I haven’t been around for a week or so, to read or write, because my head is clogged with so much…stuff. I have a backlog of half-finished thoughts, feelings and plans and haven’t been able to really make sense of any of it. I did a verbal purge in therapy on Friday, but I’m not sure that it helped. I promised a couple people that I would do a written purge as well, so here goes.
You may wish to fetch an umbrella to shield yourself from falling bullshit.
So, I’m still sleeping like shit. I get 6 hours, 7 if I’m lucky, and am usually up around 2 am. And I’m always tired. Always. If I’m always tired then I’m not getting enough sleep. I know that and my therapist confirmed it. I’m taking Seroquel to help, but it’s just not doing it. I don’t need help getting to sleep, but I do need help staying asleep and the Seroquel isn’t doing it. How do I know? I stopped taking it on Tuesday night and nothing changed. Which of course leads directly into the next issue…
I stopped taking my Seroquel without talking to my pdoc first. I don’t do this. Ever. I always talk to my doctor before I do anything with my medication. I’m the daughter of a pharmacist. I know the importance of not screwing around with meds without letting the doctor know about it first. Or, possibly, I’m too programed to “do the right thing”. I mean, for crying out loud, I’ve been on it before. And it always makes me gain weight. Always. I was up another 10 pounds already. I’m down 3 already since quitting! And it wasn’t doing what I needed it to do. So, screw it. Right? Of course, one of the problems that out of control bipolars can have is that they stop taking meds, without advising their Dr., because of the terrible side effects . So, am I being a smart, sensible, self-aware patient? Or am I starting to trip down the road of non-compliancy?
I’ve been having these flashbacks of when I had my episodes of Posterior Reversible Encephalopathy Syndrome. (I don’t usually link to Wikipedia, but it’s the only article I can find that’s not chock full of medical mumbo-jumbo. It is not a well-researched condition and there really aren’t a lot of articles) I wrote about my experience with PRES here. Anyway, “flashback” may not be the right word, but it’s the one I have. Basically, when I’m doing different things…it’s like I’m remembering how it felt to do them while I was actually suffering one of these “events”, for lack of another word. It’s a weird and unpleasant sensation and I don’t really know what to do with it. It happened in the shower just this morning. I was a little unsteady on my feet and I could immediately remember how it felt to get dizzy in the shower with one of these events and fall, or at least need to grab onto something to steady myself. I didn’t actually fall today, but the feeling triggered a memory. Though the memory was more about a feeling than a memory about an actual event. That’s really the closest I can come to how these flashback things are, but I’m still not positive that flashback is the right word.
I have finally found a dog park that suits Ilio and me. (Ilio’s the dog in case you haven’t been following along. His name means “dog” in Hawaiian.) It’s in one of the county parks and it’s HUGE, at least 4 or 5 acres. It’s got water, shade, tons of tennis balls, benches, picnic tables and bag stations so you can clean up Fido’s poop when he leaves a present. We’ve been going every day for a couple weeks now and he’s made some doggy friends and I’ve enjoyed talking to a few people as well. I still haven’t done a very smooth job of fitting it into my schedule, but I’m working on it. The big problem is the talking to other people part. I can just see all my insecurities in living color there. I talk too much to fill what might be an awkward silence. I laugh, out loud, at myself constantly because I’m so afraid people will think I’m stupid or nuts or whatever so I try to head them off at the pass by acting like I think it myself. My self-esteem is in the toilet. It always has been. I’m starting to wonder if it always will be. I’ve never really been comfortable in my own skin and I have no real good idea of who I am. If I’m that dorky woman in the park, I’m not sure I’m real thrilled with that at all.
I only have one therapy session this week because my therapist is out of the office on Friday when I would normally have my 2nd session. I have the option to set another appointment for Thursday, but I only want to do it if I need to. I don’t want to take up an open spot and then have nothing to talk about, especially if that appointment could have been used by someone in crisis. Although, if I read back through this post I have to wonder if I’m in crisis and just don’t know it. Wow.
Yesterday, I wasn’t in a great place. I was exhausted but I’d had so much coffee I couldn’t get back to sleep. I took Ilio to the park and we had a good time except I felt like that dorky woman in the park. (Rereading this I realize that if I felt so dorky, did I really have fun?) I came home and told Joe that I was going to lay down because I didn’t feel well but I felt fine. I was having a hard time getting warm but otherwise I was just tired. I managed to get out of doing much of anything yesterday except a couple loads of laundry by saying I didn’t feel well. Eventually, I really didn’t feel well. I did have to hit the bathroom every hour which triggered the flashbacks. And I tried to explain the flashbacks to Joe and he didn’t get it. I think he kind of thought I meant that I was having the episodes and wanted me to take my blood pressure. Which I did, although it was mostly to humor him. I can’t believe I did that though. I can’t believe I pretended to be sick to get out of doing anything. And, I can’t believe I actually talked myself into feeling physically crappy. I just couldn’t deal and was not in the mood to be looked at like I was insane. Joe’s been really great about trying to understand when I need to go do some self-care. I just didn’t want to test the waters. I didn’t want him to look at me like he was disappointed that I didn’t want to help him work on the patio. I didn’t want to work on anything.
And on that note, I’m going to end this post. I feel as though I’ve dumped enough garbage for the day and I can’t think about this crap anymore.