Dresses

Oh look. Pictures of me being depressed.

I have developed this habit of buying clothes ONLY for work, so I have nothing to wear when I go out anymore. That doesn’t sound like it would be a really real problem, but it is. You never consider how much what you wear reveals about yourself. My wardrobe being catered exclusively around work and nothing being something that I’d wear to a social event really shows how much I’ve forsaken social life. (Imma totally derail now… enjoy or skip down to ANYWAYS…)

I try to be social, but it ends up so disappointing.

For example, this past Friday I tried to hook up with Bird. She’d had a terrifying experience on the highway and wanted to go out and celebrate being alive… She turned down all my suggestions for actual fun things to do, and we ended up just getting a drink at a bar we don’t go to much “for something different.” I suggested everything from a local goth night, to crashing a senior citizen prom, to just trying a new venue with some different kind of music… but as much as she says she’d like to do more than the rest of our friends, who LIVE at karaoke and do literally nothing else, she doesn’t really want to try anything new either. On top of that, I tried to plan for her being late, because she’s always fucking late, and I was still there for about an hour alone before she showed up. So… all together I call the night a bust. We didn’t even really have anything to talk about since neither of us seem to do much at this point. I think we are both horrifically depressed… and depressed people do not lift each other up, but rather we drag each other down.

I was supposed to go to a birthday party Saturday night, but hurt my back doing yard work and backed out. I made sure to make it to a move with Bird on Sunday morning. She wanted to see Annabelle: Creation, and I was down. SO… I get her to confirm movie time and location, but just as I’m leaving my house she’s like…

“Are we still doing this?”
“Unless you suddenly changed your mind.”
“No, I’m just double-checking.”

::15 mins goes by and I’m outside the theater::

“But what about your back?”
“It hurts but all we’re going to do is sit.”
“Okay.”

And then she showed up like 20 mins later, right when the movie was starting.

I try really hard not to take shit personally, but if you wanna bail, just fucking bail. I hate people who vacillate way more than people who bail. At least I know when someone bails that I suddenly have free time. It’s still a little inconvenient, but at least it’s definitive so I can plan something else. Toss always being late into that mix and I’m just a weird mixture of hurt and angry that you’re wasting my time.

I was trying to wait for her in the parking lot, but I ended up just telling her where I was sitting and going into the theater because I stopped caring if she even showed up. I was there. I was irritable. I was seeing the movie with or without her… just cuz I was there.

I love Bird to death. She’s a great person, and I know she’s got her own shit she’s dealing with, but I just hate trying to do stuff with her. I just end up feeling bad because she vacillates on plans and then shows up late. So me, miss prompt-and-requiring-validation, feels like I’m not worth hammering down plans with, and that she’s not valuing my time… and she’s not valuing my time… and I find that mean… and the fact she’s one of two friends I legit see regularly really just compounds how meaningless I perceive that I must be to her, whether it’s true or not.

ANYWAYS I BOUGHT SOME DRESSES. I was going to go to Torrid on my way home from work one night this week, but got a better deal online and picked up six dresses there… and then I got three from Maurice’s that are plainer and cheaper, but still nice looking. I tried really hard to pick things I could, and WOULD, wear somewhere that isn’t work. I tried to throw some actual personality into it. It’s hard… because I don’t even know what I’d like to wear anymore…

I just use clothes to cover this terrible body I have, and that’s not fashion. I’m not expressing myself; I’m just hiding something I refuse to embrace. It contributes to my bad feels… I would really like to like myself again. I did for a while there, and it was great. I dunno what’s changed now… but I don’t like not liking myself.

So… gonna work on that, I guess.

I’m Not Okay

::queue song::

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRFhNZNu_xw

Okay so the song doesn’t really relate… but I’m NOT okay.

I AM NOT OKAY AND I AM TIRED OF NEVER FEELING OKAY AND I WOULD GIVE USE OF MY LEGS TO FEEL OKAY FOR JUST A FUCKING MINUTE.

I’m tired and irritable and I want to scream and throw shit and hurt people. There’s a PC that’s been sitting on my desk at work, and if I had less control of myself I’d take it and go beat a coworker to death with it. I don’t even care which coworker… but I’d beat their skull in with a PC.

I just want to hurt people. I want people to hurt because I hurt and there’s no wound to blame it on. It’s just fucked up emotional turmoil that no one understands or cares about, and it’s got me all fucked up.

Why?

Because this is my life. This is going to be life until such a time as my life ends. This isn’t “the summer I was kinda sad” or some little pothole in the generally good life that is mine. This is my severe mental illness that never goes away, and never gets noticeably better, and will never have a fucking cure. I’m just damned to go through the rest of life feeling hopeless and shitty and impulsively getting drunk so I don’t feel hopeless and shitty for a couple of hours.

