Category Archives: health

Ive found its either go or stop.

Either things are going on enough that I have a topic to write about, or its so dead I can’t find anything to write about. Can’t we have a nice middle? But then again, thats life. 100 mph or dead.

Im back to my old sleep schedule: nonexistant. Im up all hours, and I get up somewhere near lunch to dinner. Thank you risperidal for keeping it straight as long as you did. Unfortunately I cant afford your prices or the weight gain any longer. I didn’t realize it had quite spiraled back to that until I was at Burger King at 4pm and the manager was like “How is your lunch/dinner?” and I answered with “breakfast.” Yep, its baaaack. On the other hand, Im getting to listen to alot of music on pandora and Ive read more books this month than last year combined. (1-2 per couple days.)

Mentally for a long time, with 3 exceptions as of late, I just stay in a “mixed” state. They’re hard to medicate. They’re hard to live with, but I’m pretty used to them by now. Considering its February, my normal month of ruin, I’m just sitting here waiting for SOMETHING to change. Either a depression so deep I can’t function, or a high that kicks my ass. For once I’d be happy with the mixed state. This weather isn’t helping at all, of course.

Once upon a time I handled writing correctly, a beginning middle and end. Here’s the end.

Just tired of being tired.

My body is alternating between actual tiredness and physcially being worn out, but awake. Id say I have mono (had it), Preg (cant be), thyroid (its fine currently), so I have no damn clue as to whats goin on. With it, I’m randomly crying/depressed, again all three to be suspected, and none of them actually being it. Ive had cotton mouth horrible for a few weeks, which is now causing me a hoarse cough. I got the flu vaccine against my better judgement, over 2 weeks ago, so I know I’m innoculated. (how bad did I kill that word, I dont even care…)

Tomorrow I wont have the car, but don’t have anywhere to go anyway. Debating calling my psychiatrist and putting off the appointment til next month, if hell call me in some elavil. If not, I’m gonna have to go.

I feel really secretive as of late but Im not so I don’t quite understand. My dreams are getting weird again and feeling all too real which is REALLY fucking with my day to day dealings. I feel wrong. How the fuck do you stop dreaming about shit?? Seriously!

Phobias and fears.

One time when I was a teenager I counted my fears and phobias. It wasn’t a pretty outcome. Over a hundred fears and almost a hundred phobias. Ten years later, I can say alot of the phobias turned into fears (a nice upgrade) and some fears went away. I can still confidently state that I have a ridiculous amount of both of them, and they are why I haven’t fully lived life.

I never understood people who went on shows like Dr. Phil to “face” their phobias. Fuck that. You wouldn’t get me in the same BUILDING as a fear, fuck the same room. Makes me wonder either how genuiune their phobias were, or makes me wonder if mine are off the charts.

First of all, I wouldn’t make it to the show to begin with. Not only do I have a fear of long travel, I’d have to drive myself, because I’m phobic of aircraft and airports. Assuming I got to the place, I would then have OCD kick in and make me tick every five or so steps. When I’m in an unfamiliar place or situation I have horrible OCD ticks. Just knowing a phobias of mine was in the BUILDING would give me pause to go inside and the second I heard it was “coming onto the stage” I’d be gone, never looking back.

But I guess thats why the use of “phobia” is so overused. People think that being scared of something is a phobia. No. Thats a fear. You are scared of something. A phobia is something completely different. Just ask someone that tries to throw me into a pool. I climbed away from them and left them bleeding while hyperventilating and crying.

It’s caused me ALOT of problems. I don’t partake in any kind of adventure. Too many things I’m scared of. The germaphobia from my OCD alone makes life miserable. I’m constantly monitoring the situation to see if anyone is sick, if I can touch certain objects, etc. I wasn’t a normal teenager by any stretch of the imagination. Never went to parties. Never smoked, drank, or did drugs. Did nothing really physical (first kiss at 14, sex at 18 or 19) with my boyfriends. Never went on spring break. When I found out my choir class was having to go to New York senior year as a requirement, I quit it.

Then on top of having so many fears and phobias, I have social and general anxiety disorders. I don’t like people. I don’t trust them. They cause disease and possible death. It’s kind of hard to get new friends in situations like that. Or keep them, either. It’s probably a good thing I’m an introvert, because I probably would have killed myself by now.

