I'm Better! Boo Hormones!

Ahhhh, the joys of being "hormonal".  After my depression meltdown yesterday and my husband's near "freak-out" about it, I realized (after he quizzed me) that I am, indeed, hormonal, and that is contributing to my mood.  I feel totally fine this morning after feeling at death's door yesterday.  So maybe my medicine isn't to blame after all, it's just, well, the curse that God gave us women for giving Adam the apple. : )

My husband did beg me not to take my new medication last night before bed, but I asked him "how will I ever sleep then?".  Even so, I still got up at 3:30 this morning (sigh).  I've been reading user manuals and installing new software for equipment I just bought for school. 

After having my one week break, I'm not looking forward to going back to school.  I did get all A's in my classes last quarter, so that's 2 quarters in a row now, but I'm wondering if I can keep it up.  I often ponder how these psychiatric medications slow my brain down in learning capacity, how much faster the other students, especially the younger ones, are able to pick up new concepts compared to me.  I know I'm a slower steno writer, but Mark thinks that sometimes it takes me longer to pick things up (in general, not because of medication), but once I have them, I master them better than anyone.  He's always so encouraging, I hope I'm the same way with him.  I sure try to be. 

I say that, but he accidentally dumped his buttered popcorn on his lap at the movies, and I started laughing.  It was FUNNY!  He said "see, that's why I don't you things, like when I hurt myself!  You laugh!".  He had told me earlier that at Jason's Deli he bit down on a toothpick in his sandwich and I said "Ouch, didn't that hurt?" and he said yes!  I asked why didn't he tell me, and he said "because you'd laugh, you always laugh when people hurt themselves".  Yeah, I DO do that.  I don't know why I do that.  If someone trips and falls, I'm the first to bust out laughing.  But if he bit into a toothpick into his gums?  I don't think I'd laugh, I think I'd be concerned. 

I'm not so calloused and mean, I don't make fun of other people, I just, I don't know, people doing things like that make me laugh.  Is that really so bad?

I Can Only Imagine

I've noticed Mark watching me closely today, paying attention to everything I'm doing, asking questions, being extra nice to me.  He pointed out I'm listening to a different kind of music, and asked why I had a sudden interest in Christian Rock on youtube.  I asked him why was it any of his business, he said because I'm taking a new medication and acting differently.  It's only been 2 days, geez.

But I already feel...not as happy.  I just finished crying as a matter of fact.  Nothing happened, but I was listening to "I Can Only Imagine", and well, imagining what I would do, as I always do when I listen to that song, when I am face to face with Jesus when I die.  It's not the first time the song has made me cry, but it's the first time the song has made me cry with RELIEF.  I'm in God's presence, that means the fight is OVER, I'm in God's arms, He has me now, no need to struggle, day after day, night after night, I can relax.  And it makes me cry for all the fighting I've done over the years just to survive.  No one understands, no one could possibly understand.  Usually I cry when I listen to the song because of all of His love for me, but this time, just from sheer exhaustion of living. 

I don't know why my happy music turned to Christian music within days, I don't know.  I don't know why I went from laughing and insomnia to crying and sleeping. 

This great drug seems....not so great.  I want to be in bed all the time, not to sleep, just to be listless and do nothing because there is nothing else to do, and I want to do nothing. 

This is exactly what I didn't want.  To be a bipolar zombie.  Only I didn't know it came with crying.

I Can Only Imagine - Mercy Me

I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side

I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me

I can only imagine

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all?

I can only imagine

When that day comes
When I find myself
Standing in the Son

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You

I can only imagine

I Don't Want To Change!

I tried the higher dosage of Saphris last night right before I went to bed for sleep, begrudgingly.  I was asleep when Mark came to bed, although I woke up twice during the night.  I didn't get up though, I stayed in bed and thankfully went back to sleep.

I don't like AT ALL taking another drug for bipolar disorder.  I happen to LIKE my personality, and don't want to turn into a drugged zombie again.  I'm so happy to be off Seroquel, I'm losing weight, happy, things couldn't be better, now THIS.  I know I will change, and I don't want to.  Maybe I won't like listening to music as much, maybe the sky won't be as blue or I won't appreciate it anymore, things won't be as funny, I won't be as nice or charming, I already HATE it.  I love how I am without Seroquel, why couldn't I have just been able to SLEEP?  Why couldn't my doctor have just given me a sleeping pill?  I was almost crying about it this morning, but I have to keep in mind, I'm "hormonal" right now, so that's to be expected.

I weighed myself and only lost 1/2 pound this week, but I just became "hormonal" this morning, so I'm retaining all of the green tea I've been drinking I'm sure. 

I guess on the positive side *if* (and that's a big if) I'm hypomanic, then surely the pendulum will swing eventually and the depression is sure to follow.  Since that is true, taking this medication could interfere with the impending depression.  But what if I'm just being "me"?  I think this is just *me*, and the medication is going to change who I am, as a person.  I hate it, so very much.

What An Emotional Day!

Everything is such a blur this week, so much going on medically.  The Saphris didn't really work for sleeping.  I mean, it DID make me fall asleep, but I got hungry and ate my leftover Chili's, and then woke up wide awake at 12:30a and had to take 2 Unisom and klonipin.  I should have just taken that to begin with and not gotten hungry at all!  So I'm crossing Saphris off my list.  My psychiatrist gave me 2 dosages - 5mg and 10mg, I only took the 5mg, but I'm not taking the 10mg and make myself that much hungrier.

I think I'm done working with my psychiatrist trying to find something to make me sleep.  I know he said to come in and see him in a week to two weeks, but I'm not going.  Why?  So he can give me some other weird anti-psychotic schizophrenic heavy duty drug when all I want to do is SLEEP?  I'll just keep taking Unisom or cold medicine with klonipin and do the best I can.

