Hulk says, "ANXIETY!"

I wake up every morning to a low level, buzzing anxiety. Will the car start today? Will I be able to keep the offspring/dogs/plants alive another day? What should I fill my time with today? Am I going to be able to leave the house? And, best of all, will I have a walloping, heart pounding, light headed anxiety attack?

I've been having anxiety attacks lately, and while I take medication to stop them, sometimes I just have to ride it out. Take last night for instance: Hubs and I were watching TV when my brain misfired, and I started to get light headed. My heart raced, and all I could think of was disaster galore. I froze, then started twitching my foot to keep my brain occupied. I bit my lips to cause pain which would hopefully knock this attack away. I took two clonazepams, and imagined everyone wrong with my life - I am a terrible mother, I suck at housekeeping, I'm not a good friend. It truly sucked.

Eventually the medication started working and I was able to remember that my kid is kind of awesome (ok, he's totally awesome), Hubs doesn't really mind the mess and I think I'm a good friend (that could be up for debate ;)- ). I need to practice more mindfulness, and remember to take my medicine on a regularly scheduled basis.

My anxiety might not look like your anxiety, and that's ok. I have always been weird, I embrace the weird, so what works for you might not work for me. I find that taking my clonezepams on schedule keeps the nasty adrenaline fueled attacks from occurring, and it keeps my worrying/anxiety at a low lying background buzz.

I guess I'm like the Hulk, but instead of always being angry, I'm always anxious.

Still alive over here

I came to the conclusion that explaining mental illness to someone who doesn't understand it is like trying to thread a needle with a wet spaghetti noodle. It's frustrating and it destroys the noodle.

Why was I having this conversation? Well, my lovely child, who I truly adore, coughed on me. I ended up with a vicious cold that moved into my lungs. I saw my family doctor and she prescribed Prednisone. If you don't know anything about Prednisone, let me educate you. It is the devil. It is awful. It makes me viciously hungry and usually manic. Basically I'm super hyper, not sleeping, and eating EVERYTHING.

I've been dieting up until this point and had lost 15 pounds. (Yay me! :)) But because I was on this high dose of steroids, I ate and ate and ate. I was manic. Nothing could fill me up. I didn't realize it was possible to gain this much weight in a week. (I was on a 50 mg burst for five days).

The mania was the worst. I didn't go to sleep most nights until 11:30 (my usual passing out time is 9:00.) I didn't spend a lot of money, which was good and surprising, because I usually do a lot of shopping. I talked a lot and felt very intense.

I was trying to explain this to someone and they just kept repeating, "Well, you need stronger willpower." When I'm manic, self control goes out the window. I live in the now. I don't think about the consequences of my actions. I want what I want and I want it right now. I have very little control over myself. It's like another person occupies my body and I'm just along for the ride.

Thankfully I'm done with the Prednisone. The first day off of it I crashed. I was so tired, and depressed. But now I'm feeling ok. I'm eating my weight in vegetables - and pooping my weight in vegetables (TMI?).

I can do this. I will do this.

Day Three

It was rough today. I went a 1.35 miles, had to stop a lot, but my head didn't pound nearly as much. Although my knee and back are killing me...it's fun getting older. And I'm exhausted - I think the lack of diet doctor pepper in the afternoon today is kicking me butt. Anyway, I walked, I did it and didn't enjoy it, but I lived. And the garbage can that's right next to the bench smells like a porta potty on a hot summer day - who is crapping in a garbage can? That's the real question of the day.

Day 2

My sweet niece is visiting, and she walks 2-3 miles a day, so she came on today's forced torture. I made it up and down hills, felt the blood pounding through my skull and my shins were killing me. When we got home my blood sugar tanked, quickly, I almost started crying, but my quick thinking husband handed me a jar of grape jelly and told me to eat. I am not a fan of grape jelly but when you're violently shaking and afraid you might pass out, you tend to go crazy. I may have drank an entire gatoraid and had 5 tbs of jelly. Hey, I didn't die. That's a plus. I think the 26 units of insulin I had on board might have had something to do with the low. I did set a temporary basal but that was a butt ton of insulin. Anyway, that's my progress for day 2. Hopefully tomorrow is better.

Day 1

So since I suck at blogging, I'm going to use this space to keep log of my exercise. Today DH death marched, err, walked me up and down mountains. Or really big hills. Or small hills that felt like mountains. I learned two things - I am massively out of shape and I turn a shiny red color and sweat a lot. The ordeal lasted 30 minutes, I had one puff on my inhaler, and my blood sugar is tanking. Tomorrow I will wear capris, lower my basal rate and expect to use my inhaler like a crackhead uses their pipe.

