I want to take off my fat suit


I’ve decided I’ll give blogging another try. Although, I may not be terribly entertaining because I’m quite in control of myself.

My meds are working well, I’m not a zombie, I am feeling, but not constantly feeling extremes. It’s pretty cool.

BUT. BUT. I’m big. I don’t like to name call, but the first time I typed that, I typed “fat”. I’ll break it down, and spill some embarrassing numbers:

I graduated high school in the 150s

I got married just under 200

I gave birth to my 1st child @ 214

I got down to 155 when I was manic

And now I’m 206

Oh gosh I hope my husband pretends he didn’t see this because I haven’t even admitted this to him, and he knows everything!! (But honestly, he’s seen me naked lots of times at this weight so idk what it matters)

I don’t understand what’s so hard about losing weight. I think I may have multiple issues facing me right now: slight depression, laziness (ill blame it on the depression…), and not understanding HOW to lose the weight.

I know that last one sounds silly. Watch what you eat and exercise. Bam. It’s just, losing weight is so closely tied with my manic episode that the thought of it makes me uncomfortable.

Hypersexuality has always been a huge part of my life, and losing weight and starting to think that I “look good” will bring it back. It is the hardest part of me to fight.

I don’t know how to fight it. Lock myself in a bathroom? Scratch myself until I stop? (I used to self harm when I would feel extreme emotions as a teen but it never got serious). I could do what I think I’m doing now and just make myself undesirable.

How do you handle your HS? Idk if you all feel like I do, but I’m like a cat in heat and on the prowl. It’s deplorable.

I could set out knowing it will return, and then face it head on. Call the psych and see if we could do a med change to battle it? I think that’s what I’ll do. I think I will give the hypersexuality a face, do a little bit of personification. I think that might make it easier to confront. It will be a war, but I never enter one I know I won’t win! I HAVE to make myself healthier, and a better person for my kids.

Those Dunkin Donuts in the fridge as sooooo calling my name.

I always figure out so much when I blog ūüôā Thanks for listening!! Your experience, thoughts, and advice are welcomed!

Working hard? Or hardly working?


Me and my relationship with stress has changed a lot over the past 4 months.

Wow. Its only been 4 months? It feels like an eternity.

The pre-bipolar-diagnosis me was a go-getter. A project starter. A task taker. I laughed in the face of more responsibility. It was like I was in one of those dance-off movies and it was stress vs. me, and I was like, “bring it!”. *sigh*

People told me to back down, take it easy, etc. But I just scoffed and continued to try to be awesome at everything I did. And a lot of people would tell you I was awesome at everything I did. I was one of those “if you’re not first, you’re last” assholes.

But something about losing your mind and almost wrecking your family changes something about a person. Well, maybe not all people. But me.

I pass on responsibility now. No thanks, my plate is full (this motto doesn’t apply at Thanksgiving dinner though…). This is such a huge change for me. A change in thinking that I didn’t have to work at. A positive one at that!

I love it. Its good for me. Its good for my illness.

However, not good at a high stress job. It gets to me sometimes, but other times, I have employees ask me why Im not running around crazy like everyone else.

“Um. Because I don’t want to.”

Don’t get me wrong, I work hard. But I find that Im more productive with a chill attitude. I like to think that’s important.

The General Manager at my restaurant had to go and pop my “Im awesome” balloon tonight. Here are some of his exact words, none of which were taken out of context:

“You’re the slowest person here.”

“Im like the sheep dog, herding the sheep, and you’re the sheep in the back.”

“I don’t want people to think ‘aww I’ve gotta work with Melissa tonight'”¬† (yeah, Hi, Im Melissa in case I haven’t told you…)

He said all of this within 5 feet of someone (not an employee).

I don’t let people see me cry very often, and certainly not at work. But I found an empty corner and squeezed a couple tears out before he came back to bark at me again.

I told a couple people I work with and they just snorted and told me not to listen to him. Ugh. I wish I could forget that. Its a nice record to play in my mind next time Im spinning into depression.

I’ve been busting my ass to try to be good, despite everything I have going on in my personal life. And I do know that I really am good, and he was just having a bad night, and I called him out on a mistake he made…which probably pissed him off…

Whoops.

Basically, he took a short cut with one of my guest’s meals, I watched him do it, he told me to take the food to my table, I did, and they immediately returned it back to the kitchen and insisted on a free meal. So I got the pleasure of finding him and saying “Hey remember how you ——— ? Yeah, the guest didn’t like it and now doesn’t want to pay for anything.”

And they didn’t. But they still loved me and tipped me. Well.

Wait a second…

Im the one that sucks?

