zeptember

Well ok. George is showing signs of impending do0m. I’ve had very minor cramping today and yesterday. Food cravings, especially for sugar, have been out of control.

I swear, I never thought I’d say this, but thank gods for Sucralose, although it has such a NASTY aftertaste and leaves me chugging water, it does the trick for a sugar fix. I’m sure one day soon, we’ll realise it’s as carcinogenic as Aspartame is purported to be.

Yesterday and today I have been all kinds of ragey, too. Like, seriously wanting to trash-the-house-and-scream-like-a-cave-woman type rage.

My mid and lower back has been really sore the past two days as well. I have to take time repeatedly to stretch, otherwise the pain is unbearable. But I haven’t taken any medication yet.

There’s also the hormonal core temperature wackiness going on, too. Yesterday, I went to bed in full on winter pajamas and was shivering. Today, I woke up freezing, then within an hour I had to turn on all the fans in the house. Then at the bank, while standing in line, I had a bonified hot flash, which left my face blotchy and stinging for over an hour.

But even with all that, I still haven’t had the pre-george pain I usually have by now. Let’s hope this month is easier on me.

Today I woke up and realised that george is due this Saturday.

Yet, I haven’t been focused on his impending arrival. I haven’t focused on any cramps … because there hasn’t been any!!

YAY!!

Feels like first time EVER I’ve had to think about when george is arriving, as opposed to two weeks beforehand, feeling like complete shit.

Perhaps all the dietary restrictions are working!

About an hour after my last entry, my cousin D called. He told me that his doctor said his liver enzymes are really high, and that the doctor said he’d be surprised if D lived til Christmas this year. We talked about whether he had his paperwork and his will in order (he does not), and whether he’s told his mother (he begged me not to say a word to her).

I told D that the liver is regenerative, and that he can get on a donor list, too. He said the doctor had tried to convince him to get on interferon, but he’d refused, saying he doesn’t want to lose his hair and look like a cancer patient.
He’s given up the drugs repeatedly. He’s been clean again for months. He’s given up the drinking long ago. He’s given up caffeine but he’s still having trouble giving up cigarettes. He’s changed his diet completely and has listened to me and my friend N with what supplements to take.
And yet, his liver enzymes are skyrocketing in a bad way.
So I’ve printed out some info on interferon to send to him, which details how the hair loss is reversable… short term… to try to convince him to give the interferon a try.

I’m also trying to find a way to print out digital copies of our Appalachian ancestry to send to D so he feels like he has some family to look back on. He’s asked a few times over the past year for old family photos. I wonder though if he’ll see Christmas pictures dating back 20 years that don’t include him, and if that will make him feel worse? But yet he gets to see how his multitudes of first cousins have grown…I dunno.

So anyway, talking to D put things into perspective for me.
I’m not dying for chrissakes - I’m only depressed. I can bounce. I can.

D told me two things: “You’ve got to stop that” (being so depressed), and “You made my day, just by answering the phone”.

We often tell each other that we love each other. I’m the only family he’s got out of the dozens upon dozens of cousins and the aunts and uncles who don’t care whether he lives or dies.

I will be very, VERY angry if D dies this year.
Not angry at D.

I’ll be right pissed at the family.

I just hope I can get info and photos to him in time. Money is an issue.

Hang in there, D.

I’ve been keeping a spreadsheet of my menstrual cycle and mental stability surrounding the menstrual cycle for about four years now.

Recently, I’ve splintered off another spreadsheet just to record mental stability alone.

Going back through the past five months, May is thee most stressful month I’ve had thus far, hands down.

I’ve had 15 total depressed days out of 29 so far this month. Of that total, I went through 2 days in a row, then 5 days in a row, then 3 days in a row, then another 3 days in a row of depression throughout this month so far.

I had 11 instances of panic attacks - the highest so far this year (and honestly, I wonder if it’s the highest figure in the last three years, but I’m checking on that).

The causes for my panic attacks have been related to job search/interviewing, money, car and home-hunting.