Depression...triggers

The last round of depression I had was sneaky. It crept up on me with anger, then feelings of worthlessness and sadness.

I started out by being extremely angry at my significant other, thinking of leaving, wanting to punch him. I didn't know why I was upset, but I was really really upset. I figured it out when I screamed at the dog - something I never do.

I then proceeded to remind myself of how worthless I was, how I was just a burden on everyone, and considering cutting myself to stop the pain. I've never cut, but the urge was strong. I thought it might help.

I also thought about swallowing a bottle of clonazapem with a wine chaser. I don't drink - I gave that up because I could easily be an alcoholic. I like it a lot. A lot. But swallowing a bottle of pills? Not good. I often joke that I'm going to lick the inside of the bottle to get the benefits faster but I'm always kidding.

I don't know why I finally decided to call my doctor, but I am glad I did. He put me on Abilify, which means I'm on two antipsychotics, an antideppresant and anxiety medication. I feel about 100% better now - I can leave the house, I'm enjoying doing things (like this blog) and I'm not feeling like a waste of space.

Anyway, I didn't write this to make you feel sorry for me. I just needed to get this out.

I really suck at this

I am not a good blogger. I hate to admit it, I had hoped to be better at this, but I forget that I have this thing.

So, what's new? Well, I finally crawled out of the hole depression had me buried in. I can't figure out the trigger, but thanks to my amazing doctor and Abilify I can function again. I actually went to the grocery store by myself - which if you know me - it's a huge accomplishment. I have a mild to moderate case of agoraphobia when my moods are shifty. So there's that.

I've started reading Sherrilyn Kenyon, and read 350 pages today. I got the recommendation from my sister-in-let and am loving it. I also checked out some Sylvia Day books and a non-fiction about Queen Victoria. Random, but good.

And I just told my dog and cat they can't eat q-tips. I felt like I was back in the baby room at work.

I'm also knitting all kinds of good stuff (hats and scarfs mostly) so if you want a hat or scarf, let me know. It will probably take me two to three years to mail it to you - ask my bestie.

Anyway, life is good right now and hopefully I will write more on this thing.

My life as a wino

I have discovered I really enjoy moscato wine. It's yummy, warms me up and makes me want to cry. I don't think I will become a professional drinker because I'm feeling so damn depressed. And anxious. This really sucks. If I could eat bread (thank you celiac) I would absorb this with toast. But no, I can't have toast. Or pumpkin pie. Or anything with a strudel topping. Crap, I'm depressing myself even more. That's it - I'm cutting myself off. I'm done and out.

Triggers - you've been warned

It took me a few days to come to terms with the election results. At first I was terrified, and now I am determined.

Why was I terrified? I am a woman. I was also molested when I was younger. I've had a lot of therapy to come to realize that it was not my fault, and it never should have happened. But when I hear people defending his talk as "locker room talk" I am horrified. No girl should ever have to feel that being talked about or being touched is "normal".

Another reason? I have a mental illness and I'm very open about it. Am I going to be treated like trash because my brain is broken?

I also have a gay friend who was almost beat to death for being gay. Will this continue?

And I know several Muslim women who are the sweetest, kindest people you could meet. By painting all Muslims with one broad stroke is not only wrong, it doesn't take into account all the atrociticies Christians have done in the name of God (and yes, I am a Christian.)

But I am moving beyond terrified to determined. I will spread love instead of hate. And hopefully, counteract ignorance with open dialogue and calm discussions.

Stabby

I have been exercising lately. In other words, I sweat and turn all red and hurt all over. But I'm feeling the burn, so that's good, right?

I can make it about 5 city blocks before the pain in my shins makes me feel stabby. (Autocorrect wants to change stabby to stab you, which sounds much more threatening but is not what I mean. I just want to take a stick and poke at roadkill. Wait, this has taken a turn...)

Anyway, if you see me out walking and I'm particularly red faced and sweaty, I would probably avoid me. If I've fallen and can't get up, press my life support button. Just kidding - call 911. I've probably had the big one. If I have a stick, run. Run far, far away.

Awkward

I'm a freak of nature...or at least I feel like that sometimes. I have a mild case of agoraphobia and a wicked fear of crowds. Today I did something that triggered a massive anxiety attack and pounding headache. I went to a good friend's wedding.

