Tag Archives: psychologist

Going to the doctor is always *so* much fun.

So I had a manic episode Wednesday night/Thursday morning, likely from a combination of work stress and waaaay too much caffeine.  I finally passed out around 7:00 Thursday morning, after calling (emailing) in FMLA.  Been a month and a half since my last FMLA day, and I think I just went home early that day.  I really am doing better overall.  But it worked out, kinda, as I already had an appointment to see my primary care doctor today.  I hadn’t remembered to tell my boss or HR about it and was wondering how to sneak out of work for about two hours. >_>

So the main reason for going is I wanted to switch birth control brands to the one my insurance covers for free, instead of paying a $25 copay.  I’ve been duking it out with my insurance for a while, over multiple things.

It is always awkward, being checked in. Thankfully, the nurses accept my polite “No, thank you” to being weighed, though I have requested they flag my chart somehow so they know not to even ask, as it is very triggering for me and likely is for other people as well.  For some reason it doesn’t bother me when my psychiatrist does it, but he does it himself, never comments on it, and I know he’s watching for changes due to my psychiatric drugs, which makes it actually a medical necessity, as often weight change is the first sign that something’s not right with my meds, or my overall mental status.

Then came the fun part, where I explain what I need, and asked if there was any way I could also get an IUD put in, or a tubal ligation, as I have no plans to have kids, and launched into my list of why it is A Very Bad Idea for me to actually birth children anyway, as with my current medications, by the time I would realize I was pregnant, very irreparable damage would’ve been done to the kid’s brain.  Not to mention the horrible genetics I’d be passing down.  (And with my new boyfriend, *his* genetics are equally awful, so the poor hypothetical kid would never have a chance.)  She didn’t think my insurance would do both an IUD and hormonal birth control, but they might consider a tubal, as I am now 31 and now magically able to really decide what I want for my reproductive future.  Maybe.  I don’t know if it’ll be covered, of course, but she said she’d be happy to make a referral to a surgeon.  I’ll have to call my insurance and see what they would be willing to consider.  I’d rather go the IUD route than actual surgery, but either way, I just want that extra layer of backup, y’know?

I actually made my doctor cry, though, when I started in on my It’s A Bad Idea schpiel and she could see my overall level of frustration.  She’s really nice, I like her quite a bit, and felt badly when she got choked up.

Oh, the best part of my visit?  As I have been out of birth control for three weeks, and had *protected* sex about two weeks ago (I’m not an idiot) I still had to do a pregnancy test before she could actually prescribe me birth control.  As much as I knew it was a veeery low chance, I was still nervous.  She was happy with the negative, especially given how adamant I am about not having kids, and she prescribed it.

Of course, then the pharmacy discovered that while I had the correct *brand,* the little numbers after it were wrong, so the brand I switched to *still* wasn’t free.  Gotta call my doctor’s office AGAIN tomorrow to correct that.  (It’s supposed to be Junel Fe 1/20 and she’d written for like, Junel Fe 28 or something.  I couldn’t tell you what those numbers mean if my life depended on it.)

Seriously, someone shoot me.  At least my pharmacist found my pent-up-rage ranting against my insurance company funny, and she agreed with my frustration, as insurance companies rarely send formularies to pharmacies so they don’t know what is covered, either.  She appreciated my frustration with how the birth control formulary I received- that had to be mailed to me, as it wasn’t even listed on my insurance company’s website- only listed the brand names they covered.  No chemical information whatsoever.  So I had to do my own research to match the brand they’ll cover with the chemical formula I am presently prescribed, that works juuust fine, thank you.  Evidently the ACA only requires the insurances cover one brand of each compound, rather than just, y’know, paying for all of them.  UNIVERSAL PAYOR SYSTEM, PEOPLE.  IT IS A THING THAT WORKS IN QUITE A FEW OTHER PLACES VERY NICELY.  If only America wasn’t positively allergic to anything that smacks of socialism/communism, we’d have nice things, AND save money, and this last month of absolute nonsense of trying to change and fill a prescription wouldn’t have happened.

I also remembered to stop at a lab on the way home to get bloodwork done that I’ve been forgetting since February, too.  I was just full of medical compliance today.

…And did I remember to mention I have a boyfriend?  That’s a topic for another post. XD

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Fixed it!

So, aheh, my wordpress has been broken for like, a month.

Turns out it was Ghostery all along, blocking some cookie that made things not work… sometimes I’m really dumb and don’t figure them out very quickly.

Aaaanyway, things have been… dull, I guess is a way of putting it. I’ve settled into about 28 hours/week at Wendy’s, which seems to be keeping me from losing it, for the most part. I work hard, and I’m still applying to jobs, but losing hope and finding solace in my old friend, complete and total apathy.

