Xanax users UNITE!

Today has been a really good day.  My daughter ended up staying home today due to a nasty cold.  Yesterday, that would have put me on the ledge of a tall, tall building.  But, today, it wasn’t bad at all.  She wasn’t too needy, which helped immensely.  I took my Xanax every four hours and so far so good.

I found out a few people I know use Xanax once in awhile or “as needed” as my bottle says.  It really does a good job of releasing the tension or anxiety.  I don’t know if it was around when the Rolling Stones sang “Mother’s Little Helper,” but it would probably apply here.  I just don’t plan on needing daily for the rest of my life.  But, hey, the plan isn’t really up to me, is it?  I’ll just keep an open mind.

Like most of my friends, I like to have at least a little control over my life.  But right now, everything is up in the air.  I don’t like not being able to plan even a few days ahead, but I can certainly live with that for awhile.

Good news is that my hubby is coming home on an earlier flight tonight, so God willing, he’ll be here before 7, when Lost begins!!!!  I am in some serious need for some Sawyer, if you know what I mean. 

Well, Scarlett?

My dad had suggested yesterday that maybe I should get up and take a Xanax regardless of how I felt.  I thought that was a good idea, so I did that this morning.  I had a short crying spell an hour or so later, but nothing to analyze.  Then, took my morning nap, had lunch with my folks, started to unload the dishwasher for my mom, then WHAMMO!  Meltdown.  It hit so fast I didn’t have time to get the Xanax.  I was disappointed.  Frustrated.  Sad.  This is four days in a row of issues.  My friend, Karen asked if I had asked the doctors about “rapid-cycling.”  I have never heard of that, so I will ask my therapist that on Friday.

My dad was trying to help by saying, “Don’t look at next month, just concentrate on next week or even Saturday.”  I said that I felt like I couldn’t even face tomorrow.  What had happened to my pattern of two bad days, five good days? 

My parents are awesome.  They sat down with me (after a Xanax) and tried to help me figure out what was going on and how to possibly prevent it.  They asked tons of questions and we came up with this idea:  I am going to try taking a Xanax every 4 hours tomorrow and see what that does.  I took a Xanax this evening 4 hours after my meltdown and I’m feeling good.  Coincidence?  I don’t know. 

I’m going to try this idea tomorrow.  I guess I’m kind of a lab rat.  My friend, Christine, actually used a lab rat in college and asked if she could keep him, and she did.  So, I guess all rats aren’t ugly.  I’d like to think that Christine would want to adopt me after doing experiments on me.

Okay, I was half right……

My last blog earlier this morning was so positive, that I hesitate to write this one.  But, I think it’s theraputic for me.  Might as well bring you all down with me! 

This afternoon I hit a brick wall, I guess.  I had a great morning, and then WHAMMMO!  I went to Walgreen’s and as I drove home, my chest started to feel heavy, and that’s a sign that depression is on it’s way.  Bummer.  I did all I could do to try to head it off, took a Xanax, made myself some hot chocolate, read the Bible, played the piano, but no. 

Thank God for my parents.  I talked to them on their cell phones (they were out and about) and they headed over.  They asked if the kids and I wanted to come over and spend the night.  I thought about it for about two seconds.  Even as we were all going to the trouble of packing up our stuff, I kept telling myself that it would be worth it.  And, it definitely has been.  I’m sitting here updating my blog while my mom is helping my daughter with her homework and my son is at Boy Scouts.  I’m not sure I could have handled it alone.  I’m very grateful that I did not have to find out.

I know I have friends that are wanting to help.  Tell me to call them anytime.  If you are reading this, I am going to try to explain it.  When I get in these modes, I don’t want to talk at all.  Not to anyone.  It seems like such an effort.  I don’t care who you are.  When I come to my parents, I just sit around and read, watch TV, whatever.  I don’t talk.  Those of you that know me probably find that very hard to believe.  I know I found it strange myself when I realized it. 

My folks offered to take us all out to dinner and I just don’t want to be around people.  I don’t think that is that uncommon with this disorder. 

I do want you all to know that I don’t sit around and worry or feel sorry for myself.  I just try to ride through it and hope for the best the next day.

