Sunday, May 13, 2012


I am having a difficult evening.  Cognitive issues make it hard to type, think, speak - and my memory is very poor.  It took me 4 minutes to type these sentences correctly.  It took another 10 minutes to think of how to type this sentence.

I can't handle noise - it made me tap my face and shake in place - worse this evening.  I napped for 4 hours this morning - better after that but any sort of activity turns my brain off.  One thing at a time.  Any more than that and I get overwhelmed.

Every word that I type takes every bit of my brain to get it right.  So scared.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

System of a Down















Listen, life - I'd rather have the lemonade

I have written a blog post at least once a day for the last 17 days, until yesterday.  When I got home from work I decided that a professional pedicure would be lovely - I've never had one!  It was not as pleasant an experience as I'd hoped or expected, for a couple of reasons. 

First, the people working there speak in their native language and do so in the form of screams and rapid arm gestures.  I noticed several people were actually scared by this behavior and I was among those similarly affected.  They would scream at you and jam a pointed finger to where you should be, and then yell if you didn't get there fast enough.  The pedicure itself was nice, but halfway through the process, I received a call from home.

"Get the fuck home - Daddy just fell off the ladder in the foyer," and then the line went dead.  I sat there, crying, shaking, furiously punching numbers on my phone and no one answered.  I raced home to find that my husband was bruised, bloody, gashed and in need of transport to the hospital. 

Off we went.

The hospital staff did an excellent job of taking care of my husband and he was very lucky.  Another man was transported to the hospital following a fall last night, but he was not so lucky.  His back was broken and he will never walk again. 

As far as how I handled the incident with regard to my mental illnesses; I think I did VERY well.  Of course I was initially shocked, but who wouldn't be?  I felt the panic but did not lose my mind.  My chest hurt but I did not start tapping myself on the head.  I did not engage in self harm. 

Life is such a wild ride.  We do the best we can and ask for help when necessary.  Now, about that glass of lemonade...

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Sometimes you just have to take a bipolar shit

Jesus H. Fucking Christ on a cracker - I went absolutely manic apeshit on the world after work.  I was sick all day - vomiting, exhausted, and still managed to work my ass off.  I held it together and LOST it when I left the building, which is when you are allowed to lose it, you know? 

Here is what happened:

"I am on the mother of all rampages this evening. Beware. Since 5:00 I have SCREAMED obscenities at:

1. Three random fucktards at the grocery store.

2. The person who parked next to me at said grocery store.

3. The delivery truck in front of me on my way home from said grocery store.

4. The road.

5. The red light (bitch did that shit on PURPOSE).

6. The garage door. Slow. Too slow. Hurry the hell... UP.

7. The trunk.

8. The car for having such a stupid fucking trunk. I should have a button for opening the damn trunk. Using a key is annoying.

9. The mail.

10.The U.S. Postal service for sending me said mail.

11.My kid, for not doing a damn thing in this house, but going out and having fun on a "sick day".

12.The dumbass visitor in my house who just used the words "queer" "lesbian" and "island". I had to go upstairs to "rest". That is code for "I am going to kill you, with pain, if I stay here."

13.The neighbor, who drives way too fast up my street. A young twit. I'll probably kick his ass.

14. The wall, board against the wall (construction is bad for people like me), stairs, bed.

Even the dog is afraid. I have sent myself to bed without supper. Again.

Actually, I just swallowed my risperidone, Lithium, sertraline, and a valium for good measure, because I was going to kill the subject of #12, and I am too much of a princess to handle prison.

Sleep well and FLY, MY PRETTIES!   

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

When one door closes . . .


“When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.” - Alexander Graham Bell

After the horrific experience at work earlier this week, I was completely drained - had nothing left to give.;postID=478760626101715239

It was as though someone pulled the pin on a grenade and threw it into the middle of my nightmare.  I did end up going to my appointments the next morning and learned that my illness had progressed to such a serious level - extreme was the word written on my chart - that my doctor told me that she was immediately admitting me to the hospital.  I refused.  She asked to speak to my husband and actually took my cell phone.  In the end, I assured my doctor that if I wanted to kill myself, I would not be in her office - - I would be dead.  She agreed, but insisted on daily telephone check-ins until Friday, when she fully expects me to enter the hospital for extended inpatient treatment.

