Archive for December, 2012

Ringing in the New Year with a manic episode hangover

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , on December 31, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

Blah.

Meh.

That’s my mood this morning. Following yesterday’s rapid cycle through manic-freaking out panic mode-falling down the rabbit hole into depression territory.

I was invited to R’s house tonight for drinks and to play cards. I don’t play cards. Furthermore, I don’t want to go. I haven’t responded yet because I am afraid in a volatile state I might say something rude. Like, “I’d rather snake my toilet pipe than hang out with you people.” My inner child is a mean little bastard and sometimes comes out in the aftermath of a manic episode.

But as much as I had wanted to do something for New Year’s LAST WEEK…

My mood has shifted so  severely that I just want to be alone tonight with my kid and cats.

That’s the sucky thing about cyclothymia. You can’t make long term plans because you say sure, that sounds good, then by the time it comes around, you’ve cycled into a mind frame the marquis de sade would run away from. Very frustrating. It pisses me off but I’m kinda being held hostage here.

I agreed to come into the shop today on the grounds he buys me some smokes.

Trust me, you don’t want to be around me if I am out of cigarettes. Those cigarettes are often the only things keeping me from raking my nails up and down my own flesh in a panic induced freak out. Even while pregnant, the OB backed off on telling me not to smoke because he saw the end result of me not smoking. Tis not good.

It’s not so much nicotine addiction. (Yes, I know everyone says that.) It’s just the act of smoking itself that soothes the savage beast that is bipolar and panic.

And the more everyone around me caves in to pressure to quit and tries to make me do the same..the more I want to stick an entire pack of cigarettes in my mouth and light ’em all.

Sure, lemme quit smoking cigarettes and become a meth addict. That’s much better. NOT. Fuck you.

I am prattling. Oh, I took my Cymbalta, so I should be lifting off any time now. Gotta love a med that makes you manic for about an hour every single day you take it. My old shrink wouldn’t give me anti depressants just for this reason, she used dual mood stabilizer therapy to avoid the whole instigating mania thing. I broached the topic with my current shrink last session which was when she whipped out the Cymbalta as a way to control my panic and get me off xanax.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.

Kinda like when they put me on Paxil for my anxiety and it made me a fucking insomniac bundle of nerves that would have made a cokehead look calm.

She’s funny.

I’d bet my internal organs next session she tries to convince me the Cymbalta doesn’t make anxiety worse. I hate when doctors do that. I hate when they tell you a med doesn’t do something but you can go right to the manufacturer site and it will list that as a side effect.

Doctors know shit.

So…Yeah, I need a shower but I am not even dressed yet. I will go make nice.

I just hope my inner child keeps its fucking mouth shut. That brat comes out at the most inopportune moments. And says things that I have to suffer for.

No, that’s not me trying to deflect my own culpability.

Altered mindstates are a lot like being drunk, though. Stuff that normally gets caught in your social filter just flies out.

When I am depressed, I get grumpy and when people try to cheer me up…

Eh, you get the picture.

I’m unpleasant.

But at least I am good at it.

 

After the mania…

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , on December 30, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

It last about the three hours, the manic episode. Which is why it took so long for me to get a proper diagnosis. There’s this misconception that a manic episode and depressive episode have to last for days or weeks to be diagnosed as bipolar.

In the case of Cyclothymic bipolar, this is not true. Rapid cycling is the name of the game.

Now I am not happy.

Now I am jumpy and panicky and anxious and irate and irritably and I feel like the walls are closing in on me because the cats and my kid keep crawling all over me and

i

can’t

breathe.

I just want to scream LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!

I don’t.

But I cringe when they touch me. I don’t know why. My entire state right now is like I am listening to a chorus of nails on chalkboards.

This hyperagitated state often follows a manic episode.

I just have to ride it out.

I must admit, it is much worse with the Cymbalta. Oh, the morony (it’s not ironic, it’s moronic) of prescribing a med for my panic disorder and it causes me to freak out but helps me not be depressed.

MORONIC.

Whiskey would help.

I  have no money.

Just gotta ride it out and remember not to scream and yell and thrash around.

But every nerve ending is screaming and every time kid or cat touches me, my skeleton wants to leap out of my skin. This is not a pleasant sensation.

This is just typical of the cycles in my disorder.

Happy energetic mania.

Overly agitated state following.

Hopefully this phase passes quickly.

Not that I want to sink into a depressive mind frame.

But it would be better than feeling like I am gonna to claw my own eyeballs out of their sockets to escape all the noise and contact and my own stupid central nervous system.