Friday I got my bangles back from fuccboi. I call him that, because that’s what I see him as now. He was nice enough, to be honest. We had a couple drinks and I invited him to the gig I was going to, because after three Saisons I was bored and I didn’t care if he tagged along, so long as I didn’t have to bring him back to that side of town. He agreed to cab/Uber/Lyft home. I invited Bird. I got drunk. It was great. 130 came and I went home, and reminded fuccboi I wasn’t taking him home. Somehow he managed to get a ride from Bird… and good for her, being a better person than me, but I was manic and drunk and I don’t give a fuck.

Saturday and Sunday all I did was sit high out of my mind and binge watch Adam Ruins Everything. It’s weird, because I actually felt pretty good when I got up on Saturday, but I still couldn’t DO anything. I sat there for two days, binge eating, and only left the house to go to a movie with mom, where I also ate. I felt like a worthless piece of shit on Sunday evening… and I was correct about that.

All the shit I want to do, all the goals I have for the next year, and all I could fucking do was nothing this weekend.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes you deserve to do nothing. Nothing can be great… this was not great. I could have cleaned up the backyard, done something in the basement, folded the rest of my clothes, mopped, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom, LITERALLY ANYTHING, but no…

I got up this morning and decided this has GOT to end. It sounds motivational, but mostly I’m just pissed off at myself. I’m officially so fat I am sometimes out of breath just trying to wipe my ass. That’s not an exaggeration, that’s the reality of my body trying to maneuver all this fat around so I can reach and most of it cramming into my chest cavity against my diaphragm. That’s too fat. It’s official. It’s too fat. And this weekend? Too much wasted time. Fucking wasted all that time that I could have done something with. And it’s gotta stop, because if it doesn’t stop I have no reason to live.

I talk about suicide a lot. Do you know why? Because I think about suicide a lot. My life is already so fucking meaningless that the only reasons I’m still around is so my mom doesn’t kill HERself, and because I have dogs that I don’t want going back to shelter care. I’m not here because life has meaning, or because life is secretly beautiful, or anything so wonderful as that. I’m here because dying is inconvenient at the moment, but if I’m just going to give up why let my mom watch as I slowly kill myself with food and depression, I could save us both a tortured journey to my grave.

I weighed 288.8 this morning. That’s officially the fattest I’ve ever been in my entire life. I literally didn’t move this weekend. That’s officially the laziest I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’m turning into my grandmother. I just need to get on disability and be addicted to daytime court shows. I can die in my chair, suffocating on my own neck fat. That’s not how she died, but it’s the image I have of her burned into my brain from childhood… just drinking coffee and falling asleep with a lit cigarette in her hand. I loved my grandmother, but I never want to be that. If I’m going to be that, I’d rather be dead.

So if my life is going to be me, not being emotionally okay ever again, I might as well torture myself down to normal people sizes. I’d settle for a Torrid zero, which is a large… a size 12… It’s not the 130 lbs I’ve always wanted to be… but it’s a lot fucking better than here. It’s 3 dress sizes… it’s a lot… but honestly… it’s not like I’m doing anything better with my time, am I?

A Double Post Kinda Day – Still Blue

What am I doing?!

I don’t know, but I keep texting him anyways. It’s not like I’m in love, or even lust, but I keep texting him. I guess I’m lonely. It’s not as though I have anyone to generally talk to about being sad. A stranger can chat without prying. I can talk to a stranger without thinking about anything important. It’s a nice escape from everything, I guess.

I suppose some people talk to their friends, but even with the small group of friends I keep I can’t imagine bothering them with my emotional turmoil. I mean, what do they care?

Most don’t: that’s the short answer. Having been removed from my immediate life for long enough, I have tried reaching out to my friend in California, but unsurprisingly he’s not really interested in it. I’m not sure why it’s surprising, as I’ve always felt him a touch self-absorbed anyway, but it hurts nonetheless. I tried telling a friend in Maine, because she’s another person I needn’t look in the eye when I spout my emotionally fucked bullshit, but while she’s concerned she isn’t really sure how to handle it. She just tries to reassure me, which is about as effective as it sounds reassuring a crazy person would be. Ha.

I have not tried to talk to my local friends, or my best friend in Oregon, about my meds or how I’m feeling. At my lowest I made it known to Bird that I was struggling, but I can’t imagine actually trying to explain a bipolar thought pattern to her. I considered trying to tell my bipolar friend, but he’s also very self-absorbed. He doesn’t even really do a good job at pretending to care about others; he’s just hellbent on trying to feel like a person again. I can’t really blame him for that… it’s hard the first time you lose yourself.