I managed to miss all of my meds on Monday, so I’ve been on a rollercoaster this week. Tuesday I mostly just felt numb, and ended up going to bed when I got home, overwhelmed by sound. Wednesday I had to go with my mom to an appointment with her therapist which led to an hour and some change of me sobbing and feeling like I was being ganged up on, as if a good sleep cycle and more exercise is going to magically fix me and make me 100% stable, which is what my parents want. I mostly just sat there, curled in a ball and crying uncontrollably. Mom offered to pay for me to attend a few solo sessions with this therapist, but I wasn’t terribly excited at the prospect. Hell, the therapist suggested I keep a “gratitude journal” to help keep me positive, which made me feel like some sort of sullen teenager dealing with fairly routine teen angst, than an adult who is nearly 30 who has watched her entire life implode in less than a year and is continuing to have to tear it down, brick by brick, with no idea where and when to rebuild it. Oh, and the whole “chronic rapid cycling bipolar II disorder, PTSD, and generalized anxiety” thing. Y’know, little things.

I’m going to the local clinic next weekend to hopefully get my physical health meds taken over locally, and I’m presently psychiatrist and therapist shopping, but I fear I’m going to end up with no therapist as the county doesn’t provide that service, and I get the feeling I’ll get a psychiatrist who will be overworked, underpaid, and not give two shits about me, and who will probably give me a hard time about my klonopin, because that’s what I’ve seen when working in a nonprofit mental health agency. They do NOT like benzos, because they are addictive, and thus giving them to people who are in my boat (read: underpaid/under employed, uninsured, and sick) is frowned upon. We might *gasp* sell them or something! I hate being treated like a drug seeking junkie.

All I want is Chihiro. I can’t even verbalize how much not having her around hurts me, but now more than ever the answer is still no, now that my brother and nephew live here, too. (Did that happen before my unintentional hiatus? Because now my brother and nephew live here, so I am surrounded by a two-year-old and all the joys that come with it. My sound machine and fan are a welcomed solace.)

I can no longer afford to insure my car, so it is now “in storage” (read: parked in the driveway and blocked in by the van) and now I’m walking to work. It’s only about a half mile away, so it’s not too bad, and it’s sort of shut my parents up on the “you need more exercise” front. Though I end up crying on my walk home more often than not, because I’m tired and irrational and road noises when I’m already feeling overwhelmed do NOT help, but the cut through the park is not always safe due to there being very few lights and quite a few very aggressive Canada geese. I have… issues… with large waterfowl.

There is a craft fair nearby on the 23rd that I am working on getting a table at, and mom agreed to help me with it. I’m working on getting some stuff made that’s Christmas/winter themed and not terribly complicated, as I am very, very good at terribly complicated and impractical, and I want stuff that isn’t too expensive and will be easy impulse purchases. Of course, with how I’ve felt this week, nothing’s been done, but hopefully on my next day off, which is Sunday, I can get some work done and not be a total wreck.

TL;DR version: not much has changed, other than my apathy levels are rising like a tide, and missing meds even just for one day SUUUUUUUUUUCKS.

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The more things change, the more they stay the same

So Monday and Tuesday at work were very stressful, as I don’t know very many people and I don’t know the new menu or computer system. I’ve been in the corner of the drive-thru managing money and handing out orders, because that definitely never changes, and taking orders when it’s slow, though about 90% of the time I need help finding something in the system. I managed to not have a panic attack either day though both days I spent a lot of time near tears. I got extra-long breaks to cut down on labor, so I only got 19 hours this whole week so far, but the breaks helped me refocus and gather myself.

Wednesday I watched my nephew, who has learned the magical word “nope.” Not no, nope, which was cute for about .4 seconds until he turned into a little snot about it. He got a couple time-outs over the course of the day when he was telling me nope to things like apologizing for hitting me with one of his toys. That did not fly for me.

Wednesday I also got a call from collections, and discovered that the billing for one of the hospitals I’ve been to, has the same account number for both the hospital visit and the physician (they get billed separately) so I’ve accidentally been paying twice on the physician bill without knowing, and the other one got sent to collections. I set up a payment plan and intend to call the hospital to rant at someone about this billing practice, as it’s asinine, but I was ultra mega polite to the people I talked to at collections and at the hospital billing department, as they were trying to help me figure out what happened.

I went through the rest of my bills and got panicky about the fact that new bills keep wandering in and it still feels like I’m drowning, especially when I had so few hours this week at a whopping $7.40 an hour. I still owe my therapist over $1000, my psychiatrist $120, and my old pharmacy $100, on top of various medical bills, a T-Mobile bill with the $200 cancellation fee tacked on to the $80 monthly charge, and my car, insurance, phone, monthly medication costs, and internet. For a little more stress on the stress sandwich, Chihiro’s teeth are still giving her problems, so the rest might need to be removed as well, as her gums simply won’t heal in front of the questionable canine and her incisors are behaving strangely- either the gums swelled up around them again or two have fallen out.

