Still sick. Still sitting here wondering how to fix my brain. Still wondering why I broke down last night even though Kim was doing everything in her arsenal to bring me out of a funk. Biopolar sucks.
It doesn't suck as bad as cancer, or Crones, or a large screwdriver through the eye, but it sucks. I kinda figured that the past 5 months I'd get a grip on this and go back to work whistling happy little tunes - in two weeks I go back, but without the whistling shit. I still have a long way to go before my brain is considered fixed. Next week I start Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, otherwise known as brainwashing. I should have started that a few months ago, but I got complacent with the way things were going, and didn't make the call. I thought that I was doing fine, the drugs were working, meditation was working, a new outlook on life was working, etc. etc. etc. Hey, I was a little bit wrong.
In the past couple of weeks I've felt more like a weepy kid than anything else. I get down about the smallest things. God forbid I run over a caterpillar. Last night I found out a good friend was back in the hospital. It's serious, but he'll get through it. This of course was not the news my broken brain needed. That, combined with the fact that I spent the better part of my afternoon at the ministry office replacing my plate tags, made it a particularly bad brain day. Hence, Kim doing everything in her power to fix me.
In the past couple of weeks I've not smiled much, broken brain says not to. I've fallen apart several times, and one day - I don't remember this beauty: I had a panic attack while sleeping. Yup, I was out like a light and don't remember anything except Kim standing over me when she shook me awake, looking like she was going to call an ambulance. I was glassy-eyed and breathing heavy, but other than that, I didn't have any recollection of it. Anxiety attacks are common, the brain says to be worried about something, so I do. Sometimes it last a couple of hours, sometimes a few minutes. Sometimes just smashing the drums is enough to get over it, I'm at the mercy of my brain and the drugs inhabiting it.
Drugs suck.
How do people get hooked on this shit? How do people function with their bodies full of man-made cocktails of chemicals designed for the sole purpose of changing the way your brain functions? Why would people do this to themselves intentionally?
I've never been on drugs, I quit smoking about seven months ago, but I don't know if that really counts, weed, acid, hash, meth, coke, nope. Never. I'm proud of that. I can see how it really fucks people up, and I thought I was a mess from smoking!
The shrink has me on a mixture of controlled meds right now. I won't tell you what because hey - they're controlled. That means NARCOTICS. Lovely. They very time in my life that I'm trying to improve my physical status, they doctor fills me with crap that is supposed to fix my brain. Unfortunately, the side effects stopped being fun on day one. Here's a few at random:
Short term memory loss
Drowsiness (otherwise know as random nap time)
Dizziness
Nausea and in rare cases, vomiting
Skin rashes
Drop in platelet count (I have to have monthly blood tests for this one)
Weight gain (combined with quitting smoking I'm now up 60 pounds)
Blurred vision
Sensitive skin
And a whole lot more!
I really hate these meds. Worse yet, I don't believe they're working. So next week I'm calling the shrink and asking him to change the drugs for the fifth time since my brain broke back in April. I'm currently on four different meds, at six pills a day. I suffer from most of the side effects listed (I haven't puked yet), so maybe less pills = less side effects? Maybe? I don't know, I'm just the patient.
I'm due to go back to work in ten days. In Kingsville. That's a one hour commute, then a full work day, then a one hour commute. Please refer to side effect number two - random nap time. Talking to my boss last week he did ask if there were any work related issues he must know about, that one came up pretty quick. I'd rather not be dead in a ditch on day two thanks. He's offered to move me to the Tecumseh office until this gets sorted out. Nice guy. I just think he'd rather not do the paperwork from the ditch incident.
So my brain is still broken, and full of drugs. I don't even take aspirin for headaches. Nevermind all this crap. I have to get back to therapy, I have to get back to work, I have to get back to normal (what is normal anyway?)
Even now as I type this at 7:45 am, I feel weird. I feel the anxiety creeping up, I have to push it back down. I described it to my shrink as that feeling when you're at the top of a tall coaster looking down but not moving yet. That feeling when you're stomach is suddenly where your lungs should be and your lungs are around your back, not working very well. That's the constant anxiety that I have to fight. That's part of the Bipolar syndrome. In the grand scheme of things, big deal. It's a feeling, not like fighting MS, or Parkinson's, or cancer, or any other physical disease. This one is mental, or physical if you consider that my brain isn't firing on all cylinders, hence, my brain broke.
I can get over this, it's certainly not life threatening, and won't do anything to shorten my life, if anything, the past six months have given me cause to live longer. It's just annoying. Less drugs, more therapy, more family and friends, less stress, etc.
I can do this. I have to. I have to fix my brain.
