Tag: anxiety

Misguided Rage

Published on by cmglife

What I realized this morning is that the rage I’d been waiting for wasn’t coming for me at all. John had to have some release, but he has too much too lose to rage against me at the moment because of the big D hanging above his head.

I knew it was coming. It didn’t dawn on me it could be for Tristan.  I can handle it, was even looking forward to it in a strange twisted way so I could finally move on. That’s what I figured I needed for the final “sayonara sucker”.

I was woken up at 11:30 last night to John showing me the texts he had been sending to Tristan that were going unanswered. I knew Tristan was at work until a 2 am doing inventory. I knew he had taken the old Subaru because he couldn’t find the keys to his car. John did not know any of this, until he showed me the ranting texts and I told him. Ten in a row about not believing he was at work, the car being stolen, going to call the police if he didn’t answer the texts. Oh, God, it went on and on. Nothing new.

He hasn’t been for the therapy yet. It’s been a week. I’ve got to come up with a time frame for this to happen before I give him the divorce papers.

He’s going to be home in a few hours. How do I act? I feel a bit sick.

The Last Thing I Would Have Expected….

Published on by cmglife

I was already to leave.  I had my mind made up, part of me felt really good and then the unexpected happened. I started talking to John about what I thought would be the 4th and final “I want a divorce” talk. You know what he sprung on me? Therapy. He said he would go to therapy to keep me! Not couples therapy, but therapy for him!

Unfortunately, according to what I’ve read, this is right on cue for a narcissist. He’s been “love bombing” me all weekend. This is what they do when they are faced with abandonment.

I don’t think it will last. He can usually only keep the nice guy routine up for a few weeks, if that. The difference is this year I am not going to get sucked back in, I’m not falling for it again. If the therapy doesn’t work I’ve got all my ducks in a row .

I am keeping the papers filed and am continuing with the divorce process.  I guess I’m playing both sides of the fence. I want to see if the therapy works.

So many emotions today. Disappointment. Apprehension. Suspicion. Strangely no relief or happiness with this new turn of events.

A Serious Discussion

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Emily and I had a discussion the other day about revealing my Bipolar Disorder II to people. “People” means the people I know. I worry that if they know I have this mood disorder they will view me differently.

My daughter, I believe because of heredity, has a little OCD and General Anxiety. She tells people in her life about it. She thinks it is important to educate about mental illness and she feels that it will make a difference as far as how some people view it.

I have a different tano-more-stigma-10ke on it though. I am afraid to tell even my closest friends about my illness. I am afraid they will misunderstand and think I will strip down naked and run down the street with a knife.  Actually, I hate to admit it, but before I was diagnosed with this disorder, I thought the same thing.

Just like everyone is told by top news stories, the perpetrator of mass murders, etc. are often reported as having a bipolar illness.  The general public sees that and assumes the worst.  Who can blame them?  There are so many variables that are not reported.  Predisposition to violence, access to weapons, psychotic breaks, not medicated, etc.

Writing this blog is the farthest I can go right now.  I feel very protective of my situation. Maybe one day.

Do Not Mix With Alcohol

Published on by cmglife

Who ever really pays attention to that warning anyway? I never did, until today.

With the amazing amount of prescription medication I am on to handle my Bipolar II condition and the fact I have sleep apnea, many phobias and anxiety it’s surprising I can function at the high level I do.

Here we are today, falling asleep while driving long distances. Oh, yes it is bad. I have what I like to call “micro sleeps” on a three lane highway in traffic. My doctor says to pull over, but it won’t make any difference. After all I do have to get home eventually.   It is pretty scary. I spend a trip slapping my face, shaking my head, windows open, tapping my leg, singing or talking to myself. Nothing works. So I decided it must be part of my sleeping disorder, sleep apnea.

I thought I had fixed it with a cpap machine, but I couldn’t “tolerate” it. That is the medical terminology. They couldn’t find a mask small enough to seal to my face. The mask would “blow out” during the night and wake me up. Constantly, all night long. The next thing was a mouth guard. This was no piece of plastic found on the internet for snoring, mine is truly bionic. It fits really well and should for the price of a small car.

I went back to a sleep specialist to see if there is anything I can do with this new phenomenon of falling asleep while driving (if truth be told I can fall asleep almost anywhere at any time). He suggested a sleep study, but in the meantime he would give me a prescription for a medicine to take before driving long distances. The first time I took it in the morning and I was up until 1am. I broke it in half the next time and it worked wonderfully. Now today I took it in the morning and made it to my sister’s, about an hour away. I’ve used about 6 tablets in the last three months so I figured I knew how it worked. What I didn’t calculate into the equation was a visit to my ailing mother (a story for later) and when I got to my sister’s I needed a glass of wine. I had one at about 2:30 and ended up not being able to drive home until around 6:30!

My sister said I was just freaking myself out, but the alcohol hit me hard! After two glasses of water and two cups of coffee I managed to get my wits about me and drive home. It turned out I was just fine, Ellen was right; I had been freaking myself out.

I wondered how I would begin to explain my situation if I got pulled over. I was not drunk or under the influence of any kind. Is being paranoid a ticketable offense?

