Side Effects

It’s 3am and I’m awake for two reasons… 1, I had to Pee but 2, Abilify fucks with your dreams.

The weekend was weird for me and side effects. 

Friday night I went to karaoke. Does Abilify interact with alcohol? Absolutely, but not like I thought it would. Usually you end up being a lightweight and acting a fool when you try to drink on new drugs. This was not the case, I was just very social. Literally, I didn’t feel drunk at all….  until I was driving home and became aware VERY QUICKLYt that my reaction time was WAY slow… I made it home okay, since the bar was close to home, but in the future if I plan on drinking, it’s worth taking a Lyft. 
Also, as an aside, David2, Bird, and I got invited to an orgy before we left the bar. That’s fun. We all fled… stranger orgies are bad.

Saturday I thought I was dying. In retrospect, a few things probably contributed to this. A, I drank the night before. I didn’t have a hangover the next day, but I’m definitely considering that drinking might elicit more side effects than I previously thought it would. 2, I didn’t take my pill at night. I missed it because I was too busy trying to go out, so I took it in the morning. There is something to be said for what you sleep through when you take meds at night. D, I panicked. Panic always just makes shit worse.

So I go to see War for the Planet of the Apes with Mothership, and I can barely eat. I’ve developed this thing where I am full most of the time, but I get hungry more often. That’s not a listed side effect but it’s a new thing. Then, I get a heart palpitations. That’s a listed side effect, but it’s a terrifying one. I hate that feeling, and when it got coupled with a hot flash and intestinal distress, it’s a spooky side effect that made me think I was potentially having a heart attack. I got dizzy, and upset, and mom ended up having to drive us home.

Mom baffles me. As long as I can remember, if I’m feeling bad, she is meh about it. When I had a kidney stone that sent me to the ER, she took her time getting ready to take me to the ER. She was more concerned about whether I smelled like Jager than the crippling pain I was in. Likewise, when I told her I thought I might be having a heart attack because my heart was racing so bad, she just asked why. To which I quiteangrily said, BECAUSE MY HEART IS RACING AND EVERYTHING IS BAD. I love my mother, and sometimes her eerie calm is handy, like when I had gallstones and was so panicked and pained that all I could do was walk clockwise in a circle and writhe, but in general, her tendency to act unfeeling is unsettling, at best. I’ve begun to wonder if she’s really JUST depressed, or if she, like dad and I, has a mood or personality disorder. She could be histrionic… 

Anyways, she got me home and I spent the rest of the day trying to cool off and recover. That meant I was up late, though, so I filled the time with FFXV again. I also started War of the Worlds before bed. Being able to read again is nice.

Sunday was better. I was up early and got in some gaming time. Mostly I just hung out, but I’m real task oriented. I like to DO things that I was previously unable to do. I got some drawing in, and only suffered one hot flash. I went to mom’s and we watched two episodes of Twin Peaks, and ordered pizza. Before bed I also finished the 15th Oz book. There are 25 of them, but I am stopping here, because that’s how far my collection goes. It was an ok day.

But the dreams. I had been really concerned about the dreams, anyways, because when I was on Risperdol I had awful nightmares, but I’m not having nightmares. My dreams are just real involved. It’s like my cognitive processes don’t shut down at all when I sleep now, so it just runs scenarios over and over, trying to determine the best outcome. I’ve quit my job seven times tonight in my dreams. None end well.

Well, it’s 4am now, and I wanna catch my last hour of sleep. But yeah, I’m not sure what to make of Abilify. I contacted my doc to see what she thinks, but again, she’s a Kaiser doc! And I really don’t think she cares if I die or get better.


New Shrink & New Drugs

Whelp, Monday I saw a new shrink. I didn’t WANT a new shrink, but… Kaiser…

If you don’t know, I’d like to form a terrorist cell just to take down Kaiser…

So, I made the appointment in March. Waiting four months to see someone isn’t something I’m happy about… but I made it. She’s a weird little mousy white woman that could be 26 or 50. I’m honestly not sure how old she is, but she’s extremely proficient with a computer. All she did, really, was ask me questions and type the answers into the computer at lightning speed. I feel like my awe is how other people feel when they see me type without looking and whatnot.