I went to the OB/GYN for my sonogram today and she found 3 fibroids and an ovarian cyst.  The nurse then walked me to the OB/GYN's office, and I sat across from this big desk with all of these pictures on a bookcase, feeling totally insignificant and scared.  I looked at a picture book without really reading it or seeing the pictures for several minutes and then she came in.  She looked through the hospital records I had faxed from my last surgery, and came to 2 conclusions:  I could take some type of hormone to keep the fibroids from growing, or I could get a hysterectomy.  I was in shock.  I mean, what about just removing the crap from my body, like last time?

I asked her "what about something in the middle??", and she asked me like what.  So I told her, like removing the "foreign objects".  The reason I want the fibroids GONE and not just left there is because they enlarge my uterus and make it 8-10 weeks pregnant!  I don't want to look 8-10 weeks pregnant!  She pondered that to herself, thinking of what she could do and how she could do it surgically, and finally decided yes, she could do that, and on an out-patient basis too.  But then what about the heavy bleeding she asked?  She had a procedure she could do, but that would cut my chances of conceiving.

I told her my husband didn't want children.  She said well what about you?  I said I do, but I would rather have him than children.  She said so if you weren't with him, you would want children?  And I said yes, but I'd rather be with my husband.  So she pondered on this awhile, talking about a procedure that removes the lining of the uterus to stop my heavy bleeding and then realized that would cut my chances of conception way down.

She told me I had my foot surgery that I needed to have done and recover from (yes I know I'm a mess but soon will be brand new) and then we would do this, so to go home and really think about what I wanted.

On the way to the doctor's office, I remembered thinking the sky never looked so blue, the clouds never so fluffy white, and on my way home, I was thinking how they all just melted into gray, no matter how blue and white it was.  It's interesting how your mood can change even the way you view the sky.

I called Mark, trying to hold back the tears, telling him what she had said, how he didn't want children anyway and maybe I should have the ablation (or whatever it's called) for heavy bleeding.  I told him I didn't want a hysterectomy, and told him word for word of the conversation I had with my doctor about children.

When I got home, Mark had a complete change of heart.  He told me he didn't want to take away my dream of having a child, he hoped I realized I'd married a type of "Peter Pan" (someone who never wanted to grow up) and that we should try to have one, just one, child. 

He said he never realized my body had such little time left, as I know I've said in my blog, he forgets we're not the same age, he thinks I'm 34 like he is, not 41, and he said that, too.  (Not that I'm 41, but that he forgets I'm older, we don't mention my age).  He just said my body is giving out on me and this is probably our last chance.

I want to tell him.....our last chance has probably already come and gone.  The OB/GYN didn't tell me this, she was very concerned about my being able to conceive, but I know 41 is old to conceive. 

But his heart is in the right place, he tries to give me the world even if it's not his dream, and for that, I couldn't ask for more. 

I will say, being told you need a hysterectomy is one hell of a scary thing to hear.

New Medication - Saphris

I went to the psychiatrist today (yes again) and told him the Gabapentin was not working for sleeping.  I told him that I was still just lying awake in bed with my eyes wide open thinking and thinking for hours.  I also said that if I took cold medicine and klonipin, eventually that would work.

He said we could try 3 of the Gabapentin instead of 2 at night.  I told him I'd already doubled it (meaning I took 4 pills), and all it did was make me hungry, not sleepy.  He asked if the Zonegran was not making me sleepy, I was like hello?  and then said "apparently not".  So he said well we could try 3 Zonegran at night instead of 2, and inside I felt like I was going to start crying, I KNEW that wouldn't work, sometimes you just know things.  My insomnia is too great to just add one Zonegran and boom, that would fix it.

I didn't say anything, like ok, or no that won't work, so then he said, or we could try a major tranquilizer like Saphris if the 3rd Zonegran doesn't work and gave me samples for 5mg and 10 mg.  I looked on the internet when I got home, I'm calling BULLSHIT on him!  It's not a "major tranquilizer"!  It's another stupid atypical anti-psychotic!

AND he now wants me to make another appointment to come in again in a week or two, are you freaking kidding me?  I've been on a 6 month maintenance plan FOREVER now!

I asked him "WHY DON'T YOU JUST GIVE ME A REGULAR SLEEPING PILL?"  (written in caps for emphasis, I didn't actually yell at him, haha!  And he said because that wouldn't be treating the bipolar symptom that I have of not sleeping.  To me, sleep is sleep, I don't care how you get it, why does it matter?  If something makes me fall asleep, does it matter how or why?  I mean, besides street drugs of course. : )

Mark and I went to dinner tonight and he said I bet he thinks you're manic and that's why you can't sleep.  And you know?  I think Mark's right.  I think my doctor thinks I'm manic, but why wouldn't he just TELL me that?  "KansasSunflower, I think you can't sleep because you're manic", why wouldn't he just tell me and suggest I try some new drug for a length of time and say it might work in a week or so? 

So I asked Mark, do YOU think I'm manic?  And he said well, you've definitely been acting differently.  I was like, but HOW, because I really don't see it.  He pointed out that I'd made all these doctor appointments that I'd put off for YEARS, and didn't even ask him to go with me and said I normally won't go to those things by myself, yet I didn't even involve him.  He said don't get me wrong, it's a GOOD thing, not BAD!  And he said I've been really happy lately, which he said was good too, not bad.  So as I was talking to him, I got all self conscious, was I talking too fast, too loud, too much?  It seemed like I was repeating stories that I'd already said just minutes earlier, yet Mark didn't seem to mind if I was. 

I do feel good, why would I WANT to feel bad?  I don't feel out of control, I'm doing positive things, why is that WRONG?  I just can't SLEEP! 

It seems like if I'm just supposed to sit at home in the dark and not shower, not talk to people, not do anything and being on bipolar medications and that's "normal", then I don't want to be that person. 