If only I could win the lottery without actually playing, or some wealthy benefactor showed up and wanted to get my debts caught up and my car paid off, that’d be great. I’m stressed about living here, because I know it stresses out my parents, particularly my stepdad, and I keep being reminded that this is a temporary situation and I will have to get an apartment at some point. Because I am so very happy to be here, with the vast majority of my belongings in a storage unit that I’m now paranoid about, and my cat in another state. Yup. Nothing makes me happier than feeling completely useless and hopeless and being reminded that my present state is temporary. I’m worried that I will do something wrong and find myself sitting in a homeless shelter because my parents couldn’t deal with me anymore.

I gladly disappeared once mom got home and tried to relax, but I got all worked up about working on Thursday, feeling like a failure, feeling like I would be better off dead, and stressing over my bills and wanting to keep my credit score from ending up completely in the toilet. Some employers even check THAT now, so I just feel completely boxed in from every direction, and the walls are closing in. I ended up staying awake all night, and just broke down crying around 4 AM. My mom and stepdad both came in when they heard me crying and talked to me, though they’re not exactly good at being reassuring, as a lot of it was “well, you don’t have much of a choice, so pull yourself up by your bootstraps and deal.” There was also some “well, you keep missing group,” because I completely forgot about it Wednesday, and thus have missed it three weeks in a row for various reasons. Mom scolded me about it and my frustration at needing therapy and it not being available was met with a “you just have to deal with what you can get.” Mom did point out that I am doing much better than I was when I first got here, but she sounded very disappointed when she called me to see if I was going to make it to work today, which made me feel awesome again.

I ended up calling in to my first shift because I was just too wiped out and also having akathesia, likely from switching brands of wellbutrin. That seems to happen whenever the pharmacy switches it up for a day or two, and then it’s okay. Just takes a bit of benedryl, which isn’t exactly conducive to being conscious. I did make it to my second shift and while my face was still super puffy from crying, and one of the managers who’s known me forever was concerned at that, but I did okay and didn’t end up needing any of the klonopin in my pocket.

I’m hoping to pick up more hours this weekend, as I’m not scheduled Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, and I’d go up north if I had any idea of I work Monday or not. I probably do. It’s the opening weekend of Faire, and I’m so broke it’s not even funny, so I can’t go down for a couple of days as much as I’d love to, either. I’ll just work on jewelry and job applications, I guess, and try to rest, and pick up hours if they call me and ask me to come in. No matter what, I just feel like a failure all around, but I have no real choice but to keep moving forward, even if it’s at a snail’s pace. I’m trying to remember the encouragement graphic I saw that said something like “Optimism is taking one step forward and two steps back, and thinking of it as a cha-cha.” I just need to learn how to cha-cha more effectively, because damn I suck at it right now.

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I’m having trouble processing this

So Thursday night/Friday morning I had a bit of a mixed… something- anxiety and agitation and racing thoughts- and couldn’t sleep, so around 4:30 I bundled up and went downstairs to wait for mom to get up. She did, and I was hoping to talk to her, get some things out of my head.

I’m well aware that mom has a lot on her mind, with my sister’s wedding in a month and my brother’s marriage falling apart, so I’ve been put on the back burner. But I figured, it’s 5 AM, maybe I can get a little of her time?

I was pretty much shut down. I told her about my anxiety about getting everything switched to up here, and my worry about how my stepdad is going to nitpick and tear me to pieces so I want to have as much done as I can so there’s less to criticize. Her answer was to stop worrying about it and just keep going, after I’d said that it’s frustrating that I’m being told to rest and recover but also get all these extremely anxiety-producing things done in a relatively quick manner.

I then brought up the idea of family therapy, which both my therapist and psychiatrist recommended. Mom again seemed pretty disinterested, saying “we’re just going to do this for six months, get you back on your feet again, and you’ll be fine.”

“But… I will still be sick then, too, and we have at least a couple decades left to deal with each other, so I thought it might be useful, to help us all process where we’re each coming from a bit better.”

Mom just gave me this look. “Right now, all I have the energy for is to make sure everyone is clothed, warm, and fed. I don’t care about anything else.”

I didn’t bother with telling her I’m feeling suicidal today, and that I don’t think I’ll be able to manage to go drive to pick up my brother and nephew so we can have my nephew here for the weekend. I’m on the back burner and it’s pretty clear that my illness stopped being a priority a while ago… not that it ever really was one in the first place. The only time it seems to matter is when it’s inconveniencing someone else, and then I just need to get a grip and do what needs to be done.