Maniac Spider Trash-a post about manic episodes

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on December 30, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

(FYI, my musical idol, Wednesday 13 was in a band called Maniac Spider Trash, and Becca called me a maniac this morning, so I’m just going with the title.)

I am manic today. A brief euphoric hypomanic period usually follows taking Cymbalta. Don’t know that I will mention that to the doctor, I like not being depressed. I like being semi manic on occasion.

People who aren’t familiar with bipolar disorder have asked me what a manic episode is like.

It’s a little like being drunk. You’re inhibitions are lowered, your scalp can tingle, you find yourself doing things out of character for your normal self. Like, I am cheerleader bubbly right now and I can’t type fast enough because all these creative thoughts are zooming through my head. This is NOT my norm. My norm is scatterbrained ADHD bunny land with a pessimistic attitude and growly face. I do not do the cheerleader thing.

When manic, you do a lot of things that you don’t do.

My oldest net friend found out the other day that I was once arrested for shoplifting…and she was absolutely stunned. I think it maybe her the image she had of me.

All I can say is, when manic, you are in an altered mental status, and while you must take responsibility for your actions even while manic,  you also have to be able to realize that good people do stupid things all the time, and bipolar people have made a life out of doing impulsive stupid things because their brain gets overly happy at times and…judgement is impaired.

Yes, I was arrested for shoplifting. It was 8 years ago, at a horrible time in my life, before mood stabilizers and a proper diagnosis entered. I fucked up, and I have spent the last 8 years trying to rise above it and become a better person and never do anything like it again. I am happy to say with the mood stabilizers, my manic episodes are fewer and less severe. Mostly now I get hypomanic, which can prove to be a productive thing with happy fun time.

A lot of my past relationship problems have been because I have made friends during manic episodes, and that was the person they thought they were getting. Until a mood shift, then morose boring agoraphobic me came out and they didn’t find me  a suitable playmate anymore. It’s the nature of the beast that is bipolar. I figure if someone is  a true friend, they will get this. If not, they can go to hell. I didn’t ask for this but it’s the hand I was dealt. I am playing the cards best I can.

Bottom line is…take your best drunk, throw in some lucidity, and you have mania.

A manic episode is better than any drug or booze.

Which is why so many of us don’t want to be medicated. Which is why when the mania ends and we come smashing down…we turn to booze or drugs seeking that high again because it felt so good. We never find it because a chemical high can’t compare to the natural high of a manic episode…

It is what it is.

I am crawling out of my skin right now. All these seemingly brilliant ideas bouncing off the walls of my brain like kids in one of those bouncy tents. They probably aren’t brilliant ideas at all but when mania sets in, your perception is askew. Later I will probably forget everything that is so prevalent in my mind right now. Or realize how delusional my thinking was.

This is mania.

This is a facet of my existence.

It is bittersweet,though.

For after the mania usually comes a severe crash down into the rabbit hole.

For now…I am enjoying the ride.

I am…

Manic.

The pessimist has something positive to say

Posted in mood disorders with tags , , on December 30, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

Every once in a blue moon…All the stars align…

And I have a decent day.

After this morning’s email induced panicapaloozqa…I shut it all out. I am rarely ever able to do that but I let my housework pile up so I had lots to keep me busy.

Now 98% of my housework is caught up. I even faced down the seven baskets of laundry that had to be folded.

No serious mood swings, fairly low on panic, although the Cymbalta induced jumpiness is annoying…I have enjoyed my day with my kid, finding myself patient and laughing with her, playing with her.

We did the grocery shopping thing.

Now tomorrow…I get to vegetate. I earned it.

Because the chances of me having two good days in a row is about nil. That’s bipolar for you.

It’s a moody go round that keeps spinning even if it occasionally stops for a maintenance job.

All in all…I finally had a day that hasn’t felt like I am being tortured or punished.

Yay. 🙂

The Panic Files #2: when email attacks

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , on December 29, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

Or more appropriately, when e-mail CAUSES a panic attack.

The level of my dysfunction knows no bounds…

I get a daily e-mail from a job site that send me postings in the area I am qualified for.

I clicked to check one out…And of course, I am not qualified, but I suppose they have to send me something. I got to clicking on other links, giving tips on interviews, wardrobe, doing call backs, resumes, gaps in work history, blah blah blah.

AND OFF TO THE RACES WE GO.

