husband said he just really thinks he doesn't know what to do next. Like he's completely dumbstruck. And that totally sucks because if I can't count on my doctor to know what to do next that is reasonable to me, who can I count on?

The answer is no one.

I am alone.

I am scared.

I am completely fucked.

Determination

2013-01-29T11:09:00.001-05:00

Whenever I am stressed, scared, anxious....I tend to point my nose toward something delicious to eat. This ends up in an overboard situation that I soon regret.

Since I've already been down the food route today, I'm focusing on things that keep my mind busy.

I'm looking at photographs for inspiration for what I would like my future home to look like. The home I don't have in the city I dreamed up.

The perfect lived in spaces...

Photo: Pinterest

A colorful living room with a mountain of books cluttering up shelves...

A bathroom I want to spend time in for "me time", not just when I need it...

A bedroom with a balance of cozy bedding and a reading nook...

A kitchen where comfort food can be prepared that opens up to my perfect living room...

I envision Sunday dinners with the family, movie night with the kids and their friends, baseball and beer, football and snacks, family and friends dropping by without notice, and endless nights of chatter with the people I love.

I see people breaking into song and dance to the music that plays while meals are conjured up and maybe some dust on the wood floors that I put off cleaning to spend quality time with others.

I want folks to crave the idea of having fun in my home. People who left but can't wait to return.

As I sit here waiting for the phone to ring or chime with a text of news for the immediate future, I open my heart up to love and determination.

Love for all and determination for myself.

Because I am determined to live this life as fully as ever.

Stepping It Up

2013-01-21T09:37:00.000-05:00

I've been "stuck" on week three, day three of the Couch to 5K program.

I probably shouldn't really say "stuck".

There are no written rules to follow.

Yesterday I asked my thirteen year old son to come with me on my run.

It was time to bounce up to week 4, day one, which meant the amount of running time is doubled.

Doubled.

That seemed harsh.

I was determined though so we hit the streets of our neighborhood together.

Let me paint a picture for you...

In the last session of week three, you run for 90 seconds-walk for 90 seconds-run for 3 minutes-walk for 3 minutes-REPEAT.

Not horrible.

Enter week four where you run for 3 minutes-walk for 90 seconds-run for 5 minutes-walk for 2 1/2 minutes-REPEAT.

It may not seem like much but it truly is if you're an inexperienced runner like I am.

I didn't think I was going to die but I'm having a really tough time regulating my breath. Once my breathing goes out of whack I tend to slow down my running pace and so it seems like an eternity until the next round of walking.

My son was with me, by my side. He probably could have speed walked at the pace I was running. He didn't care though and he didn't judge. When it started to get hard, he urged me to continue. When I told him I needed to stop, he wouldn't let me. When the time came to walk he congratulated me for making it through.

Without him, I probably would have given up and back tracked to the previous week's run time. Now that I've done it, there's no going back. I will continue to press on and if I have to, I'll hover at week 4 for as long as I need to.

The best part about yesterday was working out with my kids. The toddler made his way into the room while I was doing yoga....

Toddler Down Dog---I can't stop smiling from all the cute.

Dear Mental Illness:

2013-01-18T08:35:00.003-05:00

My breath was visible.

The dipping temperature bit at my face.

It was a glorious morning for a run.

In an attempt to continue fighting off the upcoming cycle of depression, I ran as hard as I could.

I pushed limits.

And I succeeded.

Yesterday happened complete with rapidly cycling moods.

In the evening, I made myself workout with one of the toughest DVDs I own.

After thirty minutes I was sweating...my face was beat red...and I was searching for the air my lungs huffed out.

There were no more tears.

I knew running today would be completely necessary.

As a result my body feels amazing.

...and my mind is rather clear.

The vision I have in my head of my body doesn't match the truth but it's how I feel nonetheless.

I must continue on this path to tame the beast.

Nothing is going to get me down.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Some pretty scary thoughts raced through my brain yesterday but...

I'm here to stay and you can just get over it.

--The Girl Who is Winning

When you do everything right and it still falls apart...

2013-01-17T09:07:00.000-05:00

If you asked me yesterday how I was doing I would have told you I was fantastic.

If you asked me yesterday morning if I saw a downfall on the horizon I would have laughed in your face.

No Way.

A few weeks ago I started doing what I should have been doing all along: working out everyday and eating better.

It was as if I painted my bipolar symptoms right into a corner. I hung up the "Wet Paint" sign and set a timer to never go off again.

Then 3:00 started to approach. As the minute hand carefully made its way to 3pm, my mood shifted. It changed its course without notice.

It's what Bipolar Disorder does. It teases you with delicious goodness then snags it away leaving dread in its place.

On my drive home from work I fought tears. Tears that wanted to free-flow for seemingly no reason whatsoever.

