Purple Spots

Kaiser is so fucking weird. Last time I wanted to see a shrink it took THREE MONTHS before I could get in… and I was really worried I wasn’t gonna make it that long. Today I called to get in and they’re like, “we could get you in with the shrink you saw last time early next week, but if you wanna see a new shrink we can get you in first week of April.” Really? Just two weeks? And it’s only that long because I didn’t want to see the same shrink I saw last time (as she is dead to me after her blatant disregard of my disdain for sedative medication).

Anyways… I get to see a new shrink! So… that’s fine. I mean, life’s been bad, and getting worse, but I’m having a weirdly good day for someone who didn’t sleep last night. I tried really hard, but yesterday was super hella blue.

Let’s backup.

I made it into work, but on the way home I was just… defeated as fuck. We’re still down a biller, I’m training three new people, and the title gal went on vacation this week because she’s moving. I cried all the way home, and my mom encouraged me to go to my book club even though I was super blue. So, I bought some cigarettes, chain-smoked the whole way there, and actually had a really good time. I really enjoyed the book this month: Annihilation. It was really Lovecraftian, and I flew through it. I started book two when I got home from book club, and it’s really different, but I think I’ll finish the series anyways.

For the first time in my life I found getting out of bed almost impossible. I’ve had low days, but Tuesday is one of the lowest days I’ve had since all this mood swinging like a wrecking ball started in eighth grade. I managed to get out of bed, and even shower, but then I couldn’t imagine leaving the house. It was 100% outside of the realm of things I was physically capable of doing. So, I called bosslady and told her I had a cough and issues breathing, and asked if I could work from home. I wasn’t opposed to working, but I just… couldn’t leave the house. I actually got a lot done from home, and it was fortunate I’d brought stuff home anyways. #YayRemoteAccess

Hump Day was hard. I woke up, and I was determined to get into work, but I ended up about an hour late. I informed bosslady, obviously, and she knows I’m having problems, so she said that was fine, and that I could leave early. I did not leave early. I had some kind of mixed episode where I was pretty much hysterical but channeled it into trying to do EVERYTHING at once… and it literally startled bosslady. She tried to get me to go home at four, and I ended up staying a full eight hours “because there’s too much to get done.” But like… I was breaking…

So I went home. Mom had me try on some clothes she got me for Easter, to be sure they were the right size. I went home and refused to eat dinner… meditated on the idea that maybe I just wouldn’t eat again… and how last time I lost a lot of weight in a short period of time no one was concerned, because when you’re a fat girl that stops eating, or exercises herself to death, or binges and purges, people think the weight loss is great and no one asks how you lose 30 lbs in a few weeks. With my head spinning and my stomach feeling familiarly vacuous, I couldn’t focus on TV, so I played a few rounds of Star Realms before heading to bed with a book. Figured I’d wind down for an hour and be asleep by ten.

I was not asleep by ten. I was very awake. I put on white noise and laid in the dark for an hour. When the white noise shut off, I was still awake. So I turned on all the lights, got up, did a few things, turned on a fan and the humidifier, and then laid back down with some soft lo-fi hip hop to relax to. An hour later I was still awake and I had this pop song called RIIICH stuck in my head. It was annoying.

I tried thinking STOP STOP STOP or SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP, I counted sheep, I tried sleeping on the floor, I tried sleeping sitting up, I tried meditation, I took a 30 mg temazepam, I opened the window, I turned everything off…¬†I got up and went downstairs, and in the dark biked on the hardest setting until my legs ached in an attempt to wear myself out. I was still awake… and all I wanted to do was sleep… and it broke me.

I’m not knew to self harm or various creative ways to do it, but this¬†was the first time I got so angry that I pretty much beat myself into submission. I slapped myself in the face, hit myself upside the head, punched and smacked my thighs till they burned, screamed, cried, and when it was all said and done I took to this weird game I’d played as a kid. I don’t remember why, but when we were kids there was some game where the punishment was someone hitting you with two or three fingers on your wrist or forearm. Every time my brain tried to think, after I laid back down, I’d hit myself on the arm. By the time I had calmed down, my arm ached like I’d slammed it in a door. This morning I woke up and thought it would be all kinds of colors, cuz it still hurt. Fortunately for me, it was just splotched purple. Still hurts like a bitch, though. There’s a definite swollen spot, but it’s not noticeable to anyone except me.