My heart is still pounding 50mpm (fifty miles per minute). I am shaky and my head is spinning.I can barely steady my hands to type and have to keep hitting the back button. (And it doesn’t help that my kid is in my face chattering and the cats are making like flying squirrels through the living room and two of the girls are in heat because I am too broke to fix them so the noise is MAKING ME WANT TO FIND A NOOSE AND CLIMB INTO IT.)

Grrrrr.

Oh, I am also breaking out in  hives.

Yeah, I am totally ready to go to work, I have all my ducks in a row, I am calm, cool, collected. NOT.

I get it, I am an undesirable candidate due to my past.

But everyone from the shrink to the counselor thinks I am ready and it would be beneficial for me to go back to work now. Been trying for a year,, got two chances and two rejections.

And just READING about all the expectations has me freaking out because most days, if I make it out the door and my kid and I are wearing pants, I am doing well.

I cannot help that I have disorders. I cannot help that a bad med reaction fried my brain ten years ago and now I am like some absent minded adhd bunny. I am trying to “rise above it all.”

But I wonder if I am really truly ready.

I still cannot process stress properly because the panic disorder is still running rampant. (Thank you, el shrinko, for prescribing a medication for the panic disorder that helped with my depression but totally nullified and my Xanax and set the panic attacks off, yayy for pharmaceutical science.)

I try very hard.

I can’t help but wonder if I simply haven’t been allowed to stabilize long term enough-ya know, a year or two on a working med regime, rather than 14 months of med changes and side effects and failures.) I have so much pressure on me, inwardly and outwardly, and it seems no one really cares about my mental state, just what they think I should be and what they think would be best for me.

One day, I’d like to get a say in what is in my own best interest.

Even if I just need more time to try to get my shit together. It may not seem important to most people. I mean, I am upright and ambulatory, so I must be all better, right?

But if a simple e-mail can send me into the rabbit hole…

I’m not “there” yes. I am not cured, I am not even stabilized enough, and I am not ready.

I just have this loud voice in my head telling my disability money could go away at any time and I need to cover my ass, I can’t be put into a position where I can’t take care of my kid.

Then I have everyone else telling to suck it up and get off my ass.

And the mental health professionals who just don’t get it.

Is it really any wonder I feel like I am smothering most of the time?

Life is tough, but sometimes, it’s just impossible when you’re in a perpetual state of confusion and catch 22s.

Used to be, only my postal mail made me panic.

Now even my electronic mail is triggering me.

If this is everyone’s idea of recovery, I think they’re the ones who need psych help.

 

the panic files-for those who just don’t get it…i hate you

Posted in anxiety disorders with tags , , , on December 29, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

Not long after my first post today I received a text from R that said : OMG!!!!!

That pretty much set off every panic receptor I have. Did I fuck something up? Did he? Was one of the TV’s we thought were toast working? Was the house next door on fire? My mind was abuzz. My heart was pounding, my legs went weak, and terror soaked into my bone marrow.  I texted back for a response…

and all I got was “you will soon see.”

That sent me into full fledged panic, wondering what the fuck was going on. I was curious, but more than  anything, I was scared, thinking perhaps I had done something wrong and he was mad at me.

That kind of got me off the fence about going to the shop, since he wasn’t talking, I needed to know what OMG!!!! meant.

Terror coursed through my veins the entire time I drove, dropped my kid off at my mom’s, and went to the shop.

It turned out Kenny had wrecked his van.

Bad for Kenny.

But Kenny was fine.

And I had been put through a dozen panic attacks for no real reason.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!

Why can’t people just get it through their fucking heads that shit like that fucks my head up?

It might work for a million other people, but getting me riled up that way is a VERY BAD THING.

My stomach has churned all day. The tension is to the bone. It  should have dissipated, but it hasn’t. Xanax can’t touch this level of anxiety and frustration.

FYI- due to panic disorder, it is beneficial if you just tell me what is going on rather than play texting games or whatever.

As well as R knows me, you’d think he’d understand this by now. I don’t think he wants to face it, because then he might have to think lesser of me for having such a “weakness.” He never did respect the panic disorder when we were together, there’d be no reason he’d have changed by now and developed any empathy.

Considering how anxious he gets at the shop-talking about his heart pounding in his throat-when he is about to plug in a TV and see if the repair took, running the risk of electrocution, fire, and the tv blowing up…That’s panic, baby. That terror you feel in that few minute span…is pretty much every second of my life.

Can he draw the parallel?

Hell no.

And do I speak up?

Nope.

It’s like talking to a wall, kinda like the donor. I didn’t choose this, I don’t like, and I fight it with everything I’ve got, but sometimes, it mops the floor with me. Would it kill you to just not do things that set it off?