Never went on an actual honeymoon. Or vacations. Most kids went to disney. You couldn’t get me there kicking and screaming. I was offered a paid hawaiian cruise…no way in hell. That involves planes AND boats. Fuck that nonsense.

I’ve spent a lot of time basically living the life of a house plant. Every now and then I get watered and flourish, but I usually get knocked over by a cat and my leaves eaten.

Contagion

I don’t know about where you live, but where I am at, people my age and younger are dying of H1N1. You can be a carrier, contagious before you even get sick. People walk around wearing masks, and you don’t know whether or not they are the sick, or the trying to avoid being sick. I have thought about wearing a mask. But they are really only about 75% effective. I was even scare mongered into getting the flu vaccine, and if anyone knows me I’m in the “don’t vaccinate” pack. (I do believe in major vaccines, just not chicken pox, flu, etc.)

Everywhere I go I stand 6 ft away from a person. If they cough or sneeze I immediately go another way. I see if they covered their face in the process. I avoid touching anything I can, and if I have to touch something, I use hand sanitizer after. (Hand sanitizer is under debate with people about working. It is completely a second choice after hand washing only if it is 62% or more alcohol. Non alcohol sanitizer IS NOT EFFECTIVE. STOP USING IT.) Pens, door handles, elevator buttons, are nightmares. I walk around opening things with my sleeves over my hands. I am a compulsive nail biter, but not in this situation. Buffet type places are a no-no from October til March. I try not to leave my house for the most part during these six months.

Every time someone says they, or their kids, are/were sick on my facebook feed I have to immediately remember when I last talked to them in person or was near them in person. If they were in my presence, I know the next two days are up in the air. Usually I won’t eat much for two days, if I was in any way shape or form exposed to norovirus. If it was coughing and sneezing, usually I just take it easy and stay vigilant.

Literally as I write this, my husband just said he felt sick, which immediatly got a “What do you mean??” out of me. My life revolves around staying healthy. For the most part, I can manage to maintain that. But its hell trying.

Side effects to cutting.

I’ve been a cutter since I was 17 years old. At that time, I would cut no less than three times a day, every day. I carried a safety pin around and did it in public restrooms. You’d be surprised how much damage something so small can do.

As with any cutter, it progressed a few years back to knives. Steak knifes, with serated edges, because that’s always what I seemed to pick up. I have 2 scars from the last two incidents with them, and it’s the last episode that prompts me to write this.

I cut my arm, badly. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until several minutes and much blood later. It finally stopped and eventually, even though it was ugly to look at, started to attempt to heal.

A few weeks afterwards, I noticed my right breast was inflammed. I immediately went to the doctor, scared of Inflammatory Breast Disease. We discovered it was strangely a case of mastitis…strange because I haven’t ever had children, when it’s more common. Of course you can get it when you don’t have children, but it’s much more rare…and as an added “bonus” it puts you at an 11% chance of “regular” breast cancer for the next year. (Which I have been being routinely checked for since it happened, and I’m almost in the clear.) We chalked it up to me wearing too tight of sports bra. But I was treated for MRSA, in case. He looked at my arm (which still was ugly, and open, after that time.) and told me that when you cut yourself, bacteria can travel. It could have landed there, causing the irritation in my breast. Because I caught it mere HOURS into it turning red (OCD can save your life!) it never hurt, or got much worse. I was put on the antibiotics, and routinely saw the doctor in intervals to make sure nothing was amiss.

The point of the story that I never really knew, even 14 years later, is that when you cut, you can cause infection…in places other than where you cut. Every now and then I would get my cuts inflammed or even infected, but I never thought of it traveling somewhere else in the body. I haven’t cut since that day in the doctor. That seriously scared the living hell out of me.

That isn’t to say I’m cured or that I’ll never do it again. I’m sure I will. It’s ‘in my blood’ (for a horrible pun). But I know to take extra care and precautions in the clean up process. Hopefully I won’t ever do it again. Once I abstained for a few YEARS. But it came back. But for all you cutters out there, read this and keep this in the back of your mind, that something very serious can happen from cutting.