Maybe a little lack of sleep is worth it then.  Forget all this.

And the medicine?  It's a freaking weight gainer!  The doctor thinks that by removing Geoden which I'm currently taking (which is also a weight gainer) and adding Saphris (if it works) might even it out hunger wise, I guess. 

I've lost 23 pounds, if this medicine makes me even the TINIEST bit hungry, that's it, I'm not taking it.  Maybe I need to "doctor shop" and find someone who will give me SLEEPING PILLS!  My God!

I'm Just a Little Unwell

As I was telling the OB/GYN nurse my medications for bipolar disorder, she said something like doesn't it feel good to be well?  I said "yes it does, I have for years now, I don't even think about it except when I take my pills" and she smiled.  I was thinking...how does she know I feel well emotionally/mentally?  You can't tell by the outwardly appearance of someone.  Yes, I smile, I laugh, I'm cordial, I don't look (but I feel) like a freak, I initiate conversations, but that doesn't mean I'm WELL.  What made her think I am?  Does she know I may go a day without a shower?  No, she doesn't.

Everything I knew to be true came true at the OB/GYN.  Just like I thought, I have fibroids, endometriosis, and they don't know if I have abnormal cells yet because they just took the pap smear.  I go in for a sonogram on Wednesday because my crazy insurance only allows  "well woman" visits and "problem" visits, which means, I had a problem needing a sonogram, so I couldn't just slip into the sonogram room, I had to make a separate appointment.  CRAZY!

The doctor was the best doctor I've ever been too, probably.  She *really* *really* wants the medical records from when I had my last OB/GYN surgery with the same problems, but of course, that is kind of hard since that doctor had his license suspended for being an alcoholic.  I tracked down the records at another doctor's office, now whether or not they'll be in any hurry to send them, I don't know, if they even still have them. 

BLAH, enough about that.  Mark met me at the garage door when I got home and asked how it went.  I didn't even call him on the phone on the way home to tell him what happened, I was too depressed.  I just said well, it was what I thought, and left it at that.  I finally told him, and he over-reacted about everything, he seemed to take it as anger about money, anything he could think of.  He's calmed down now and is playing video games.  He's been very supportive, asked if I wanted him to go with me to my sonogram (I don't), stuff like that.

What got to me was that the doctor said with my fibroids, my uterus was stretched to 8-10 to the nurse.  I said does that mean 8 to 10 weeks?  She said oh yes, we talk about everything in pregnancy terms, sorry.  I said so that's why I feel so bloated, my uterus is expanded to 8-10 weeks pregnant?  She said yes.

If anything good comes of this, maybe it will be like a type of liposuction surgery, who knows.

Unwell - Matchbox 20

All day staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something

Hold on
Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown
And I don't know why

But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be...me

I'm talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train

And I know, I know they've all been talking about me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me

Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow I've lost my mind

But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care

But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be

I've been talking in my sleep
Pretty soon they'll come to get me
Yeah, they're taking me away

But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be

I'm Scared to Go to the OB/GYN!

When I can't sleep at night (which is every night) one of the things that keeps me up is thinking about going to the OB/GYN.  I haven't been since my last doctor, whom I trusted, was found to be an alcoholic and had his medical license revoked.  Happens to EVERYBODY, right?  Last time I went I had surgery for large fibroids, endometriosis, pre-cancerous cells, and had an abnormal pap smear.  So that was 8+ years ago, and now I'm going TOMORROW.  You have no idea how freaked out I am.  I guess I'll also have to get a mammogram, now that I'm over 40, right?  Maybe I should take a ton of klonipin to get me through this appointment.  How in the world do I explain to this new doctor why I haven't been going to the GYN?  I guess I'll just be honest "My last OBGYN who left a 12" scar on my bikini line was a drunk", can't get more honest than that.  I did so much research, found the doctor that had been named the #1 OBGYN by her peers for many years in our local magazine and scheduled and appointment with HER.  I'm telling you, when I can't sleep because my bipolar brain is in "thinking overload", this is what I'm thinking about.

All these doctors lately, I'd let myself go for awhile.  The psychiatrist (well that never stopped), the podiatrist, now the OB/GYN (please God don't let that cycle start again!), at least I'd started going to the dentist again.  I really *really*  *really* hate doctors.  Do some people like them?  Yes, I think there are some that do.  I think there are some people who like being sick, who secretly hope to be sick for attention, there's a name for those type of people but I don't know what it is.  Me?  I'm paranoid that I'm sick so I don't go to doctors and convince myself that if I don't KNOW I'm sick then I can't BE sick.  I'm actually very healthy blood pressure wise, blood test wise, dentistry wise, I just need to get through this OB/GYN appointment!

Mark and I had a bit of a fight at the grocery store today.  We only went to get soda, but then I remembered I'm out of cold medicine and Unisom, and since the medicine my psychiatrist gave me to sleep doesn't work, I need something to help me until I see him again.  I went to get Unisom, and Mark through a fit.  He said I need to stop taking cold medicine and sleeping pills because that caused a dependence on sleeping agents.  I said "Where have YOU been?  I took Seroquel for 9 years!!".  He then threatened to buy laxatives (he tried to find Carter's like I used to take when I'd eaten a big meal) to take like I used to take them, and I just found the Unisom and left him in the pharmacy aisle.  I wasn't up to playing games.  I'm NOT staying up all night!  And neither the MD nor my psychiatrist acted shocked when I told them what I had been doing.  All my psychiatrist said was "do they work?" before deciding what to prescribe me.