I was ok during the ceremony, which was beautiful and I may or may not have teared up a little while my friend said her vows. Yeah, I cry at weddings (and funerals, and baptisms, and sappy movies, and basically anywhere someone else is crying). I have an image to uphold so pretend I'm not bawling while watching a Nicholas Sparks movie, m'kay? Thanks.

Where was I going with this? Oh, the reception. It was very nice and I'm positive there were a lot of awesome people there, but I wound up hiding in the bathroom for as long as I could stretch it out and popping two Clonnies.

That calmed me down enough to awkwardly talk to the pastor and his wife. They were extremely nice and didn't make strange faces when I said something loudly or laughed inappropriately. Pastors are great for us socially deficient people - very caring and kind.

Anyway, I made it through and am now headed home to put in jams and read a book about brain eating spiders (fiction).

Peace out ya'all.

I'm hangry...

I am starving.

I am on a “lifestyle change” and instead of being responsible and eating things like fruits and vegetables, I’m consuming a lot of my daily calories in lattes. It’s a bitch to be addicted to good coffee.

I would say the change is going well, but I’m stuffing cheese cubes in my mouth as I type this. Don’t judge me. Cheese has no carbs so I don’t have to do insulin.

Did you know insulin is a growth hormone? What the hell?!? What I take every day to keep myself alive also makes me extremely fat. Well, maybe the lattes and cheese don’t help. But I take a ridiculous amount of insulin to counteract the medication that makes me sane – worth it – so I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Or maybe I should eat some vegetables. Shudder. I like all the starchy veg – corn, peas, potatoes – so maybe I should learn to choke down a carrot or something. That might help with the weight loss. And I should probably lay off the lattes. They are delicious, and addictive, but I can overpower the siren call of sugar and caffeine. (Or I’ll replace it with Diet Mt. Dew. Again, don’t judge me. Diet Mt. Dew might be the most delicious caffeinated beverage out there – right up next to any Coke product.)

Damnit, I’m still hungry and it’s 4:45, so I can’t justify cooking dinner just yet. Fifteen minutes….I can make it. I hope.

If you don’t hear from me in a few days I’ve starved to death – send cheese cubes and Diet Mt. Dew.

I apologize in advance...

Hello. If you’re reading this, you probably know me. If not, congrats!!! You’ve stumbled onto my weird, wonderful world where I say fuck a lot, and try not to complain too much (which fucking sucks – see?).

So about myself: I am a Type 1 diabetic (no, cinnamon can’t cure it, neither can Jesus) which means I have an insulin pump and continuous glucose monitor; I have bipolar NOS which means I’m very fun at parties or not at all; I have celiac, or sprue for my European friends, which means no more bread, pasta or anything wonderful and cake like; I have fibromyalgia which makes my joints feel like they’re on fire all.the.time; I have carpal tunnel, to which I know you’re asking – how is she typing this? through the pain, bitches, through the pain; I also have diabetic neuropathy, which is not nearly as sexy as it sounds – loss of sensation in my hands and feet which is great when walking on coals but not so great on stepping on broken glass (thanks Hub for sweeping that shit up); I have PCOS - which really doesn’t bother me because I have a teenager and want exactly zero more children; I've got a handful of kidney stones rattling around that help to remind me that I am alive; and I have asthma, which is like God saying, "Hey, you know what you could really suck at? Breathing."

I live with the philosophical ideal of Dory: “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.” I also have crap memory, so that probably helps with keeping my head above water. My teenager takes full advantage of the crap memory by reminding me of things I never promised, “You said I could have $20 on Tuesday.” Shit, really? I don’t recall saying that, but I also can’t recall what I had for breakfast today. A gluten free granola bar? Oatmeal? Who knows? It’s a mystery.

I plan to use this blog to note the funny, the weird, the awful of being so sick. I don’t think of myself as sick until I see it all written down and then I think to myself, “I should be wrapped in a fleece blanket, with an endless streaming on Supernatural and the Walking Dead, and a mixed drink in hand. And maybe a monkey butler to do all the housework.” Then I realize I’m poor and I have to do all the shit myself, and that makes me want to drink. Damn. I didn’t realize I also had an alcohol problem. I haven’t drank in over a year, but I think about it constantly. Shit.

Anyway, thank you for stopping by my little world of weird and hope you enjoy the ride.