Being chained to a pill dispenser

This summer I decided for the first time in 17 years I was going to not take pills. At all. Not even an anti depressant–the only thing Ive been on non stop for 17 years. It took about 1.5-2 months before not only was I depressed, I was in a depression psychosis. Since that little set back, I got put back on pills…more than I was taking before, and I’ve taken them faithfully every single day for over three months. And they worked. They worked well. Then they didn’t work so great anymore.

I was irritated easily. I was depressed. I didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere. So, against my psychiatrists better judgement, (he only likes to “up” one pill at a time, for obvious reasons, but I know what I’m doing, I’ve done it 17 years) he ups my Zoloft (now I think I’m at max theraputic dose) and doubles my risperdal. He only wanted to do the risperdal, but I reminded him about this summer and how fast I sink. And this is going to be one hell of a winter, I can already tell. In the meantime, I gain 8 lbs in two months, so my family doctor decides to put me (back) on topamax (on a tiny dose, 25. I was on over 400 a day before, and didn’t lose any weight.)

They also three months ago made me get on birth control to help tame my overreacting hormones and my nonreacting menses. So at that point, I’m on BC, levoxyl for hypothyroid, elavil for fibromyalgia (which is ALSO an antidepressant), zoloft for depression, risperdal for psychosis, topamax for weight loss. I come back to the doctor, and managed (after changing my diet, not drinking any pop, drinking tons of water, and being on this topamax) to gain 4 more lbs. So off of topamax, and back on metformin for insulin resistance.

I’m sitting here watching the clock, its about 45 mins until I take my pills for the day. I haven’t missed one dose since I’ve been back on the pills. But now, with doubled risperdal, and my body getting used to the upped zoloft (which shouldn’t make me tired) and the metformin, I’m SO damn tired. I used to only take .25, I’m up to 2. Hardly a maxed dose, but the most I’ve been on ever, plus all the other meds, plus even though I’m on max zoloft, and also elavil, I still am depressed, and still don’t want to do anything. At this point I’m beginning to wonder if I have ANY serotonin in my body AT ALL. I’ve been maxed out on zoloft and luvox both, until it wrecked my liver (or kidneys, I cant remember which organ luvox effects.)

I can’t really complain, I used to take 15 a day. Everytime something was off, they just would double everything I was on and hope it worked. All that happened was me being doped to the gills not having a damn clue about anything, nor can I remember 2000-2004. I have a vague rememberance of part of 2003. But regardless, I’ve been on a lot of pills since I was 17. I hate relying on them to be “normal”. Without them, I’d most likely end up staying in a mental facility. I feel really bad for people who take more than I do just to stay alive. I wonder how they feel. Are they grateful for the pills, or are they mad at them for being their lifesource?

I’m not real sure what the point of this post was when I started writing it. Probably to bitch and moan about having to be chained to a pill bottle to function. There’s alot of other things I’d like to write about, but until I can really sort my feelings out about the topics, I can’t really write about them. Holiday season sucks. Especially for mentally ill people. Especially for me.

I’m SO OCD! No, you’re not. You’re an asshole.

OCD.

The misuse/overuse of this word drives me absolutely up the wall. “I’m SO OCD over my floors being clean!” “Oh, I KNOW, I’m SO OCD over that!” “Oh, you have OCD? I know how that is, I can’t STAND things out of place!”

OCD is not a verb. OCD is not just a cleaning illness. Its not just a counting illness. Its not just a hoarding illness. Its alot more than that. Alot darker. Trust me. You’re not “OCD” over anything. Let me explain to you a few branches of it.

  • OCD at its best is driving halfway back across town because you swear you left the oven on and your house is going to burn down, and being late for your mandatory office meeting.
  • At its quirkiest its chewing your food exactly 28 times, even when its something that requires about 4 chews.
  • Time consuming when you have to go through the same routine every day before leaving: OK! Lights, wallet, phone, keys, lock the door. Check for wallet, check for phone, check for keys, check door. Get to car. Go back check the door. Go back inside, check for the lights. Lock the door. Go back to car, panic, go back to door, check door. Panic more, check for keys, because you’re sure they’re in the house. Go back to car. Did I leave the wallet when I went inside? Where’d my phone go? Are the keys in the door still? Is the coffee pot on? I left the door to the car open when I went in the house, did someone get in the car? Is everything in the car still? Did I forget to shut the kitchen window?
  • Having to buy everything in pairs. Even things you don’t need in pairs. Which takes up room, and uses up money you may need for something else.
  • Of course, the one everyone knows: Hoarding. Those crazy OCD people and their hoarding!