The bird's nest that was at the top of our entrance fell today and smashed on the bricks of our porch.  I didn't see it, Mark saw it and told me not to look.  Apparently there were a lot of babies and all of them died, but one of them spread his wings he said.  I was heartbroken, and I wonder what happened to the mother bird that protected that nest so aggressively?  Mark's hypothesis (and he said he read this on the internet, I dunno) is that as the babies progressed, the nest filled up more and more with bird poo until the nest could no longer handle the weight and fell from the corner of our entrance.  In a tree, there would be the branches to hold the support, but there was nothing balancing it, I don't even know how the birds got the materials to stick on the brick like that.  It makes sense, because there would be no wind, the entrance sheltered it from all weatherly conditions.  Mark moved everything but the one live baby bird to a side of the yard where I couldn't see it, and put the live baby bird in the middle of the yard to give it a chance, he said.  No way am I going out to look at it.  I'll get attached, like I do to everything.  I can't even go by the SPCA's adoption animals without wanting to cry.

Life without school is BORING!  And Mark took off next week because I have the week off from school, and I have no idea what we'll do.  Any suggestions?  There are no movies we want to see that are out, we really need to save money so trips are out, it's just sitting around the house, him playing video games and me, dieting, LOL.  I got mad at him because he was watching "Man vs. Food" and I told him I was dieting and I didn't want to watch that show and got on my laptop, and he kept watching it while I could hear how yummy the host was saying everything was!  Then later, he was watching it again!  I told him the second time it was rude, oh my, how long is this week going to last?

I do feel very blessed that he wanted to spend a whole week with me though. : )

Bird Poo

Mark has been complaining for months that his Range Rover that he parks outside constantly has bird poo on it.  He swore there was a bird's nest in the tree, but he couldn't find it.  He's so anal about his cars, that he would get paper towels EVERY DAY after work and wipe the bird poo off the Range Rover that he usually leaves home. 

What *really* annoyed him was when he was hand washing his Porsche in the driveway and out of nowhere bird poo would land on his car.  He would lament that God hated him (lol) but couldn't find the bird's nest.

Well the other day he found it.  Where was it?

My camera (iphone) doesn't have a flash, but it's in the corner where the shadows are.  I swallowed my emotions and asked if he wanted me to call our Home Pest company and he said "No, you don't have the stomach for it".  I knew he was right, even though I offered, I knew I couldn't call and ask them to knock down a bird's home.  Then Mark informed me he saw babies in the nest.  BABIES!  How can we get rid of a nest of a mother with BABIES?  I said "well, I'll call I guess..." and he said no, it would bring bad "chi" to us if we destroyed a bird's nest, especially with babies. 

Here's how high up the nest is (up in the inside corner of the high arch in the entrance):

Mark cleaned up all the bird poo on the porch last night, taking about 15 minutes to scrub with a hose, and this morning, there's already this much bird poo on it:

My new sleeping pill doesn't work.  Tonight I'll try doubling the recommended dosage and see what happens.  I mean what's the difference?  It isn't working anyway, and I'll call and make another appointment with my psychiatrist.  If it works, great, I'll tell him double the dosage works, if not, I'll tell him even doubling it doesn't work and we need to try something else.  I really just want to be sedated and knocked out, but really, after all my reading, I don't think anything will work like Seroquel did.

I weighed myself this morning and lost 1/2 pound this week!  Since I've been recording everything I eat, I haven't gone a week without losing SOMETHING, so unlike when I wasn't recording my caloric intake.  1/2 pound might not sound like much, but I'm taking into account that last week when I weight, the day before, all that I ate was breakfast and a Lean Cuisine, so I basically starved myself before I weighed.  I'm happy with my 1/2 pound weight loss. : )  That's 23 pounds now.  On a depressing note, 47 pounds to go to 125.....

Gabapentin Makes Me Happy! : )

My first night sleeping with Gabapentin was interesting, not quite what I was expecting.  I was hoping for a sleeping pill that would sedate me and put me out like a light.  That's not even close to what happened. 

The bottle said 1-2 pills every night, with 60 pills in the bottle, so I tried just one at first.  Nothing.  So I took a second pill and went to bed.  Mark went to bed at 9:00p (!!!) and that's quite early for me, so I would have had a hard time falling asleep anyway.  On top of that, I drank 2 bottles of green tea right before bed, not so good either.  I followed Mark to bed, and laid there with my eyes wide open, like usual.

All of a sudden, I felt happy.  I was smiling for no particular reason, not giggly happy, but I couldn't keep from smiling, and I was just laying in bed!  So I tried relaxing, and my mind was still thinking, thinking, thinking like it always does, but now I didn't really care.  I was more relaxed. 

I got up to use the restroom, and found I was a bit "drunk" feeling, not a lot, just a little.  After an hour or probably closer to two hours I fell asleep, and when the alarm went off, my eyes flew open, and I was wide awake!  Hallelujah!  Such a relief from taking Unisom or cold tablets and you can't shake yourself awake!

When I got in the bathtub to get ready for school, I felt an all over sense of joy, just happiness.  I could tell it was drug induced, like taking a xanax or something, yet very different.  I enjoyed it immensely.

I still feel pretty good, not better or worse than yesterday because I felt good yesterday, but the medicine I guess did the trick?  I didn't fall asleep like I wanted, but it didn't matter.

So did it work?  I don't know.  Maybe I need to go to bed later, not drink green tea, and try again.  I don't want to be overly sedated anyway.  That's what I was expecting though.  I mean, after all, I was told I was being given a "sleeping pill".

Gabapentin for Sleeping?

I saw my psychiatrist today for my sleeping problem since I stopped taking Seroquel, and he was very pleased that I had lost 20 pounds by his scale's count since my last visit in January. 

I was happily surprised he FINALLY (!!) wanted to help me with my sleep problem, and he prescribed something called Gabapentin.  But it was weird.  He got very serious and looked at me twice and told me some people, especially at higher doses, heard voices on the medication.  He doesn't normally get SO serious.  Don't get me wrong, he's not a joking or funny guy to begin with, he just really made an effort to be sure I knew that.  So we'll see what the big deal is.

