So, as I started talking things out with Karen yesterday, I realized that where I was, was depression. It’s always harder to see when it’s got an anxiety chaser. I always think ‘I can’t be depressed, I’m too antsy’. But, it’s depression alright.

Most of therapy yesterday was me whining and bitching that I’m sick of this. Sick of bipolar. Sick of not knowing what my mood is going to be each day. Or, if I’m cycling really fast, what my mood will be in a minute. Sick of the disappointed looks I get from my husband and the pity on my Mother in Law’s face. Sick of playing this sadistic game with my brain. Sick of praying and hoping that tomorrow’s mood will allow me to do the things I’ve planned and am looking forward to.

I spend a session whining like this every so often. I get so tired of the constant war between my mind and my brain and I just want them both to shut up, calm down and leave me be. Just for a day. I want to get up, get a shower, have breakfast and take the dog to the park so he can run and I can walk. I want to be able to do the things I’ve planned, no matter if it’s something fun or just housework. I want to cook dinner without it being such a major chore. I want to make love to my husband without the libido crushing side effects of my meds. I want to put my head on my pillow and sleep peacefully through the night.

But if wishes were horses then beggars would ride.

Radical acceptance means that I have to accept all of the above. I don’t have to like it, but I have to accept it. Now I’m wondering how much I can accept something that can make me so deeply unhappy. I feel as though it will always be a struggle and that the true acceptance of all things these will never really happen 100%. I’ll have to talk to Karen about that on Tuesday.

I’ve moved my therapy back to twice a week. I just couldn’t do it at every 5 days. I tried for 2 months, but those weeks when I would only have one session stressed me out so much. This is better.


That’s how I would describe my mood if I was talking about a person. That or shady. Either way.

What I know for sure is that I’m not stable or manic.

I’m not depressed, really. I’m not anxious, really. I’m also not feeling rage or sadness, really. But of course, at the same time, I’m feeling all those things.

I want to yell and scream but I don’t. I want to cry but I don’t really need to. I want to lay down and retreat, but I feel too awake to lay down.

I have therapy in a little bit. I can’t wait to put this mess in front of Karen and see where it leads.



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So, I was able to get an emergency appointment with my therapist on Tuesday. It helps that she’s doing telehealth only at this point so she was able to give me an appointment without having to factor in how long it would take me to get to her. I cried, I railed and then I settled down some. I told her that I was no longer comfortable having my appointments spread out the way they were. To her credit, she didn’t even blink. She just got out her schedule and redid my appointments so I was twice a week again. My anxiety, as much as I tried to talk myself out of it, just wasn’t having the new schedule. I would see her on Monday and Friday and then the following week only on Wednesday. The week that was only once just stressed me out. What if something went wrong? What if I needed to talk? I just could not soothe my way past it at all. The thing is, she was more then happy to see me whenever I need to. There was no need to be stressed, but I just couldn’t help it. So, back to the way it was. And if another doctor thinks twice a week is too often they can just suck it. I think it’s just right.

This has been a hard week. I’ve taken a swing into depression and anxiety has come along for the ride. So I’m not just down and lethargic, but also antsy, irritable and have a short fuse. My parents came by last night for dinner. My MIL cooked and wanted my parents to come over. That was great with me, but try as I may, I can not remember hardly anything that happened. At all. I don’t remember what I ate (I know what was served, just not what I ate), I don’t remember the conversation. I remember the dog being a pain in the ass (we’re still working on training). I know I had two Jack Daniels, and although I hardly ever drink, that’s not enough to obliterate me into a blackout. I talk to my mother every day around 10, on the phone or in person, and I’ll try to figure out what happened from that conversation.