I don’t want to get out of bed today.

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Not quite dead yet…

But good lord I feel mostly dead. The last week was physically and emotionally draining in ways I can’t even begin to fathom or explain. It pretty much went like this:

Tuesday:
-Have a complete sobbing breakdown
-Started calling around to get doctor appointments and vet appointments
-Started looking for someone to foster Chihiro
-Cry some more

Wednesday:
-Get labwork done in the morning to check my thyroid
-Hold Chihiro and sob, make another tearful plea to my parents to let me keep her
-Contemplate suicide
-Ask my sister to go with so I won’t do something stupid when driving back
-Take Chihiro to the vet
-Take Chihiro to the friend in Indianapolis who is fostering her
-Get driven home by my sister because I am numb
-Have another complete sobbing breakdown as soon as I got home and Chihiro doesn’t meet me at the door

Thursday:
-Sleep most of the day because two days of sobbing is exhausting
-See my therapist, cry some more
-Buy things I need for moving, like bins, duct tape, and a 200 foot roll of bubble wrap
-Go out to dinner with my former roommate

Friday:
-Pack everything I own, starting at seven AM and not stopping until 11 PM
-Have intermittent panic attacks as the day goes on
-Got lunch at First Watch to say goodbye to the staff there whom I love
-Get electric sorted out, get internet sorted out, return the internet boxes
-See my psychiatrist, cry some more

Saturday:
-Start at seven again, finish packing
-Sister came over around 9, we take down curtains and she gleefully spackles holes
-Parents arrive at 10 with the moving truck
-Some kind gentleman that lives in the neighborhood offers to help haul things, much to all of our relief (we gave him $40 and thanked him about a billion times)
-Finish at noon with the loading of the truck and sweeping the floor, and I go turn in all of my keys
-Caravan to my sister’s where we all take showers, I leave my car there because I am too tired to drive it to Michigan safely
-Ride back with my mom and have a conversation about my illness and how things are going to work with living there for about five hours
-Upon arriving back in Michigan, we unload the truck into the storage unit, and unload everything into the house that was intended to be there

Sunday:
-How am I conscious?
-Sat out and enjoyed the sunshine with my mom and sister
-Did laundry so I have clothing; the rest of my clothes are in bags in the shed because my parents are a bit paranoid about bedbugs (can’t blame them) so I have to take them all to the laundromat to get them dried soon
-Shuffle belongings between my room and the bedroom grandkids sleep in until I figure out what can fit where
-Took a shower, put on fresh clothes, and took a three hour nap
-Had dinner with the family
-FINALLY GOT THE INTERNET TO WORK
-Sleep. Definitely more sleep.

I’m theoretically returning to Cincinnati with my sister tomorrow to get my car and drive it back up, but I might just wait two weeks until my sister and her fiancee come up to visit, and then ride down with them at that time to pick it up. I’m just exhausted in every way, and I don’t think going to Cincinnati right now will make for a safe drive back up. We’ll see how I feel after another day of rest, but mostly I feel blarg.

I’ve gotten choked up a few times but I haven’t had a full-on breakdown yet since getting here. I don’t think it’s completely sank in yet, especially given that I found out I was moving Tuesday, so my entire world has been uprooted and shoved into a 10×10 storage unit for the most part. A lot of my furniture was thrown out. All I have here at the house is my clothing (most of which is in the shed), my jewelry and some of my accessories, my electronics, a bin of beading materials that comprises 95% of the stuff I use on a regular basis, and filing stuff, as I need to get working on my disability claim and sort through SO MANY PAPERS. That, and two orchids and a spider plant. Everything else is locked in a storage unit.

And I just feel numb about it all.

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I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.

I’ve gone from sobbing to angry to apathetic to simply numb so many times in the last few days, it’s not even funny. I saw my therapist for the last time and cried, I met up with my old roommate for dinner and very nearly cried, I poked my head in to the office from the job I left for my last job, to say goodbye to any staff who were still there, and very nearly cried again. I’ve started randomly sobbing when I think about Chihiro, or about moving everything I own to a storage unit.

I’ve been exhausted, emotionally and physically, and I’ve barely started packing. Thank god my sister agreed to come help me pack and get things finished tomorrow after work, so hopefully everything will be ready for the move Saturday. I talked with mom about how I don’t think I’m going to be in any position to drive my car back once we’re done, so we’re discussing leaving it at my sister’s house. She is planning to come up the following weekend, so then I could ride down with her and drive it back. I could get the oil changed and the tires rotated and not be in a rush to do that, which would be nice. I think that’ll be what we do, as that sounds a lot less hectic than what we’re going to end up doing. I just don’t think I’ll have a five-hour drive in me after everything else.