Now let me branch out to a few of them you may or may not have heard about.

  • Contamination. I’m sure you could store this under “cleaning” but let me just go a little in depth here. I have a bottle of hand sanitizer in every room. In my purse. If I leave the house without it, or run out, I buy one while I am gone. I use it over 100 times a day. I use it whenever I touch ANYTHING. I will not use cloth napkins. I will not use a normal napkin more than once. I will not touch anyone ELSES napkin. (Or towel, or washcloth.) I don’t eat at buffet style restaurants in “sick” season (Oct-Apr). I try not to leave my house but for emergencies from Nov-Mar. If you are sick, you are not allowed near me. If you have been sick, or AROUND someone who has been sick, in the past week, you are not allowed around me. If you start to FEEL sick around me, you need to leave. I will then starve myself for two days to make sure that I am not sick. I will not eat any kind of meat unless it is completely charred. If there is any kind of pink to it, I will not touch it, let alone eat it. I will not eat any left overs past three days. Two, if it’s meat. I will not eat restaurant food left overs after a day. If I shower, I will not go near anything dirty the rest of the day. During christmas shopping season, I see visually every sneeze and cough that comes by me. I don’t touch anything I don’t need to. I stay away from people as much as possible.
  • The “feel” of dirt on me has caused me to shave my head repeatedly. I can’t stand the feel of dirty hair. And if I wash it multiple times a day and it still feels dirty? It’s got to go. I will also literally get very very grouchy if I feel dirty. The only thing that makes it better is a very extensive shower.
  • Intrusive thoughts. This one just kills me. Ever constantly feel like youre going to turn on a light and a demon will be there? Or that you’re SUPPOSED to jump out of the car at 80 mph and it takes everything in you not to do it? That someone else is in your body besides you, and you can’t figure out how to get them out. You’re pretty sure you die a few times a day, and that now, you’re just living in the next dimension, continuing on. Stopping at a stop light is especially traumatic. The people next to you are going to either hi jack you, or shoot you. They also may be dead. I think about being shot alot while Im driving. It makes me not stay at red lights. I will turn to get away from them, go out of my way, many miles, and pissing off my husband considerably. What if someone doesnt stop and rams into me at 50 and kills me? Or they shoot me? I’m a sitting duck at red lights. And stop signs. And TRAINS. I stop and create a bubble so far around me at a train, so I can have a possible escape route incase anything may happen. Sometimes, when you’re sitting next to a window, and it takes everything in you NOT to try to put your head through the glass. Its also really hard when your mom lives on the fourth floor, and all you want to do is jump off the balcony when you’re there. Not because you’re suicidal. Just because it’s there.
  • Symmetry and ticks, and avoidance. Have you ever saw the youtube video of the poetry slam of the man with OCD? And he ticks? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnKZ4pdSU-s  I have tried for 20 years to explain what those ticks feel like and why you have to do them.  It feels like a strange energy is there and you have to acknowledge it X amount of times until it disappears. Its not just head turning, either. Its also, feet going back to touch, arms swinging backwards to touch, you name it. And if I’m in an unfamiliar place? Forget it. I look like I’m having random seizures. Head ticks, foot ticks, arm ticks. My husband is used to them. If theyre real bad, I have to go back and walk the same path a few times. Overhead lights, I really hate them. I look like I’m headbanging or something in stores. I also apparently stare at them and don’t notice, but that may be a whole other thing entirely.
  • Food and eating. Food is a major obstacle. We will put aside the fact I am a recovering anorexic who is now a binge eater, and concentrate merely on the food itself. I can’t eat ALOT of food due to texture. Due to color combination. (A yellow tomato? What?) Cooking practice. Who has handled it before me. Who has had access to it before me. Family get togethers almost never happen for me if there is food unless I can see the food nonstop and see how its been touched before I get there. I will avoid food that has been touched. The texture of food really limits what I can eat. I am 31 and JUST NOW started to cook. I have to wear gloves when I cook and cross contamination of ANY kind about puts me into a bad panic attack. I ate mostly boxed and frozen food that required little to no preperation because I was not ready to deal with touching food. I am terrified of food poisioning. Or of someone poisioning my food.