I won’t lie to you - two days in a row earlier this month, I’ve also had suicidal ideation.

Last night, I went out with a friend to dinner and a movie. Towards the end of dinner, a couple at the next table over started talking to us. My face flushed because of social anxiety. I was not prepared to be talking to anyone else besides my friend, and suddenly we were engaged by a couple of strangers. They were “our people”, meaning they were freaks/subculture like us, but it didn’t matter. I hurriedly paid our bill and we left the restaurant. I could tell they knew I was uneasy. It didn’t help matters because I knew I couldn’t explain why without getting redder in the face.
(I’m glad my boyfriend wasn’t with me - he always announces that my face has turned red, thus turning even more attention on me, and leading me to want to flee in a panic).

After the movie let out, my friend and I discussed the movie on the way home, and how impressed we were with it.

After dropping my friend off at home, I was suddenly overcome by the stress of the day - having gone out to be social with one single friend, and an unexpected couple at a restaurant - was all it took to get me babbling gibberish all the way home because of the social anxiety.

Fed up with this goddamned gibberish that happens to me when I’m stressed out, I sat up til 1am researching various keywords in Google searches, looking for anything that might match what I go through. Let me first start by saying that I didn’t have this condition until after my near death auto accident, which caused a major closed-head injury in 1994.

The closest keywords I have come up with so far are “Glossolalia” and “Logorrhoea”.

According to Wikipedia:

Glossolalia comprises the utterance of what appears (to the casual listener) either as an unknown foreign language (xenoglossia), meaningless syllables, or utterance of an unknown mystical language…

Logorrhoea is a language disorder present in a variety of psychiatric and neurological disorders including aphasia, localised cortical lesions in the thalamus, or most typically in schizophrenia with catatonia.

Examples of logorrhoea might include talking or mumbling monotonously either to others or more likely oneself. This may include the repetition of particular words of phrases, often incoherently. The causes for logorrhoea remain poorly understood, but appear to be localised to frontal lobe structures known to be associated with language.

While doing my research, I also happened upon another term that is VERY relevant to me, but not related to last night’s anxiety. I will discuss it here anyway because it affects me every day, and I know that it too is tied to my brain injury from the car accident.

Nominal aphasia (also known as anomic aphasia) is a form of aphasia (loss of language capability caused by brain damage) in which the subject has difficulty remembering or recognizing names which the subject should know well. The subject speaks fluently and grammatically and has normal comprehension, and the only deficit is trouble with “word finding,” that is, finding appropriate words for what they mean to say.

Anomia is caused by damage to various parts of the parietal lobe or the temporal lobe of the brain. This type of phenomenon can be quite complex, and usually involves a breakdown in one or more pathways between regions in the brain.

The last time I had medical coverage for a sustained amount of time was when I was at my last contract job. I tried to tell the doctor about my car accident, brain injury and glossolalia/logorrhoea issues, but she said she’d have to refer me to a neurologist, and under my shitty HMO health plan, that would be damned near impossible for her to pull off.

Before that, I was part of a study at Stanford University on anxiety. During the initial interview where they administer the Psychological DSM test, I made it known that I had brain injury from a car accident, and I told the psychologists point-blank that I talk nonsensical words that sound slavic in nature when I am suffering from anxiety or have flasbacks of embarrassing experiences or thoughts.
One psychologist spoke to a neurologist, who told her he didn’t believe my problem was neurological, but was instead emotional. I disagreed vehemently to no avail. This was just a study on anxiety, and they couldn’t help me with my other issues.

Now that I’m covered on my boyfriend’s Domestic Partner health insurance, which is a PPO health plan, perhaps I can start the process again to get a neurologist to look at me.

Lastly, on the anxiety front, while writing this post, the garbage collection truck arrived and began repeatedly banging the dumpster to fully empty it. My second floor windows are open because it’s a warm day, so I had to plug in my earphones and crank up some Industrial music because I was ready to start shouting AAAGGGGHHH STOP IT!!! and clutch my ears from the garbage truck banging noise. It’s nerve wracking in a way I cannot describe, but Nine Inch Nails cranked up several decibles is not…
I was so disturbed by the garbage truck noise, that my eyes crossed and I felt a wave of panic, and I felt like my soul went sideways in my body and wanted to come out.

