Tag: bipolar disorder

I’m Atypical

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

I’m Atypical

My third appointment for the day was for my new PCP. She seems nice and knowledgeable. She diagnosed my dizzy spells as atypical migraine, meaning instead of getting the headache, I get dizzy. Aren’t I lucky!? She also looked at the labs at my request and noted my potassium was low. She wants to have it rechecked next week when I see the NP. She also will be sending a note to my psychiatrist. Why, I don’t remember. I think it had to do with taking the amerge for the migraines as it can interfere with the sertraline. So now I got to be careful when I get a migraine. Shit. Forgot about this side effect. Fuck. My psych is going to flip.

Spoke to my psychiatrist about my father. She thinks he is in liver failure. I am in denial, only because his alt/ast are normal (liver function tests). But I could be dead wrong. Guy is going to die if he doesn’t get the fluid out of him, and soon. He is seeing his doctor tomorrow. I made the appointment today. Beats having to go next week. This will be trip 3 to the hospital this week. I might as well stay at the holiday inn around the corner, I am there so often.

Had therapy today. My therapist wants me to deal with the impending bereavement of my father. Fat chance. I killed him off when I was younger. His physical body just isn’t in the ground or urn to make it complete. There is nothing I feel about him other than anger. Hell, I have gone on to call him fuckface now because he angers me so damn much. I give him a year to live, sooner if he doesn’t listen to his damn doctors.

I couldn’t believe she brought this up. I am glad I don’t have to deal with her until next week. I might see her on Wed if I can finagle it. It’s been almost two months since I last saw her in person. I was supposed to see her this month but my father screwed that up.

I slept pretty good today, though I am exhausted now. I left the house at 0800 and didn’t return until 1700. I tried writing in my journal but my thoughts were so slow and I couldn’t think of anything to write. Then when I did write, it took me an hour and half to write a page and a half. It’s painful to write these days. I hope the Zoloft helps. I am not sure I can go on like this. I feel like I am living in a crater and every time I try to get out, I get sucked back in. My psych said that I am depressed because of my biological vulnerabilities and my stupid ass father. I don’t know why both my psych team are dwelling on my damn father. Leave him alone and he will go away, though I was telling my therapist today he is like a boil that keeps returning. Just when you think it’s safe, the boil comes back. I was telling my psych today that the reason he refused treatment on Monday was because he wasn’t spoken to by medical personnel in the ER. If a nurse had talked to him or something, he probably would have consented to being admitted. But nope. His ego wasn’t stroked and it didn’t help that my idiot sister was telling him there were other patients besides him they had to get to before him. He got mad and so left, AMA (against medical advice).

My brother in law just called to say that he is downstairs. I asked if he was ok. He said he was. I said good, I will see him tomorrow. I don’t give a fuck. Why should I spend time with him? A son shouldn’t have to ask for a relationship with his father. I love that quote.

Aggravating Tuesday

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

Aggravating Tuesday

I am just in a “lovely” mood today. I made several calls about my father that got me no where. I give up. He dies, he dies. Everyone has to do it sooner or later and he is pushing the envelope for sooner. Not my problem. The aggravation lies in that he won’t help himself. Then my mother was sick this morning so I didn’t want to leave her alone. My plans for going out were hindered. She was fine by the afternoon, but still. Someone should be home with her just in case. Diabetes is an unpredictable illness. Sugars can drop unexpectedly as I have learned over the years.

I had therapy. We talked about grounding as I was having flashbacks and intrusive memories over the weekend. She wants me to ground myself. She had to explain what she meant by it because I haven’t ground myself in a very long time. I don’t usually have flashbacks or memories that keep playing like records in my head. Then we discussed that I don’t really want to be on sertraline and she said I needed to be. Her whole demeanor changed when I said no. If she could have written the script, I would be on it right now, that is how much she wants me to take it. I told her it’s going to be at least two weeks for it to work, if it does without making me sick. She said my father isn’t going to get better in two weeks so there. I asked her if I seemed depressed to her and she said that I did. I just have a hard time believing it.

Thing is, I don’t feel depressed all the time. Most of the time I am irritable. Noises set me off or loud voices. I still don’t have an appetite. Sometimes, like last night, I was eating because I hadn’t eaten anything all day and then in the morning, I wanted nothing to do with food. I’ve been wanting a tuna sandwich for most of the day but I just can’t get myself to make it. Doesn’t help that pain meds have been making me tired all day because my ankle is still being a brat. I woke up this morning around 7ish with my feet out of the blankets. I was covered but my feet weren’t and they were freezing. My ankle didn’t like that at all. I had to wear thermal socks again to warm them up. I had 4.5 hours of sleep. Miraculously, I didn’t tell my therapist about the drinking adventure I had last night. I came close though but stopped myself.