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Depersonification


Depersonalization disorder occurs when you persistently or repeatedly have a sense that things around you aren’t real, or when you have the feeling that you’re observing yourself from outside your body. Feelings of depersonalization can be very disturbing and may feel like you’re losing your grip on reality or living in a dream.

(http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/depersonalization/DS01149)

This is my “go-to” method of dealing with stress. It hasn’t always been, but it has been for a while now, and I’ve only recently become stable enough to even notice what I’m doing.

For me, there are varying levels of depersonalization. I’m doing it right now. It’s been a rough day. Luckily, I can form sentences right now, and be fairly comical. About an hour and a half ago, I had glue in my brain. An empty look in my eyes, a quiet, monotone, emotionless voice, and couldn’t finish a thought, much less hold a conversation. I was trying. Pillars and I were out on a date, and I was trying to talk about today’s therapy session, but as soon as I found a thought and spoke 3 words of it, I lost it. After some mental constipation, I found my thought, spoke 2 words of it, and it was gone again. It was¬†embarrassing.

I think that if someone was listening in on our conversation, they may have thought I was mentally handicapped.

After a few minutes of this, what little bit of me was in me could sense my husband sitting there next to me. Wearing his nice business casual clothes, arms propped up on the table, concentrating on listening and piecing together whatever-the-hell I was trying to spit out. While I’m sitting there hunched over in uncertainty, at least one tiny hole in my shirt, another hole in the crotch of my pants, and greasy hair from not having showered in a couple days.

What does he think of me? Does he think I’m faking any of this? Is he tired of my troubles?

He asked if the music was distracting me. I couldn’t figure it out, so he suggested we go sit outside and talk. As soon as we were outside, I could form a complete sentence. I wasn’t fully there yet, but in a much better place.

I should add that on the way to this date, I got lost. Turns out that having a smart phone doesn’t actually make you smart. Damn.

So after talking outside for about 15 minutes we head home. I insisted I follow him…didn’t want to end up lost again. Har. I struggled staying present the whole drive, finding myself slipping in and out, and maybe even coming close to falling asleep a couple times. ¬†I don’t know, that’s what it felt like to me.

We come home, I step out of the car, and I’m back. Immediately. Not 100%, but at least 80%. How did that happen, when I was gone just a mile ago?

My therapist told me to keep an eye on this, that it may be a coping mechanism, may be something else, but that we need to track it. She told me not to let myself do that. But I couldn’t help it. Id been dying to do it for weeks, since earlier in the month when my Mom was here and I had done it when I was visiting with her. Who wouldn’t, when you hold conversations like this?

She visited, I checked out of my mind for the visit, then climbed up into a hypomanic episode, and managed to bring it down with an increase in Lithium. Since she came into town, I could feel the nagging sense in my mind, wanting to go away, disappear, check-out, leave my body…whatever. I guess the feeling just got too strong for me to be able to ignore it. It wasn’t a conscience choice, or thought, like, “Hey, I’m tired of this shit, let’s bounce.” It was that I was stressed out, trying desperately to cope, and then all of a sudden I’m not there. I’ve turned from frantic on the inside to calm. My face is emotionless. I can smile, but it’s not my smile.

It serves a purpose – the stress is gone. But it leaves me as a bumbling idiot. I’m not good for anything that way, and I can’t function. At it’s worst, I actually need someone to hold my arm to guide me while I walk. So…what’s the sense?

Either way, I’ll write it down and discuss it with my therapist for sure next time. It was definitely disturbing.

Working While Bipolar, Dealing with Stigma


I work at a seafood restaurant that has a nice big lobster tank in the lobby. When I’m done for the night but can’t leave (we have to leave in groups of 3), I sit next to the tank and fiddle on WordPress my phone. That’s right, I read all your lovely blogs while I’m chillin after work.

I’ve never had anyone – much less a stranger to me – sit down pressed against me and lean over and peer onto my phone before…but a guy from the kitchen did a couple months ago. He’s nice enough. For some reason, he sticks up for me when people start to pick on me in the kitchen. I much just look like a little lost kitten. ¬†But then again, when I’m “normal” and not in any form of mania, a little lost kitten is exactly what I come across as. So, whatever. It’s a side of me.

“Whatcha twittering?”

“Oh, I don’t twitter. I’m reading blogs.”

“Oh, you blog?!”

…shit. I know where this is going…

“Yeah, I do.”

“Oh! What do you blog about?”

—pause—

—pause—

—pause—

“I’m bipolar. So I blog about that.”

“Oh really? I never would’ve guessed. That has to be really difficult. How does it affect you at work?”

“I’m still kinda new at it, and I’m not quite sure yet. But I don’t think it causes me many problems.”

 

 

It ended there. And he’s still very sweet to me. We’ll hold the occasional 1 minute conversation you’re allowed in a restaurant.

