Hope

Yup, hope floats. In a few hours I will see my doctor. He may not be specialized in dealing with crazy people but I've been told a general practitioner is capable of dishing out enough medication to make my wait until December 21 bareable. And I am looking forward to this... completely. Next on my list... besides meds is eating right and exercising. Consistently. Last night I got a full nights sleep. Granted, I had to go sleep on a different floor than my babygirl to do it but I must say it felt wonderful. Once the racing thoughts died themselves down, of course. Stupid obsession.

Thinker

I'm cranky and one of my co-workers said I look sad. I don't really feel "sad" per say, just don't feel much of anything. I obsessed this morning over a certain someone and I hate that I did it. Going to the doctor's tomorrow morning. I feel like my brain is on overload. I'm a thinker. And I'm a thinker who knows my thinking is a little off. I'm a thinker who knows their thinking is off but is not sure which thinking is right. I'm also a thinker who's very tired because their favorite pooch kept her up nearly all night because the thing on her thyroid is making her act crazy.

It's Not Easy Being Green

Well, the question I have received a few times that I will now address is "Why now?"

I have been far from ok for years, it’s just that recently I’ve started to look around and wonder why other people have stuff that I want but can’t seem to get myself. (Not EVERYONE but most of the people around me.) You know, a degree and a real relationship amongst other things (many other things). Also, I got horribly depressed over a certain someone and knew that my reaction was extreme and not at all consistent. One day I'd be upset about it and sometimes within hours I'd be at peace with it and then I'd get horribly angry. Repeat: next day, just mix up the sequence a little. I had to start looking at myself. When I started having suicidal thoughts a week or so ago I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. And between those thoughts, I would think “something’s wrong” and then the other thoughts would run around my head again. I have been there so many times but knew I couldn't commit suicide. The only thing really, truly holding me back was knowing how badly I would hurt my parents. I didn't want to do that to them. But even that line was ready to be crossed at moments. So… I figured I was depressed and it’s time to see a doctor. Granted, I had PMS at the time but it was still a bit much. I looked up PMDD and it didn’t fit me. I looked up depression and tried to fit myself into one of the categories. I called my mom and read it to her. She said “that’s not you”. I had a fit and just kind of blurted out that I don’t want to be bipolar, that I know I am but I don’t want it. (Sometimes one wishes that "no thanks" was sufficient for anything.)

I cannot control it myself as I thought I could do. I did not go through every day of the last ten years and think "I can control this." After the bad times I'd say "you just tell yourself you'll get through it". Funny how on the bad days rarely did I actually say that to myself. I had many, many days, hours, and experiences that I barely got through. I remained in a bit of denial. Eventually, denial just led to me not even thinking about my diagnosis except on rare occasion when I'd say "I was misdiagnosed." So, this is how I got to where I am acknowledging it for the first time. Started reading up on it and suddenly my life does make sense. Why I have done or tried SOOO many things over the years but never really got anywhere amongst all the clattering that goes on just about minute by minute in my mind. I'll go into the (probably) hundreds of cringe moments that I've experienced another time. You know (or maybe you don't) those moments that make you go "why did i..." and hope the other person doesn't remember.

So, thank you my friends for being successful at the things I want for myself. You helped me to feel a bit of the ol' jealousy bug... and it really will change my life.

BTW, got a doctor's appointment with my primary care physician for the 4th. Hopefully I will at least be able to get an anti-depressant until I go to see my psychiatrist on the 21st.

And in other news... my babygirl got her ultrasound yesterday. She has a small mass on her thyroid should be apparently easy to remove. Her abdomen turned up good. Surgery is set for Friday though I have no idea what time I'm supposed to get her into the office.

Love It, Hate It

I love medical insurance because it makes it possible to not be run into the ground with debt on medical bills. I hate medical insurance because I can't see the psychiatrist I want to without paying out of pocket. She's my old shrink and I wanted to go back to her. Now I have to go in as a new patient with a new doctor. I called a long list of docs and it appears the earliest appointment I will be able to get is on December 21. Talk about frustrating. Granted, I made it 10 years, what's another few weeks? Right now, getting on medication means the world to me... tomorrow I may no longer want to. Three weeks from now I may have gone back to the mindset that I don't need it, I can control myself. This is the difference a few weeks can make.

Day One in Reality

Umm... this is tough. I'm nervous and my heart is racing. I had a breakdown yesterday. Certainly not a rarity in my life, as those who know me (at all) already know. Right down to the neighbors who got to know me just a little too well back in May.

Ten years ago, I had a meltdown... lost a friend to his own illness and went off the deep end. However, looking back, I guess I just went further into the deep end. I called it grief, my psychiatrist at the hospital called it a bunch of things, my following therapist and psychiatrist finally gave it a final name. Bipolar Disorder. I was given meds and subsequently decided a few months later that I hated them and would not take them anymore. The last ten years have had their ups and downs as ten years do in anyone's life but for me, it was just a little... different. I denied my illness, adamantly... remaining stuck on the idea that what I had went through was just grief and went along my way. Making mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake.

Yesterday, I finally took the big step and acknowledged that I am, in fact, bipolar. Now I just have to pick up the pieces and try to have as normal a life as possible. I'm scared of it. I don't even know what "normal" is. I believe I began to show signs of the illness in fifth grade. That was the year my teacher yelled at me in front of the class and said I would never amount to anything. Up until now... he's been right. From now on, he will be wrong. So next time I go to ShopRite, you better believe I'm going to get in his line and tell him I'd like paper and plastic.

I don't know how those of you who didn't know this about me will react. I don't know who will care or who won't, I'll accept any reactions you so desire to give me. At least at the moment, I will not react on emotion. I am not concerned with what you think (if it's negative... that is), I just need to get well. I need to get on with my life, the one I'm supposed to live, not the one I've been living.