I keep asking myself if I am in a clinical depression again. I would have to say yes because this stuff has been going on for more than two weeks. And it doesn’t show any signs of getting better. I thought with my appetite returning, I would feel better but that hasn’t been the case. I don’t know if I am going to get better this time. I don’t feel hopeless, but I do feel like this is going to drag on and on.

maybe I won’t feel so bad

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, depression, mood disorders

Maybe I won’t feel so bad

I took my pain pills. Then I made something to eat that woke me up. Now I had some gin. Just two shots of Beefeater. Believe me when I say I wanted to finish the bottle but the shit is tearing up my guts big time. You don’t realize the restraint. But after the day I had, I deserve a drink or two.

Foot is acting up big time. I had to put on thermal socks because my feet got cold. They are warm but not toasty yet. Soon as they do, I will take them off. I hate sleeping with socks on. I think the alcohol has been absorbed through my stomach lining. I feel great. I really want to finish the bottle. But that is playing with fire.

I have never mixed alcohol with opioids before. But I needed a drink and the gin was handy. Much closer than my honey whiskey. I did that on purpose. I was tired of staring at it on my desk so I moved it closer to the bedside. It has been there for months judging by the level of dust on the bottle. I am not a drinker, per se. But I do binge drink when I am in the mood. I am not in the mood tonight. I might have one or two more shots of gin before bed. I hope it will make me sleep. Least it will do is make me toss and turn. I keep thinking of the song by Eric Church, “Mixed drinks about feelings”. Cause “my figured out has never been more confused”. I can tell by the heavy in my heart that I’m going down soon.

The lyrics are so damn powerful. I had four shots of gin. That is all I am going to have tonight. HAHA I just realized I also had benzos with my alcohol. Man, I wonder if I will wake up tomorrow. This wasn’t planned. And I don’t think I will tell my therapist about this information. She will freak the fuck out. I also won’t tell my psych. She will freak out. Might even section me. Or force me to get blood work. I had a bad outing with my father. It’s his fault. Bastard doesn’t know what he does to me.

Whiskey soothes but I toss and turn. I’ll find sleep till dreams relent, wake up tired and try again.

No use fighting the fight its not contest tonight my figured out has never been more confused

Love this song so much. I have tweeted Eric the song many times but have not got a tweet back. I keep trying through.

National Pi Day

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

National Pi Day

I didn’t have pie though I probably could have if I really wanted it. I was in no mood because I spent 12 fricken hours with my asshole father. I threatened I would hang up on my therapist tomorrow if she brings him up. I am so disgusted with him that I really can’t say anymore other than my day was wasted. I got nothing done that I wanted to get done today. I didn’t go to Starbucks this morning to write. I didn’t make phone calls I was supposed to make. Nor did I drop off paperwork to my PCP’s office because of this jerk.

I didn’t eat anything today except a cheese Danish. I did go to Starbucks, though not the one I wanted to sit and write at. I just had my soy latte while my sister dealt with dear old dad while I vegged out some. I am hungry but I also have a splitting headache and feel nauseous. So after this blog, I am shutting the lights and going to sleep.

I also haven’t taken one pain pill all day. Probably why I feel sick to my stomach. I wasn’t planning on being with my father 12 hours. It just happened to be that way because he is a fuck. I just hope my psychiatrist doesn’t get mad at me when I sent her the email I did. It was a vent of the blog post that is private. Only select bloggers have access to it. I am too paranoid that my sisters might get hold of it so I keep the key locked.

I really didn’t want to eat today. I probably would have if my day went as planned. I probably would have had my double smoked bacon egg sandwich at Starbucks before I started to write. But that didn’t happen. I am so damn angry it’s not funny. Bastard is going to drown in his own fluids and he doesn’t want medical treatment so fuck him. He thinks his doc is going to save him and only this doc. I have to laugh. My father has it in his tiny brain that he is immortal. Oh and there is nothing wrong with him at all. He just takes medication for his heart for nothing. Just a jest. To humor me and his doctors I guess. Bastard he is.

I told my therapist that she is not to bring him up at all or I will hang up on her. I am not wasting any time talking about today with her at all. We can talk about it on Wednesday when I am in a less private space to talk. I actually have no idea where I will be to talk to my therapist on Wednesday as I will be at the hospital for all three of my appointments. I wish I still had an office I could go to. If the weather is nice, I will be outside. Otherwise I will be scrambling for a space in a public area.

I need to take a shower tomorrow or at least cut my finger nails. I don’t know why they grow so damn fast. I hate cutting them but I must because I hate long fingernails more than ¼ of an inch. It’s probably smaller than that but that is my estimate.