What I still need now are prayers.  Prayers for me and my family.  Just tonight I started crying hard and my daughter whispered something to my mom.  My mom said to her, “You know why she’s doing that, right?”  My daughter just smiled at me and said, “Yeah, I’m used to it.”  That made me happy and sad at the same time.  I’m glad she knows that she didn’t do anything to cause me to cry, but I’m sad that she has to witness this as often as she does.  So, add to your prayers the wisdom of my doctors so that my family isn’t having to mess with this for much longer.

Well, Scarlett, tomorrow is another day.

I Was Right!

Yep.  Two bad days and I feel much better today.  

According to my pattern, things go up from here.  And, I must, must, must get my sleep.

For those of you that have called today, again, please don’t feel ignored.  It’s just that on my first good day, I don’t feel like talking either.  I enjoy the silence before the kids come home.  No radio on.  Just a little TV.  Then back to good ol’ silence. 

The other thing I’ve learned….I have wonderful friends.  People that check up on me.  People that understand that sometimes I just don’t feel like doing anything.  People that read this blog just to see how I’m doing today.  So, to them…  “HI!  I’m good!  Thanks for checking!” 

So, according to my calculator on my computer, if my pattern stays the same, that means that 71% of my week will be “good.”  That’s a C minus.  Hmmmm.  I could do better, don’t you think? 

Yuck. Another bad two days.

Well, let’s try to look on the bright side.  Usually, I have two bad days a week, and they do usually come in a row.  So, maybe I’m over them for the week.  These two days were tougher than usual, though.  Lots of crying.  And just general heaviness.  I don’t want to talk to anyone.  I spent some time with my folks today since I can be myself with them.  Even though, I’m sure having someone sitting around depressed isn’t a big moment of their day.  But, as my mom explained, if I were here at home, she would still be sad for me.  So, she’d rather I wasn’t alone.  Who am I to argue?  I don’t have the strength.  I took an hour nap and felt good right after I got up.  But, then depression hit within an hour.

So, if you called me today, and I haven’t returned your call, please don’t take it personally.  I just feel like crap.  And talking about it makes it worse.  Oh yeah, and my hubby left for Chicago until Thursday.  And, I don’t want my kids to see me all depressed, so I try to “put on” for them for a little bit, then head off into another room to be myself for awhile.

Manic? Or Just a Good Day?

Yesterday was amazing.  I woke up and had several things happen that would normally be triggers for a breakdown or at least a need for Xanax.  Things that would even make a “normal” person go, “ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHH! You’ve got to be kidding me!!!!”  But, incredibly, I felt nothing.  I was calm.  I told myself, “It’s no big deal.”  And, I realized with each incident, that it really was not a big deal! 

So, once the kids were out the door and to school, I felt elated, to say the least.  I was meeting a friend for breakfast, then another friend for lunch, and several friends for a crop that evening.  I had several things to look forward to, several errands to run, and without a second thought, I took off in the car.  People cut me off, I smiled.  (It actually happened so many times yesterday morning, I laughed.  Not maniacally, but light-hearted.)  

At this point, I called my parents and told them I was having a great day.  I said, “I don’t know if it’s just a great day or a little mania, but I’m going to enjoy the ride while it lasts.” 

I got to hit several stores before breakfast.  Even went into Sam’s to pick up my photos, but it was too early and the Photo Center was still closed.  “Oh, well, no big deal. I can go back later.”  I moved on.

When my friend and I had breakfast, I know I did not do all the talking.  I asked her questions, listened to her stories, and laughed.  A lot.

Finished up my errands, met my friend for lunch.  Again, I did not babble.  (I don’t think I did, at least.)  I listened as well as talked.  We even had some moments of silence as we enjoyed our lobster bisque and I didn’t feel the need to fill that with humorous stories of my incredible life. 

Came home, talked with the kids, took a shower, hubby came home, and I laid down for a nap.  Took a very short one.  Made dinner for the family, and still felt fabulous! 

I went to the crop and set a time to leave, so that I wouldn’t be paying for it this morning.  (Not enough sleep = bad bad day later)  I had a wonderful time and again noticed I did not monopolize the conversation.  (Of course, my friends read this blog and will probably correct me in the comments, so we’ll see if I am right or just imagined the whole “perfect guest” thing)  I left pretty close to my scheduled time, came home and went to bed. 

And excellent, awesome, fabulous day, to say the least.  I haven’t felt this good in a long time.  I’ve decided not to analyze it.  After all, right after I left the looney bin, the psychiatrist said, “It’s a grey area when trying to figure out if you are just in a great mood or slightly manic.  The difference is that after the manic episode will come the depression.”  All righty, then. 