I never did sleep, I don’t think. I just managed a general nothingness till the alarm went off this morning. The dogs were concerned, but they are regrettably used to this kind of behavioral outburst. I hate that they’re used to it…

For someone that went totally batshit crazy and didn’t sleep, I’ve had a weirdly good day. I put on a nice purple sweater and cute boots. I’ve been very pleasant at work. I had a breakfast burrito and then meatloaf for lunch, in case you’re worried I didn’t eat today. I’m planning on Schlotsky’s for dinner, and I’d really like to maybe finish one of my books I’m reading tonight, but also get in some Star Realms time. I bought a ticket to a concert for tomorrow night, too.

Am I manic? I dunno. I’m terribly unfocused, but I’m not hyper, optimistic, or particularly chatty. I’ve just been enjoying my new playlist (and I took RIIICH off all but one playlist) and having a moderately pleasant day. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fine a little bit of happiness in every time my arm taps something and I get a small shock of new pain amidst the constant ache. I’m sure that’s some secret to my good mood… some messed up bipolar thing.

I’m not even tired… I’m just disinterested in work today. It’s super weird, and all of this isn’t LOST on me. I can only hope that I sleep tonight and the mood continues.


I’m gonna go see this pdoc and see what she says in a couple weeks. I don’t wanna take anymore antipsychotics, though… and I have always said I didn’t want to take Lithium… so I don’t know what they might give me. I’m willing to negotiate, but I really want a shrink to listen to me. There are side effects I can’t tolerate (like falling asleep at work), and I need to be respected when it comes to that.

So. We’ll see.


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.

Dreams on Dreaming

Last night I dreamt about sleeping.

First I was on a music video site and I was asleep on Eminem’s trailer. He wasn’t there, but people told me it was his. Then, I woke up from a dream inside a house. It was my mom’s house, but it was empty. She came home and called me Margery, but that’s not my name, and said I could stay till the emergency was over. It wasn’t said but I knew everyone had disappeared and it was snowing. 

I dunno what those mean. 

But for once I slept great.

Twilight Sleep: The Horrifying Truth About Your Drugged Up, Crazy Preggers Grandma

Today I solved a great family mystery.

It’s been widely discussed in my family, that my grandmother had no recollection of giving birth to any of her three kids. She couldn’t explain it… as far as she knew they just put her to sleep and she woke up with a baby.

My mother, who was very much conscious for my birth, didn’t buy that bullshit.

So, it was often postulated that either the great and mighty Lois was lying, or that there was, indeed, some way that women in the 50s and 60s gave birth without being at all conscious for it. While Lois was not known for being uncannily honest, I figured this wouldn’t really be a thing she lied about… Would she find and open her Christmas presents well before Christmas, and then seal them up like nothing happened? Absolutely. Would she steal her daughter’s dolls to practice hair cutting and then lie about it? You’re damn right. Did she spend my life from age 4 up telling me that she was a robot alien sent here to take me away from my mother, just because she thought the unsure fear in my eyes was hilarious? Yeah… and that’s probably a reason that I’m hella fucked up. Still, lying about remembering the birth of her children just felt a little out of place for her. It was not her typical MO.

I always wondered what miracle of science had been lost to the pages of history, where a woman would give birth under sedation and just wake up with a baby. That sounds WAY better than the shit they do now, dontcha think? No screaming, and you don’t even know if you shit on a table in front of a group of people you’ve never met before. It just sounded like a thing that we should be doing now, since it worked then. Granted, I was sure that the practice was done away with for a reason, but like… WHAT could be worse than childbirth pain?

Childbirth pain hurts so much that women gladly let doctors (anesthesiologists) jam needles into their spine (epidurals, which are safe procedures). I don’t have exact statistics on the chances a spinal tap (it’s not a spinal tap) like that will leave you paralyzed (it’s pretty negligible, tbh) but that is scary shit! Wouldn’t things just be better if the woman were unconscious? I mean a woman in a coma can still give birth to a child, so consciousness isn’t really necessary, is it? (Coma patients CAN give birth under perfect circumstances, but it’s not safe, recommended, or well studied.)

I recently started listening to a podcast called Sawbones: A Marital Tour of Misguided Medicine. It’s good. They talk about old medicine and how fucked up it was. It’s also child friendly, in the sense they don’t curse… unlike this blog, where I say fuck a lot. Anyways, in 2014 they were expecting a kid, so they did a series of childbirth related podcasts. On the actual BIRTH episode, they talked about different ways that men had fucked up the long-standing tradition of men having nothing to do with childbirth, and all the stupid shit they did to “improve” childbirth. (There were good things that came from educated doctor men getting involved in childbirth, but like… this show is about how medicine fucked shit up, not how it helped people… except the vaccine episode, which is great, but also addresses the fact that the dude that developed the smallpox vaccine did some underhanded shit to poor people….)

