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Thursday, 17 April 2014

*sigh*

So I had to email Dr. S. today re: some things missing on my paperwork...

Last wk I was at OW 3 or 4 days from the whole damn wk.

And I actually fell alseep with my head on the worker's desk while she was out photocopying.

Still waiting on a letter from couNsellor T.

Wonderig if I should ask E re: CMHA peer-led stuff???


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Monday, 14 April 2014

Looking at wk # 2 of my meds

The list:

- Clonazepam 1 mg - 4 pills/day - 1 pill dosed at morn, 1 at noon, 1 at 6 p.m. and 1 at bed

- Lamictal 25 mg - 14 pills/day - 6 dosed out at morn, 6 at noon and 1 at 6 p.m.

- Propranolol 10 mg - 4 pills/ day - 2 dosed out at morn & 2 at 6 p.m.

- Abilify 5 mg - 1 pill/day dosed each morning

So compared to last wk that's a 3 pill increase/day in Lamictal (same mg)

A 3 mg increase in my single Abilify pill and the rest is the same.

Ok - gotta post this - I have some swallowing to do (and not the fun kind!!)


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Sunday, 13 April 2014

Feeling drained

Had a fight w/ Hubs. Today I just needed a day to myself... He handled the kids, did some laundry (though I gave our mattress a good Norwex spraying).

I said, "Thank you" more than once but he blew up, feeling that I hadn't done so.

THEN he had his WTF moment - as in wtf am I doing? Why do I require a thank you for everything because some days, my more manic days - I get a lot done and often am not thanked.

He's worried the meds are making me a zombie but I feel like I'm less angry, yelling less, certainly less depressed over all.

Still having some mania.

Sex drive is high.

Less headaches and migraines for sure.

More dizzy and sleepy but not sleeping well.

Hubs thinks I am less quick-witted.

It's hard for me to tell because for years having to leave the house and do things - I get exhausted and have to rest and regain my energy.

And I've had to be out a LOT the past month or so.

I'm also less anxious and my back hurts less.

But this fight, as it was, left me in tears...

And I still feel horrid.

He pushed the scales the wrong way and I don't know how to get back up - even to a balance.

I need him to touch me and hold me and help me feel safe again.

I don't want to ask.

I just want him to know to do it.

Am I being unfair??


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This is just a test

I want to see if this post will appear on BOTH of my active blogs...

Let's just see...


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Saturday, 5 April 2014

Where are the books on parenting when YOU have bipolar disorder??

I did a google search and I can find a lot of books for parenting children and teens and young adults who have these (or other) disorders but I feel invisible.

Not surprising with an invisible illness but I feel solely under-represented.

Reading some of the books give me "A Ha!" Moments in regards to my own trials and tribulations of growing up but they don't really help me NOW!
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Thursday, 27 March 2014

Dosages

So by the weekend I should be at the full doses assigned by my psychiatrist...

200 mg Lamictal (two 100 mg doses daily)

20 mg Clonazepam (two 5 mg doses and one 10 mg dose)

Not as depressed by not happy either.

More neutral and apathetic.

Anxiety is quite a bit down though.


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Saturday, 22 March 2014

So freakin' tired

So I somewhat lost my shit today.

Whether it started because of the 3:51 a.m. phone call from someone else I am close to who battles mental illness or a build up of emotional exhaustion somewhat related to said person on TOP of my own grab-bag of insanity or what...

BUT

I exploded.

Got some stuff done myself, Hubs got some done (though lots more to do in kitchen for him and living rm & dining room for me).

Kids not very helpful, creating more work by "helping" or by needing step-by-step instructions on how to help.

I say this a lot but I hate living like this, I hate the apathy and the lack of energy and the disaster we live in until I blow up like a volcanic whirlwind and start doing stuff while the rest of the family must join in or be on the receiving end of my freak out(s).

This is not the fun high of furniture rearranging.

This is the anger at my belief that the house in such a horrid state reflects the fact that no one loves or cares about me - not even myself.

Logically, I *know* Hubs and the kids love me but the inner me, the tiny, child me - feels unloveable and takes all these unspoken acts and the disarray as proof of my utter unloveableness.

It does not make sense.

But it's hard to battle belief. Especially long-held ones...


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Sunday, 16 March 2014

The Secret of my Mental Illness

Everyone has their own preconceived notions of mental illness. And I can understand that. There are a variety of diagnoses and they tend to manifest in a variety of ways with different people though there are common themes that appear.

My secret is shame.

Before I was diagnosed, with ANYTHING, I had low-self-esteem, I'd been bullied for years, I had been the victim of sexual abuse in childhood outside of my family and I'd been raped (more than once) as a young adult.

The person I saw in the mirror was gawky, strange, with huge teeth, eyes, ears and a nose that didn't seem to end.

My moods and my thoughts were things I was taught not to share.

I remember being taken aside in Grade 9 after writing a story about a man beheading a young boy on Devil's night and licking some of the blood off his black leather gloves.

Even younger than that, I snapped when I was eight and viciously attacked a frenemy because she deliberately broke my new Kissing Barbie.

I thrashed her with a hockey stick until I broke her ankle and then shoved her into the busiest road nearby.

I was not punished. I was not taken to any sort of professional to be assessed. It was all ignored.

But I was ashamed.

Generally I lived my life more under the radar, not standing up for myself. Not showing my feelings. Not even acknowledging that I had them.

I wrote in my diary, I wrote poetry, I buried myself in a rich fantasy life that I could always escape to until my fears crept in to it and infected it.

What was once an escape can as easily be a prison now depending on which thoughts wrestle for control.

BUT - I try to put a decent face on it, for my family, for my friends, for the world.

Because I am ashamed of how I feel and that I am so utterly unable to cope with or CURE it.

Comments about all the crazies in the world and "why don't they lock them up", news articles always focusing on the mental illness aspects of crime - fear-mongering and tarring all of us with the same brush.

I've been warned, time and time again that people will view me differently and judge me more harshly than they already do.

Mental illness is surrounded by stigma and secrets. Just like sexual abuse is (although I think that's changing).

When I was growing up - if you were raped, it was your fault. You had to have done something because boys will be boys.

And I carry those feelings about myself to this day.

Now with mental illness, the common inference is also that it's the person's fault.

Some sign of weakness or biology or life experiences or both.

I cannot for a fact say what it is.

I can only say how hard it is to try to put my best FACE forward when I have to interact with the world.

It is exhausting, embarrassing and saddening.

I cannot freely be all of myself on any given day with 99% of the people I encounter.

I have an inner circle of friends and loved ones who accept me, even if I can sometimes annoy them, scare them, depress them or avoid them.

I am thankful for that.

For them.

But this sense of shame and weakness cling to me like a second skin, an invisible viscous creature - almost an entity in its own right.

Sometimes I can claw my way through and be totally real but in unknown situations, like even at the grocery store, the safety of the false face seems prudent.

I judge myself, probably more harshly than anyone else does so why would I allow myself to be vulnerable to the world?

That happened in my childhood and look where I am now.

I'm usually not even this open with expressing my thoughts. Perhaps it's the new meds I am on - I don't know.

But really, I am writing this because I know there are others who feel as I do, who have similar experiences to mine AND I know that those people have people who care about them who may not know what goes on inthe heads of their loved ones with mental illness.

My experiences do not apply to everyone because we are all unique individuals, but I hope this can be of help to someone.


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