So far so good.  Of course, I haven’t even had my coffee.  And all my “triggers” have left the house for the morning.  If nothing else, it was a good ride while it lasted!

Funny or Inappropriate?

Recently I was surfing the web and found sweatshirts with sayings on them about being bipolar.  Some of them were serious, some were humorous, and some were downright strange.  I was fixated on one that said:

“My doctor tells me I’m bipolar and that makes me so sad happy sad.”

I thought it was hilarious!  My hubby says he doesn’t know why I would want to wear a shirt like that.  My mother agrees.  (My father hasn’t weighed in on the subject, but I am going to guess that he would agree with my mom on this one.)  Now, let me explain my husband’s point of view (and I’m sure he’ll correct me if I’m wrong).  He doesn’t see why anyone would wear a shirt promoting an illness.  This includes diabetes, breast cancer, or bipolar disorder.  And, in general, he’s not a wearer of t-shirts with sayings.  My mom’s opinion was that it made fun of the disease and the pink breast cancer ones do not.  So, you see, neither one of them had a problem with the shirt (or me) being bipolar.

So, I’m wondering.  Do I buy the shirt?  I explained to my mom that I could buy a serious one, but that just isn’t me.  I am a humorous person (I think) and as you all know, I’m treating this with a light heart when I can.  I had a bad day yesterday and today started out crummy.  But things got better today after my nap.  (Thanks, Mom and Dad for taking me to lunch.)  I just seem to have this heavy weight on me all day, but that’s not so awful. 

Anyway, back to the shirt.  I think it’s funny and it’s not like I would wear it as a uniform every single day.  (There was another one I liked that said, “And this is me ON my medication!”  But, I liked the other one better and two might be pushing it.)

So what do you think?

And, if you are interested in funny or cute t-shirts, coffee mugs, coasters, etc. check out www.cafepress.com where I found this shirt.  For those of you who love the news and like to laugh at it, there’s one that says, “Don’t tase me, bro!”  Of course, they have ones for the politically minded and supporters of each candidate, but who knows how long you could wear it before it became a rag with which to wash your car?

Hot Story from the Looney Bin

Probably the most memorable character (and creepiest) from the Looney Bin was “Sparky.”  You’ll see why we nicknamed him Sparky in a minute.  My first morning I met a very nice guy that I called “Socrates” because he was very learned and knew more than I will ever forget!  Socrates told me that Sparky had said to him, “Man, I wish I had a cigarette.”  Socrates said, “What would the point be?  You have nothing to light it with.  Why don’t you wear a patch?”  Sparky replied, “I don’t need no G****** patch!  All I need is a paper clip.”  Socrates decided he needed to see this, so he said, “Show me what you mean.”  (Now, as I’ve mentioned, Socrates was intelligent, but maybe lacking a little common sense.  I don’t think we should be encouraging Sparky.  He was not firing on all cylinders.)  So, Sparky got a paper clip, inserted it into an outlet and sure enough, SPARKS!  Of course, the outlet now had a big black burn mark all around it, but that’s beside the point.

That morning when my husband and mom came to visit me, Sparky approached my husband and they had this exchange:

Sparky: ”You got any?” 

Hubby:  “No.” 

Sparky:  “Come on.  Not even for me?”

Hubby:  “No.”  (This was hilarious since my husband had never even met the guy, but Sparky acted like they were best buddies.)

So, Sparky was a little agitated during his stay since he refused the patch, was in there for some kind of “issue” and wasn’t happy about anything.  Sparky got a roommate.  I asked his roommate if he was a little creeped out about being in the same room with him and he said, “Oh yeah.  I asked for another room and they are all full, so I’m going to sleep on the floor of the meeting room on a mattress.”  We agreed that there was no way he’d get any sleep in Sparky’s room.  By the way, completely off the subject, I owe that roommate money because he bet me the Patriots would go undefeated and I said it wasn’t going to happen.  So, if I run into him on the street, I owe him five bucks.

