Unleash da Beast

Forgive me … my knowledge base of professional wrestling is very limited, but I have recently enjoyed watching a few matches as well as some life stories of a few of the more popular characters who indulge in this sport.  My favorite is The Rock, but I don’t even know if he is still wrestling.  I’m way outta the loop and behind the times with all pop culture.

He looks delicious to me.  Kinda ironic … Wrestlemania.  Unfortunately, I’m still wrestling with the other side of bipolar – depression.  I would like nothing more than to put a sleeper hold on this shit so it never wakens to plague any human being ever again.  For the fortunate ones who have never suffered from clinical depression, please understand that it is as debilitating as the Undertaker’s Tombstone Pile Driver:

Ok, enough of the wrestling analogies.  But seriously, as awful as depression is, add anxiety to the mix and I can truly say I am a mess, a hot-n-sizzling mess, but a mess nonetheless.  Kidding by the way.  The only thing sizzling of late are my fingers, hands, and wrists, as I’m constantly burning them while feeding my wood stove.

If you click on this pic, you will see that the temperature gauge says too hot.  The blisters on my hands agree.  Anyway, that’s what I get for loading up the stove with locust and not putting heatproof gloves on.  I don’t have any.  By the way, one sign of depression is an inability to concentrate or focus on a task at hand.  I think I just demonstrated that.  Ugh.

If only it were this simple (or maybe it is?):

Sounds like Buddhism … I need to try to practice that.  Easier said than done.

I mentioned anxiety, something I’ve NEVER had to deal with and always thanked the good Lord above for that.  Lately, however, anxiety and I have gone head to head and sometimes anxiety has won.  I don’t know if it’s the combination of meds I am on, of which my PNP (psychiatric nurse practitioner) and I are still trying to tweak, or if it’s just a lovely new symptom that stems from my bipolar.  I had to go to Wal-Mart the other day and was scared to death.  What an awful feeling for someone who used to be so confident and self-assured.

Yea baby … how I hope I can overcome this.

I apologize if this blog post doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I need to get back into some sort of routine, and I want writing to be a part of it even though my posts may not be all that entertaining.  If nothing else, it’ll be a documentation of my journey through this living hell.  Not to mention I have a lot of catching up to do regarding my 6-week stint in rehab.  Still sober by the grace of God!

As the Nature Boy Ric Flair takes down the Undertaker with a figure-four lock, I bid you adieu … WOO!

Cute pic, eh?  Haven’t felt like blogging lately.  I’ve got a lion on my back in the form of a depressive episode.  I really didn’t want to write about it because I don’t want to come across as negative, but I figure I’ve gotta keep things real.  I started the section on depression (now called tackling dual disorders) a long time ago, and it doesn’t seem right to just ignore that depression is very much a part of my life, as it is many others per the statistics.  Anyway, I’ve sunk into one, and I had been blaming it on this:

A li’l blue pill.  No, not THAT li’l blue pill but the one above … Abilify.  It’s what I’m taking for bipolar I.  It’s working great for the manic part of manic-depression.  I’ve been thinking that this med has thrown me into depression and have been trying to get an appointment with a psychiatrist to prescribe an antidepressant; that is what the shrink at the rehab facility recommended.  Easy peasy, right?!  Ha!  Not in Western North Carolina.  My case manager and I called ALL over the place.  For one thing, nobody would take Blue Cross/Blue Shield; some would only take Medicare or uninsured folks I reckon.  I even offered cash to one facility – no go.  Welcome to the wonderful world of healthcare in the good ole U. S. of A.

Long story, short, I did get an appointment someplace, just a preliminary screening, not to actually see a person who can prescribe pills on the first go around.  It was a start at least.  As it turns out, all they have is a nurse practitioner to prescribe meds–no psychiatrist–and I can’t see her until December 18.  I’m depressed NOW damn it!  Sooooo, since I have such a good rapport with my local counselor and my local regular doc, I’ve made appointments with them and get to see ‘em next week.  Yay!  That’s the route I wanted to take to begin with, but I had to satisfy my case manager at Swain Recovery, who wanted to satisfy the shrink and get me an appointment with a bona fide, school-learned, certified psychiatrist.  Had we done things MY way, I’d already be taking an antidepressant by now, hehe.  Oh, and my counselor told me on the phone that Abilify does not cause depression.  Depression is just part of bipolar.  I liked blaming it on a pill better for some reason.  Stop taking the pill; stop the depression.  Not the case.  I need the pill.

