Anxiety

Bipolar 1, ADHD, FM, PTSD, Anxiety, Chronic Pain, OA – Now What??

/ Robin

If I’d started my blog off listing all my bits of my alphabet you might have clicked off and dismissed me as a hypochondriac. Personally, I might have too. However, the fun facts pile continuously up and I wonder if I might be much older than my drivers license says I am.

I’m 51 degrees old. Wait. 51 years old. Yes, that’s it. I think it’s time I leveled with you and give you my “medical” life. I am much more than my medical stuff. I’ve had my right knee replaced twice – in just two years. I know, that’s very young to even have it done once, but twice on the same knee… Skip that. Here’s a “brief” list. Each item is a medically real thing for me.

Bipolar 1
ADHD
FM
PTSD
Anxiety
Chronic Pain
Degenerative Disk Disorder
OA
2 Total Knee Replacements
Cataracts
Allergies – environmental, biological and food
Depression
Manic
Stress – Excessive
Obsess
Asthma
Dentures – Full

I’ve also had a ruptured appendix, broken ankle, blood clots, carpal tunnel syndrome, rage… I think you get the idea.

Over the last couple of months I’ve thought I’ve been falling asleep while driving. It freaks the freak out of me. No matter what I do I don’t seem able to prevent it. I even pull over and try to nap just so I can complete a 40 minute drive home. I’m not able to nap when I pull off the road. I try. No go. I can sleep in a parking lot when I’m too tired to drive, but it’s not working now. I sing, I scream, I pound my feet on the floor, I hit my steering wheel… Nothing helps.

It’s very scary. No, it terrifies me. Suddenly I’m about to rear end another car or find myself drifting to one side or the other. I’ve been asking my health care people what it could be. I eventually got around to my pain management specialist. I described it to her and asked if she thought it might be any of my many medications. Like my med provider, she didn’t think so. She wanted to know if I was born prematurely. Nope. Seizures? Nada.

Michelle, the pain specialist, asked if I could describe what happens as a “loss of time”. Maybe I’m not really falling asleep. Maybe I’m just losing time and tune back in just seconds later. Do I remember actually falling asleep or feeling sleepy. No. I’ve even tried coming home and trying to sleep. Not sleepy. No naps.

She sent me home charging me with looking into Absence Seizures. She knows I love to research stuff. I appreciate that she lets me learn and talk with her about my health care. I have read a bit about Absence Seizures. I think she might be right. Before I left she agreed she would get me in to see a neurologist she likes to use in a city about an hour from here. I’m going to have an EEG to see what’s going on.

New bipolar med on Wednesday… Friday a possible new diagnosis to add to my alphabet soup. Know what I keep thinking?

… Well shit.

Chillin’ in Seattle or What?

/ Robin

It’s 9:30 am and I’m waiting to do in to see my med provider before heading to Seattle with my son (19) and daughter (17) for the day. I’m still not up to a satisfactory dosage of my Lamictal yet and this chill pill I take sometimes kicks my butt too much. Wanna chill, not sleep while driving. .. the next day.

I’m still talking way too much and too fast. It, I, annoy the kids to death. The don’t bother to talk. I do it for everyone.

I feel shame and I grieve for the things I miss they might have shared while I rambled on and on about…?

I’ve made Syd come in with me. I bother her the most. My med provider (Jane) and I don’t communicate well and I’m bad enough that I really need her to understand what is meant when she says she wants to kill me. That needs to stop.

I’ll let you know how it all turns out.

I Am . . . Afraid

/ Robin

I’m still depressed. My Lamictal dosage is rising steadily and is currently at 350 mg daily. Maybe it’s starting to work because I already was taking 200 mg daily. Maybe I realized how afraid I really am. Oh sure, I go to see my med provider every two weeks again (back up from once monthly) and my counselor weekly, but somehow I “feel” worse off. It’s almost as if having my mental/emotional needs addressed again with such intensity tripped me up really hard. I’m at a place in life where I am so afraid… it’s the kind of fear that sucks your brain out and leaves you stunned and unable to think straight. The depression, anxiety and anger seem like they are swarming about me. They suck at my soul. They lap at the fallen corner stone of my very being…

I’ve lost my purpose and I’m so afraid.

I was trying to think of an image that would demonstrate how I feel. It’s pretty hard to Google “afraid, depressed, anxious, without purpose” and expect anything helpful to pop up. I thought of Leonardo de Vinci  and some of they dramatic faces he drew. I looked at a few and this one seems to come kind of near to what I want you to see… my fear. The man is shouting. The setting is the Battle of Anghiari.