I’m so exhausted… I’m thinking about going to bed now, and starting early, rather than sitting here staring at a wall and wasting time, because that’s definitely what is happening. Then I’ll have all day Friday (except for my appointment with my psychiatrist that I was able to get squeezed in for) to pack and clean, and hopefully be mostly ready to go Saturday morning. I still need to call the electric company, and the cable company to turn off my electric and internet. Shoot, I’ll have to take the box to the cable company tomorrow so I’m not fussing with it Saturday. I have no idea about a security deposit, I need to ask the landlady about that. There are SO MANY THINGS in my head right now and I’m just in a total fog.

Wish me luck. There might not be a post Monday or Tuesday, because I haven’t written one yet, I don’t have two braincells to rub together right now to really do any justice with *this* post, let alone another one, and I’m pretty sure once this is over I’m going to properly break down and sleep for days. So I’ll see you all at some point in the near future.

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Well, it’s official.

Mom called me yesterday to say that we’re throwing in the towel. The day before, we’d discussed letting me stay here until August, as that’ll be after my sister’s wedding. But mom’s concerned because my moods are all over the place, I’m not sleeping regularly, I’m a stressed out wreck, etc. All of which is true. I am afraid to leave the house by myself, I am afraid to get groceries because I don’t know how much I need, I am just afraid in general. I’ve been suicidal a few times.

So on Tuesday I found out I was moving on Saturday. So yesterday I went and got more plastic bins, as a vast majority of my belongings will be in storage and I am afraid of mice or something else deciding to eat my stuff while it’s there. We’re throwing away my mattress and box spring and mom is making me throw away my bedding despite the fact that I just need to run it through the dryer and it will be fine, it’s not infested. (I might just do that anyway, because I love my comforter set.) The sheets are ready to be retired, as are the regular pillows, but I don’t want to get rid of the comforter and decorative pillows and shams. My mattress is about seven years old, so it’ll be fine to go. My loveseat and chair will also go, mostly because the loveseat is just about destroyed. I’m concerned that mom will make me give my kitchen table and chairs to my stepsister, which she’d previously mentioned wanting to do, as it was a hand-me-down from the family’s cabin and I guess that means it’s not actually mine.

My sister and I did a walkthrough yesterday, and she’ll be taking some items that she can use for now, so I won’t have to store them, as well as the food and cleaning products that are left over. She’ll take my ficus, because I don’t think it’ll travel well, and she’ll put things like my air conditioner and microwave on Craigslist for me. She brought me a ton of boxes from work, because they’ve been digitizing their files and thus have about a billion boxes lying around in an unused room until someone feels like breaking them down or taking them, and they’d much rather they go to use. So anything that’s going to my parents’ house will be in cardboard boxes, and the bins are going to storage. I’m pretty sure I’m going to the guest room, which is the smallest room of the house, so I’ve been told I can’t even bring all of my clothing and need to pick what clothing I “really” need. I’m going to keep my beading stuff with me, and the rest of my craft things can go to storage, so I can at least keep my etsy shop open.

The worst thing by far is that mom wants me to have Chihiro fostered, rather than at her house, because she doesn’t want to deal with my cat, and her dog likes to pee territorially when there are other animals or small children in the house. So I scrambled around yesterday and one of my friends agreed to foster her for me. Today, I have a doctor’s appointment for labwork so they’ll refill my thyroid medication, and Chihiro has her follow-up vet appointment this afternoon, and then I’ll drive Chihiro to Indianapolis to my friend’s house. I’ve done nothing but cry the whole time I’ve been packing up her things. I went to PetSmart and bought a new scratch pad, and a feather wand of apology, and she got claw caps and now has a sparkly pink manicure, and she got a flea treatment just in case.

I’ve never been away from this cat for more than a week in the seven years I’ve had her. To hand her to someone else to care for is breaking my heart. I feel like the worst person ever, and have been spending every waking moment cuddling her.

Mom also has laid down the law that I am going to be required to take a walk every day, I will have daily chores to do, I have to go to a support group, and my parents want me to help with food expenses, at least, and get my own internet. My stepdad wants $250 a month, which made me laugh, as I’ve been living on $75-100 a month in food since long before I lost my job. Most of my expenses aren’t going to change, as I still owe medical bills, have to buy medication, have to pay for my car and insure it, pay one of my student loans, unless I can talk my parents into paying that one, and pay for my own internet. The only bill that will go away is my electric bill, but car insurance premiums in Michigan are dramatically higher than Ohio, so I’ll probably break even there. Oh, and I’ll be paying for a storage unit for all of my stuff, too. I don’t know how much they think I’m getting every month, but it’s not that much.