I researched the medication, and thought WHY OH WHY can't my doctor just prescribe me something NORMAL for a change?  Just a sleeping pill?  Just ambien or something?  Why does it have to be another anti-seizure, weirdo drug?  I guess I shouldn't complain, he finally listened to me and prescribed me something.

So we'll see what happens tonight.  Has anyone taken it?

Sometimes I Miss Being a Zombie

My brain has kicked into overdrive.  It won't stop thinking, mainly about the past.  Would've, could've, should've.  It seems like it's taken this long for my brain to fully awaken from discontinuing Seroquel, and now that it has, it won't shut up!  I'm not used to dreaming when I sleep, and now when I do, I wake up and feel the EMOTIONS that I felt when I was dreaming, and I can't shake them.  This is getting to be too much for me.

How do you truly know when you're manic?  I'm not talking too much, too loudly, too quickly.  I can't sleep, but I attribute that to stopping Seroquel, even my MD said so.  Stupid idiotic MD.  I see my psychiatrist tomorrow, and I'll beg, literally beg him to give me something to sleep.  I take klonipin and anything else I can think of to take - Unisom, cold capsules, it doesn't matter, I'll try it. 

It's the thoughts I want to go away, reliving the past.  What did that person MEAN when they did that?  Did they really care?  I mean who the F cares when it's 15 years later, why do I care?  Why am I thinking about it?  It's the dreams, they put me in the past and give me emotions about it that I can't shake, then I can't stop the thoughts. 

I'm not acting on anything, I have no desire to do so, that's why I don't think I'm manic.  I'm not lacking judgement.  That's key with me - bad judgement during a manic episode.  Emails I can't take back and cringe when I think of for years to come. 

I just want my brain to SHUT UP!  It's 10:30 and I need to go to sleep but I just lay there in the dark with my eyes wide open, thinking, thinking, thinking, my mind wandering from one topic to the next, my stomach churning with emotions that I can't stop.   

Yes, I wanted to feel again, but at what cost?  There's a blissfulness in being a zombie, you don't know what you're missing out on, and in this case, I wouldn't be missing out on anything.  I'd be in bed asleep, albeit with a stomach full of food from everything in the house. 

I have no faith my doctor will help me sleep.  He'll probably be like "fine, take cold tablets, whatever helps you sleep", he's never been helpful in the sleep department.  But cold tablets aren't working tonight.  So here I sit, writing in my blog, and thinking once again documenting what I was thinking and feeling would relieve something in me to help me sleep, and once again, it failed.

How Long Is Too Long?

How long is too long to see a friend again?  3 years?  5 years?  10 years?  I've turned into a hermit, where when I quit a job, I don't see those people again.  Yet they have tried to stay in touch, but I gained weight or for whatever reason I've brushed them aside.

But always in my mind I think "when I see so-and-so again..."...   The intent is always there.  I rarely talk to them anymore, even on facebook.  I'm losing weight, and in my imagination, I see myself hanging out with my old friends again, even ones I haven't seen in 15 years, just like the good old days.  When I lost 50 pounds last time, I don't know what stopped me except I wasn't in touch with them (facebook is amazing that way) and I was too busy from work (I'm in school now). 

So when does it become "weird"?  When do you see someone and it just seems too long?  Because when I do talk to my old friends through email I miss them so much, but maybe it's just nostalgia.  I miss who I was, who they were, who we were together, the times we shared, I don't know.  It won't be the same.  They won't be 15 years younger, they've aged, I've aged, it will all be different.  Will it make me sad that we're all older?

I *actually* said to my friends at school "I tell you guys more than I tell my REAL friends" and they said "OHHHH!" and I realized what I had said.  I said "nonono, you guys are my real friends TOO, I didn't mean it like that!".  The truth is, I don't have any real friends besides my school friends.  I tell them more than anyone else besides my husband.  I see them every day. 

I want my old friends back, but I want them back on my terms.  A few of them have outright asked me to hang out with them and I just haven't responded.  I want my friends back, but at my old weight, 125.  I don't care what my occupation is.  I just want to look good.  Is that so wrong?  Sure, they should accept me no matter what I look like, but that doesn't mean *I* accept myself that way.  I don't.  I make myself vomit.

I can FEEL!

We've had a very nice Saturday - went to a movie and dinner at a new restaurant, something I usually can't be bothered to leave the house to do on the weekend.  Heck, I normally think I've made a big accomplishment if I shower on Saturday!  So this is a huge improvement for me.

I got my blood test back, and I'm very healthy.  One weird thing though, my alkaline phosphatase level is elevated out of the normal range.  The doctor said that was my liver but if I wasn't having abdominal pains not to worry about it.  What?  So worry about it when I do have abdominal pains?  I made a psychiatric appointment on Friday so he could (hopefully) help me with my sleeping problem, and to explain this liver issue to me.  He's always been freaky about my liver ever since I tried lithium, so my guess is he'll know what it is.

Alicia was totally right, plantar warts can be contracted through human contact, not sexually.  So I freaked out over my ex boyfriend for nothing (but I still got the HPV virus from him).  The fact that I was so angry and removed him from my friends list and blocked him from facebook has me thinking, am I manic, yet if I were manic, in my typical fashion, I would have also sent him a scathing email.  Those juicy emails that you later wish you could take back!  I have every right to be angry at him, I was stupid for being facebook friends with him.

I'm listening to music so much lately, it's WONDERFUL!  I was just listening to Barry Manilow (no snickering!) and cried during some of his songs, but that's not abnormal, that USED to be normal for me, when I could *feel*.  It was a good cry, not depressing.  Fleeting.  I've been laughing again, crying at songs, giggling, just FEELING.  Oh how I've missed it!