How’s that for sounding like a lunatic?

Now, after reading all of this, you may wonder if I’ve ever been medicated for my mental illness.

The answer is yes.

Back in 2000, I was ejected from a five year relationship. Three of those five years had been hellish, but we had stayed on to torment each other because we were co-dependent.
I was suicidal so I went to the doctor and requested to be put on anti-depressants. I had to sob and beg not to be committed to a mental hospital. After about an hour, the doctor relented and sent me home with some Zoloft, which I told her I had been on in college.
It’s true, I had tried Zoloft before - but I’d obtained it through a friend who didn’t want her pills anymore. I’d only taken a couple of pills, and I couldn’t remember the dosage.
I was put on 25mg of Zoloft in 2000, and within 11 days, I became schizophrenic. I was broadcasting - everyone could hear all my thoughts. I panicked one day at work, ran into the bathroom, and sat in the stall with my hands clamped over my mouth, silently screaming as tears streamed down my face, because people could hear my thoughts.

I went back to the doctor, who put me on Paxil. I got severe leg cramps and joint pain, and was numb to any emotions whatsoever. But it didn’t stop the suicidal ideation. My dosage was reduced to 12mg and then 10mg, and then they put me on liquid Paxil so I could adjust the dosage from 5-10mg as needed. The joint pain persisted and I ended up having to go to physical therapy.
Then I had a panic moment on the way to work one morning, where suddenly I had no idea what time of day it was. I had no idea what year it was. I had no idea who the President was. I turned on the radio, and they talked about George Bush, so I thought ok, George H.W. Bush… but I still didn’t know if it was 6am or 6pm…and the freeway I was driving on didn’t look very familiar, but I’d just passed a sign for Warren Avenue, which I know exists in Michigan. And then I looked out my driver-side window as I drove in the rush-hour traffic and I saw MOUNTAINS. I freaked and started hyperventilating. THERE ARE NO MOUNTAINS IN SOUTHEASTERN LOWER MICHIGAN.
Then, slowly, my memory started to come back and I realised what time and year it was, and who the correct president squatter was in the White House.

I tapered off the Paxil and got on Celexa, after that.

I took Celexa from 2001 to 2002, along with anti-anxiety medication. But the Celexa was too mild to combat my depression. At higher doses, the Celexa gave me the same leg cramps and joint pain that the other two meds had. So I finally said screw it and went off all my meds in 2002, and vowed to regulate my depressions through diet, exercise and vitamin therapy, instead.

I’ve had people since 2002 tell me that newer and better anti-depressants have come out on the market.
I am too afraid to try experimenting with drugs again, legally or illegally, thank you.

I don’t trust anything the pharmaceutical industry has to sell to me. I’ve read numerous studies of people dying in clinical trials of drugs for everything from pain medication to anti-depressants.

And then there’s the stigma. If I go back to shrinks and start getting medicated again, I get labeled. I get discriminated against.
What if I have to go on government disability for my mental issues? To be eligible for governmental financial assistance, I have to have commited myself to a mental institution, or have been forcibly committed, and I have to be on medication and in therapy. All of this labels and stigmatises me for life and prevents me from getting certain jobs.

HAH. Jobs. I can’t even get a fucking job. I’ve been unemployed for 4 months and I’ve received four rejection letters. Two were from companies I’d interviewed for. The other two rejected me just based on my cover letter/resume.

And don’t even talk to me about how devastated my father would be if he found out how mentally fucked I am, especially if I go the state aid route.

And yet, what happens if I don’t try medication again? What happens if I don’t commit myself for awhile?

What does it mean when, during a nap, my brain starts playing Ministry’s “Warp City” (because I heard it earlier when providing a link to their website), and the lyrics change from “That’s Warp City” to “Aswan City”?

