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:

-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

-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

-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

-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

-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

-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
-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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