I left the office with sincere promises that I would not crash my car or swallow pills and went to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription for Lithium.  After that, I arrived at work to an angry boss and a tossed desk.  Typical. 

I confided in a coworker and eventually made the decision to leave the firm.  Unfortunately, leaving the firm - quitting (such a harsh word for a perfectionist) - means that I would have no income.  I decided to meet with the personnel director to ask them to "let me go" so that I could collect unemployment.  After two meetings totalling 4 hours and many, many tears, they granted my request.  My last day at the office is Friday 5/18.  I have some training/transition work to do, but my days as a slave driver for satan are over.  That door will close.

Today was an interesting day.  The word was out and people were crying and in shock about my resignation.  While it feels nice to be wanted, the finish line is in sight and I am hyper-focused on crossing that line. 

I have moments of panic, extreme happiness, and great emotion; all of those a result of my illness, not necessarily due to the fact that I am leaving a place where I spent 11 years of my life...

Yeah - I don't believe it either.

I increased my risperidone dosage along with adding the Lithium to my meds.  I am also slowly decreasing, and eventually stopping, my sertraline, which was actually making me psychotic.  I am much more relaxed and the mania has decreased.  However, I am suffering from fairly severe migraine headaches and will discuss this with my doctor next week.

We have new doors opening every day, to include relocation and a potential business purchase.  Most people would let fear keep them from these new opportunities, especially during times of great stress, but I will walk through these other doors with my feet on the ground, my brain engaged, and my expectations flying high.   

Monday, May 7, 2012

Dear Fucktard: That was the last time you will ever hurt me.

My boss humiliated me today.  He made me cry for hours and never once looked the least bit troubled by my tears.

He knows that I am having "health" issues, and that is all he needs to know.  That is my right.  He doesn't give a shit about me anyway so why does he deserve an open door to my most personal affairs?  You are not allowed to ignore my life for 11 years and then demand to know everything about it without notice.  At least take me to lunch, or act like you even know I exist.  So no.  No.  You are not allowed to barge in like that. 

I have two very important appointments tomorrow morning.  All of my prior appointments, save one, have been before work hours so I never used any of my earned time.  I could use that time but I am a loyal employee.  A loyal employee for satan in hell. 

My boss - in front of everyone - said the following (while I openly cried and I never do that):

"You weren't here Friday afternoon." 

Neither was he - he was getting his drunk on at his country club from 9:00 a.m. on.  I stayed to finish all of my work and then had an EKG at the hospital that afternoon and felt sick after, for obvious reasons

"Did you hear me?  You were not here Friday afternoon."  I nodded through tears.

"I just gave you a typing project, time slips, 4 files, requests for 2 purchase and sale agreements, signed your evictions, a request for a new complaint for declaratory judgment, and several other things, and now you're telling me that you have two medical appointments tomorrow morning?  You have to cancel those.  This is unacceptable.  You have to give me notice."

I said that I was on a cancellation list and did tell the personnel director and bookkeeper - he just happened to be out at the country club when I sent that message around.  I also reminded him that one of the appointments was prior to working hours.

"I don't care.  This work has to be done.  You have to spend time in that chair."

I never leave that fucking chair.  I am not allowed to take breaks - only lunch (sometimes).  He will knock on the bathroom door to ask me questions before I even get my fucking pants down.  Before you ask -yes- that is allowed in my State.  It is legal to be a douchefuck here.

"Right now - hands on that keyboard - do it - I want you to email [the personnel director] and tell him what is going on with you and explain how you are going to deal with these appointments.  Then you have to stay late and get this work done.  This is unacceptable.  I'm leaving early - get this done."