I’m never really happy about rehashing my whole mental health history. It was a long, unpleasant journey from my mother thinking I was just a a moody teenager to being a diagnosed bipolar that fought really hard to get off medication… Not to mention in the middle of all that was my mom not really accepting the idea that I was bipolar, and all the meds I tried, and how all the meds I tried effected my life and relationships…. It’s was a whole thing, and every time I get a new shrink we have to go over all of it. The records should really just be digital and able to transfer in 2017… I feel like that’s not an unrealistic expectation.

She did ask me what my diagnosis was with my other doctors, in particular if they were classifying me as BP 1 or BP 2. I was honest… it varies. She laughed a little and explained that it’s because I’m right on the cusp… So you could either call me a very sever BP2, or a pretty mild BP1. Based on the fact I have managed to avoid arrest and hospitalization, she decided to classify me as a BP 2, but also said that it’s really just semantics since they treat it the same way.

Anyways, after my interrogation, she decided we should try Abilify. It was a decision based on a couple of things: 1, I told her that I refuse to take Lithium, and 2, the other stuff she considered was shit I’ve already taken that didn’t work. I just have to say…. I FUCKING KNEW SHE WAS GONNA TRY TO PUT ME ON LITHIUM. When I looked at Kaiser’s formulary, I noticed that the drugs they have for psychiatric use are old drugs. There aren’t a lot of them, and a lot of them have been around for a long long time. Apparently they only get new stuff when the patent runs out, and until then they don’t support you trying it for any reason.

If you download this formulary, this is at the top:

Kaiser Permanente will generally cover brand-name (when no generic is available), generic and specialty tier drugs listed on our formulary as long as the drug is medically necessary, the prescription is filled at a Kaiser Permanente or a participating network pharmacy, and other plan rules are followed.


Anyways… When I looked at their formulary I knew… But I refuse.
Lithium is sedating. It primarily treats mania… I like my fucking mania. I don’t really care to get rid of my mania. Lithium is dangerous. The thereputic level for Lithium is like a hair away from overdose levels, which will wreck your kidneys and liver. Fuck that noise… I’m not doing blood draws for the rest of my life because they wanna use an old drug. Lithium tends to make you not care after a while. It’s sedating, as I said, and seems to work in people with bipolar the same was prozac works in people with depression. It’s not that you feel better, it’s that over time you kind of feel nothing. That’s just what it normally does. The list of side effects is concerning as all get out.

So no, I was not interested in taking a drug first used in 1871 and “perfected” to Lithium Carbonate in 1886, when there are so many new drugs with less severe repercussions.

(BTW, this shit is so dangerous that the FDA didn’t approve it for us to treat mania until 1970, and only under very specific conditions, i.e. lots of blood draws to monitor toxicity. That’s 84 years between “perfected” date and “sure, let’s use this on crazy people,” and it’s been 47 years since then… we have better shit…)

Anyways, I’m done ranting about the dangers of Lithium.

I’ve taken lots of meds before now… Lamictal, Trileptal, Topamax, Risperdal… So between what I’d already tried and my objections, to my surprise Miss Shrinky-Dink actually put some thought into it and told me why she picked Abilify (Aripiprazole).

A, It’s the closest thing to Latuda that they have. Since I’d previously saw another shrink and tried to get Latuda, she took that into consideration. I think it’s a little bit of a cop-out, to try and piggie back off another doctor, but I appreciated that she was trying to stay in the same vein.

2, Abilify should not be sedative. I was very clear that I didn’t want to be sedated and that I do not tolerate unwanted side effects very well. While Abilify has a list as long as any other antipsychotic of side effects, it’s not reported to be sedative. It was also less likely to cause me to gain weight (since I’m already a whale) and she hadn’t had any other patients that had experienced a side effect that caused them to stop taking it.