Mind you, this article is hardly complete. This is just a sampling of my day. I’m sure I’m forgetting many things. But please, the next time you tell me how “OMG OCD” you are about something… kindly remember this and realize that you sound like a giant douchebag to those who ACTUALLY suffer a real DISEASE. OCD is not some stupid thing that happens. I have lost MANY jobs over it. I can’t touch almost anything that someone else has touched. Do you realize how hard that is to work ANYWHERE? I’ve been on disability for a myriad of psychiatric conditions over half my life. OCD rules my life, everyday, in every way.

I think it’s time for me to address this

I had actually thought about writing about this topic a week or two ago, but ended up writing about other things instead. But today someone brought up the topic again, so I’ll write about it now.

The topic? Guys who chase skinny girls and why fat girls have issues.

Know going into this, that I have been on both sides. I was anorexic, at my lowest being 76. At my highest, around 190. Ive been to both extremes. So I got a pretty good idea of what goes through alot of minds.

When I was skinny, I had no self confidence. I thought I was fat. (As do all other anorexics.) Though I was in steady relationships, I could have dated people, pretty sure I wouldn’t have had a hard time finding someone. I was never single long. I got with my husband when I was about 80 pounds. Hes been with me on my weight adventure. From 76 to 120 to 160 to 125 to 170 to 140 to 190 to 150 and back to 190. (You dont wanna know how frustrating it is buying clothes when you have that big of a jump and youre only 5 ft tall. 10 pounds is a size or two!) I will say that through all of those, I will always have more confidence and feel better about myself as a person when Im…

fat.

There is too much pressure to be skinny. You always want to be skinnier than her, than her, definetely than her. Then someones smaller than you, and you’re a failure. When you’re fat, fuck it. You’re bigger than some, you’re fatter than others.

My problem is men.

I’ve always been real lucky and dated guys who were human. Not macho douchebags who wanted a trophy on their arm. Not all women are that lucky. I heard a guy on the radio the other day that said if she was 121, she was out the door: he worked for her, she should work to be good looking for him. And the guy was no prize. But this is acceptable behavior for some reason.

My husband likes me bigger. He has admitted (hold on to the handle, let me explain) that it’s easier being with a bigger girl because most have self esteem issues, that most don’t know how pretty they are, so they’re less likely to cheat. A broad generalization to be sure, but still somewhat accurate. Self doubt will keep you in relationships, even horrible ones you shouldn’t be in, just to feel loved.  Do skinny girls have these issues? Sure. But society leans towards “fat should take what they get and stay there” and skinny “can have anyone, anytime”. Its sad, but true.

Today I had to listen to a guy go on about how he’d rather be with a skinny ugly girl than a pretty bigger girl because HELLO hadn’t I ever heard of exercise and portion control? And its a ‘proven fact’ they smell. Yes, I seriously heard all that today.

Not every fat person is lazy. They didn’t all get there because they eat too much, or don’t excersize. As much as people don’t believe it, shit happens. I got fat because my lithium went off, destroyed my thyroid, and I gained 100 lbs in under six months. Which then gave me type 2 diabetes, which I then gained more. It happens. We’re not all lazy. I managed to lose it. And gain it back. And lose it again. And gain it again. Rinse, repeat. After awhile you just get tired of yo-yoing your life away.  Who was I REALLY losing that weight for?

Why are skinny people so coveted? And its not even NORMAL skinny any more. Its usually NASTY skinny. UNHEALTHY skinny. Its just as dangerous and unhealthy to be 76 lbs as it is 190 at 5’1, but lemme tell ya…that’s not how people treat you. I got appreciative stares at one weight, and sure didn’t at another. I’ll let you do the math as to what went where.

As a person, I didn’t change. Just my body did. But suddenly I was worth less as a person. (Unless you donate me to science, do they pay per pound?) Suddenly that girl is better than me because shes skinnier than me? Why?