I am openly crying now.  I spent today working my ass off.  Oh and 'hey Fucktard - did you know that I tried to kill myself last night?  And I'm still here kicking ass with the work?  And you say these things to me in front of the entire building?' 

This marks the end.  I did indeed send the personnel director that email - stating that I had "medical issues" that I did not have to disclose, and those required medical appointments.  I also said that I arranged for my work to be completed.  I also said that I would be drafting my resignation.

That's right - I am fucking done.  No more SATAN.  No more humiliation.  No more abuse.  No more sabotage.  No more blaming me for his mistakes.  No more covering for that sorry excuse for a piece of lazy shit. 

That was the last time you will ever hurt me, asshole.  The last time. 

I am home.  I will discuss these incidents with my doctors in the morning.  I will fill my prescriptions.  I will then decide if I feel like going to work at all.  I've spent 11 years sitting in a chair and working my ass off for a man who finds me repulsive.  He would prefer a thin and beautiful assistant (his words) - one that likes golf.  I am fat and slovenly (his words).  I am useless.  Stupid.  Worthless.  Slow. 

All lies.  I am none of those things.  He is a bully and bullies like to crush people to make themselves feel better.  I am removing his little play thing and granting her a well-deserved rest.

As I left the building - tears streaming down my face - I took a deep breath, for the first time in months.  It hurt, but it will hurt less and less as time goes on because at least I will be able to breathe freely. 

Fuck you, asshole.  I hope one day you are sick and people treat you the same exact way, you prick.


Last night was bad - very bad.  I had all of my pills in my hand and was ready to swallow them and die.  Of course I googled to make sure that what I had would actually kill me, and there just wasn't enough.  The realization that I would continue to feel pain sent my brain screaming inside of my head and everything peaked at a very loud and singular shrill yell, and then all was quiet.

I suffered through several hours of pure, white-hot pain.  The only thing that got me through was rolling Dante's circles of hell around in my mind - trying to decide where I would fit in if I joined the party.  Always joking, even when I am about to end trans.

I went to bed, thoroughly exhausted, at 1:00 this morning.

I have to get out of this chair, shower, make myself presentable, and go to work.  Now.  If I wait another 5 minutes I will be late.

I am choking the shit out of my life in an effort to keep my job.  This does not help me move forward in my care.  In fact, it makes things much worse.

There are no answers right now.  I am too ill to plan the moves required to protect myself if I lose my job or have to quit.  If I had a clear mind, I would formulate the best course of action.  I am unable to do that at this time.

I need rest.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

I've been waiting

What an uneventful, quiet, relaxing day.  No major issues of any kind.  Of course the day is not over, but I am confident that the trend will continue until I retire for the evening.

With regard to anxiety and panic attacks, it is important to note that not only do these issues come about in certain situations, but certain people can trigger these events as well.  I did have to take a small bit of Valium today - just to head off some anxiety while a loud and boisterous person joined me this afternoon.  I have found that heading off a big issue by hitting it while it's still manageable is a wonderful strategy to keep things on an even keel.

Going back to this morning; I woke up groggy, which is normal.  When I opened my eyes, my dog (she is such a sweetheart) was sitting next to my bed with my slippers.  I am fairly certain that she put the slippers there while I was sleeping.  I am almost positive that I left them in the bathroom.  I patted her head, sat up, and put on my slippers while she waited.  Then she gave me her paw and smiled.  There are no words to describe how much I love my dog.  She brings pure joy to my life.  I am not always able to accept her gifts, but she is always there to give them. 

This was an "at home" day.  The dog napped out in the bright sunshine.  I spent time with my son, talked to my parents on the telephone, and surfed the internet.  I've been waiting for a day like this.  Tomorrow will take care of itself.  Right now I'll just enjoy the fact that everything is fine.

Update at 8:25 p.m.  I feel my mood slipping.  Nagging/negative thoughts are creeping in.  Work tomorrow - that place is not good for me.  I should leave.  Is any place good for me?  If I leave I will be a failure.  When we move we will lose our health insurance and we NEED our health insurance.  What if we do not find jobs?  What if I am unable to work?  What if we do not purchase a business?  Will we be able to afford private health insurance?  If I do not have my medications I WILL die.  There is no doubt about that.  I will die by my own hand. 