Minding My Own Business

Published on by cmglife

I was out walking my dog. I have a miniature poodle that lifts his leg on everything during the walk. He’s empty before we make it past our bushes, but yet he continues to try to mark anything and everything if I slow down even in the slightest.

This particular day he lifted his leg on the wrong bush. A disturbingly angry man started yelling at me. It was too loud, too angry and it sent a cold trickle of fear through my center. I turned around to look and an old man was standing inside his house yelling though the living room window. He kept yelling things like; “What kind of person am I that I would let my dog pee on his bush?” and “I’m going to call the police”, etc. I tried to explain he wasn’t peeing, but the man was making so much noise he couldn’t hear me. Finally I turned around and began walking again, using the universal arm wave that says “Whatever”.

It looked like the whole situation was over. And it was to him and anyone else who was listening, but to me it wasn’t. My head was spinning. I cried all the way home. I felt like I had been transported back to my childhood.

I haven’t been able to get myself to go out for a walk since. I try all the self-talk, all the logic, etc. I’ve listened to all the advice.  And I still can’t do it. I will. I know I will, it just might take a little longer this time.  At my age now I’ve realized that sometimes it’s okay to be kind and gentle with myself.

Momentary Setback

Published on by cmglife

What a monumental task it is to get into the groove of your life after a setback. Everyone has different setbacks and I’m sure there are some people who have no setbacks or at least will never admit it to themselves.

My setbacks always seemed to have to do with mood swings which I used to put down to PMS. It is amazing all the things a woman with undiagnosed mental illness can blame on the ebb and flow of normal female hormones.

The recent setback I had was going off Abilify. My doctor thought he might be duplicating the effect of medication because he had just upped the dosages on two of the others I’m taking. We agreed to try it.  I was all gung ho because I wondered if it was the reason for my weight gain.  He didn’t have to ask me twice!

I was fine for the first week except for the withdrawal symptoms, excessive sweating and dizziness. I was asking everyone in the office; is it hot in here or is it me? They were all convinced I was having premenopausal hot flashes.

Luckily, I had asked my doctor the last time I had a bout of depression what were the signs to watch for. I can’t decipher the difference between what I’m feeling and what should be normal. He gave me a simple parameter to follow: If you feel like you don’t want to wake up the next morning it’s time to call me.

This time I was feeling a lot of anxiety and depression, but as usual I wanted to be macho and try to face it. Again, what is me and what is normal? I started taking the Abilify again last Saturday and I am already looking back in amazement. The person I am today, literally today…October 27 and the person I was last week are like night and day.

I am constantly grateful that I am living in this day and age, found the right doctor and have health insurance.   Life is good.

The Final Cocktail

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I think this final cocktail of medicine is really working for me. One side effect of being so level is I have nothing to write about anymore. At least not anything from my old point of view. I just wanted to let everyone know to hang in there if you are waiting for more frequent installments from me. As history probably will repeat it’s self I should be writing again next month.

I went to my doctor today and told him I was feeling really good, but as I said that I felt kind of embarrassed. I tell him the same thing every other visit. Last time it was crushing anxiety, then happy and before that terrible depression. He tweaks the drugs and councils as he has been doing for years. I do like him because he trusts me and, therefore, I trust him.

It didn’t used to be that way. For the first few years of being diagnosed with Bipolar II I was very rebellious. I knew I wasn’t happy with my old self but I felt so flat with my new self. After 44 years one does get used to the ups and downs no matter how they destroyed me. I rebelled by screwing around with my medicine and dosages to try to get a little “life” back into my life. I know I didn’t used to drink wine every night like I have been for the past 5 years. I know why I do it. It is to change my feelings. It is a little blast from the past of the old days. I wonder at what point do I start to worry about the wine? My sister says, “Oh for goodness sake, let yourself have one crutch”. She doesn’t worry about it so I won’t.

The next step will be enjoying the new strength I feel when I have to go up to the customer service and exchange something, get gas in the car, etc. I know it sounds crazy. Anxiety is brutal on normal day to day activities.

Peace of Mind

Published on by cmglife

It wasn’t so bad at first.  I could cope with the gum smacking and the loud voice.  Well, actually that is a lie.  Nice, I’ve started out my maudlin plea with a lie.  I hate this person…how’s that for the truth? I’ll start out again.

Six months ago it began.  It wasn’t so bad at first.  A little loud and talked a lot, but as time went on more annoying and downright obnoxious behavior surfaced.  A flippant attitude to the kids, talking with mouth full, sweats stuffed into slippers, loud personal calls, gossiping and on and on and on.

All of this only three feet from my desk. I have to force myself not to roll my eyes and sigh half the day.

How is a quiet, polite, professional, anxiety ridden bipolar II woman supposed to handle this day in and day out? Seven hours a day!  I am either a zombie or a nervous wreck by the time I get home.

My doctor thinks the combination of this person and my friend dying has been too much on my poor little brain and it’s buckling under the added stress.  Unnecessary anxiety attacks.

I’m tired of persevering.  I don’t know whether I deserve it or not, but I just want a little peace of mind.