I have to call and cancel my electricity and internet here, I need to rent a truck (and I have the feeling I’m going to be paying for it,) I have NO IDEA what to do about my car insurance, and I should really go take my car to the dealership to get maintenance done before I move. I plan to just come down and get my maintenance done, as I’m going to keep coming down to see my psychiatrist as well. I need to see if I can be squeezed in to see my psychiatrist this week, as my appointment is next Saturday and that’s just kinda stupid. For some reason I thought it was a month from now until I checked my calendar. I already had an appointment with my therapist on Thursday, so I guess that’s my last appointment. I’ll be going out to dinner with my old roommate Thursday evening, to say goodbye to her.

I’m so scared. One of my friends is wondering if my parents are trying to kill me, and I’m not honestly sure. I need to start packing but I don’t know where to start. I need to keep moving or I’m going to fall apart.

I guess I can start by getting ready for my doctor’s appointment, and we’ll go from there.

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Not giving up

Where last week, all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere and die, now? Now, I am fighting back. I don’t want to move back to Michigan, so I’d better find something that’ll keep me here. In that respect, I applied for a part-time job at my sister’s company, and she sent me resume and cover letter to the person hiring. I have an interview with her on Wednesday at 11:00. It would be assisting with renting apartments for four communities on the east side, and maybe once I get my foot in the door there, I can find something full time to change to.

As part time won’t pay the rent, I also applied to the breakfast/brunch/lunch restaurant I’m obsessed with. Seriously, I used to eat there every weekend, before money got really tight. I know most of the servers and one of them suggested applying, as they are down two servers and the tips are pretty good, as it’s in a nice neighborhood and across from one of the biggest malls in the city. I have an interview there at 2:30 on Wednesday.

At this point, I’ll take whatever I can get, and it’ll have to do. I just can’t give up everything I have here because of one hiccup in the road. My therapist and I talked a lot about the situation when I saw her last week, and she helped me put everything into perspective. That’s when I started looking for ANYTHING that would make it possible for me to stay here, even if it means I have to work two part-time jobs, or go back into food service. I have a lot of experience in fast food, and I have excellent customer service skills honed by both 7 1/2 years in fast food, and 5 1/2 years working with crazy people and their equally crazy and undiagnosed families. If I can juggle that, I can juggle plates of food and maintain a smile for eight hours.

I talked with my mom about the situation last week at some point, and she said that she and my stepdad are talking about selling their house. It’s a huge Victorian that is a pain to keep up with, and now that all of us kids are grown up and moved out, it’s too much house. I asked mom what that would mean, if I was living with them and disabled. Mom said that they’re wanting to find a smaller house, that has an attached apartment for me, so then my living costs could be better controlled, I’d have my own space, but they’d be right there if I need them.

I had already been crying, but this made me cry harder. Here I’ve been feeling like I’m being held at arm’s length and nobody wants me, when they’re planning on finding a place with my specific needs in mind, so it’s available if I need it.

It’s nice to know that things aren’t as bad as I tend to make them out to be.

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I can probably wring an entire week’s worth of posts out of this past weekend

So this weekend was my sister’s bridal shower. We actually had a bridal tea, and it was very cute overall. Mom broke out her antique hat collection (she has approximately seventy billion antique hats and I adopted a purple one) and we had tea and little sandwiches cut into hearts and all kinds of disgustingly adorable things. It really was cute, and my mom and stepsister who planned it seemed to have a lot of fun putting it together, though it was a lot of work. My sister and I drove up after she got off work on Friday, and due to the fact that my cat is still eating wet food only, I had to take her with, and she inevitably had issues in the car. My cat just doesn’t travel well in the afternoon as it interferes with her bathroom schedule and you can’t tell a cat to hurry up and go to the bathroom already because we’re leaving. I’m usually just trying to grab her and stuff her in her crate before she disappears under my bed where I’m guaranteed to be unable to retrieve her without resorting to bribery.

We got there late, and I was exhausted after staying up all day to reset my internal clock, so I actually managed to fall asleep at a fairly reasonable hour. The last time I remember looking at the clock it was 1:45. I then woke up at exactly 2:45, 3:45, 4:45, 5:45, and 6:45, before managing to stay asleep until 10:15, when someone called my stepdad and his ringtone woke me up. It was weird how I was waking up at exact 60-minute intervals. I got up and helped where I could, which was mostly “go to the store and buy the things we forgot” and I cut a frame out of foam core board for my sister and a guest to hold while I took their picture at the shower. (This turned out extremely cute, though I did break an exacto blade because of course I did.)