I walked through the front door with a lump in my throat. I kept fighting and fighting with all that I had. I went into the bathroom to change and I just shut down. I sobbed and I sobbed. I made it back out to the kitchen thinking that maybe it was over. A good cry never hurt anyone. I went about my business, doing mundane tasks.

I decided to skip yoga for the day to watch TV instead. I needed something mindless. I grabbed the remote and snuggled into the recliner when the emotions flooded back. I cried and I cried and I cried. I yelled because WHAT THE FUCK? ...you know? WHAT THE FUCK?

I made dinner. I ate with my family. I cleaned up afterward.

By 8:00 I was back in the recliner watching more TV. I yelled at my kids several times for not listening and for rough housing and probably for a whole lot of nothing. I knew I had to take myself out of the equation before I snapped and did something I would regret later.

So I went to my bed. I didn't want to think and I didn't want to feel. I just wanted to vanish.

I got angry once again when my husband asked if I already took my medication for the night. I didn't want to take it. I didn't want the feeling that these pills brought on to wash over me. At the time I just wanted to be invisible. To not exist.

I dragged my ass back into the kitchen and took my pills. The rest is a blur. I went back to my bed and I fell asleep. HARD.

My alarm went off at 5:15 this morning. It pissed me off. I shut it down and told it to fuck off. There was no way I was going to run today. I reset it for 6:00 and snoozed it every time it went off. I finally dragged myself out of bed to prepare for work. And here I sit.

I'm going through the motions but I feel dead inside. I don't care about anything and I just want to slip away. I'm trying not to cut. I'm trying not to flip out. I fear for the person who comes in here today and says something the wrong way. It scares me when this much anger builds.

My hypomanic episodes tend to be angry and emotional. I'm assuming that's where I am. Hypomanic.

I'm not in the mood to call my doctor. There's nothing he can do anyway, I just have to ride this shit out. This shit that wasn't supposed to fucking happen because I WAS DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT THIS TIME!

I don't want to hear how strong I am or how I'm an inspiration because I continue the fight and I don't want a hug.

I just want this to pass as quickly as possible. I fear what is waiting for me on the other side. Usually it's depression and depression can last for a long time.

I don't believe in God or any real higher power, but today I pray. I pray to not linger in this limbo of emotions and I pray that I don't snap on anyone and I pray that I can get through this in one piece.

Prayer is just hopes, right? Dreams? Well wishes?

I'll keep hoping that this is just a small set-back and I'll be okay by the end of the day.

Burn Baby, Burn

2013-01-10T10:47:00.001-05:00

Have you ever woken up by jolting your body into an upright position because you just know your alarm never went off?

This happened to me today. At first I was pretty mad but then I thought my body needed a break from running today. I've been sore (in a good way) but having the morning off to sleep an extra hour could benefit my aching muscles and the sleep I so craved. A fresh start tomorrow.

The feeling that whooshes over me when I'm running isn't easy to describe. Just when I think I'm going to die I remember that it's probably just psychological. The burn might be there but that's when it it counts. Burn baby, burn.

I work behind a desk everyday. I sit here day after day, hour after hour. Yesterday I decided to get off my ass and do some little things to wake my body up. Today I'm feeling it.

I did several sets of tricep dips, incline push-ups (using my desk), squats and lunges throughout the day. I can feel the burn in my arms and chest. Also? It felt good to get out of the chair. When I sit, I am trying to focus on proper posture. It's much more difficult to sit like you're supposed to versus slouching over. It's a mini workout in itself because you use your entire core to hold the position.

Tonight I'm going to give some Burpees (a.k.a. Squat Thrusts) a go. I'm definitely not ready for the full on range of motion a Burpee offers, so I went on YouTube to get some ideas to modify the moves. I ended up reading several articles on this exercise. It's one of the top most rated moves because it involves just about every body part to do it. Somewhere along the way, I read that if you're going to modify the move, to either begin or end with one full-on Burpee. Just one. And then the next time you're doing a set of the modified version, add one more and so on. Eventually you'll be doing a full set of the move how it's intended.

This is the full range of motion Burpee

I feel pretty awesome these days. I'm not stepping on a scale anytime soon but I can already tell that things are happening to my body as it's measured by a few pairs of pants I wear often. It's a fantastic feeling!

I'm going to close today with a quote I heard (I can't remember where)....

"If it doesn't go bad within a week, you shouldn't be eating it!"

Makes sense, huh?

Couch to 5K {#C25K} -- A Fresh Start

2013-01-08T08:40:00.000-05:00

I am a firm believer that the number one "drug" to treat mental illness is exercise.

I don't swallow exercise everyday in pill-form, but I sure as hell push hard through the activities that help me work up a sweat, and keep my Bipolar symptoms to a minimum. Unable to crash through and anchor me. It's my most favorite drug.

I still swallow the actual medication prescribed by my doctor each night before going to bed. Why? Because for me, exercise isn't enough. It accompanies the pills in a positive way. They work together.