I knew of a place on the map called Aswan, but I thought it was just Aswan. Apparently it’s also known as Aswan City.

My brain is weird.

3:42pm Edit: It happened again! I was making out a grocery list just now and instead of “cat food”, my brain wanted me to write caltrops on the list!

WTF. I feel like a Mack truck ran over me.

Two days ago, I went to the Ministry concert. I’d decided that since the band has gotten much more metal over the last two albums, and judging by how angry “Uncle Al” is on the album, that I would avoid going into the pit this year.
Last year, I went into the pit and came out with a glorious battle wound - I was black and blue and swollen from my right knee down to my ankle.
So this year, I decided I’d stand at the edge of the pit and feed off the energy within. And ohhhh boy was it violent! Woo! So thrilling! I helped to hold the pit wall - it’s where you constantly push back on people spiraling or hurtling out of control from the center of the pit towards the people just standing and trying to watch the show. That in itself gave me the physical exercise and adrenaline rush that I’d wanted.

When I came home from the show, I was a little bit achey in the legs from bracing all night.

Yesterday, I felt a little bit sore in the shoulders from all the pushing and bracing I did on Friday night.

But today! Today I woke up feeling run over, as I said. I had to slowly move my limbs to stretch the pain out. I nearly gave myself a charlie horse in my left leg just by stretching. Then the snap crackle pops of my hip, leg, arm and back bones - only it wasn’t a smooth crack - the cracks felt dry and brittle, and they hurt.
Gah…the reality of aging.

Why is it always day two that the real pain sets in for me, and not the day after??

My knees were a bit sore yesterday, but today they are killing me. I stagger and whimper just to get up out of a chair for chrissakes.

Good thing I’m not planning on doing anything until this evening, ugh.

I went to bed before midnight last night, and got up just before 9am, and already I’m tired again and needing a nap.

Regarding the show itself, it was fucking awesome, but I admit to being disappointed that Jello Biafra didn’t join both Ministry and RevCo up on stage, since he’s on both of their latest albums.
He was there in the crowd, though. I hope he at least got into the pit.

I’m coming up on my second menstrual cycle since going on the yeast-free diet, and starting Wednesday night, I began getting olfactory hallucinations of pizza just before bedtime. The scent was really strong, as though I’d just had pizza delivered.
I whimpered, of course.

A few days prior to that, I had a dream that I was making coffee in the morning, and I accidentally stirred in sugar and cream. I realised after the fact that I’d added verboten ingredients to it, and I remember saying “oh shit!” in the dream, staring down at the coffee, and then thinking, “well, I’d better drink it…don’t want to waste it”, and so I took a sip and it tasted SO good!!
I woke from that dream and whined. I’ve not had any coffee at all since going on this diet, because coffee itself is verboten. Previous to the diet, I couldn’t drink coffee first thing in the morning because it would lead to instant hypoglycemic attack. So dreaming of a morning ritual that includes making coffee is highly suspect.

This tells me that I’ve eaten something in the past week which has started to stir the little yeasty critters in my gut back to life again, and they’re trying to control my brain!!!

But what was it? I’m not keeping a food diary like a good girl. I should start doing that. Blah. I wonder if it was because I’d had the wheat cereal on the morning of May 19, and oatmeal on the morning of May 23rd? I remember those two dates because I’d noted hypoglycemic attacks in a monthly endo symptoms log that I keep, and I’d noted what brought those attacks on.

Anyway, PMS cravings won out and on Thursday, my boyfriend and I ordered Chinese food. My tummy was gurgly afterwards because of the soy sauce they use in the cooking, but it was soo good!

Today, I ate a sugar-free lifesaver candy, and it was so sweet from the sucralose that my eyes crossed, but it did the trick - it gave me the sugar fix I needed.

So, another month, another bout of food cravings, another month of nearly losing it emotionally, what’s new?
Same shit, different diet.

I guess it would help if I could remember to take my vitamins every day, too.