D, It should STABILIZE my moods, and it’s often used to treat persistent depression. The idea right now is to level me out and see how I feel when I’m not up and down and up and down again all the time. Once I’m kinda stable, if I’m still having depressive moods she said that she could add an antidepressant later. She doesn’t like to use antidepressants alone, or in high doses, because they have a tendency to de-stabilize bipolar people. I get that. When I was on Effexor I was real manic. I liked it, but people around me were less of a fan.

So, overall it felt like maybe she actually listened to my concerns and took them into consideration. I also immediately did some research on Abilify myself… and I actually think I took it for a while toward the end of my last jaunt with meds. At the end I was just mad that we kept changing meds and they all sucked, so I’m not actually sure that I gave it any kind of chance. I was also real manic at the time… for like a month. So, while I’m pretty sure I’ve taken it before, I’ll give it a chance.

So Mousy Head Shrink ordered blood work, because there IS a risk of increased chance for high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and diabetes on Abilify, and I’m a big fat person. So yesterday morning I went to the facility by work that has a lab and the pharmacy where she put in my meds. All my labs were totally fine, as they tend to be. My old primary used to test me for all the fat diseases every single year, so I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a problem.

I was going to wait until the weekend to start my meds, but 4 days on the starting dose and then bumping up to twice as much… no matter how I tried to play that it was gonna fall on a week day… So I started last night. This morning, I am tired, nauseous, achy, kind of out of it, and really thirsty. I was expecting all of that. Everything but the thirst should subside the longer I’m on it. Apparently drinking a lot of water is just what I do now. It’s not the worst side effect, though. The body aches should go away, or people said that some magnesium pills will make it subside. So…

That’s where I’m at today… and I’m at work… so… all of that is BLARGH feeling… but hopefully I start feeling less depressed.

Also, I’ve read a few reports where Abilify made people loose a crazy amount of weight… If there was ever a side effect I craved, that would be the one… I’d like to lose like half my body weight… is that a side effect I could have? Please?

Sometimes I feel like one day I will find out that one of the many times I thought about killing myself, I actually did it, and this whole reality is some sort of sick hell I trapped myself in.

Yesterday was hard for me. I dunno why.

That’s the thing about being bipolar, though, there doesn’t have to be a why. After four days of being manic and barely sleeping, a crash was a predictable happenstance. Yesterday I felt like I was drowning. Yesterday I felt so far in over my head that I just wanted to shut down. I brought home literature on all our products in an attempt to be proactive and gain some kind of footing on what I’m doing. It can’t hurt, but it won’t teach me how deals work.

Today I woke up and everything was fine. I went to see Suicide Squad with mom for breakfast. I wanted more of Jared Leto’s joker, but it was good anyways. 

Now I’m at home. It’s barely noon. I am crying. 

I am overwhelmed with my life.

I dunno what to do.

I just want to throw everything away, but I don’t have the energy.

But it’s just a crash, right?

It’ll get better.

Virginity (Or The Lack Thereof)

There are so many things I wish I’d known before I lived.

I keep reading these articles that all have the same title:
“Things I Wish I’d Known Before Having Sex.”

I guess, for a lot of people, sex is a really big thing that happened in their lives. It marked the end of their childhood, or… something…

I have a hard time relating to people that see having sex for the first time as a really big major thing. To be honest, I don’t even remember the first time I had sex, except that the bleeding wouldn’t stop, which made me really scared and generally upset, and it turned out that was because I also got my first period that day. It was a big day for me all around.

The guy was not significant. He wasn’t my first boyfriend, and he wasn’t at all special, unless you count that about a month prior to me letting him stick in I told the school counselor that he was suicidal and got him thrown in the looney bin for a week. He was, literally, suicidal. He even detailed it out for me how he planned on doing it. Apparently, he had a lot of problems, because the counselor was aware of who he was and didn’t even flinch at the idea he might shoot himself. So…
I made such poor life choices in high school.

What did I wish I knew before I let a large half-Egyptian-half-Irishman violate me?