I was excited because we were going to go see Iron Man 3 (which is AMAZEBALLS) after everything was over, and so we went to a 7:25 showing. This is a bit late for me to see an action movie in a theater, I’ve discovered. I got extremely overstimulated and was starting to amp up. We got home around 11:00, and I got on the computer to do some job stuff (and catch up on internet stuff.) My primary roleplay friend was out of town all week, so I hadn’t roleplayed in a while, and this is one of the ways I sort of burn off extra emotional energy. I also didn’t see my therapist last week due to being exhausted from not sleeping. So combining all of those factors, and I became quite elevated, heading towards mania. My parents’ internet crapped out around 2:00 AM and I realized I should go to bed anyway, but I was getting so manic I was physically shaking. I tried to go about things normally and went to bed, but as I realized I was getting manic, I started to panic, so then I couldn’t breathe. I went back downstairs and sat on the couch, wrapped in blankets, shivering and shaking and hallucinating that things were moving. It took three klonopin for me to get to the point where I could breathe regularly again, so I went to write mom a note, but once I started writing, I just had to get everything out of my head. I don’t really remember what I was writing, as I usually don’t really remember what happens when I’m manic. I remember having the sensation that my skin was crawling off and the shaking was really bad. I finished writing in every spare inch of the paper I was writing on and then going to bed. I stole one of the couch blankets that is soft like my Optimus blanket, which I left at home, and the three klonopin did their jobs and knocked me out. That was somewhere around five AM.

Mom came up around ten and asked if I got too overstimulated. I think I confirmed this but I was pretty out of it. I wanted to go to the shower, though, so I slept until one, when my sister woke me up. The shower was at two. I got dressed and wasn’t entirely confident about stairs or driving or really thinking. I went to get my “adopted” sister (I mentored her when I was in high school and she was in elementary, and she just became a member of the family after that) and led to a huge miscommunication because nobody heard me say I was going to go get her, so my stepsister was going to have her husband pick her up, and I took the van but they needed to put the food in it. My mom was very confused at why I was there with my adopted sister, and I said “I’m sorry, nobody communicated this to me,” to which she said “Well, you’re not really communicating right now at all.” Which was true, as I wasn’t. I didn’t start feeling very much like me until I’d had some food and some time to wake up. The shower went well, and we got everything packed up and headed back for Cincinnati by 5:30, which was pretty good considering the shower was over at 4:00 and we had a lot of food and decorations to pack up, along with my sister’s gifts.

The whole time, I could tell mom wanted to talk to me, but we were busy with the shower and then we had to leave quickly, as my sister had to work in the morning and wanted to get *some* sleep. Mom patted my arm when I was in the car and started to say something but got interrupted, so I think I need to have a conversation with her at some point today.

The cat, of course, had issues again on the way back down. I tried to pill her with benedryl, which seemed to help on the way up (after she was done having accidents) but I think she managed to spit it out this time. She was pretty noisy the whole time and had a couple accidents before we’d gotten too far. Maybe next time we just need to circle the block a few times and then we’ll be good, I don’t know.

My sister and I ended up talking about what happened at some point around Dayton, when she asked what she could do to help if she seems me getting manic. She said that she and mom had noticed that I was really talkative, and she said that when I was doing job stuff on the computer, I was “narrating everything,” which is a pretty apt description. I thought that maybe pointing it out to me, and suggesting I take a klonopin, might work, as the klonopin tends to calm me down fairly quickly and the external notice that I’m getting manic might help as well. Evidently my note really shook mom. I guess I wrote about my legs crawling away, and wrote “help me” a couple times. My sister and I talked about the ongoing miscommunications mom and I have about my illness. It hurts when I think about how if I had any other illness, for example, cancer, I know my mom would make herself the world’s leading expert on that illness, but she’s so scared of my bipolar disorder that she doesn’t want to accept it’s a reality for me. I either remind her of my father, or the prospect of me being disabled or something scares her. It scares me, too, but it’s my head and my life, so I cope the best I can every day. Some days are better coping days than others.

My sister and I also talked about how I can talk with mom about the whole exercise thing, as both my mom and my sister were able to “cure” their depression with exercise and so mom thinks it really will fix something, at least. My problem is, I have serious issues with sweating. It makes me anxious and the feeling of my skin when I’ve been sweating freaks me out. It’s a texture thing. Also, when I get going too fast, I make myself manic, so rigorous exercise is hard to come back down from without spending some time in manic bizarro-world. My sister recommended I maybe tell that to mom, as she doesn’t know and it never really occurs to me to tell her these things. Now I’m trying to get it all written down so I can remember it all to tell her later. There were a lot of things we discussed. I took another klonopin in the car because I was starting to get anxious and babbly again, and then I got home and just… I’ve been on the computer for a while. I had to wash the cat first, and the sun’s come up and I need to go talk to the landlady.

