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.

Taking a Giant Swirl

/ Robin

I’ve been awake the complete and total night. At this moment it is 6:28 am. The nerves in my lower back have been lit up like gaudy, trailer park, year ’round Christmas lights. It has been on the high side over 6 on the pain scale (10 being passing out). I’ve done all the things I’ve found some measure of relief in recently.

Nuthin doing. 

About bedtime my youngest daughter, Sydney, and I fought at each other. She’s finally letting me in. I’ve been terrified that she’ll be like me and be the one that statistics say I must have because of genetics… Bipolar.

Her school years have been horrible. This is the past. Last night I finally learned what was making her tick, what had taught that to protect yourself you should read into everything your “friends” do and say through the lense of created hysteria.

She freaked on me again for the second time in a few days (sound familiar?). The last time she punched a wall and sprained her hand. (Yes, I do know where this tendency towards violence is from. It’s in my mirror.)

Sha lashes out in true out of control style and eventually… finally… comes as near as she can to telling me the truth.  Please permit me to summarize.

My meds have been changing. She sensed my shift into starting to come apart at the seams. Who or what I randomly (and daily, I’m BP 1 mixed state) am. She’s afraid of what she sees me becoming again.

Again.

I wanted to change my meds. My reasoning was sound as it could be in my circumstance.  I responded in the worst way. Simply put I’m moody, depressed, eating too much (much to much) unpredictable,  beyond irritable, anger and totally torqued off that the goal I set for myself isn’t going to happen. Regardless of the reasons why.

I’m really pissed and angry and depressed and in physical pain. And, my baby has taken to blow up in my face.

I see my med provider at 9:15 this morning.  I’m having my son drive because my current load of meds helps me nod off while driving. And I’ve needed to do 3-4 hours sometimes 4 days a week. It’s so stressful. Sydney is also meaning time drive. Driving school is 2.5 hours three times a week plus drives with my mother and myself.

She has a little job. I’m super proud of her. And super disappointed.  I thought she trusted me. She’s far from that. She lives with me. At this time I’m freaking her over the top. She’s lashing out… like I do.

She has finally told me the truth. She’s afraid of me. Oh not physically.  Mentally. Emotionally.

My response in my head announced with finality that despite what literally every one says… I’m a pretty shit type parent. I’ve only seen her act out. I’ve tried every which way I can think of to break into this newly pinpointed .

I’m seeing my Med provider in a few hours. I haven’t slept more than … okay, maybe not at all. I’m going to try now. I might bet 2 or so. Kyle will drive so falling asleep driving, won’t be my problem.  Coming home for 30 minutes and then dashing off to my first physical therapy for my back. I’m scared about that. My spine will be, well, it will punish me (Can’t quite think of a way put that.)

I just nodded off. I’ll fill you in when I know what our plan action will be.

I don’t believe in luck. 
Hope that I get lucky.
And, fell asleep again.

I’ll proof this later.

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?

Freedom Fair JBLM – Stress in Crowds

/ Robin

I seem to write to you as though we are having a conversation and life, as it does tend to do, helps my brain to skip and twist and twaggle resulting in each potential note to you being a run on conversation. This note makes my point with zero effort.

I started to tell you about what was going on with me in regards to my relevant reaction / responses… oh hell.

It was hot. It was crowded. I was anxious. Things hadn’t gone according to plan. At least not accounting to my plan. But that all began at 8:00 a.m. when one of the kids should have realized the rest of us had overslept… yeah. That’s the way the celebration began.

It is now 2:29 a.m. and I’m falling asleep. I’ll let you in on how things went. . . Later right? Time to snooze.

The plan, at this bright and bushy time of the morning,  is to follow up with how I think I did. For example: was I able to control anger, frustration, irritation and lust after a sweet a classic  candy red Corvette Stringray (1962 I think) convertible? OR did I lose any of my loosely joined marbles?

Talk to you more today. At least that’s. .. my plan.  ;0-)

The Adventures of My Ass

/ Robin

I’m serious folks. I am not kidding. I wanted to talk about pain. You all know what pain I mean right? That peculiar mental,  emotional pain that burns you alive and freezes you right out of your own life?

I have a few additional medical difficulties. I avoid talking about them because they are Legion. .  I have chronic back pain. Each disk in my spine is degenerating… Degenerative Disk Disease.

The physical pain is often marginally intolerable.  Meaning I can cook dinner 30 minutes after taking 10 MG of Oxycodone… for about 10 or 15 minutes.  Then I sit down and switch from trying to tolerate the pain long enough to cook (I can’t quite make it just yet) to fighting the overwhelming urge to abandon all remaining control and cry hysterically. 

I have such pain in my siatica area and shooting down my leg that I don’t want to breathe. Have you ever had physical therapy where they used the stim thingies? Yeah, the patches with electrodes that zap a current into the tissues they are rehabilitating.  The thing where the like to turn it up as high as you can tolerate.

Take the most discomfort/pain this has ever caused you, multiply that by the pins and needles felt when a sound asleep body part wakes and freaks your body out… multiply those together and add a dose of desperation and you’re getting closer than you were.

It is now 2 weeks after I began this post. Since then my medical people have narrowed down, if one can narrow it down, to the pain starting my L4 and L5 disks (spine). Like the rest of my spine they are degenerating.  Degenerative Disk Disease. 

After several failed attempts to ease the pain we settled on Tramadol as my base pain killer with Oxycodone as my breakthrough medication. They worked. And they made me completely loopy.  I backed off to 5 MG from 10 MG (Oxycodone) and that was better but I still shouldn’t drive.

And then the headaches started. I hoped that I was wrong about getting headaches after taking Tramadol for several days. No joy. It also brought nausea.  Nothing calmed that.

This morning I’ve stopped the Tramadol and taken Excedrine Migraine.  I hope it helps.

As for my Bipolar brain… I’m at a lower dosage of Lamictal but I’m doing surprisingly well. Chronic pain can be made less intense with anti-depressants. It is possible that my pain intestified recently because my Lamictal dose is lower.

These medical people also tell me I have FM (Fibromyalgia).

Terrific.

I guess I’m not a hypochondriac after all.

Again… terrific.