Fear and its buddies anxiety, panic, and depression are standing by.  I will probably hurt myself this evening in an effort to feel better ... to feel something ... and I do not want to.  I do not.  Causing new pain makes the old pain disappear, but pain is pain.  When will the pain go away?

Update at 9:51 p.m.  I AM SO FUCKING ANGRY.  ANGRY!!!!  I WANT TO SCREAM AND KICK AND THROW MY COMPUTER ACROSS THE ROOM AND BREAK EVERYTHING OF VALUE IN THIS HOUSE.  I WANT TO CRASH MY CAR AND TIP THINGS OVER AND KICK EVERY DOOR IN.  I do not have an outlet for this right now.  I am alone.  I am alone a lot.  I am fucking pissed off.  Outwardly I am just tapping and shaking.  Why are people leaving me alone?!?   EVERYTHING IS MESSED UP.  NOTHING IS RIGHT.  I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY.  SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE.  My chest hurts.  I just smashed my hands down on my legs and that did nothing to stop the anger.  This stupid fucking brain in my head is a piece of shit.  It is not mine.  I do not want it.

Update at 12:28 a.m.  Calming down now - feeling tired.  I have to work in a few hours and pray that sleep comes quickly.  Ha - I said "pray" - how odd.  Wouldn't it be wonderful to believe in a God?  Some sort of preternatural being?  I envy those who "give their woes" up to "God".  Damned sheeple.  My fucked up brain simply does not subscribe to such foolish notions, but I envy your simple existences.    

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Going down?

Another day of rapid cycling. The morning was wonderful - I woke, took the dog for a ride, brought breakfast home for my son (and the dog), and went shopping.

Shopping was fine, for the most part. I chose new flooring and paint colors for the house, and decided on a few other home improvement matters. I smiled at people, wished them good morning, walked with a spring in my step - it was very enjoyable...for a while. Honestly, I was probably trying too damn hard. I know that I do that. I know it annoys people. It is a chore to deal with my mania.

We're slipping now. The crowds of rude and stupid people make me very angry. It is not uncommon for me to let loose a crazy mix of cussing, obscene gestures, aggressive stances, angry faces - all of which make most people back off and walk away. Some challenge me and that is most unwise on their part. I will tear your face off. Nothing like that happened today - at least nothing physical, anyway.

I was so happy this morning. Perhaps not really, but it was pleasant. Then I spent time with the gen pop on a busy Saturday and it all went to shit. Even worse, I decided that I should strip down and weigh myself because I was feeling rather thin. Big mistake. Naked, no food, dehydrated, and certain I would see a wonderful number on the scale, only to see the biggest number in my life.

What. The. Fuck.

Trap door opens, I fall to the depths of despair. I had my first bite of food of the day at 2:30 this afternoon, after the weigh in. It was a hard-boiled egg. One bite and I vomited immediately. Then I ate the rest of that egg and had another - then some cottage cheese. We had to go back out and I wanted to make a low-carb dinner - a pasta-free lasagna made with lean ground chicken, cheeses and spinach. We've had it before and it's good. I bought everything to make this for dinner, and then the negative self talk bubbled to the surface ...

"You're fatter than you've ever been, you fat fucking loser. Your face looks bigger than that super moon in the sky. Your head is gigantic - way to go pulling that hair back - you look like a lazy, fat-headed piece of shit. Your stomach is gross and fat. Your face is under so much fat that all you see is a blob of ... who cares ... it's ugly. Just fucking die. Why are you here? Why do you even bother brushing your hair? Why did you even bother getting your hair cut? Who cares about your hair? That $30 could have been used for something that someone else needed, you selfish bitch. Eat the popcorn - all of it. NO - do NOT hide that licorice. Ha - weakling - just because you hid the licorice doesn't mean that you won't eat all of it later, and you will. Eat the leftover mashed potatoes and gravy ... that's it - tastes good, right?  Go ahead and cry.  What a weak little bitch. You can't keep your fat face shut long enough to lose a pound. Your husband is an idiot to stay with you. Look at yourself. Don't you kiss him back, you repulsive blob, don't you do it you repulsive pig."