The only thing that's changed is Seroquel.  I no longer take it, and now I feel emotions.  Can it really be that simple?  Have 9 years been robbed emotion from me?

Can't Deal

I'm starting to have a meltdown of sorts, I'm hoping this doesn't become a trigger for a depression.

I know who gave me the HPV Virus.  We were already broken up when the OB/GYN visits began, but the timing was just right.  I was never promiscuous, I was married and with my first husband for 7 years, then 4 years later met Mark.  There were very few in between. 

Fast forward 15 years later, and he sent me a message on myspace (which I rarely, rarely check) asking me where everyone was.  I told him people use facebook now.  He said ok, he'd create an account and send me a message on facebook.  This wasn't anything romantic, we didn't share much about ourselves except he never married and I of course have found a wonderful husband. 

Every time he did a status update, it would remind me of what he gave me knowingly and uncaringly.  But I pushed the memories away, it was buried somewhere and I couldn't feel much about it.  It wasn't affecting me at the time, I had even pushed my foot condition out of my mind.

Now that I'm "in the real world", I suppose because I've discontinued my use of Seroquel and am getting everything taken care of physically that I've neglected these past years, I can't ignore how angry I still am. 

So I went on facebook, removed him as a friend, and put him on my block list.  He only has 32 friends, he's very guarded and closed when it comes to people, so he'll notice right away with how active he is on facebook.  He posts something several times a day.  Should I have sent him a message saying "you fucker"?  I've never done that, I've never told him what he did to me, but now, what would be the point?  What's done is done, cut him out of my life and move on, right?

Only, it leaves me so sad.  I feel like crying.  I have to have surgery now to remove the plantar warts and wear a boot on my foot for who knows how long.  I'm scared to go to the OB/GYN for not going for 8+ years, but made the appointment anyway, knowing my history of OB/GYN surgeries as well. 

I'm reminded of this constantly now as the acid that my doctor has a pharmacy mix themselves eats into my foot and I can feel it burning all the time.  I'm reminded when my sock doesn't completely cover the duct tape.  Who knew an STD would affect a person in such a way?

Like I said, FINALLY I'm in the "here and now".  I even had my blood tested as my psychiatrist requested in January (even though it's June), and made a psychiatric appointment.  Something has finally "clicked" in my brain that these things are important.  *I* am important.

So why am I so sad right now?  I feel STUPID, STUPID for what I did when I was 26 or so.  Life seems so unfair at this moment. 

I just pray that this all begins and ends with foot surgery, nothing more.

My brain is out of the fog since I stopped taking Seroquel, I can no longer procrastinate, but at the same time, I'm having to deal with things, I can't push them aside any longer.  That could be why I can't sleep at night as well. 

Even so, please pray that my psychiatrist will give me something to sleep when I go on Wednesday.  I really need to sleep!

Oh, but there IS some good news!  I always weigh on Friday mornings, and this morning I lost 2 pounds!  So I'm at 172.5 pounds, making a total weight loss of 22.5 pounds since January.  That means a little less than 50 pounds to go, but I've lost 50 pounds before (albeit on diet pills, this time on sheer willpower), so I know I can do it.  It will just take a very long time.

Plantar Warts and HPV Virus

I was a "big girl" at the podiatrist today and filled in the blank saying I had bipolar disorder as the reason for the medications I was taking.  The nurses said nothing, the doctor just mentioned it once very nicely, and asked who the doctor was prescribing them, and I told him, and that was the end of the conversation. 

So the plantar warts.  You should have seen the look on his face when he first saw my foot, it was total shock, and he's a podiatrist!  He told me I probably had about 100 plantar warts on that foot (most are all clumped in one area on my heel), and that laser surgery was the best option.  I have to use a formulary acid that he's created for 4 weeks to soften them, and the surgery is July 9th.  I'll be put under, but it's only day surgery.  He said I'll have a type of boot to wear afterwards, so I'll be able to walk.

What makes me so mad but I can't let myself dwell on it is that they are created by a virus, the HPV virus to be exact.  That's why they've spread all over my foot, it's viral.  If I stop and let myself get angry I won't be able to just "let it go".  I can't retaliate, how do you retaliate against something like that?  I've probably had the virus since I was like 26 or so!  I braced myself and called my husband to tell him I had the HPV Virus, but apparently he already knew somehow, said it was no surprise, and it was ok.  It makes me want to cry.
So what does that mean for me in the gynecological area?  I haven't been to the OB/GYN in 8 years, but made an appointment to go on June 21st.  If my foot is freaking out like that, what must the rest of my body be doing?  I've already had "pre-cancerous cells" removed and abnormal pap smears.
Again, I can't dwell, but this is the kind of stuff that will keep me awake when I can't sleep at night, and I'll think about it over and over and over again with my eyes wide open in the dark.

What to Tell: Bipolar or Depressed?

Tomorrow after school I go to the podiatrist.  I realized I've been thinking and worrying more about what I'm going to tell them about being bipolar than about why I'm actually going!  How are they going to treat me once I tell them I'm bipolar?  Will I have to write down my meds, or will they ask me what I take, then write them down one by one and ask me to spell each one?  Will they look at me differently, like a second rate citizen?  No one really believing what I say because I'm "mentally ill"?  I've been reviewing in my mind my doctor's visit from yesterday and I don't know if they all just had a bad bedside manner or if they treated me poorly because I said I was bipolar.  "Poorly", hmmm...not hatefully, just as a "number", if that makes sense.  "NEXT!" so to speak. 

If I say I'm being treated for depression instead of being bipolar, will they know I'm lying once I tell them the medications I take?  Depression seems far less stigmatized.  I know, I COULD just forgo the whole "I'm mentally ill" conversation and skip the medications, but where surgery may be involved, I'd better get it out in the open now. 