On a sort of related note, I had a follow up MRI on my brain yesterday. It’s been two years since I experienced seven or eight Posterior Reversible Encephalopathy Syndrome (PRES) events. In a nutshell, my blood pressure kept spiking (177/140!!!) and since the vessels in the brain couldn’t handle the extra pressure, the blood leaked out onto my brain. The blood then interfered with the normal functioning of the brain. The doctors originally thought I was having strokes as PRES can present that way. But, with PRES, the blood eventually recedes and the brain goes back to normal. And that’s exactly what has happened, except for one spot. The MRI was to see what’s going on with that spot. But, I can tell you that the blood is still there. The spot in the brain it’s affecting works with memory, and I’m still having some of the same problems. Word recall is a big one. I often stop during a sentence because I can’t think of the word I’m looking for (I know this happens to people normally, but this is much worse) or I’ll put the right words in but mix up their place in the sentence (I took the walk for the dog) and not notice. Should get results by tomorrow, so we’ll see.

As soon as I started my car after the MRI, the “oh crap something’s wrong” bells started going out. The pressure in one of my tires was super low. I was about 3 miles from the dealership so I drove over there. Turns out I had a nail in one of my tires. So they fixed it for me and changed the oil which was overdue. I was so nervous they wouldn’t be able to take me without an appointment, but, not only did they help me, they smiled about it! I really needed that so much. I kept thanking them for helping me, I was so grateful. I bought this car in cash with a settlement I got from a really bad car accident a couple years ago. So, it’s got a lot of the fancy bells and whistles that hubby wants me to have.

I’m hoping today that this will be a better day, but I already feel edgy. I am not in the mood to feel shitty today. I’m really not. Sorry this post is so rambly but that’s just where my head is right now.


We lost someone today. She was the mother of an old dear friend and she’s just gone.

Because of COVID-19.

Yesterday, I found out that an old family friend passed away (lung cancer). Today I found out of the mother of one of my friends (COVID).

I’m so tired of this shit. How is it that half the country isn’t taking COVID seriously? Governors are opening their states back up including mine in South Carolina. Although the degree to which we were closed was nowhere near enough, everything is pretty much up for grabs now.

I’m pissed y’all. PISSED OFF.


It really is killing people.

Please don’t be a denier. Please wear your mask. Please keep your distance.

Please don’t die.



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I feel crappy. It started yesterday afternoon and it’s just getting worse. Edgy, nervous, easily aggravated, anxiety. I can feel the short fuse. No one has touched it off yet, but I know it’s there. On top of that (under that?) is depression. Lethargy. No motivation. One of those “I have no fucks to give” type moods.

I already texted my therapist, Karen, to request an appointment today instead of tomorrow if possible. We had agreed to change things up at the beginning of the year. Last year, I had two appointments per week. Tuesday and Friday at 10 am every week without fail. She suggested moving to one a week and I countered with every 5 days or so. We landed on Monday and Friday one week and Wednesday the next week and then back to Monday and Friday. This is a Wednesday only week, and I don’t like it. It feels like it’s not enough. There were appointments when I really didn’t have that much to talk about and that precipitated the talk of cutting appointments down some. But I’d rather have it and not need it then not have it. It feels kind of selfish to me…what if I have an appointment and I’m fine and someone who really needs it can’t get it because I’m taking up the spot? But, at the moment I don’t really care.

I’m just hoping to muddle through this day at this point. I have one or two things to do. Although, taking a cue from a friend, I think the only thing I HAVE to do is make dinner. I NEED to call the permitting office. Although hubby is kind of counting on me to do that. Probably move that to the “have to” pile. Ok, so I have to make dinner and call the permitting office.

I can manage that. Probably.


Well, isn’t this just grand.

I gained 10 pounds this week. Now, I ate too much, absolutely. But, I didn’t eat “gain 10 pounds” worth. This morning, I was in the shower and looked down and realized that my left foot, ankle and leg were swollen. I’d say that it was too much for the beginning of the day, but I’d been up since 1:00 am so I’d been moving around for about 6 hours or so by then. So, apparently there is a water retention problem somewhere from something. Ok. Plus, (this is probably TMI but I’m not totally truthful of my “bipolar experience” if I don’t share it) Remeron made me constipated and I haven’t gone properly in a couple weeks. Normally, my problem is the other way around so this has been weird.

Anyway, I took a Lasix (Furosemide) which meant that I had to take to Pyridium which is for my Interstitial Cystitis. The IC, in a nutshell, is a problem with the bladder. For some reason, no one really knows why, the lining is slowly shedding and it causes pain and difficulty peeing. So, if I take Lasix I have to take Pyridium.