So how do I know I’m depressed?!  I do a lot of research.  I know the way I feel isn’t the way anyone should feel.  I know I’ve got some serious issues I need to deal with, and I just don’t feel like it.  I won’t say I don’t care, but it’s sorta like that.  I do care; I just don’t have whatever it is to get me moving.  Doesn’t make much sense, I know.  Here’s an interesting table of symptoms of depression.  Click to enlarge, if interested; it shows male vs female symptoms:

Ya I’ve got a bunch of those symptoms.  What’s bizarre I think is being so aware of my situation.  I’m not sure my mom was completely aware that what she had was an illness.

She’s on the top right … I like this old pic, and howzabout her hairdo?  Anyway, with this episode, I’ve been comparing myself to how my mom dealt with things and really making a great effort to not fall so far into the abyss that it’s impossible to climb out.  Ya see, when one is depressed, it is difficult for him or her to do the normal ADLs (activities of daily living).  Simple things like taking a shower can at times take great effort (no worries–I took one today).  My mom would lock herself up in her room until it passed and let her dirty laundry pile up, while I’ve been forcing myself to exercise each day and to get at least a couple things done daily whether that is bringing in some wood for the fire or cleaning a room or doing a load of laundry or whatever.  Meantime, I’m trying to do what my mom is in the above pic and what she always advised me to do … “Keep smilin’.”

Y’all do the same for me and my mom … mmmK?!

Lots of folks have asked me what we do in rehab.  I want to share a little sample of the type of work we do.  Yesterday, we sat outside and spent 15 minutes silently meditating, writing, or doodling … whatever we wanted to do as long as we sat fairly still and didn’t speak.  After 15 minutes, we were to do an assignment.  I was utterly amazed at how quickly I completed this.  It took very little thought; the words just flowed out of my pen like buttermilk (how’s that for a redneck analogy?!):

My responses are in orange.

Beneath This Mask

I put on this mask because … I am afraid.

Beneath this mask I … am a child.

I’m protected from … heartache.

I pretend … all is well.

Beneath this mask I feel … lonely.

I don’t feel … loved.

I touch … no one.

Beneath this mask I look … safe.

I see … everyone else living a good life.

I don’t see … the real me.

Beneath this mask I fear … nothing.

I cry out … please help me.

I worry … nobody will.

I wonder … why.

Beneath this mask I dream … about happiness.

I hope … I find it.

I try … to find it.

Beneath this mask I scream … why the fuck me?

I hurt … deeply.

I’m angry … at my mother.

I need … closure.

Beneath this mask I see the light … and I run from it.

I pray … for peace.

I believe … I will eventually find it.

I understand … I have to in order to recover.

And I dream of the day … I have it.

When I take off this mask … I will celebrate.

DEEP STUFF, EH?!

In all my frantic research to learn everything I can about my diagnosis, I learned that bipolar is often misdiagnosed as depression (unipolar).  That seems plausible to me, although I’m no doctor.  But get this, if someone who actually suffers from bipolar is treated with an antidepressant only, it could very well throw the manic-depressive person into full-blown mania.  You know what people with full-blown mania typically do?  Crazy, irrational, irresponsible stuff like quit their jobs and spend their money recklessly.  Why is this important to me?!

In my desperate attempt to find relief from my monthly bouts of what I thought was PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder), I finally found a doc willing to prescribe me something.  He prescribed Sarafem.  Ever hear of it?  I hadn’t.  It’s the same exact drug as Prozac ‘cept its marketed for PMDD and more expensive when prescribed for PMDD … imagine that.  No matter, though, cuz the doc prescribed me the generic form, which is fluoxetine.  I started taking that in August of 2011.

Three months later, I quit my job, albeit under duress.  A month after that, I borrowed the money for da BeastMobile.  Y’all know the rest of the story (thanks Paul Harvey—love and miss you).  Sold most of my stuff, traveled for a full month, cashed in on my 401K and retirement, blah blah blah.  Can you say 9 months of mania, baby?!

I went to my regular doc yesterday with the recommendation from my counselor on what psych med he wanted to start me on.  My doc’s a li’l crazy himself, in a good way though—he’s a hoot.  He said, “Mania, huh … what’s that like?!  It sounds kinda fun!”  I told him it was a blast at times and that May on the road was the best month of my life but that it had its downfalls as well, like when I’d overmedicate myself by drinking way too much and turn into an evil and obnoxious BeastBitch and lash out at anyone who I’d felt had wronged me in the past.  Don’t be mistaken, it was really fun to get my feelings out on a couple of folks but not something I would’ve done sober.  No regrets though, it is what it is.