This isn’t some rejected fat girl coveting what the skinnies get. I’m a fat girl whose seen both sides, and am in a happy relationship. But I see it daily, and it just disgusts me. Great women looked over and discarded because they’re not models. Pretty, skinny women put on pedestals that take what they can, cheat, lie, and still get more men. Why? Why aren’t people judged for their hearts? I wish peoples outsides mimicked their insides. That way horrible wretched skinny girls got the real attention they deserve. And people with hearts of gold were loved for who they are.

My doctor told me he wanted me to get skinnier. He wanted me 135. I laughed in his face. I told him no way. I didn’t want to be that little ever again. That it was dangerous for me–a recovering anorexic, that I would continue to plummet. He said “Good!” … What? I was worth more anorexic?

Because I am a recovering anorexic, I have to be very careful with my weight. I lost 40 lbs last year, got to MY goal: 150. But there was that itch. (Come on, 145. 145! Let’s see 140! Thats real close to that 135 he wanted! I bet 130 would be better!) I’m sorry but that is NOT the life I want again. If that makes me less of a person, so be it.

I just wish people would judge people on their actions, and not on stupid menial things like looks and weight.

 

 

July was a very, very bad month.

I was just reading backwards on this site, and July–I wonder how I lived through it. I want to put on the record what has happened between that mindset, and now.

Soon after the tirading posts about being worthless and a burden, I started “seeing” things. They weren’t “there” but I knew they were there. I saw them in my mind. My house was being overrun by these weird demon people. I spent nights up with insence trying to rid my house of these problems. I went to my psychiatrist, at this point, I had not been on ANY medication for almost 2 months. Since I have been diagnosed I have never, ever, not been on AT LEAST an antidepressant. The past 14 years, I have ALWAYS been medicated.

At the point, I literally stopped taking EVERYTHING for two months. When my mom or husband asked me if I took my medicine, I just kinda mumbled and nodded or changed the subject. I didn’t want to lie and say I took it, so when I was pressed, I would just say “I’ve missed a few doses, I’m going to be more careful”, and it would be dropped after more conversation.  I was tired of relying on pills to make me “normal”. Its degrading and I was so sick of it.

I went into a depression psychosis. I went into my doctor, and had an absolute melt down in the office. I was told I was going to have to have an in home visiting nurse to monitor me. I was going to have to go back on anti psychotics, and possible other pills that we would add gradually. I had never had a depressive episode in summer. Summer was the time for mania. For spending and speeding, and whatever else I could get my hands into. Maybe it was our lack of funds, my inability to spend or speed, that did it. There was alot of stress, building stress from a few years ago. It was coming to a head and I couldn’t deal anymore.

My hormones at that point were a complete disaster. I was tested (again, the first time at 23!) to see if I was going through menopause. I was not. I was put on pills to fix the issue, between hormone issues, and psychiatric issues, and stress issues, they really wanted me medicated. And I had not been any kind of medicated for 2 months.

Getting back in the swing of taking pills was easier, only due to the birth control that you have to take or it fucks up. That honestly (due to my fear of puking) is the only reason I have managed to take my pills, every day, since I was put back on them. (Last time I was on birth control, I missed one, in 2002, and doubled up, and spent the next day puking my guts out.) The demons are gone, (though every now and then I think they might check up on me) stress is somewhat lifted. I still feel like I’m being watched and there are people around me I can’t see, but I’ve always felt that way. Me and my husband chose to take care of some things in life that were really bothering us. Maybe one day I’ll talk about it. Today is not that day. Stress has gone down alot. We are getting along alot better. Life is looking up.

For a month, I had to go to my moms on Mondays, to avoid him on his day to go back to work. We would get in horrible arguments where he would (for the third/fourth time) mention divorce, during these days. I couldn’t handle the stress and pain this was causing so I would sleep at my moms on Mondays for about 4-6 weeks. With one tiny minor slip up, I have been able to return home on Mondays. We get along so much better its almost scary. We don’t fight alot any more. We’re even  more honest than we were before. I’m not as folded into myself. For a long time, I just wanted to be left alone. In every way possible. My depression had just bottomed out. I have never went into psychosis from depression. That was a huge wake up call to me. I knew I needed medication. I have stayed on it, and feel better. I just worry for the day my brain rationalizes that “Im better” and I dont need it anymore. God help me when that happens.