Here I sit - so tired - tearing at my skin because I should be as ugly as I feel. There is a knot in my chest and I feel ... nothing. I feel absolutely nothing at all.

I keep waking up and taking the brave steps necessary to find a solution to these difficult moments, but it is such hard work. How long will it take? Will I be happy tomorrow? Will I make it until Tuesday when the Lithium therapy finally begins? Will I live the three weeks until the Lithium starts to work? What if it doesn't work? Will I have the strength to wait for another medicine to work?

I would not ask these questions if I really wanted to die, but if I did cease to exist, people would move on, without the trouble that is ME.

Medicine and bed. Now. Everything is always better in the light of day.

Friday, May 4, 2012

Revealing the Beast

As I mentioned yesterday, I completed most of my pre-Lithium testing, save the EKG.  I promised to get to the hospital today, and I did.  The cardiographic technician, who looked an awful lot like me, was wonderful.  She did not keep me waiting, which was good because - as we know from my first post ( - I have an issue with waiting in a crowded, noisy room.

As I entered the testing room it occurred to me that I would have to remove my clothes.  Panic filled my chest.  The skin all over my body immediately started to crawl with heat and pain.

I have to remove my clothes.  This lovely lady will see my self-injury.  I am ugly.  I am hideous.  These injuries are visual representations of the intense pain in my mind and they are not meant to be seen by others.  We hide these feelings.  I have to run.  I have to leave.  I have to get out of this room. 

I must leave this room!

Instead I took a moment, removed my jacket, sat on the exam table, took a deep breath and spoke - softly at first ... searching for the right words and pleading with my larynx to grant me the sound to create them.

"I am sorry.  You may or may not already know this, but I am here for pre-Lithium testing.  I was recently diagnosed with various disorders and one of them involves self-harm.  I have injuries on my stomach ... and other areas, and apologize for what you are about to see.  It is a great embarrassment to me and it would be easier to leave this room now, but I need to do this to move forward in my care.  I will need your help."

The technician made me feel at ease.  She asked me to trust her and not to be afraid.  At her request, I removed my shirt and .... this is very hard for me ... I removed my shirt and allowed her to place the leads on my body.  She was quick and did not remain in any one area for long.  The test was over in just a few moments and revealed a normal sinus rhythm.  I am cleared to begin Lithium on Tuesday.

Every small step I take on this road to a stable life is a victory over decades of anguish and pain.  I have met compassionate people along the way and appreciate their kindness and understanding as I struggle to heal my physical and emotional wounds.

Thursday, May 3, 2012


Before I begin I think it is important to note that these posts are very difficult for me to write.  I force myself to power through because it is important that I document these days as I search for balance in my life. 

The posts are difficult in that I am forced to read and re-read them over and over again.  When I read, I click my teeth once for each word on the page.  If I lose my place or train of thought, I have to start over from the beginning.  I usually write these posts in a very short period of time, all at once, and then read them over and over again, clicking my teeth or tapping my face, and then hit send -- never changing a thing from the original post. 

This is just one part of the whole messed up picture.  Still - I work, love, live, do.  I persevere.       

I love my therapist.  She is intelligent, funny, respected among her peers, and has been doing this work for over 30 years.  She knows her stuff and it shows.  I feel safe in her presence.  She focuses on results and that is something I appreciate.

I did most of the talking today (don't I always?).  Today she said, "I have to remind myself why we are here because, as a general rule, bipolar people are very entertaining. You are no exception."