But ever since then, he’s had me considering just how this affects me at work. I’ve become more mindful of how productive I am, how confused I get, how well my memory is, etc.

I’ve come to the conclusion – and this is still a study in progress – that I am at my worst times (normal mood – luckily, I haven’t had a depression while working outside of the house), just an average worker. Forgetting stuff here and there, a memory that is about as hard to catch as a feral cat, not too social with the guests, not very fast, not very vocal.

At my best times (which would be hypomanic/manic episodes), I am amazing. Super productive, very fluid movements, very vocal, conversing with the guests, memory like a steel trap, etc. I love working like that. I make more money like that. I don’t get in trouble with my bosses for forgetting stuff, etc. Its much less stress free.

I’m on the down side of my last hypomanic episode, and worked last night. I’m losing all of those lovely qualities I just mentioned :(:(

I kept forgetting stuff. Losing stuff. Having a hard time concentrating. Damnit.

 

My therapist was insistent that I not tell anyone at work about my illness. But, I don’t think I can do that. It would feel too much like hiding, like I have something to be ashamed of, like there is something wrong with me. ¬†And that’s just not the truth. She thinks (heck, maybe she knows…she’s been doing this for over 20 years) that people will use it against me. Maybe they will. But the¬†naive side of me (which I didn’t even know existed any more) thinks that I’d like to prove to them just how awesome I am so that when they find out, it will help them understand that we can be productive.

Oh, Oh! Another funny story from work concerning mental illness…I was dropping dishes off with another server, and he said something about schizophrenia, and then “Can someone even work with a condition like that?”. My reply:

“Yeah, actually. We can. I’m bipolar.”

—silence—

“Well, I’m tri-polar.”

“I’m quadrupa-polar.”

Then we both laughed and walked off to finish working.

Since then, I’ve noticed he’s a little softer to me. He usually is very sarcastic and picks on me a lot. Maybe related, maybe not.

I guess something really bad is going to have to happen before I stop fighting the stigma. I am awesome. I am bipolar. Therefore, bipolar is awesome. Sometimes. 

 

Hypomanic/manic shopping trips


We know that bad spending habits is one of the “symptoms” of bipolar. Luckily, this is one things I don’t take to the extreme. I’ve always been really thrifty. Occasionally a couponer, when the mood strikes. Always a deal getter. I am coming off of my most recent high, slowly, thanks in part I’m sure to an increase in my Lithium. But a few days ago, I had the please of grocery shopping and came home with these lovely gifts:

Now, in my defense, my oldest is starting Kindergarten in a few weeks and needs lunch box stuff – and those 12 packs were BOGO. Score!

AND, those other 5 packs, were B2G3 FREE. Double score!

I never buy cookies, even with 3 kids in the house. So it’s just a little weird when I come home with all of this. But I’ve seen much worse…I have a friend that I don’t see nearly enough lately, but whenever I do get to her place, there’s always something new. New furniture, new¬†electronics, new toys, new clothes. It’s definitely the classic bipolar spending. She’s aware of it. But I’m glad I don’t do that. Yet. Never say never!

Fortunately, I found this cool new¬†deodorant designed to help “rebalance” me. HAHA We’ll see ab0out that.

Very Inspiring Blogger Award


Yay! My 2nd Award! Thank you Summer Moon!!!

 

The Rules:

  • Display the award logo somewhere on the blog.
  • Link back to the blog of the person who nominated you.
  • State 7 things about yourself.
  • Nominate other bloggers for the award, and provide links to their blogs.
  • Notify those bloggers that they have been nominated, and of the award‚Äôs requirements.

7 things about myself –

1 – I was called “Bubble Butt” by family when I was growing up. Thanks for the self esteem boost there, fam. *thumbs down*

2 – I want to own a horse some day. Before I die.

3 – I have my Bachelors in Finance.

4 – My oldest (of 3) child is starting kindergarten in less than 3 weeks…

5 – I’m still nursing my youngest (he’ll be 2 in November).

6 – I really don’t care for people, and you can often hear me say “I HATE PEOPLE” at work.

7 – I hate being bipolar.

Other bloggers I’d like to nominate –

Crazy in the Coconut – she’s much braver than I think I could ever be.

Pillars – not only because he is my husband, but because he reveals things about himself and discusses things that aren’t easy to talk about.

Raising the levels.


The psychiatrist’s waiting room is unusually full today. Which means I am sitting elbow to elbow with…colorful people. And it’s not even 9am.

I’m starting to realize how different social situations either make me clam up or come out. It’s odd. I think Ill start taking notes and seeing if I can connect any dots.

Thank God I was the first person called…this big guy next to me kept falling asleep and then jerking awake.