And now back to the subject of side effects.

Yes, sweet li’l kittycat, you are fluffy AND really cute!

I know that a lot of psych meds list gaining weight as a side effect.  I also know that a lot of the side effects listed on any med come from a study group, and their headaches, insomnia, weight gain, horns growing from their heads, etc, could very well be caused by something else going on in their lives/bodies.  Pharmaceutical companies simply list them all to protect their ass-ets.  But for the heck of it, I googled the med I’m taking next to the words “weight gain.”  I found several forums where peeps were complaining about significant and rapid weight gain, but there were almost as many saying they’d lost weight on the same drug.  Hmmm.  I weighed myself this morning and am up 2 pounds, BUT up until yesterday I was gorging on ice cream, brownies, and cupcakes for a few days.  Ate six cupcakes in one sitting, dunno what that was all about–I think the frosting’s main ingredient was meth … yea that’s it.

A lot who had gained weight on the med I just started yesterday said it made their appetites increase and they craved carbs and sugar more than they did before taking the med.  So there you have it, back to the low-carb diet STAT!  I can’t afford new clothes.

Y’all have an awesome weekend, ya hear?! 

Nah, I’m not really panicking … freaking out a little?  Perhaps.  But it’s all good; I’m on the right path.  Howzabout a li’l:

Sounds good to me.  Once again, not sure that I’ve been officially diagnosed, or maybe it just hasn’t been decided if I am of the I or II variety.  I am 99.9% sure I suffer from what in the past has always been known as manic-depression.  I’ve talked about the depression stuff; now I wanna talk about mania signs and symptoms.  I’ve perused and taken notes from several different medical sources on the interwebz.  Gonna list some signs and symptoms and add my thoughts based on my behavior for the past 9 months:

• Flying suddenly from one idea to the next.  I do that in my mind, I do that when I talk, I do that when I clean house, I do that when I type, I do that when I … etc.
• Rapid, “pressured,” and loud speech.  My speech is rapid (I’m a Yankee after all) and often pressured.  I guess I can be loud too, but I always blamed that on having a husband who was hard of hearing.  I’ll give this one a check mark.
• Increased energy, with hyperactivity and a decreased need for sleep.  Yes on the increased energy and yes I’m hyperactive.  I thought decreased need for sleep was a no until I was reminded that when I’m not passing out from drinking or taking a sleep aid, I don’t sleep much.
• Inflated self-image.  Who me?!  Come on now, y’all know I’m awesome.  Hahaha!  Alright, I’ll give this one a check mark too.
• Excessive spending.  But I really need to unleash my beast at whatever cost.  Ya gotta spend money to make money, right?!  Done spending but still waiting on making … check mark.
• Hypersexuality.  Well, well so I’m NOT a nympho … AMEN!  ’Nuff said.
• Substance abuse.  ABSOLUTely.
• Talking very fast, jumping from one idea to another, having racing thoughts.  All three, like wicked bad.  The thoughts race so fast I hear a buzzing in my brain worse than the sounds coming from the Daytona Speedway during the 500.
• Being easily distracted.  10-4 … one reason I couldn’t hack that transcription job.
• Increasing goal-directed activities.  Hmmm … would that be like packing up 80% of my belongings and shoving them into the garage?  There’s more, but I won’t bore y’all.
• Being restless.  Roger that – I have a hard time sitting still.
• Sleeping little.  Only when I don’t artificially induce sleep by drinking or taking a pill.
• Having an unrealistic belief in one’s abilities.  Some might say so; I don’t think so. Pretty sure if I jumped off the Empire State Building I could fly all the way back here to NC (not).
• Behaving impulsively and taking part in a lot of pleasurable, high-risk behaviors, such as spending sprees, impulsive sex, and impulsive business investments.  Jumpin’ Jupiter … can you say ALL OF THE ABOVE?!

And then there are mixed episodes, depression and mania.  I think that’s where I am right now. It is my goal to raise awareness of mental illness.  It is a disease no matter what some folks say. Nobody in his or her right mind would make this shit up — capisce?! It will take me a while to get going though so bear with me.  I’ve got some hard work ahead to get myself on an even keel.

Happy Monday!!!