I could never REALLY talk to the Mothership about my bipolar. She understands depression, but only to the point she’s managed to build her own little barricade of coping mechanisms. So if I’m too depressed to get out of bed, that’s beyond her realm of understanding… so I, too, get out of bed and trudge on into the day, knowing that as soon as I walk through my front door I’m allowed to hit the floor and not move again until the next morning if I have to… and I have. No, my darling mother has major depression, not bipolar, so she doesn’t get mania. She doesn’t have highs that come in waves of feeling powerful, vengeful, or even happy. She doesn’t know what it feels like to think yourself invincible. She just knows the blue… the malaise… the ongoing sea of endless nothing. At least she sort of gets half of it, I guess. When I want to cry but have no reasons, she gets that… and she worries about all those depression-y things that crop up from time to time.

Knowing kinda half the story isn’t enough to understand, though. I can’t explain to her why mania is a problem or the complicated dance the two weave across the dance floor of my personality. I can’t explain why I do some things, or what it’s REALLY like to hear a voice you’re aware is all in your head. I can’t explain to her everything I’ve done under the influence of one episode or another. I can’t explain why there’s so shame behind my eyes and why certain innocuous things seem to hurt me. No, it’s not enough to know the half-truth of a disease and what ways it can eat at a heart.

So I keep texting him, even though I’ve already told him we shouldn’t see each other romantically. I hold my breath each time the phone buzzes, hoping it’s the nice young man that barely knows me. We don’t talk about my bipolar, or depression, or mania, or the voices, or how sometimes I think I’d rather die than have to get out of bed. I don’t feel the urge to tell him I’m struggling, or that going home at the end of a long work day is awful because there are little living things there relying on me to care for them. I don’t feel like I have to confess. It’s just small talk… How was your day? Did you see that film? What time are you free for a drink on Saturday? It’s nothing important. It’s nothing that hurts.

I don’t love him or lust for him… I don’t ache for him, and I definitely don’t want to be in his bed or his arms… but it’s just nice to fill the time with bullshit, I guess. When real life is so hard, the meaningless becomes quite pleasant.

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.

BUT IT’S A MOTHERFUCKING LIE! THEY COVER NOTHING UNLESS A GENERIC IS AVAILABLE. FUCKING LIARS!

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?

I am sad. 

I was going to go to a “Halloween in July” party, because how fun does that sound? But I’m not going. Instead, I’ve been overdramatically crying in my closet floor.

How did I get here? 

It’s easy. I’m a pathetic human being. I was trying to talk to my mom on the way home from work, and she wasn’t interested, so it made me depressed. She’s been sick, so she’s tired and can’t deal with my mood swings. So, having no one else in my support system, I came home, crawled into my closet and have been crying on and off for roughly 2 hours. 

The dogs are concerned but fail to comfort me. 

Also, this is why I can’t have kids. Can you imagine being the kid whose mom comes home and locks herself in her closet to cry? That child is gonna be messed up. 

It’s not too late. I could still go to the party. 

I’m not going to. It costs money and in this mood is probably go, get depressed no one I knew would come with me, then binge drink. I really can’t afford it, and it would be irresponsible, but tomorrow I  going to regret wasting my Friday night. I’m almost done with my 20s. I should have done more with them, but I spent a lot of time crying on floors instead. 

And you know what gets me? 

No one cares. 

My mom tries to care, but my bipolar ass is hard to deal with and I get mad and snap and she stops caring cuz I’m mean. And that’s fine, and totally fair play, but no one cares. 

The dogs care. They’re very concerned. But they can’t fix anything or even really console me. 

So I curl up in a fat little ball of wasted potential and cry, and no one cares. 

I wanted to go to a party. I wanted to have fun. 

Fml.

I’m not okay, but it’s not like it matters

Things are… hard… right now.

Mom still has pneumonia (since March) and she isn’t getting better, but insists on going to work anyways. My title gal is out on emergency surgery, so I’m covering for her, which means double duty at work, and doing a job that stresses me out anyways (titles means talking to a lot of people, and we know I hate having to talk to people). I’m sick with… something that makes my chest heavy and causes extreme fatigue. My moods are all over the place, we’re coming up on month end, I’ve made NO progress at getting my house ready to sell so I can focus on moving, and I’m losing summer….

Everything is awful and hard, and I can’t stick to my diet, and all I want to do is sleep, and my friend that SHOULD understand what I’m going through right now is too busy being selfish and wrapped up in his own life and it’s tiny social bullshit to actually listen to me. Meanwhile I have a friend that keep telling me I’d feel better if I worked out, which makes me wanna punch him in his stupid face, because if I had the energy to work out I fucking would. My other friend is really sweet but not really someone I’d ever want to talk about this shit with.

I just… Want to shut down.