I meekishly explained my symptoms to him. It sounded something like this:

“I don’t know if you remember our meeting last Friday, but I had told you that I had a couple symptoms creeping up. They’ve grown, kinda snowballed. Now I have full hypersexuality, pressured speech, Im witty, productive, excellent multi tasker, inflated self-esteem, Im dressing a little differently…there are times when I know I am not in control and that scares me. It scares my husband. We don’t want to wait until something bad happens.”

He asked when I got my lithium level checked, I said yesterday. He didn’t have the results yet, so he sent me back out to the crazy house the waiting room while a secretary called to check on it.

30 long minutes later he called me back in and said that we had good news, my level was at .7 yesterday. Therapeutic level (for this lab at least) varies from .5-1.2. So, I’m on the “low” side of the therapeutic dose. So we upped it to 1200mg.

This is good. I didn’t want another medication. Hopefully this’ll work out. I’ll have another blood draw Monday to see how it looks.

Yay. There’s hope.

Losing it. Keeping it.


I’m battling an episode. Really. It feels like a goddamn war. One that sometimes I just want to give up.

And I don’t know that I need to fight it. Do I have to? Is it even an enemy? Will it really hurt me?

The “real” me is battling the manic me that likes to go out with barely any clothes on, drink rum and coke until I need someone to carry me, wear bright makeup, and flirt dangerously. <—hey let's all admit this chic sounds fun. And I hear she's hott.

My self esteem picked up. I don't think Im disgusting anymore. Hey, that's not a bad thing, right??

I long for a drink sometimes. But not just one. That can go in the "bad" column.

image

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† My Dad liked to drink too…

I talk. And talk. And talk. Good for my job – my guests love it when I continuously engage them in conversation. And it reflects in my tips. Good column.

image

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† Who doesn’t?

And I’m frickin hilarious. Well, at least I think so. Always something witty to say. Unlike the real me who takes 6 hours to come up with a come-back. Good column.

I’m productive. I think easily. Another thing the real me can’t do. I can easily multi-task without having to blink. It’s another trait that makes work easier. My depressed brain stutters. Bad. My normal brain moves at what I would suspect is a normal speed. My manic brain does laps around everyone elses brains. If my brain were in the Olympics…

Oh. Now there’s an idea. Brain Olympics. Bipolar people would totally kick ass.

When I’m shopping, everything grabs my attention. “Oh look, its toddler toothpaste with Pinky Pie on it!….Ohh look at this new training toothbrush with the little finger loop on it so they can brush their little teeth….” Luckily, my husband was in the phone with me (Yes….I was saying all that to myself….) to keep me focused on the goal.

I think that last one should qualify as a bad column. Its using up time I could be productive.

Is any of this anything to worry about? Some may say no, but Im gonna say yes. The hurtful part of all this – the hypersexuality – is dangerous. Because when it hits, the rest of me throws the deuces up and checks out. Anyways, its here. Has been for a few days. I just haven’t been able to relinquish my grip on myself. And I don’t want to.

Hypersexuality – so, how long has it been since you’ve had sex with your husband? My therapist asks.

I think its been nearly 2 weeks.

What?? There’s no reason it should be that long. Especially if you’re feeling hypersexual. What’s wrong?

Idk. The feeling is there, but I think I might be scared to have sex right now because it might trigger something. Or he might see in my eyes that I am not emotionally there. Ans he’s in so much pain anyways, I don’t wanna do that to him.

She ended up getting me in tomorrow with the psychiatrist at which point I have to tell him all my symptoms and also that’s I am scared of myself. She toke me to say that, but it really is the truth. Im not in control of myself.

Either way, its putting us all on edge. Which is weird. Here I am. Im the one that without, people would live a little easier. I seem to bring destruction into people’s worlds. And not even on purpose, but because of an illness, which is even more unfair.

Ugh. Im sure something will done Thur. I’ll let you all know…

Me, the future Olympian.


I’m blogging this while walking on the treadmill at the gym. Clearly, I am not a future Olympian. Besides the obvious dedication issue, I’m much too old for that shit.

I was testing out my energy. I am proud to say that I have no manic energy. That’s not to say it won’t surface tomorrow, or in a couple days. I’m such a pessimist.

Of note, my Husband had offered to let me go back to bed after he woke up this morning. That’s nothing out of the ordinary, he’s awesome like that. But when he woke up, I was still awake. I didn’t jump back into bed. That is unusual. And even now, after 2.75 miles here, I am not looking for a corner to curl up in. Weird.

It’s the energy. It’s trying to resurface. I guess I’ll just give up my fight and let my body do what it’s going to do. I can be mindful. I can communicate. But hating what’s happening won’t stop it.