You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March 2008.
– Copyright © 2008 bipolarlife.wordpress.com. This Feed is for personal non-commercial use only. If you are not reading this material in your news aggregator, the site you are looking at is guilty of copyright infringement. Please contact medicatedwonder at gmail dot com so we can take legal action immediately.
My arm is all itchy from the recent tattoo work that has been done on my arm sleeve. The work is beautiful (I can say that because I didn’t do it.) There are three more appointments yet to finish it after which my entire right arm will be completely covered. Nearly every single pore.
I know that a lot of people don’t understand why some of us choose to tattoo so much of ourselves. The best answer that I can give is that it’s a need. I feel a need to be tattooed. I feel more complete and more myself with these stories on my skin. It’s definitely not the pain that I’m after. Although, except for the chest, it hasn’t been anything that I haven’t been able to work through.
For me, the process of working with the artist on the design and the realization of that work on my body is a very intimate experience. You have to trust the artist to make into reality what you have envisioned in your mind. Usually the artist surprises me with a design that is so much more than I could conceive. I love that.
I have been putting a lot of pressure on myself to figure out a job where I can be the person that I am, tattoos, piercings and all. My current job is stressful, and while it pays well, is not something that I find fulfilling anymore. So why stay with it? I don’t have any responsibilities and I don’t need much money. I just need to figure out what I want to do and then work towards it. That’s the frustrating part though. I have no idea what to do. I am rather tired of working for other people, maybe I could start my own business. But in what? I’ve read books on this subject and seen friends change careers but I can think of nothing when it comes to myself.
– Copyright © 2008 bipolarlife.wordpress.com. This Feed is for personal non-commercial use only. If you are not reading this material in your news aggregator, the site you are looking at is guilty of copyright infringement. Please contact medicatedwonder at gmail dot com so we can take legal action immediately.
It’s a nice day here with the temp hitting 50 and the sun all out and cheerful. I got outside and enjoyed it. Around the lakes there were couples everywhere, which generally makes me envious and sad but didn’t bother me today. I think that I am accepting that if I had wanted to be in a relationship I would have done so by now. While I enjoy the companionship, the day-to-day tedium of maintenance is not something that I have an interest in. I reserve the right to change my mind but for now single suits me just fine.
This mind set will probably work out better for me anyways seeing that it’s usually younger men that are attracted to me (not entirely sure why.) To date, I have always ignored their advances. Maybe it’s time to give it a go.
Today was the first official day of jogging. Pulled myself out of bed, threw on some clothes, did some stretches and stumbled out the door. Made it two blocks.
Well, okay I jogged two blocks but I walked fast for 1/2 hour. I am refusing to judge myself on my ability. It doesn’t matter how much I do at this point what matters is that a routine is established.
The Risperdol seems to be out of my system. The agitation has disappeared. One med down, two to go.
So I was all geared up for some verbal sparing with the psychiatrist about why I should go off my meds. He was like, “Oh, sure. I don’t see a problem with that.” Then he proceeded to talk about how no one really knows if bipolar disorder is a permanent condition and how he really didn’t see any harm as long as I do it one med at a time over 18 – 24 months.
Now doesn’t that make for boring blog reading?
So the Risperdol is gone already as I was on such a tiny little dose (0.25 mg). The withdrawal is that I’m all on-edge today but it hasn’t been bad. Risperdol is suppose to work by suppressing the primal urges, giving you time to think before you react. I will need to be aware of this as the drug makes it’s way out of my system and learn to deal with my reactions through awareness. (That’s an awkward sentence.)
The next drug to go is Depakote ER. I am currently at 1000 mg. I’ll be dropping by 250 mg by first taking 1000 on day 1 then 750 on day 2 then repeating that cycle for a while until I can get it down to just 750 mg a day. Then stay at that for a while then do the same thing with 750 & 500 mgs. It’s going to take a while. Apparently, it’s all about “lowering the seizure threshold.” Which is a nice way of trying to not scare the shit out of me but it’s not really helping. I wish they made the ER version in smaller dosage amounts because really, going down in a dosage of 250 mg is just stupid. I’d switch to the non-ER version but it’s pretty much a different drug and is suppose to have more side effects.
No thank you.
I have been reading a publication by the Icarus Project which explains the how and the why of coming off psychiatric medications. It’s interesting reading and I thank stir-crazy.org for turning me on to it.
My therapist wasn’t too impressed by the idea but is willing to wait and hear what the psychiatrist has to say. I am too as I am curious if he’s had other clients attempt this.
My decision is that I can try going off the meds slowly, one at a time, with the aid of my psychiatrist and therapist as long as I keep up the exercise and meditation. I also need to eat healthy. Starting yesterday I am cutting out caffeine, sugar, alcohol, diet soda and white flour. Not to be a drama queen but the lack of caffeine is killing me. I’m exhausted and depressed which I really wasn’t expecting. If I’d known, I would have chosen to tapered off.
I tried out the new pair of jogging shoes that I bought on a treadmill at the gym at the office tonight. I learned three things. The shoes are comfortable, seeing guys that you work with naked is so not cool and that I am extremely, embarrassingly out of shape. Jogging for five minutes was the best that I could do. At least I did it and that was the point. Now the real work is to keep doing it.
Recently, while reading other blogs, I have been finding out that there are people who have chosen to go off of their meds and they are doing just fine. That this was even a possibility have not occurred to me. The idea has intrigued me enough that I am going to talk to my doctor about it. He is pretty aware of things and likes to quote Buddhist thought so it’s not like the idea is going to freak him out or anything. Maybe if I can keep up the jogging and the meditation and keep eating better I could cut down or go off my meds completely in two or three years. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? No more dealing with side effects.