My sister’s fiancee got the job near Cincinnati, so they’ll be staying, which made me really happy, but another part of my freak-out was over what will be happening to me. Am I going to find a job? Am I going to have to go on disability? Am I going to need to move back to Michigan and try to coexist with my parents? Am I even going to survive this? There’s a lot that’s up in the air and it’s all terrifying. I don’t know what to think but I do know that I’m terrified.

But it’s May now, and May’s going to be different, I just know it.

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I can’t figure out which way is up today.

So I was SO TIRED after I wrote Thursday’s post, I went and crashed.

And then couldn’t sleep because I was in that extremely tired stage where I was hallucinating and I kept hallucinating bugs, go figure. So I got up and stayed up until seven when I finally collapsed.

I had an appointment with my therapist at one. My alarm went off at noon, and I still couldn’t see straight, so I definitely called and cancelled it. I had no business driving in that condition. I hadn’t really slept in three days, at that point.

I then tried to go to bed, I really did, but spent another two hours in that twitchy stage again before finally falling back asleep. I had the WEIRDEST dreams. I was in this village, I want to say it was in India, but I could be wrong, and I was there to help people but I ended up ruining everything. The people who’d sent me there had been using me to scope the area out to use it for some sort of radar array so they took the land out from underneath the village in a horrible example of imminent domain, and the people scattered to the four winds. I ended up captured and imprisoned, put into a pen with a bunch of goats, with the intent of selling me, but they beat me constantly and starved me, so I wasn’t exactly in the best condition. Later, they put a tiger in the pen with me, and he was intelligent and gentle. He got put in his own pen out of fear for the goats’ safety, though the goats had all long since been sold or died of starvation and I was living in a pen full of decomposing goats. O_o;; Someone came to beat me for something I supposedly stole and the tiger broke out of his pen and rescued me, and we disappeared into the jungle together. One of my toes broke off and was left behind in the pen, so the people thought I’d finally starved to death and didn’t follow. The tiger’s name was Majora.

The second dream, I was supposedly one of the kids from the Magic School Bus, but I was hanging out with the kids from Recess. We were at the ocean, and Spinelli, who looked a lot like Lilo, was swimming to try and get away from the crush of people we were surrounded by. We found a guy who was excavating an old boat in the shallows, and we helped him pull up all these artifacts that were from some ancient mermaid civilization, including a Barbie doll that was one of the mermaid’s toys. The Barbie had fins molded into the plastic of her thighs, a weird waist with all kinds of articulation, and a vagina molded into the pelvis. I kept the Barbie to wash her hair and the weird guy was trying to claim I’d ruined her and destroyed his cred as an antiquities dealer and cryptozoologist. I then spent the rest of the dream chasing him all over the shoreline, that turned into shores from other dreams, and eventually became a museum. Majora the tiger showed up, and told me not to waste my time as the guy was clearly not interested in the doll, which had become a real mermaid during this whole chase, and we returned her to the ocean, and went back to the jungle.

I wonder if I’ll ever meet Majora again? He seemed very familiar. When I woke up, I was all kinds of disoriented, as both dreams had been very lucid, where I was able to go back and try and do things over again, though Majora would stop me and tell me to just leave things as they were.

My dreams always take place in the same world, but in different parts of it, and sometimes I can travel between the different areas and it all seems so clear in those dreams, why each part of the world is like it is, and why I have to keep going to them, especially the nightmare worlds. Nothing I can do in those overarching dreams can make the different places go away, but I can leave myself weapons and notes and other things to keep me safe when I have to go to the nightmare worlds. And there are dreams I had as a child, beautiful places that I created to escape my living nightmares, but some of them are locked now and I can’t find the keys. I know I *had* keys once, but I lost them round about when I finally got on the correct dose of mood stabilizers. A lot of my creative worlds were locked away from me then, and it’s hard and exhausting to reach them for even a moment, and those are the dreams that fade the fastest. The dreams when each nice place got locked away are awful; it’s like this big glass dome goes over it, and the friends I have in those dreams are on one side, trying to tell me something but I can’t hear because of the glass and because something’s tugging me away. The door is locked and the key is added to the keyring I lost and am still trying to find. Every now and then I find it and I can visit but I have to leave again, and the keys are always missing again when I next have one of those overarching dreams.

I spend a lot of time looking for the keys, and I’d love to figure out how to unlock the nice places and lock up the nightmares, because it’s been eighteen years since my dad left; I’d love to stop hearing him bellowing in my head.

I didn’t wake back up until like, eight, so it was a bit late to go to Bed Bath and Beyond to get a new encasement for the box spring of my bed. I guess I’ll go tomorrow. I’m still not entirely sure how I’m going to get it onto the box spring myself, but I’ll figure it out later.

The good news is, I didn’t get any bites last night! I’m hoping that’s a state of affairs that’s going to stay.

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