 

da_vinci_shouting_man

da Vinci’s “Shouting Man”

Let me try to explain to you my friend, what I mean. During some of my very dark periods I was able to hold on to one thing, one certainty, that kept me going and gave me purpose… a reason to live. That purpose was to be the best mom that I could be and raise my kids to be the best people they could be. Growth them strong.

Now, they are old enough to not need me to keep my hand locked firmly on the tiller of their lives. They steer themselves. They are moving on and I am lost. From the time my eldest was born in 1992 my passion, my calling, my purpose, was to be “Mom”. I’ve thought that I have had other purposes along the trail of my life, but somehow being “Mom” over shadowed them all and now I am fighting myself just to remember what I believed I needed and wanted passionately to do… to be.

I am afraid that I’m a failure. No one needs me any longer. I keep to myself mostly. My family and I are not particularly close. I don’t work or volunteer. Putting it short: I don’t feel that I have anything to contribute to the world.

My fear has driven me off my path. I allowed bushes and hedges to crowd my chosen path and completely obscure it from my vision. I know, well, I think I knew what my “vocation”, that is what my passion was. I feel empty and bruised. I don’t want life to touch me. I seem to think it will injure me by exposing my worthlessness to me.

I’m trying to pull together my wits and engage in the monumental fight with myself to reclaim who I am and what I’m about, my purpose.

And, my pain meds for chronic back pain (degenerating disks all up/down my spine have kicked my butt and I just nodded off. Tomorrow I’ll attempt to pull myself together enough to begin discussing with myself how to deal with myself this time. I’ve already worked it out in advanced, but this lack of purpose, this is new and frighting.

I’m letting the drug induced sleep take me away from the fear for a time. Starting physical therapy this last week had kicked up my pain, as I knew it would. It makes the whole of me even more difficult to deal with. At this particular moment I feel like in the morning I can begin to pull my will back together. That is, unless I conveniently forget what I intend on doing with myself, again.

Time to sleep.

Not Feeling Especially Smart

/ Robin

I’m moving all my calendar stuff to my smartphone to make things easier to keep track of. My kids can add their stuff to it which is good because we have one car, two drivers, another driver in training and life 25 minutes and are from civilized town. An hour appointment takes at least a two hour commitment. But that’s not what I want to talk about.

At one o’clock today (well, now its much later. That appointment was June 18th) I had my first meeting with my new counselor. This will be my third counselor at this facility. No, I’m not knocking them off (though the last one was starting to torque my screws an awful lot of the time). Their lives have given them cause to move on. And thus, out of this auspicious place I frequent. Sigh… I don’t know what I’m talking about now…

I was going over in my head how I wanted to approach Julia (my new counselor). I’ve had probably over a dozen through the years. I’ve had lots of practice breaking them in and then hoping they’ll go away. I have found that the first few visits tend to set the stage for the life of the professional relationship. Unless, I’m mostly off my rocker at the start. They seem able to adjust when I get my footing again.

Today I talked over with what I wanted to talk Julia about with myself all the way there (remember the drive? 30 min. plus today) and decided I needed to explore anger and anxiety. These were to be my platforms upon which I would begining a hopefully fruitful relationship.

I’d chosen these two topics because of the study I’ve been make of myself, of my mind and who I am. How I am. I always hunger to learn more. I hope that I change myself and my behavior because of understanding, knowledge, wisdom that I gain in my studies. I cannot correct my behavior or change my thoughts or emotions if I have drugs… but no understanding. Focus. Wisdom. Contemplation in the light of … well, light.

TRANSLATION: Anxiety and anger are smackin’ me across the face!

I’ve thought for some time now that my mental health people and I need to re-focus and add to my nice and untidy Bipolar mix the delectable… anxiety.

Anger. It seems do go hand in hand with anxiety. Hand in hand with depression and pretty much every facet of Bipolar. At least that’s my experience.

I was very excited and full of dread. I was right on time leaving the house. Ran into very heavy traffic half way there and before I ever got to the highway. Finally, slipping around and going faster. My brain started to rattle around and I knew something was amiss. Yep. I parked when I arrived and opened my calendar…

… and saw I was exactly on time… PLUS 60 MINUTES.

Damn, damn, damn!!! I missed my appointment.

Yes, I was angry. I stopped and thought about it. I decided I was going to be angry till I calmed down… If you get my mesning. I had been thinking on my way that being late or not having something be the way I thought it should be was a serious problem for me. I suspect it probably is for everyone. It is one of the major starting places for/of anger with me. One of my difficulties, being Bipolar, is that I very much do not/cannot control my reaction when I irritated. All too often … damn. I just nodded off.