That’s not being whiny either. I’ve had to have surgery due to a ’side effect’. I am also tired of being bloated, overweight, constipated, forgetful, tired and what-have-you. CBT (that’s cognitive behavioral therapy) has taught me the triggers and signs of mood changes. This may be the best time to try it. I’ll see what the doc says.
The last day that I saw my father alive was an easter sunday over a decade ago. Two days later he killed himself and put an end to the years of psychological abuse that he put myself and the rest of the family through. Now that I have reached a place where I have dealt with all of the anger, it’s time to try to remember him with some compassion.
Not that the legacy of what he did is over. There is still a lot of work ahead to undo all of the damage. Part of the undoing though is forgiveness, which is an ongoing process.
My father was a angry, lonely and frightened man who was obsessed with control. The illusion of control gave him a fleeting sense of safety from his fears until the next thing happened to threaten his illusion. Usually that something was me or my brother. We seemed designed to be chaotic and needed constant watching or else everything was going to go out of whack.
Like how an alcoholic’s family changes their lives to accommodate the alcoholic we circled around my father, walking on egg shells, trying not to set him off. Being a child I blamed myself for his rage. Looking back I realize that I was not responsible and actually needed and deserved protection from him.
He did not have access to the specialized mental health care that is available today. The one time that he did seek help he was told that there was nothing to be done as it would take too long to change him. He didn’t have access to a therapist who could tell him that it wasn’t about changing him, but rather about becoming aware of why he reacted to stress the way that he did. It’s tragic that he didn’t seek a second opinion but that’s not what happened. My mom says that he wasn’t always this way. When they first got married she says that he was a good husband and father and that she has many fond memories from that time period. It wasn’t until around the time that I was born that he started to draw into himself. By the time my mom divorced him he had no friends and had almost succeeded in cutting off my mom from all of hers. She felt smothered and couldn’t take it any more. She sometimes says that she wishes that she’d taken my brother and I and left after I was born. I can see that if he’d changed overnight but the change was over a long period of time. How could she have known?
I have only a handful of happy memories from childhood with my father and they are good ones. Some are from when we went camping every summer. We use to drive around the US and hit the big scenic areas like Yellowstone national park and the Tennessee mountains. He knew a lot of things about geological formations and I use to love to listen to him. Christmas morning was also a happy time as he was generally more relaxed. He could also be pretty funny after a couple of beers.
I had a brief glimpse of the softer side of the man during the divorce. He was so lost. It scared me to see him so helpless. Obviously it scared him even more as he decided to die rather than try to continue on. For a short time there looked like there might be a chance for us to change our relationship and attempt to mend what had been broken. Unfortunately, it’s been a one sided fix. Although I like to think that by giving up my anger his soul or energy or whatever is more at peace.
On that easter sunday my father told me that he loved me. He’d never said that before. He may have been a total bastard my entire life but I am thankful that he gave me that last gift.
I miss my furry little baby. About six months ago I came to the conclusion that I just wasn’t capable of taking care of her anymore. This was something that should have happened about four years earlier but I couldn’t bring myself to part with her.
We’d been through so much together and she saved me from going off the deep end so many times. It’s impossible to stay in bed all day when you have a dog that needs to be walked. Especially one that is as insistant as a terrier. But I wasn’t able to give her all of the attention and time that she deserved, what with dealing with BP, my job and my life.
I was able to find her a excellent home through a terrier rescue group. The whole experience was bittersweet. I know what I did was the right thing to do for the both of us – my therapist talks about being kind to myself – but some days are just hard.
Happy Easter babe.
And a long-forgotten fairytale
is in your eyes again
and I’m caught inside a dream world
where the colors are too intense
and nothing is making sense
You would think that after all these years of therapy that I would be able to tell when the bipolarism is coloring my thoughts. But nooooOOooooo. I can generally tell the big stuff (you’re so stupid, ugly, etc.) but more quiet negative thoughts are slipping by.
I guess you’ve had your little joke
but I have lost my sense of humor
My medication’s wearing off
or it’s just not strong enough
to cover this
I told my therapist and the zen group that I would start meditating. The thought being that over time the more “quiet” thoughts will calm down. It’s a great idea – in theory – I just haven’t been able to get myself to do it. Military force may be needed.
If someone told me I’d succumb,
if someone said I’d be so dumb
after all the sleepless nights
when I turned on all the lights
I would have hit thembut I have turned the other cheek
My voice trembles, my knees are weak
and you beat me once again
and I know what happens then:
you raise the ante…
Lyrics copyright by The Magnetic Fields: Long-Forgotten Fairytale
A friend pointed out, rather annoyed, that I tend to think in absolutes. No big surprise here as I didn’t get to BP land without a ticket. I wanted to point this out but felt like it would be greeted as a cop out and so said that I would try to be more aware of this. I also didn’t explain that I have been in therapy for the past four years ATTEMPTING to be aware of this. I mean, dear fucking god, there is a reason that dozens of my relationships have tanked and why I refuse to revisit places where I’ve had one bad experience. I know that this way of thinking is messed up but give me a break. I’m trying here.
It’s not like patterns can be fixed overnight. At least, I haven’t tried that pill yet.
So, once again I get to feel guilty about how I am such a failure to others. Another song to add to the “Reasons I Suck” album of my life. Yes, I am being mellow dramatic. No, I don’t give a shit. I wish I could hear this type of criticism and learn from it without taking it personally but I guess I am just not at that stage in my development. Plus I’m depressed so really, there is no way I would have been able to hear this positively anyway.
Fuck.
Those who speak