I’m so tired, and I’m overwhelmed, and I’m sick….

My boss asked if I wanted to stay home today, but I can’t do that because month end is coming, and I need to be far enough ahead on titles to be able to stop doing titles for month end…. and I’m not there.

Today she was like, are you okay?

And the answer is no… but it doesn’t matter if I’m okay. The world doesn’t really care. I have shit to do and responsibilities. No one REALLY cares if you’re okay except your mother (if you’re lucky). Everyone else just wants to be sure you’re able to work, otherwise you can be replaced.

Easter Weekend: Trying to Be a People

Last week sucked. It sucked hard.

I was very low Monday after my pharmaceutical FIASCO. Tuesday… I was weirdly better. It’s a trend I’ve noticed, that when I hit rock bottom I tend to be better, because apathy kicks in. The less I care, the happy I often am, but it’s not a cure all. The rest of the week was still a struggle. I was still down, having had all my hopes and dreams of feeling better dashed to the ground, and spit on, and kicked by Kaiser Permanente,but the weekend was a pleasant relief.

I was unusually social.

Friday I went to David 2’s to watch RuPaul and Martha & Snoop. HOW DID WE MISS THE RETURN OF MARTHA & SNOOP? We still don’t know, but we’re happy to catch up. I worry about David 2, because he has a substance abuse problem. It seems that every weekend he has to get as drunk and high as humanly possible. While I’m not hating on people that like to get twisted, I feel like it’s not a good thing to need that every weekend… and high as a kite every single night. That’s my dad. That’s exactly how my dad is. Oddly enough… all three of us (David 2, myself, and dad) are all bipolar… I hope I don’t ever fall into that habit. I had fun, though. We shared music and watched TV and microwaved Peeps in honor of Easter!

​(This is not our picture… We microwaved one on a paper towel, and then a whole box of them… but like… I needed a melty peep pic… I needed it.)

Saturday Mothership and I got our hair done. I whacked all mine off. It’s pretty normally colored, though. Got some rose gold and pinks for spring. It’s cute, and there’s nothing better than whacking off your hair when you’re having an emotional crisis. I convinced Mothership to whack hers off, too. She looks younger with a cut closer to her head.

Afterwards, I took her to Ulta, because I wanted lip plumper. I like lip plumper. I like when it hurts. I got Buxom, if you’re curious. The shade is Samantha. While we were there, however, they were doing free makeovers for spring. I did not get a makeover… I have a certain look that I do, and I don’t like people trying things with my look. BUT these were older women, and they noticed Mothership’s eyebrow situation… as in, she has none. I convinced her to let this woman show her how easy it is to pencil on eyebrows. It really is easy. She ended up getting the box the chick used, and some cream to bleach her dark spots.

Meanwhile… I discovered Nyx.

I’ve been a pretty loyal Smashbox girl for years, but it’s so expensive. Nyx is pretty cheap… and the COLORS are amazing. I conned myself into some ridiculously colored lipsticks, eyeliner, and even a contour kit… I’m not great at contouring yet, but I’m working on it. I figured that going back to putting on makeup in the morning would help me feel more like a person… and since I’m still so depressed that it’s hard for me to even shower regularly, figured I’d take it up a notch… because why not make it harder?

#TryingToBeAPeople

I’m trying to figure out contouring, too.

I went to see Missa Saturday afternoon. I gave her a box of painting supplies. I’m trying to ween myself off having SO MANY hobbies, because it takes up room. So I gave her all that, and now I just gotten figure out who to unload my yarn on. She was happy to see me, which was weird for me… I don’t have a lot of confidence in most people actually liking me. She invited me to hang out for a couple of hours and we just caught up. Then Lola came home and we talked about her starting a makeup channel on YouTube. I told her that I’d love to help, even if she just wants to put stuff all over my face. Much to my surprise, she messaged me this morning to make plans for Thursday. So… it’s weird, but good.

When I got done at the Polygon (literally we call it that because a ton of poly people just move in and out of there all the time, with Lola, Rhonda, and Missa being the constants), I zipped out to Lakewood to see Bren. Shaunna got off work early, and we all ate ribs and hung out, and I kicked Bren’s ass twice in Star Realms. Lol. It was a good time. I really enjoyed the socializing.

Sunday was Easter! We did nothing.

Well, that’s not true… Mom got me a dark chocolate bunny, a small box of Russel Stover’s, and a bag of apple flavored gummy bears… and then we went to the grocery store, and I wasted the rest of the day with the dogs watching RuPaul’s Drag Race, Season 7. Lol.

I enjoyed doing nothing.

Tuesday is my phone call with the psychiatric nurse, and then I’m off until next Wednesday. So… Just gotta get through the current chaos…