Things just started getting a little more tense with Sparky.  You couldn’t pinpoint it, but he was yelling a lot more than usual.  One morning we all awoke to find out that Sparky had tried to burn down the place.  Nice.  At first, he thought they were going to put him in the padded room.  (Yep. They still have those.)  But, come to find out, they were kicking him out.  Then, he became like a child.  “I didn’t do it!  I didn’t do it!  I promise to be good!  I promise!”  It was kind of sad, actually.  Turns out Sparky didn’t have a home to return to, so the social worker was going to have to find a shelter to take him.  Even though we all felt safer when he was gone, we felt sad too.

I remember when my kids were in preschool they learned this little ditty:

(Sung to the tune of Frére Jacques)

Never ever play with matches.

If you do, if you do

You might burn your fingers.

You might burn your fingers.

Boo hoo hoo.  Boo hoo hoo.

Maybe someone should have sung that one to Sparky.

No Biggie

Today was my visit to the counselor/therapist.  I told him I was watching my “should”s and he was proud of me. 

 Today’s lesson was “Nothing is a big deal.”  He described the brain as having a part that has all the “routine” info stored in it.  Brushing your teeth, eating meals, going to the bathroom, etc.  These are things we do without analyzing them.  Your brain doesn’t get filled with noise because you are trying to figure out why you are brushing your teeth.  This was brought up because I told him that the other day I decided it might not be the best use of my time to take a nap every morning.  He asked me, “Who told you that?”  uhhhhh.  nobody… just me.  Then, I told him that it had been the trigger to my having a breakdown that day.  So, he said, “So, you take a nap every day.  So what?  You don’t need to analyze that or your breakdown.  Just move it to the “routine” part of your brain.  The more you can move there, the quieter your brain will be.”  Sweeeeet!  I realized I do spend a lot of time analyzing why I’m crying, why I’m so touchy, etc. instead of just accepting it and moving on.  He said it was important to have and accept your “body routine” whatever that was.  And, for me, it was taking a nap every day.

I mentioned that I cried a couple of mornings, including this morning, and that didn’t fit into the typical cycle.  Again, he said, “Okay.  So, if I am sitting here and I cough up some mucus and spit it out, am I going to question why?  ‘Why did I cough up that mucus?’  ‘I wonder what I did to cause that mucus to appear in my throat?’”  Well, of course, I said, like a good little student, “No.”  Then he said, “Okay, so part of your makeup is that sometimes you are going to cry for seemingly no reason.  Accept it and move on.  Your body needs to do that sometimes.”   I said that that would have been a good thing to do, because I started getting all anxious about why it was happening, what I had done that might have triggered it, how I could avoid it in the future, etc. and all that took longer than the crying spell did, plus it rose to an anxiety attack.  Not worth it!

If you remember a few weeks ago, I mentioned that I should have listened to my body.  Well, apparently, I was on to something.  We should all respect our body routines.  Whatever they are.  Not one of us is exactly like anyone else in this world.  And, we just get into trouble when we start trying to define our “normal” against someone else’s.

So, there you go.  So, if you try to call me any morning between 9 and 11, I’m probably not answering the phone, but dreaming of George Clooney my husband and me on a deserted island.  I’ll call you back.

Permission for Plastic?

I promised in an earlier post that I would share the story of the guy who couldn’t get a knife at the clinic.  Here’s that story:

While eating lunch one day, a guy at my table, we’ll call him Pele because he looked like a soccer player and always wore Adidas workout outfits, had chosen a meatball sandwich.  Pele had decided to eat the sandwich open-faced because he didn’t want the carbs.  (Okay, now this was funny in its own right.  He was in the clinic because he almost drank himself to death, and he’s worried about carbs?  How about your liver, buddy?)  Anyway, he tried cutting the meatballs with the side of his fork and it was bending.  He wanted a knife and asked how to get one.  I told him he had to ask a nurse for one.  So there were two nurses in the lunchroom and he chose the “not as friendly” one.  She asked him why he wanted the knife.  He told her, she then told him, “You don’t need a knife.”  What?!?!?!  He came back to the table and was very unhappy, needless to say.  I put my hand on his and said, “Pele, honey, you needed the knife to butter your roll.   That is always the right answer when you need a knife.  You’ll get one every time.”  He nodded his head and made sure to remember that piece of advice.  The scene got worse when the “nice” nurse, who was sitting and chatting at another table, raised her hand and said, “Can I get four knives over here?”  Pele just about lost it, and who could blame him?

After telling my husband this story, he started laughing and said, “You’ve been in here a day and a half and you are already giving people the inside scoop?  What is your payment?  A carton of cigarettes?”