The articles address a lot of things I understand but can’t relate to, such as the concept of “losing” something by having sex. I never saw it that way, and even though no one had ever really told me that virginity was special or that having sex out of wedlock makes you less valuable as a person, I knew a lot of people that WERE told that. For me, having sex was just a thing that had to be done, and that most people did in high school. I wasn’t good at fitting in with my classmates, since I was a year younger than them all and completely lacked normal social skills. It was for this reason that I dove head first into having sex freshman year. I was 13 and historically a late bloomer, so I just got it out of the way. Was I ready for it? I dunno, prolly not, but I don’t think it left any lasting effects on my psyche.

They also tackle things like, “it wasn’t like the movies,” and “I thought we’d be together forever.” I’m consistently baffled by the number of people that really thought anything in life would ever be the way they thought it would be. I went into it knowing that A, it would prolly be gross and painful, 2, that we would NOT be together forever, and D, that it would probably be laughably short on top of not being very fun. I knew that. I’m a realist, and it lived up to every single one of my sad, sad expectations. It hurt, it was brief, he sweat a lot, and we broke up within the month. Honestly, he should have been a LITTLE better, since he was three years older than me and a giant fuckboy (man-slut, for those of you not up to date with the lingo). I would later find out just how terrible he was, along with how much worse he could have been.
I wonder if thinking about the past is this disappointing for everyone….?

Real talk: I wish I’d known that I was asexual before I had sex. I’d still prolly have had sex, because why not, but maybe I wouldn’t have spent the next decade plowing my way through everything with a pulse trying to figure out why sex was so boring to me.

It’s a little bit fitting that my first time was with a crazy person, seeing as how I was on the fast track to being crazy myself. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t upset when that relationship ended at the four month mark. I WAS an idiot 13 year old, after all. I don’t look back and miss or desire that terrible crap, though. Like, some people look back on their first time with fond memories, like making love on a blanket next to a lake, surrounded by the lights of fireflies at the end of summer… and then they had to return home from wherever they were, but they’ll never forget that night for the rest of their lives! Then there’s me. I just went through a period where I wanted a happy ending… and Hallmark slash Disney promised me that I could find those with a high school love. They are dirty, dirty liars. This is why I’m so fucking cynical.

None of my high school boyfriends were worth a damn. Actually, none of my boyfriends, short of the most recent (who I should make a post on, because there was really nothing at all wrong with him) were REALLY worth a damn if I’m honest with myself. A lot of my romantic and sex life is made up of me seeing a man (or woman) and my brain going, “Maybe that one can fill the gaping hole in your life where a sense of security and well-being should be.
Spoiler: They did not.

If you’re reading this, I’d love to hear what YOU wish you’d known before you had sex, or if you have a particularly lovely or horrible first time story, I’d also love to hear that.

The Ex. Again.

I ran into him again!

I went to a show last night. It was six local bands, a burlesque troupe, and a fashion show. Sounds fun, right? I thought so. I invited Cat and she brought her friend with her, but they aren’t “show” people. They’re more club people. So they didn’t stay that long. In the meantime… I fucking saw my ex again.

It’s baffling, really, the emotion that sweeps over me when I see him. It’s not remorse, or longing, or heartache, or any of the things NORMAL people usually associate with an ex…. It’s a lot of rage and the feeling of being invaded. I haven’t seen him in years, aside from passing him on the street when I went to the museum with Billie, so you’d think that I’d just let it go. No. I can never let it go. All the rage, wrath, injustice, and general loathing that I ever had for him is still there, floating just underneath the skin, ready to boil over at any minute like unwatched ramen noodles set too high. If I look in the mirror long enough I can see the contempt swirling around beneath my face.

I’ve heard of people seeing red and losing themselves in their rage, but that never happens to me. Everything stays quite clear, except that my brain is rushed with thoughts like, DRAG HIM INTO THE STREET AND BEAT HIM TO DEATH WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE AS WITNESS TO HIS EXECUTION. I haven’t done it, yet, but if he keeps popping up at places I’m at, it might be the winning argument. This is my world, those were my bands, my show, my scene, my haunt. If he’s going to invade my territory, eventually we are going to tangle.