Oh, and on the drinking front…I went 26 days without a drop of alcohol. Then I had one small vodka on the rocks on May 20th. Then I went six days without drinking, before I had another small vodka on the rocks, and perhaps 1/4 glass of a mandarin vodka on the rocks after that, both on May 26th. I was at concerts on both occasions in which I drank liquor, which means I still get stressed out over being in social situations, and I still resort to alcohol to help chill me out.
BUT! And this is important - I haven’t gotten DRUNK to cope with social anxiety since going on this diet. Ha! It only took me 16 years to learn how to drink. :p

Oh, and you may ask ‘why vodka?’
I dunno. I thought it was ‘clean’? Not so much yeast? But I guess it’s made from potatoes, right? So I should really be going for rum or something, I dunno. I’m too lazy to research it right now.

Last week, I found some sugar-free cereal so I tried it out. For the rest of the day, I had severe indigestion. The cereal is whole wheat.
A few days ago, I tried the cereal again, and I got indigestion, stomach gurgle, puffy eyes, tingly nose and general irritibility.
So now wheat is out. The waffles I’ve been eating are wheat-free, thankfully. I need some semblance of bread in my diet!

I’d called my mom the other day to ask what my childhood allergies were. She grabbed the list she’s kept all these years and said she’d send it to me. My allergies are: tomato, corn, citrus, egg & dairy, wheat, feathers, dust, cotton lint, grass, trees, and mold/penicillin.

Of those, I know that my allergies to mold/penicillin are severe, followed by dust and lint and feathers, followed by fresh-cut grass. The others, I’d forgotten about over the years, and now it’s caught up with me.

So now, along with new restrictions based on the above, I’ve also just confirmed why soy cheese makes my stomach gurgly and makes me feel crappy after eating it - because they put casein in it and call it vegan! Bastard Dickweeds!

But that’s not all! Many of the soy-protein fake meat products out there contain “yeast extract”, which is really MSG!!

WTF?!?!!

So now I REALLY have to learn how to cook.

Ass.

But the good news is, I’ve lost 2 more pounds! I’m now at 170lbs (77kg).

OH, and I ate asparagus again tonight and I’ve been fine.

Well. It turns out, people on the Internet are misinformed…again! Shock and awe!

Now that I have two books on yeast overgrowth, these books tell me that anything with corn in it is BAD, mmkay?

So I have to ditch the corn tortilla crackers, and the taco shells completely, and read all labels for any corn ingredients. Apparently, corn easily succumbs to mold, and it is one of the most common of food allergens, because corn in many forms is in virtually everything we eat every day. Therefore, exposing oneself to the same food every day can produce an allergic reaction that ranges anywhere from headaches to indigestion to constipation/diarrhea.
So on the advice of two books, I’m omitting corn while on this diet.

The two books I bought are:

Chronic Candidiasis and The Yeast Connection Cookbook.

I tried eating shrimp today and now I have a headache and I felt like my blood sugar got wonky. I ate the shrimp with broccoli and asparagus, and I had lime infused sparkling water to drink.
Since I’ve not had a problem with the water or broccoli, I’m going to narrow it down to shrimp and/or asparagus.
So I’ll give the asparagus another whirl, but I’m omitting all shelfish for now.

Needless to say, this is turning into a bit more than a sugar-free/yeast-free diet. It’s now become a full-blown Find The Allergens diet on top of it.

That’s okay though. I like puzzles.

…and I did not get the job.

My first reaction was sadness and panic. But within a few minutes, I realised I was sad because of rejection in general. Nobody likes hearing they’re not wanted.

But when I thought about the job itself, I was relieved to not have gotten it. I mean really, having panic attacks for nearly a week solid over this job? I knew it wasn’t a good idea. Going back to the tech industry is SO not a good idea for me. I’m shellshocked. I’m worn out. Merely looking at the tech section of the job ads puts me into a panic.

Yet, given prodding by a friend, who was I to say no? So I applied. I went through the process.
Now, I can consider it a practice run for other interviews. It’s all good, as they say.