For a few weeks now, I've been going on walks during my lunch hour and when I get home in the evening, I pop in my Namaste Yoga DVD and dip into poses and stretch out muscles that make my body sing.

I'm feeling wonderful. The workouts and the pills combined are my perfect "cocktail".

Over the weekend, I was browsing through Facebook when I came across a post that knocked me sideways. The post is titled Seven. and is written by the lovely Jana of Jana's Thinking Place.

Jana writes about her experiences with the Couch to 5K program. While she didn't complete the program in the nine weeks it suggests, Jana faced it with her head up and running shoes at the ready. You see, Jana is the mother of an angel baby. Charlie. She has plans of running a half marathon next month in his memory, all stemming from this running program. Training.

A few years back, I met Jana in person when I was visiting Georgia. We had the chance to chat and share a meal. This was when I was still dealing rather strongly with postpartum depression. Jana has a knack for making you feel comfortable no matter the circumstance.

When I read Jana's post it made me think. I keep putting off restarting the C25K program again because of weather issues (it's hot in Florida in Winter), not feeling up to it, claiming to have no time, etc. I call bullshit on any reason I could come up with.

Yesterday afternoon, I laced up my Asics, grabbed my phone, and hit the pavement.

It was a wonderful feeling. It was an unseasonably warm day but I went at it full on. No regrets.

During the run intervals, when the going got tough, I yelled. I screamed at my body to keep going. I began talking to my bipolar disorder as if it was a separate entity. I was telling it to "Fuck off!" or "You're so my bitch!"...and I didn't care if anyone heard me because when it was time to stop running and start cooling down, I felt like I truly made a difference from the inside out. From my mental health to the way my calves burned from the new movement I had put it through.

This morning I set my alarm for 5:20 and I was killing it in the chilly morning air. It was still dark but the street lights lit the way. The music blared in my ears and the lyrics spoke to me, gave me the strength I needed to keep it going. To finish.

Nine weeks. Twenty-seven separate runs.

As in the past, I don't take many in-between breaks because my body needs consistency. When I run the day after a break, I tend to struggle a bit, so I try not to break often.

Thank you, Jana, for pushing me even though you didn't know that's what you were doing. I'm going to rock the program with you in mind.

What sort of workout do you incorporate into your everyday life?

Potty Training Woes

2013-01-04T12:43:00.001-05:00

I am over-the-top exhausted these days.

Two words...

Potty Training.

Why must this be the hardest thing in life to accomplish this time around for my husband and I? We have two older sons who went through it. They're 18 and 13 and now use the toilet actively (ummm, thank goodness).

So what gives 3 1/2 year old kid?

About 9 months or so ago, I purchased the little toilet seat that fits over the big toilet seat. It has handles. It's decked out in cars. The thing looks hilarious and I thought it would be a hit.

Boy child used it without any set pattern. Mostly, we were just looking to introduce the idea.

As the months ticked on, we talked about using the incredible-red-car-toilet seat. Boy child decided he was too nervous about it and when prompted to "go", his response? Always, "Tomorrow!".

I was even offering stickers and M&Ms to prompt him. Nada.

A few weeks ago, I purchased a stand alone toddler-sized toilet. I honestly didn't think boy child would like it so I didn't accompany it with any pull-ups or underwear. Then he proved us wrong! The kid was using it like clockwork. I bought the pull-ups and he had a kitchen timer set to 20 minutes. When the sucker went off, he was on that toilet without any say from us. We were all, "Yes! This is it! The moment we've been waiting for ever since I pushed the kid out of my body!"

More and more often when the timer goes off now, his pull-up has been "used" at least once. These things are becoming expensive diapers. As if diapers themselves aren't already expensive.

So I'm at a loss.

I know we should let him take the lead, but he'll be 4 in March! 4! IN MARCH!

I have zero recollection of potty training in the past. None.

The boy child has been rather late with most everything...eating solids, talking, walking...

I'm holding out hope that this is just a delay and soon enough I won't have to set that annoying timer anymore!

What are your tips and tricks to get your little one trained? This desperate mom is desperate!

2013-A Brand New Life

2013-01-01T11:09:00.001-05:00

I sit here with the windows open. Natural light pours through. There's just enough bite in the air to make me shiver.

2012 is over. It was the year of the rollercoaster.

2013 has more promise than any other year has. I look forward to it wholeheartedly. There will be new schools for my boys, a new home in a faraway land for my family (more to come on this!), new traditions, new friends, an abundance of family, better options for mental healthcare....it just gets better as I continue to move my fingers over this keyboard.

With all of this positivity hovering over my family comes hard work and dedication over the next 6 months in order to reach the end goal-a brand new life.

I wish you a Happy New Year. It's a giant reset button, friends. Take advantage. Don't set the bar too high. Realistic expectations reap huge rewards.

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