I was doing okay with his appearance, as okay as one can when every fiber of your being is screaming for you to murder someone, at least, until Cat and her friend left. I was then left relatively alone. Shows are weird for me that way, because it’s not that I don’t know anyone, but I know the bands… and the bands are there for business, so it feels like I don’t know anyone since they get busy. In poor judgement, as I tend to have under strained thoughts of homicide, I started drinking pretty fast… too fast… somewhere in there I tapped him on the shoulder and said hello and that he looked great (and he did, which pissed me off… I wanted to like kill him while fucking him in that moment, which is weird for me for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that I don’t experience sexual attraction…), and then pretended I had people to go talk to… Now, it seems really pathetic, but honestly I felt better afterward. I showed I didn’t need to avidly ignore him. It might pay off in the long run…. Shortly after that, though, I threw up vodka in a trashcan on the patio and left…. I should have waited, but people saw me, so I got in my car and left. I did stop at an all night diner and eat, though. I know that doesn’t make me less drunk, but it did make me a safer driver, since it gave me something to soak the booze up with and I didn’t feel drunk and disoriented afterward. So… made it home.

I wish I could will myself to let my grudge go. It’s like a poison in my chest. Makes me sick to think about, even. I just can’t, though.He ruined two rooms in my house that I’m JUST NOW getting back, because I couldn’t afford to fix the flooring.He took away my sense of safety in my house when he got attacked by drug dealers and MY address was the one on his license. He wouldn’t fucking get out. He couldn’t pay rent. He cut his thumb off because he went to work high, but then they didn’t test him so he got to keep his job and he walked out on it. Like… It’s just so much offense, and I can’t let it go.

One thing bothers me, though… I know I didn’t love after him…. I liked Grant, and he was a sweet guy, but I had to cut him loose because I didn’t love him. My question is whether I loved before him? Did me make me Aromantic? I don’t know. But if did, if he took my ability to care about people in a romantic way, and a generally platonic way, because I can’t trust anyone… doesn’t that kind of offense deserve a punishment? I mean, I know that drug dealer set him on fire and everything… but… that wasn’t MY punishment.

It’s Not You… It’s That You’re Creepy AF.

Me: “Did I do something wrong?

Him: “Honestly, some of the things you say make me really uncomfortable.”

So it turns out that I am the psychopath.

I couldn’t take it. It was bugging me that everything was going so well and then just… Radio silence. So last night, when I was packing up my kitchen to get new cabinets today, I sucked it up and texted him like a sane adult to see what I did wrong. The not knowing was eating me alive inside! Know what I did wrong? Do ya? Nothing, I was just too overwhelmingly myself, and I creeped him the fuck out.

Let me clarify. I don’t say racists things, or offensive things, or think immigrants should go back to China, or anything like that. What he is referring to is that I say weird shit, all the time, and people never really know if it’s true or not because it’s things that make you wonder.
Example: I will knife you in your sleep. I don’t want to dispose of another body; it’s so time consuming. There is absolutely no one hidden in my crawl space. I wanted to tied you up and keep you in the basement, but I didn’t plan for it.
I say a lot of weird shit. No one ever seems to know if I’m kidding. I tell them I’m kidding…. but I guess the frequency with which I say these things makes people wonder. That, or the crazy. Being Bipolar and a high functioning sociopath doesn’t really help make the crazy shit I say seem less…. serious and worrisome.

It probably also didn’t help that before he left I played him one of my favorite songs….Chloroform Girl by Polkadot Cadaver. Rated number five on the most disturbing songs list by Billboard like two years ago, it’s about keeping a girl tied up in a basement for three years. Good song. I love Todd Smith bands.

So I get it. I’m creeptacular.

I, literally, creeped the fuck out of him.
He liked me.
He wanted to fuck me.
He liked fucking me.
I creeped him out and he no longer wants to fuck me.

It’s really very relieving, though… I thought I’d done something actually wrong.
I thought he was mad. No, he’s scared. I get that. I’ve met me. I understand the hesitation.

It’s just so fucking hilarious. I was excited, then sad, then mad, then sad again, and now I’m just like… good. I’m good. I’m totally good with all of it. I can comprehend me creeping people out. I’m a creepy human being.

This should be in a god damn sitcom.