Now, in the meantime I just stopped the Remeron and started Seroquel XR. So, with luck the constipation thing will clear up. The leg swelling actually seems to be getting worse even with the Lasix, so I guess I’ll have to take another (I took a small dose at first hoping that would do it).

So, since I have all this swelling, I should be laying down with my feet up. But, don’t you know it, my mood today is peppy and ready to get stuff done. Really. I’m ready to bake. I’m doing laundry. I put together menstrual supply bags for the homeless and poor for charity and I’m chopping at the bit to get started. I. Want. To. Get. Shit. Done.

But, if I do, my swelling won’t clear up. It could get worse. And my legs already hurt. My hands are a little tingly.

I have to lay down. There’s no real choice.

How much you wanna bet that tomorrow I’m depressed and unmotivated?

I’m up

I’m always up anymore. I keep track of my sleep on my Fitbit. It’s not perfect to the minute, but it’s within an hour or so as far as I can tell. Last night my sleep went thusly:

6:55 pm – 8:09 pm and 1:03 am – 2:35 am. That’s it. There was a small amount of fitful dozing from around 10 till around 11 but it wasn’t deep enough or steady enough for the Fitbit to track.

Y’all, that’s not enough sleep, I don’t care who you are.

The one thing I have going for me right now is that my husband can actually see me not getting sleep. So, he’s super understanding of what’s going on and is being sweet and cutting me slack all over the place. It’s harder when it’s just my brain and my mind fighting one another and he can’t actually SEE it. But, this is obvious. He’s giving me a break.

Today I have an appointment with my regular primary provider to get my yearly checkup. Maybe she’ll give me some knock out drugs! After that the trainer comes for the dog.

I’m living for this dog trainer appointment. My sweet puppy that is supposed to help me with my emotional issues is so completely not trained. And he really needs to be. He’ll be one next month and he knows a lot, but it’s all the wrong stuff! Trainer today will evaluate him and then give me a price to get him trained up to my goals for him. Right now, those goals are obedience. Sometime later I may do more with him, but for right now, I need him to listen and do what I ask. Dogs are people pleasers and they’re happiest when they are being praised and petted. To get there, they need to know what the rules are so they can follow them. I’ve done a poor job of teaching Ilio the rules and now we need professional help. Thank goodness we got our tax refund so I can do this.

I am getting some amusement out of my high school reunion Facebook page. They are still debating Trump vs. Biden and people are getting all kinds of feisty. I had maintained friendships with some of them up through very recently. But, just as they were poor winners, they are even worse losers and I’ve had to walk away from them. When you have bipolar disorder, you can’t afford “as long as you agree with me” friends. You need the real deal and the last four years has really shown that some folks just aren’t the real deal.

Anywho, have a lovely day everyone, I’m gonna try for a nap.

Wham Bam Thank you Mania

Damnit damnit damnit.

I should’ve recorded the zoom session between me and pdoc. I was bouncing around so much I reminded myself of an Alzheimer’s patient. It’s fine if you have Alzheimer’s, but I don’t.

I’m up, I’m down, I’m all over the damn place. I have gotten so much done today though. And…when I’m manic, I bake. So, I baked and now we have a chocolate cake for desert. That is of course on top of the Moravian cake I made yesterday.

It hasn’t been too awful because I had a lot of things I could channel it all into. The washer and dryer are now clean inside AND outside. In fact a lot of things are clean! I’ve had one or two things that needed untangling that I managed to untangle. Played with the dog. Offended a bunch of people on Facebook who totally deserved it. (probably wouldn’t have done that if I weren’t manic). And on and on and on

Pdoc is putting me BACK on Seroquel, but this time we’re going with extended release to try to keep me asleep. I have serious doubts, but whatever. She’s also taking me off the Remeron because that obviously didn’t work. It DID take away my depression, but now I’m manic, so…I just traded one problem for another and still can’t sleep.