The building is on fire, fine, panic and go spaztic and freak me out.

But, my god, someone smashed their car up and they walked away fine…That is soooo not worth the panic. A plain  message stating the facts would have sufficed.

But nooooooooooooooooooo. Panic disorder is a myth so there’s no need to pay it any mind.

I stayed the whole day.

But he didn’t have shit for me to do and I internet window shopped most of the time.

I was not amused.

I told him I was going to leave early.

And he said, “No, don’t. I like your company.”

And being the pathetic trainwreck that I am, I stayed. I mean, my own husband ended our marriage with a phone call, he found me so horrid,so for someone to say they enjoy my company is pretty healthy for the self esteem.

Especially an ex boyfriend. Surely if I were as terrible as the donor says, then my exes would want nothing to do with me, right? Yet I speak to all my exes.

Except the donor.

So maybe I stayed for R, maybe I stayed for my own ego.

I am just glad this day, this week, is coming to an end.

May 2013 have a little more positive bent than 2012 did.

I won’t hold my breath.

At worst, I am right.

At best, I am wrong and get pleasantly surprised.

That I can live with.

Well meaning people who incite my panic disorder without just cause…

I find that hard to live with.

Perpetual state of cognitive dissonance

Posted in mood disorders, panic disorder with tags , , , , on December 28, 2012 by morgueticiaatoms

“Cognitive dissonance”. It was on a game show the other day, and I got the answer to the question right, then realized…I absolutely had zero clue what the term means.

So I went searching on the intertubes.

Which didn’t help much, technical mumbo jumbo sticks to my teflon brain like numbers.

I finally found a site that dumbed it down for me. Basically, it’s holding one set of beliefs but finding yourself in a situation that is at odds with your beliefs.

Example: Woman values financial security.

Woman is in a relationship with someone who is financially irresponsible. This creates a state of cognitive dissonance.

That’s when it hit me like a race car careen off the track into a brick wall.

MY  ENTIRE EXISTENCE IS COGNITIVE DISSONANCE.

My mood disorder.

Today for example.

I don’t really feel like going out into the petri dish. I just feel off. My nerves are shaky, my mood is gray, and there’s really nothing he needs me to do at the shop other than keep him company, and I am honestly getting bored with that. I know when I in this mind frame, it usually benefits me to take a step back and give myself some space. Or I am likely to tell him exactly how I feel about him expecting me to be there five days a week for no money when he has nothing for me to really work on.

But I also am compelled by the expectations of others to do what they expect or need me to do. He paid for and put a new radiator in my car. I owe him. Therefore I am beholden to do as he expects while feeling like I am betraying myself.

Cognitive dissonance.

Oh, I am sure someone will find some psychological mumbo jumbo to dispute my likening here, but for all intents and purposes in my mind,  I AM WALKING, TALKING COGNITIVE DISSONANCE.

And it certainly explains my mass confusion and sensation that I am constantly being choked. It’s hard to breathe when you’re not only at war with your own brain chemicals, but with your own beliefs and emotions as well.

It is suggested that to solve cognitive dissonance you must either eliminate the problem entirely or learn to alter your own beliefs so that their is no dissonance.

I’m not a black or white kind of person.

I am definitely all about the shades of gray.

So being told I can’t have a happy medium solution just makes me more frustrated.

Here’s a thought: What if R were to suck it up and only have me come into the shop when he actually has work to do?

He’s the one who has the fucking problem here.It’s not my fault he doesn’t want to be alone or answer his own phone.  I have talked and talked to him about it, all to no avail.

So because he won’t change, I must.

That seems fair.

NOT.

I am one of the most assertive stubborn people on the planet, but because of all my past flakiness and failures I find myself wavering and leaning more toward doing what is expected of me these days. I want to say NO.

But I feel indebted and no comes out as “oh, I will be there if I must.”

Then I spend the day unhappy and feeling like I stabbed myself in the back because I’m not being true to who I am,  I am just keeping the peace.

fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I hate when people help me. Feeling indebted to someone is about the same as having a pillow mashed over my face. My free will is taken away because I owe them.I am not without gratitude, and I don’t mind working to pay him back, but unless there is actual work for me to do,it’s stupid for me to be away from my kid and feel so out of sorts with myself. But I OWE HIM.

Which is living hell for someone as independent as me. I may not be well off, but I usually manage to eek by. Being placed in a situation where more money is needed than I have and someone has to swoop down and rescue me…

Sucks.

Now I am trapped.

Cognitive

dissonance.