I don't think of myself as "MENTALLY ILL" until someone looks at me weird, like at a doctor's office.  I don't FEEL "mentally ill", I feel pretty good actually.  I just happen to take medication that keeps me "normal" (evil laugh at the mention of "normal"). 

I think I'm going to take the "depression" route and see where it gets me.  Worrying about what people think when I tell them I'm bipolar is just not worth it.     

Blood Test

I just got back from the doctor who took a blood sample per my psychiatrist's request.  His suggestion to my weight problem is that Seroquel may have done something to my metabolism (in doctor speak, I have no idea what he said, just that the word metabolism was used).  She said the results should be back within 24 hours and I could pick it up tomorrow. 

It bothered me when I was explaining (several times it seemed) that I wanted this blood test because I had gained 70 pounds in 2 years, and no one even flinched.  Really?  I look like I've gained 70 pounds, even though I've lost 20 of that?  I take that back, according to THEIR scale, I weigh 178, not 174.5 like my scale says first thing in the morning, on an empty stomach, wearing a t-shirt and panties.  At least I didn't get griped at because of my weight because, after all, that's why I was there.  I also asked each person I talked to (probably 3 people) that I wanted my thyroid checked.  In school, we're studying the endocrine system and I'm learning how important weight loss/gain is with hormones.  My teacher told me (because I asked her specifically during class) that you have to tell someone to check your thyroid for a blood test, they don't check it normally.

I'm now eating 1200 calories a day, dutifully tracking it on an excel spreadsheet that I created (with formulas!), and will bring it to my psychiatrist if my weight is still slowly moving downwards, or of course if it stops completely.

I was quite surprised that I told the doctor I was taking 3 Unisom every night since I stopped taking Seroquel, and she seemed fine with that.  She didn't tell me to stop, she didn't try to write me a prescription for something else, she didn't tell me to discuss it with my psychiatrist, just "oh right, because you stopped taking Seroquel...".  It seems that NO ONE wants to help me sleep!  I didn't come out and ask her for sleeping pills, it just didn't seem right.  I'll have to get demanding when I go see my psychiatrist and tell him I need to sleep!  It's either a bottle of Unisom every week or.....or I don't know!  It can't be GOOD for you to take that much every night?  Why is no one concerned about my sleep but me?  What exactly is it that I have to do for people to take me seriously?

Our washer broke yesterday and I had to go to the laundromat to wash already wet clothes and dry them at 6 in the morning, and then stay home from school for the repairman to come and fix it.  Luckily he was able to repair it and we didn't need a new washer.  But that night, Mark got home and gave me a thank you card for staying home and taking care of the clothes and getting the washer fixed!  Wow, it was so nice to be appreciated!  I almost cried I was so touched, it was just a card, but the fact that he thought enough about it to appreciate it and do something was very touching.  Who doesn't like to feel appreciated?  These days, I feel like he works to take care of us and I go to school, what do I really contribute?  So the fact that he recognized me as a contributor of the household made me feel really special.  I do what I can so he doesn't think I just take and take, but you never know how someone else really feels, you know?  I DO appreciate all he does for me, for US, more than he knows, I just didn't know he appreciated me TOO.

I have a HUGE, I mean HUGE HUGE HUGE plantar wart on my foot that I've had for years now.  I was getting it taken care of for about 6 months with a dermatologist about 3 years ago, but then I quit the job he was near and he was too far away and frankly, it was taking too long (using duct tape and medicine on it all that time, BLAH).  So now it's probably 2-3 times larger and has spread to other parts of my foot.  I googled the best way to take care of a large plantar wart, and found it was by laser surgery.  I did a search in my area, and found a podiatrist who did laser surgery and plantar warts (at least his website said so and his receptionist verified it).  I was making the appointment, and expected to wait several weeks, and she was like "do you want to come in tomorrow?  The next day?  How about the day after that?" and I thought whoa!  Why is this guy not busy?  But....how much business could a podiatrist really get?  I've never used one before, and I've never known anyone that has, or at least no one has ever told me that they've used one.  So I'm going on Thursday.  I have no idea what to expect, just not to wear smelly shoes that day (HA!).   I don't care what it takes to get rid of this crap on my foot, I just want it DONE!

Guess I'll make an appointment to see my psychiatrist once I get my blood test results and it says I'm normal, just fat (sigh)

Let Me Be Myself!

I think something is happening to me, I don't quite feel the same.  I FEEL.  Stopping Seroquel after 9 years and now cutting my Geoden in half has awakened my brain from a deep freeze, I think.  I've been "numb" for a long time, and didn't realize it.  Is it right to numb people into following society like one of the many in a flock of sheep?  I've spent a good portion of my weekend enjoying music again, MUSIC, oh how I've missed you!  Lyrics and melodies so beautifully intertwined to describe exactly how I feel, or have felt at one time.  I'm trying to stay away from the darker sides (genres) of music that will bring me down, but I once again "get" the song Creep by Radiohead, and it feels good.  It just feels good to FEEL.  I'm not still there yet, not where I once was.  I don't want to be there, though, I want to feel AND be healthy, is that possible?  I don't want to feel dull and numb anymore, and I'll tell my doctor that when I see him.

But I didn't and am not doing my homework this weekend, it's almost 10p and I haven't touched it, my plan is to wake up in the morning and do it, skipping my first class.  Not a good sign, but...not the first time I've done that.  And it's almost the end of the quarter - 2 more weeks left, so it could be I'm just burnt out and need a break. 

On another note, I've suspected for many years that something has drained my long term memories from me, Mark has become my "memory".  I did a search on Seroquel and memory loss and found a lot of complaints, but mainly about short term memory loss, not long term. 