ANYWAYS, (so much derailing and side-barring) I was listening to the childbirth episode and they got to the point in history where Twilight Sleep became a thing.

Twilight Sleep
In 1903, this guy named Carl Gauss thought, “Hey… why don’t we drug these women giving birth?” Yeah. Great idea, buddy. So, he mixed morphine (obviously a great painkiller) with scopolamine (which has been known to cause hallucinations, confusion, memory loss, agitation, seizures, and all kinds of potentially fatal things for mom and baby, since it can cross the placenta barrier). Gauss thought it up, and people just went with it.

This meant that women would go to the hospital, essentially remember going to sleep, and remember nothing else, but would wake up with a baby. Unbeknownst to the mothers, they would have been strapped down to hospital beds and out of their god damn mind. They’d be violent and unpredictable. They’d scream and cry and see shit errywurr… And then they’d give birth, recover, and remember NOTHING.

You’d think that something from 1903 would have died out pretty quick, but this actually PEAKED in the 50s, which is when my darling grandmother had her kids. So, her lack of memory pretty much points to this being the method she had her kids with, and it didn’t really fade out till like the 70s…Which is a LONG TIME to have crazed women shooting out infants.

Unless you’d previously had a kid, you didn’t know what happened in the delivery room, and even then you didn’t remember shit. Dudes didn’t know what was up, because they weren’t allowed in the delivery rooms. So it just had a tendency to go on. Finally, in the 70s it faded out of style, since people kind of wanted to be more involved with their kids. There’s a real statistical indicator that the mothers that gave birth this way had a cognitive dissonance toward their kids, because there is no birth experience, and that’s probably why things like lamaze became popular. You’re awake and dealing… and supposedly that will make you a better mother.

Anyways. That’s what I learned today, and that solves the mystery of why my grandmother didn’t know anything abut childbirth.


This is how my morning started at 230am. I went to bed around midnight.
I’ve never been so mad at Serj Tanikan and Daron Malakian in my entire life…

As a result of not sleeping, I just finished reading Buffering: Unshared Tales of a Life Fully Loaded by Hannah Hart. Hannah Hart is one of my favorite YouTubers, and it’s not just because her show My Drunk Kitchen revolves around getting wasted and making snacks (although, that IS a terrific selling point). What I like about Hannah is actually that she actively tries to be a good person, spread a good message, and use her position to do something meaningful while still having a good time. She seems to care, and I find that really appealing in my late-night YouTube adventures that end with watching foxes on a trampoline.

Buffering is a great book. It’s just a conglomeration of stories from Hannah’s life. You get into her parents, and her family, and how she dealt (or rather, dodged) her sexuality. I found it a great insight into her life, especially her formative years.

The problem with that… is that I then started thinking about my own life.

More than once I’ve touched on school and how the social pressure changed me as a person. I’ve expressed to you a number of instances in which I felt personally betrayed or confused by motivations of people. I have a habit of dwelling on the past and meditating on things that have long since come and gone.

I don’t want to do that anymore. I’m sure I can keep myself from thinking about past events permanently, but I can try to stop dwelling on them.

Hannah’s book was fascinating because the Hannah I know is a well-adjusted young woman with a bright outlook on life and a smile for everyone. Without spoiling anything, her life has been hard; parts of it still are. If you told me just her background story, I would not expect Hannah Hart to have turned out the way she did. Her ability to take her life and turn it into something that brings so much joy to so many people is truly a gift. What I learned from reading that book and seeing that stark contrast is that your past will always contribute to who you are… but it doesn’t have to dictate what you do with the rest of your life to come.

I’m really bad about dwelling. I dwell and I rehash. I try to find how things could have been different, what I could have done different. I’m torn up with anxiety and self doubt about 90% of my social interactions going all the way back to 5th grade, and there’s no reason to be. It’s over and I can’t fix it, no matter how many times I go over it in my head.

I’m never going to make friends in 5th grade.
I’m never going to be less of a geek in middle school.
I’m never going to be more important to my high school and college friends.
I’m never going to be able to go back to high school and either actually go to class or take that academic probation with Regis University and see where I end up going to a GOOD college.

I can’t undo the poor life choices I made.
I can’t un-date the people I’ve allowed myself to be scarred by.
I can’t make my dad love me the way dads love their kids in 50s TV shows.
I can’t change the past.

All I can do is try to make today a day I won’t want to change.

I’ve been awake too long.

Do things that make you feel good until they don’t make you feel good anymore.

Wallow in misery.


Try not to think about the fact this is how drug addicts think.

I could be a drug addict.

I wonder how long they would make me feel good?

Not long enough, if my drug addict friends are anything to go by.

What makes humans beings happy anymore?