I Wanna Be Sedated

Its been about 18 hours. In case anyone was wondering, Im still in one piece. Some things were taken care of today so that was some stress off my plate. Got my 2 back broken tires replaced. (Well, one new one, one fixed one.) Got some groceries. My living rooms completely finished. Had some talks about the things bothering me. Took a nap. Im alot calmer now, finally.

Supposedly we were having a few people show up to help between tomorrow and Monday but well see how many show up. Im still beyond annoyed, and trust me, there are some things I’d love to go into, but I’m not. Due to low runs for the week after shut down we didnt even make 600 bucks this week, while bills are way more than that. Just like last week, where we made 500 for shut down while bills were almost 700. After we somehow catch up on this mess, things MIGHT start to ALMOST get better. Right now I just really want to sell this van thats just sitting here. We were going to keep it in case I got a job but I wont be getting a job so its just taking up the other driveway space and making it hard for me to see to back out. Plus I could take whatever I get from the sale and catch up for these two weeks. But Im not holding my breath–we attempted to sell it before and to no avail. Which ended up being a kinda good thing only because we used it in the move. But now, here it sits.

Due to the heat, no money, a blown out tire and a leaking tire, Ive been sitting at home and not leaving–at all. And its not even been that bad. Sure, I’d like to go out and do some photography or go somewhere or just go on a damn drive. But then its like, but do I REALLY wanna leave? Leaving is just so much work. Everything is too much work lately. Fuck, half the time getting out of bed its a toss up until I realize Im going to eat the cat sitting on me if I dont get up and get food at some point.

I cant remember having summer depression. Its always in winter. Its weird, but in a way, its almost safer. Mania comes with summer and with mania comes speeding tickets, and maxed charge cards, and weird stupid purchases no one understands, even me. This way with no energy, at least Im not being reckless in every way imaginable. Its odd, because Im so used to that mixed state, that not being in one is just odd. I “function” at mixed. Ive been fluctuating between mixed, mania, and depression for 14 years. Thats the whole reason why I am not a “functioning” bipolar. You can medically treat mania. Depression. Mixed states, not so much. Either your brain goes three hundred miles (mania) and your body refuses to move (depression), or your mind just shuts down (depression) and your body refuses to sleep, refuses to stop moving (mania). Usually I hover in the first kind of mixed. My brain never stops while I have no energy. Which then is weird because then you dont sleep, even though you have no energy. Your brain dont shut the hell up long enough to attempt to get sleep. Now, there is no mania in sight. Not even a slight hypomania. Body aint having it. Brain aint having it. Both just are “fuck it, we quit”. The only up I get is when my OCD starts to freak, and I get anxiety from that, which then I have some energy, just bad, misplaced energy.

I know part of its my fault. I know it. The sane part of me knows why I am this way, the unsane part doesnt give a fuck because its tired of drug dependancy. For 14 years, through all 30+ psychiatric medications, I have ALWAYS maintained at LEAST an anti depressant. I always have ran depressive/manic depressive. Through all the anti psychotics, anti seizure, anti manic, mood stablizer, buffers, anti anxiety, there has always at least been that ONE pill. Even when I went from 15 pills a day–still had that one. (along with my thyroid pill or any other pill I was on at the time.) But I just….get so tired of relying on pills to function. Of everytime Im in a bad mood or have a bad day someone quips “Did you take your pills today?” Because once you have that label, youre not longer a real human. Youre a diagnosis with a face. Take your pills, like a good girl! You’ll feel better! No. I’ll feel LESS like wanting to jump in front of a bus, Im less likely to punch you in your face, but no, I don’t “feel better.” I feel…not as shitty. Yay. Kill my body and my organs in side effects so I can feel “not as shitty”. I think its because between the lithium toxicity that destroyed my thyroid which then lead to cholestorol, diabetes, and PCOS, and then the sulfa drug allergy that caused a hospital stay for 4 days while they saw if I was going to bleed out due to platelets plummeting, I just am really damn weary of drugs. Yeah Ive been on these ones forever. So? Theyre just still slowly damaging everything.

Anyway, Ive noticed that I start on a topic which then jumps to another, to another to another, so Im just going to wrap this one up.