It really upset him not too long ago when I didn't even remember living in an apartment we shared for (I'm guessing?) about a year.  I now have a blotchy piece of memory about it, but I don't know if it's real or if it's a fabricated memory of what SHOULD be there.  I even said "oh right, that's where you had your humidor delivered..." thinking I at least remembered one thing about it, and he got even more upset and said "No, that's when we were living in the rented house!"  I rely on him so much for things that  have happened in the past.  Some details are crystal clear to me, but I have huge gaps where I remember just the basics.  I have just small parts of my childhood left, and those are ones I really don't care to remember, which I thought was the reason I didn't remember much of my childhood.  I had decided to push it away.  I hardly remember anything of my first marriage to my ex-husband whom I was with from the time I was 17 - about 25.  I wonder if he remembers all of the little details while I'm left with nothing from our time together.  Yet my abusive ex-boyfriend?  I remember more than I'd like to, I'd rather forget him altogether.  What is making certain memories go away, yet others stay?

I read where some Seroquel patients were also given an Alzheimer's drug along with it to help with memory loss.  Why don't doctors fully disclose what can HAPPEN to you when you start drug treatment?  I guess it wouldn't have mattered, I was in inner agony, the Seroquel took it away, and was the only thing that got me through my suicidal period.  Numb the crap out your brain, take it all away, and you'll feel better, right?

I'm not advocating non-medication of mentally ill persons, I still take my prescriptions minus the full dosage of Geoden and Seroquel which he told me I could quit, but before I didn't care how many I took as long as I was stable, I no longer feel that way.  Stability is still #1, but I will be more cautious about it now instead of blindly saying "ok" and adding in another drug when I get dangerously depressed again (because we all know it will happen again eventually).

There just HAS to be a better answer than this.  Why can't I still be me?  What is wrong with being me?  Why did a drug form of ECT have to be the answer?

Let Me Be Myself - 3 Doors Down

I guess I just got lost
being someone else.
I tried to kill the pain,
but nothing ever helped.
I left myself behind,
somewhere along the way
hoping to come back around
to find myself someday

Lately I'm so tired of waiting for you
to say that it's okay.
Tell me please
Would you one time let me be myself
so I can shine
with my own light.
Let me be myself.

Would you let me be myself?

'Cause I'll never find my heart
behind someone else.
I'll never see the light of day
living in this cell.
It's time to make my way
into the world I knew.
And then take back all of these times
that I gave in to you

Lately I'm so tired of waiting for you
to say that it's okay.
Tell me please...
Would you one time let me be myself
so I can shine
with my own light.
Let me be myself.

For a while,
if you don't mind,
let me be myself
so I can shine
with my own light.
Let me be myself.

That's all I ever wanted from this world,
is to let me be me.

Hard to Be Painfully Honest

I've never written about this before because I always forget about it in the morning, and I know if I don't write about it now, once again, I'll forget.

I won't get graphic, but when Mark and I make love, my mind goes in a million directions, I am so self conscious. First of all, I don't take off my shirt, as a matter of fact, I never undress in front of him. He's not allowed to see me naked. He can't even walk in on me in the bathroom when I'm in the bathtub.

So when we're making love, his hands are touching me, and as he puts his hand on a place on my body, one of my hands will mirror his to see what he feels, is it a bulge of fat? What do my hips feel like? It escalates in my head as the activity progresses until I'm almost frozen. It's totally not his fault, it's all me. I don't see how he finds me attractive, I find my body utterly disgusting. I'm amazed that he stays "excited" throughout the course of activity, how I don't take that away from him. Maybe he's fantasizing about someone else.

How can I just forget what I think of myself in that moment when it's all I think about all day?

I've usually attracted guys who like "nice girls", not "naughty girls", ones that want to take me home to meet their families, and would normally turn out to be possessive jerks. I've always heard guys want girls to be nice on the outside and naughty in the bedroom or something like that, I don't remember the exact saying. But what if I'm just, well, "nice"? Except I have a problem. A self image problem, but yet, my self image is TRUE, I KNOW WHAT I LOOK LIKE. Yes, I've lost 20 pounds, yay me, but I don't FEEL 20 pounds lighter, I feel like I did 20 pounds ago. It seems like the bulges I felt were different at 175 than they were at (gulp) 195. Maybe some were even gone. But the fact remains, medication and a sedentary lifestyle caused me to gain 70 pounds, coupled with a lifetime of a poor body image, and sex is just going to be uneasy for me. But at 125, I don't remember ever being able to "let go" then either. I don't remember why, and of course, I didn't blog about it so I can't remember.

I truly love Mark, I just have this issue. Maybe counseling would help. I did shower with Mark when I weighed 125 (about 3 years ago) in my bikini and actually did take off my bikini top once, ONCE. In my mind it seems like he was disappointed, but I was so attuned to anything negative that he might have expressed that it could have been in my head. I know that I would never do it now. My 41 year old breasts would have to be surgically altered for my 34 year old husband to see again.

Age. That was something else going through my brain tonight. He's 34, I'm 41. It's not exactly an Ashton Kutcher, Demi Moore age difference, but enough of an age difference where it obviously has me thinking about it a lot lately. When he's my age, I'll be 49. When he's 42, (which I'll be in August) I'll be turning 50. I'm trying to imagine if the roles were reversed and he were turning 50 right now. It wouldn't seem so bad but he's the guy, I'm the girl. He keeps forgetting our age difference, too. He made a comment tonight about the guys that are at his level aren't any younger than early 40's like that was so old and I wanted to say "Hello??" but didn't want to remind him that *I* was in my early 40's too.

I already hate this post and don't want to publish it. I remember when I created this blog it was supposed to be my "diary", to write without worrying what anyone would think. I try to stay true to that, it's just so darned hard to be honest about yourself when you hate yourself.

I've decided it doesn't work, writing to get it all out doesn't mean getting it off your chest so you can sleep blissfully.  I don't feel any better. 
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