Among other things we confirmed some of my diagnoses (after consult with the psych doc), and it is a considerable list: 

Bipolar disorder - rapid cycling
Anxiety disorder, to include hypersensitivity to sound and self harm
Panic disorder
OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder)
Impulse control disorder, to include neurotic excoriation
Binge eating disorder
PTSD (mild)

There is more, but the issues fall under one or more of the above-listed disorders.  We have a lot of work to do.

We discussed my apprehension regarding Lithium, and she made it very clear that it was worth trying, so I will - starting Tuesday - after my next therapy/psych appointments.  I need to have an EKG before we begin Lithium therapy (I completed all of the blood work, etc.), but finding the time to get this done is difficult in my busy life.  Tomorrow is the day.

Please feel free to leave a comment on this or any of my other posts.  I appreciate all who take the time to read these posts and welcome your feedback.  Anonymous posts are permitted, however off-topic discussions or spam will be deleted.  Thank you.   

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

You have to be >THIS< tall to ride this ride

Another roller coaster of a day, as per usual.  Of course in my world, roller coasters are not the least bit amusing - they suck some major ass.  I'm talking draw shit/mud through a straw kind of ass suckage.  "Not pleasant" is my point. 

The day began with the typical work stress.  My asshole boss screamed at me for things that were beyond my control (printers were down and the IT people were busy fixing them from a remote location).  My asshole boss screamed at me for other shit, to include scheduling issues, again, beyond my control.  All of this left me shaking and in shock.  I had to take 10 minutes of my lunch hour at 9:30 in the morning just to breathe in my car.  I called my husband and asked him to tell me a slow and soft story and just drone on until my brain and breathing calmed to a normal level. 

The day was also wonderful.  Many clients stopped by to thank me for assisting them with their matters, and others simply took time out of their days to thank me for my friendship.  It was an odd day in that so many people did this at once, and it balanced the assholio boss quite nicely. 

I still had to take a Valium with my lunch because I could feel an anxiety attack coming on.  That, and the morning time out in my car, seemed to get me through the day.

This evening some of the gals at work gathered at a local sports bar.  We no longer get breaks at work, so we never see each other and this was a good way to catch up and remember that we do, in fact, like each other.  We had a great time - lots of laughter - and I am so glad that I decided to go.  I would normally avoid crowds because they trigger major agitation, but the focused conversation helped quite a bit. 

I did say some unkind things to my boss as I was leaving work today.  He said some unkind things to me in return.  He can get fucked, and he will, when this house sells and we finally move out of this depressed State. 

I have an appointment with my therapist in the morning and plan on discussing my psych doc - I do not care for her methods and she just isn't a good fit.  I also plan on discussing the current drug therapy because I am concerned about starting Lithium.

I am proud of how I managed this day.  I am not worthless.  I am a kind person.  Mental illness does not mean that I am stupid.  I function at a very high level in spite of my issues, and would like to think that this makes me better than good.  This makes me brave and strong and resilient.  I have things to offer this world and this world will benefit from my talents. 

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Whiplash, Baby

What a difference a day and a little pill make.  I wanted to die last night.  I was ready to die.  I cried as I swallowed that Risperidone pill before bed ... the potential side effects ringing in my ears as I chased it with a medicinal Reese's Peanut Butter Cup...

I woke this morning with a clear head having enjoyed a wonderful night's sleep.  I worked today - actually worked - with a clear head and a happy heart.  It was almost the old me.  Almost.  However, I was reminded that I still have some issues to tend to when I went for lunch with my husband and son.

All the conversations...fucking Fox News on the wall...some bastard's phone was ringing...people having business meetings, the annoying free wifi douchebaggery... sounds of food prep... straw-slurping ... chewing.... ankle biters biting.....fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck meeeeeeeeee.  I sort of lost it - started shaking - swallowed a valium - went shopping.  Paid for a fabulous Tommy Hilfiger bag with shaking hands.  YES. 

The afternoon was wonderful.  I fought with Excel for a bit, got pissed at my asshole boss, laughed with my co-workers - it really was a pretty goddamn great day, considering. 

Alice was ten feet tall. 

Cheers to the day.  Cheers to better living through pharmaceuticals.