I hate Seroquel. I gain weight just looking at the pill in my hand. But, I’ll take it, because I’m a good little patient. *barf* I haven’t even picked it up yet. The CVS is 1/2 mile from my house and I can’t be bothered to go get the meds. I’ll get it tomorrow.

Ok, I’m done.

Edgy and Tired

Yesterday I had therapy. Honestly, I was so damned tired that I got nothing from it. I’m pretty sure she got no new knowledge from it either, except that I’m beyond fucking tired.

I took my meds yesterday morning, but Joe and MIL would have been smart to wonder if I had. Of course, the fastest way to get your head taken off around here is to be my Mother-In-Law and ASK if I took my meds. I absolutely can’t skip a dose of my psych meds. The trileptal has such a short half-life that you basically have none of it left in your system when it’s time for the next dose. So skipping a dose, just one, throws me into this weird anxiety ridden depression with a fuse the size of a tic tac. But, I had taken them, I was just really edgy and a little belligerent. Weirdly, I was completely fine when I took Joe to the Surgery Center for his procedure. I got some alone time to read my book while he was being taken care of and then he needed me. And him needing me is my jam. Anyone needing me is my jam quite frankly. I have a deep desire to be useful and needed and do well under those conditions. Unless, you need me too much. Unless, it goes on too long or you’re too high maintenance. ANYway…

I managed to get MIL to make dinner (‘I’m busy taking care of your son!’ ) and, as per usual, she fried something. She literally cannot make food without either frying it or throwing a shit ton of pasta into it. I’m carrying around an extra 100 pounds and it’s not cool. Of course, I didn’t have to make it, so whatever. Easy dinner.

Yesterday, I fell asleep around 7, so I went in to lay down and ended up reading for a little bit. But, I was asleep by 8:30 and up at 11:00pm. Stayed up for an hour. Took a double dose of my Klonopin out of sheer desperation for sleep. It bought me 2 more hours, and then that was it. Tomorrow this bullshit ends though. I’ll tell Joe tonight, and he won’t be happy about it but I don’t care. Tomorrow is my pdoc appointment with Dr. M. And I’m going to tell her flat out, that she either needs to give me something to knock me out good and proper, or she’s going to need to admit me to the hospital so they can. I can’t keep going like this, and if I do, I’m going to end up in the hospital anyway from suicidal thoughts or an actual attempt. I no longer care which way she wants to take this, but something needs to give and I can’t keep being the one to do so. I have good insurance, so let’s use that shit and get me some good drugs dammit. Or a couple nights somewhere where they will give them to me. My circadian rhythm is all jacked up. I’m up at night baking and doing laundry and during the day I’m reading and trying not to nap so that MAYBE I’ll sleep that night.

I know this is a rambling post and I try not to do that, but I’m just sooo beat and I don’t have the energy to try to make this flow. I feel certain you’ll forgive me.

It’s a pretty easy day, which is nice. The dough is rising now for the Moravian Cake I’m making for my Dad. It’s a regional thing from Bethlehem, PA where he was born and he hasn’t had one for forever. I could order one, but I have all this extra time IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, so I decided to bake him one. It’s actually not hard, it just takes time because you have to let the dough rise for hours. Dishwasher is running and then I’ll force my ass into the shower. I wouldn’t, but Joe and I have an appointment later so I have to leave the house and be seen by members of the general public. blech. Maybe a load of laundry. A visit to Mom and Dad to see how they are doing. I have to keep vaguely busy or I’ll fall asleep and I don’t want to do that. My nights and days are screwed up enough as they are. And I keep thinking that if I don’t nap, then I’ll sleep better at night. So far that hasn’t worked, but one of these days it might, so I keep doing it. My dog goes to the groomer to get his nails cut and a quick bath. The groomer gives him a bath, cuts his nails and does hygiene stuff for the same amount that the vet wants to cut his nails. And he won’t let me cut his nails, so off to the groomer he goes.

Anyway, I’m done rambling. Carry on with your regular day. As a reward for making it to the end of this ramble, here are some pictures of my boy. His name is Ilio (it means “dog” in Hawaiian). We also call him Dooder.