Think of it like this. 1. Get angry. 2. Refuse to accept that I am angry. 3. Refuse to think about it. 4. Refuse to acknowledge that I’m angry and I’m the one making myself angry. 5. Blood boils. 6. Voice raises. 7. Things fly.

Ok, I exaggerated, but you get the picture?

I’ve been pretty drugged up for years. I’m on the light side of a consistent state of medication right now. Meaning: I’m more or less stable and I asked for my Lamictal dosage to be lowered or stopped (to try something else) because of the serious and sever sunburns I was getting. Get this… I was getting sunburned through my cloths. Add this additional annoyance and I’m beginning the feel itch of those disruptive emotions.

I’m aware I’m playing with fire. My watercolor drip is starbursting more than I’d like it to. I’m trying to say that “bad” bits of my Bipolar are quietly disrupting the steadiness.

I messed up. I wanted to see this woman and talk about anxiety and anger. I got angry, which is my habit, when I made this stupid mistake I at least was punctually.

However, I realize I’m unused to trying to squish my anger. I’ve been medicated into being mostly under control for long enough that my “self” was having difficulties keeping me from popping out the seams. I’ve been getting irritated. Annoyed. Angry. Lots of things.

My youngest daughter especially doesn’t understand. I didn’t realize what was happening between us until I’d yelled at her recently… more than once. Ok, not exactly “at” her. I just yelled. I’m noisy at the best of times. When I’m angry . . . I’m loud and ugly and scary.

See what happens when I write to you and I boil my brain?

Time for sleep actually laying on my bed with my head on my pillow.

Now what was I talking about?

I’m in such pain…. I’m a BP1, ADHD, PTSD, FM, OA, MOM

/ Robin

Seriously though… I’m in an extraordinarly dismal pain deep in my bones I think. I’m not certain. It starts somewhere around my swollen and annoying disks down around the L-something-or-other.

Restless legs? Perhaps. Runs in the women on my mom’s side of the family.

Anxiety encouraging psychosomatic (maybe) spinal pain to radiate through Restless Legs and deep to the ass of the leg with the double times new knee.

Translation… My equal isn’t ibriumating. Get it? Equilibrium. Equal. Equal-ibrium.  New knee as in “not using it much for years and am lopsided and out of synch.)

What?

Seriously though… From my lower back down past my toes especially in my right leg and alien beastie is trying to pull the bones out of my flesh. Meat. Oh my.

Seriously though… Hurts like a “$(%*& ”   of  a    ” )(*&#_ ”   If you know what I mean.

Sitting on my bum on the floor is a feat of unsurpassed hilarity. Translation: I’m either laughing madly – or – crying with great abandon. Take your pick.

Tonight the pain started about 1:15 in the afternoon PST.   Not EST.   PST.

I took my Oxycodone and heating pad and lie down (lay down… well I wasn’t “sitting” down) on my bed while my puppy (Australian Shepherd/Heeler named Bailey, a little girl) snoozed at my feet. Literally. She slept temporarily where my feet could go on my queen sized bed. Then she slept where they also could have been. And then again. Add. Spin. Rinse. Repeat.

Where was I? Right. Bloody bleeding sickly . . . agony. Pain. Unrelenting, mind blowing, consuming… pain.

I don’t watch American Idol. Did once, when it all first began. Still have a fondness for Kelly Clarkson. The queen upon the Idol throne. I sat tonight not watching the 13th season with my son (Kyle, 19. He’s a boy.). I think I must have been doing it louder than I noticed because suddenly he sideswiped my attention from my ass to, well, to my whining. I was whimpering and whining.

I never allow myself that luxury while my kids are about. At least, not before this. Today, I’m in such pain… And it started well before bedtime.

Oh damn!  I just want to sleep.

I think, I think I’ll go soak my ass. Okay, I’ll soak everything that will fit in the tub too. Maybe some soothing heat not floating around my body will help some. Oh great bird of the universe I hope so. Damn I do hope so.

My car is in the shop. Again.

My phone is stupid and dead.

My knee is still new.

My weather is nice. Just right today.

My belly is too big.

My kids are amazing. And my puppy too.

I can see my feet again.  When I move my boobs out of the way. I’m short you know.

I’m in so much pain.

Good night.

Tomorrow is going to come whether I’ve slept or not. As it always does and always should do. I would do well to remember this.

Come on pain, time to have a bath. Pain, would you consider going down the drain? Please. No? Screw you. I’m having that bath anyway.

Again. Good night.