Are You Banging A Psychopath?

You’re doing what you always do: try to find a flaw, because you are unsure that happiness can exist.

Not always, but sometimes my friends know me pretty well. I do that. I try to break everything good in life down to why it’s probably not going to work out, and then slowly try to self-sabotage whatever joy I think I’m experiencing. I don’t know where that tendency comes from.

I do know, that as quickly as it started, my infatuation may already be over. There’s just something…. off. It’s not that he doesn’t seem nice, and charming, because he does. It’s not that seems disinterested with me, because he doesn’t. It’s like cracks in white paint, and I can see something underneath it. He smiles, he winks, he tells me how lovely I am…. and yet there’s an aggression. It’s a well-hidden aggression. It’s not the over confidence of a man that will hit someone to put them in their place. It’s not the hint of potential evil lurking behind the eyes that Lifetime would have you believe stalkers and serial killers have when they smile at you. I’m not quite sure what it is… It’s just little things…

Maybe it’s because I’m crazy myself, but I notice things other people might brush off. In particular, it’s how rough he can be. To talk to him, he’s a puppy. He’s very agreeable. He’d be happy to do something that makes you smile. He doesn’t judge you for a thing. To bang him, however, is different. It’s not unpleasant, but it does hurt. I’m not opposed to being held down, but I take issue with unsolicited attempts at strangling (although I had a friend a while back that really liked to be asphyxiated during sex). Also, to be just a little graphic, his biggest excitement is impaling me with his over sized member to the point he can see it hurts me. I get this to a point, but usually people find the blood off-putting. More than one previous lover has been too freaked to even finish (because, yes, this whole thing where my vag tears and bleeds and I spend days bent over hugging my abdomen is not uncommon when I’m sexually active… and may or may not contribute to my being asexual).

The Huffington Post wrote an article called 10 Signs Your Man Is A Psychopath. It’s aimed at women, because statistically most psychopaths are men, and it’s a decent article that I think everyone should glimpse through if they start feeling uncertain about someone they’re seeing. Humans have a sense for when something is up. You’ve probably felt it. That guy in the gas station that makes you feel uncomfortable for no reason other than he eyed you a little too long. That moment when you’re walking down a street at night and you think you can feel people behind you. When you meet someone witty, charming, and attractive, just to later find out they are going to ruin your life. People can usually sense mental disturbance. They don’t always pay attention to it, though.

Psychopaths make up 1% of the general population, but that’s not as small of a percentage as you’d think. Also, Sociopaths make up 4% of the population. I should know, because I am one. Sociopaths are like psychopaths, both stemming from the same personality disorder, Antisocial Personality Disorder. The difference? The biggest difference is that psychopaths are born, while sociopaths are made. Psychopaths are cold, calculating, but seem charming. They like playing with people without drawing attention to themselves. They can seem quite normal, and you’re not going to trip them up easily. Sociopaths are similar, but they’re erratic and impulsive. A sociopath is less likely to hold down a job for a long period of time, and they often have no plan. Sociopaths, unlike Psychopaths, can sometimes form attachments to people, though it’s quite rare. And sometimes, an erratic, impulsive sociopath can take on the less volatile demeanor of a psychopath, but they’re still operating without a plan.

Now, I’m not saying that this guy is a Psychopath. That would be a ludicrous statement about a person I barely know… but I am saying that crazy can spot crazy. I’m not sure how this is going to all pan out. I’m still feeling it out… and I have no plan, of course… so… I shall keep you updated.

Maybe my friend is right, and I’m just destroying this because I think I’m enjoying it. It’s not unheard of. Maybe I just think I’m better than this blue collar boy, so I’m projecting this onto him as a reason to abandon him. Maybe the back of my brain realizes that with happiness comes the potential for complete destruction, and therefore it’s protecting me from that by tearing him apart. Maybe I just already got bored, and my little black and white brain has thrown him over to the DONE side of the wall, to be picked apart by the vicious parts of my brain just for the amusement. Maybe.

In a world where as much as I hate myself, I’m still better than you…. how is a girl really supposed to know what she’s feeling?