zeptember

Thursday, July 22 - pre-menstrual pain so bad that I spent the last half of the last day of Cultural teacher training class sobbing. Friday and Saturday, I felt a little better, go figure. The cramps were moderate on those two days.

Sunday, July 25 to Wednesday, July 28 - spent four days in a hard wooden chair, because for some reason, my body was in too much pain being on the soft couch or bed. Lots of Tylenol 3 and Advil for the endometriosis pain, which stayed constantly at about a 7 on the scale. Heavy bleeding. Tried cannabis edibles which gave me long, unwanted mind trips and did very little for the pain.

Thursday, July 29 - Was about to head to my pain management appointment at UCSF when I checked the joint bank account and found it EMPTY, with several bills waiting to roll through. Panic ensued. Woke husband, who said he had no money to spare. Argument ensued as to how he thought he was supposed to take care of of me financially this summer for school and pay all my bills when obviously there was a giant error in calculation. More panic ensued. Immediate dangerous depression, as money issues are a huge trigger for me, emotionally.

Friday, July 30 - Slept 11 hours. Tired all day. Blamed post-menstrual body detox from spending a week on Tylenol 3. Also very depressed - dangerously depressed, due to the financial situation. Did not leave the house.

Saturday, July 31 - What can only be described as a psychotic break. Did not leave the house for my own protection. Spent the day alternating between crying, babbling, rearranging the house, and finding all the old cat piss that I hadn’t found previously - my male cat has been targeting my stuff to pee on since last November.

Sunday, August 1 - Continued “mixed episode” - bipolar with psychotic features. Did not leave the house. Cat resumed peeing on my stuff because I’d moved furniture around.

Monday, August 2 - Spent the day crying and trying to get homework done. Did not leave the house for my own protection.

Tuesday, August 3 - Did not leave the house. Did homework for much of the day. In the late evening, songs triggered memories of old friends, caused me sorrow and fully distracted me from getting further homework done.

Wednesday, August 4 - Forced myself out of the house - I went to an art store in Berkeley. After buying fresh coloured pencils for my homework, I was witness to a parking lot collision. This set off triggers of a near death accident in 1994, and when I got home, I sobbed for much of the rest of the day.

Thursday, August 5 - Went to local doctor for anxiety/depression. I got 1mg Ativan prescription and promised to see a psychologist. I did another thyroid blood draw, hoping something would come up to explain this terrifying depression. Did not leave the house for the rest of the day.

Friday, August 6 - Mid-cycle pain for much of the day. Game night that night with friends. Promised everyone I would not get drunk, and proceeded to get MOTHERFUCKING drunk. The night ended in puke and tears. Guilt over that drove me further into depression.

Saturday, August 7 - Spent the day hungover, in an Ativan haze, and sobbing for part of the day. Decided to pick my personality apart and kick out the Bad Ztepf. Found out B’s dad had also spent the night puking, and was in the hospital with complications due to a bad virus and his diabetes throwing his blood sugar up near 500. Spent the day waiting for each next call from dad’s wife.

Sunday, August 8 - Visited B’s dad in the hospital. Ate fast food and watched TV with B. I fell asleep on the couch, then woke up after midnight with a real, actual hot flash. I tore off my blanket, socks and hoodie and ran around on the cool bare wood floor for a few minutes, then dove into the cool sheets of the bed and fell back to sleep.

Monday, August 9 - Was awakened before 9am from a company called Magellan, who told me I cannot see the psychologist my local doctor wants me to see, because he’s not in-network. I said he’s listed on the Aetna website. Magellan had to explain to me that my husband’s company has Aetna for health care, and Magellan for mental health care. I replied that I have access to all the mental health stuff on the Aetna website, which is confusing. I expressed distrust for these Magellan people. They told me not only could I not see the dude I was referred to, but the UCSF pain management psychologist I’ve seen twice and have paid co-payments to is ALSO not on the Magellan network, and so I OWE money to Magellan and/or UCSF.

This was first thing in the morning. This was hitting my financial panic trigger. I broke down in tears immediately and spent the rest of the morning curled up on the floor at the end of the bed, sobbing and becoming suicidal.

B was working from home that day, and did not want to leave me alone, so gently insisted that I come with him to visit B’s dad in the hospital again. We went around 1pm I think.

After that, I sobbed for most of the day - part of it was worry for B’s dad, most of it was continued WTF IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN crying. Took a total of 3mg Ativan. Suicidal ideation turned into mania and I moved more furniture and stuff around in the house. Then I started updating my will, which didn’t last long and turned into making a list to give everything away so I could run away and start over, which turned to kicking out Bad Ztepf and crying over her departure. Wow, what a headspace….

And today…

Tuesday, August 10 - I woke to find that my male cat had once again shown his displeasure with me moving HIS stuff around in HIS house. He scooted his poopy butt all over the computer room floor, leaving two shit kibbles on the floor, and then he’d hopped up on top of my desk and left a big shit kibble on my desk.

Despite my goddamned cat, I was feeling a little better - I had gotten up early to go to the psychologist appointment that Magellan did not want me to go to, but that B insisted I go to. The dude called last minute and said he’d double-booked, could I show up at 3pm instead? Sure. I needed to clean up after the damned cat, anyway.

I was just about to leave the house to run some errands, when Magellan called again.
Magellan told me again not to see this psychologist, that he’s not covered, that I will owe money, etc and so forth. They also said they checked, and for sure I owe money to them and to UCSF for daring having seen a pain management psychologist such as is listed on the Aetna website.
I yelled obscenities and broke down in tears immediately. I told them to where to go, how to go there, and said all sorts of things. I told them they were ruining my life. The woman reacted by threatening to send a squad car over and lock me up on 5150. I told her my husband was home and taking care of me, and that yesterday he’d lodged a complaint against Magellan.
I dictated to this woman that Magellan, the company B works for, and Aetna needs to get their collective asses together and communicate effectively to their employees and patients, because this is UNACCEPTABLE.
I spent the rest of the morning sobbing uncontrollably.

I went to the banned psychologist at 3pm - I went on my own despite B offering to go with me. I wanted to assert some form of independence and stability in all of this. I made it to the appointment on time, met the guy, and …

Turns out he’s a spaz, and drops the F-bomb a lot, and swears in general (mental patient swearing okay, mental health professional swearing - NOT OKAY - just so we’re clear). At several points he got the gist of my mental state WRONG. At one point he tried summing up the mess I’ve gotten my brain into, and said, and I quote, “WOW, YOU’RE FUCKED!”

And lastly, while I was encouraged to talk about my family and was describing my relationship with my parents and sibling, the shrink interrupted out of the blue to panic about how he will be paid for this session, since he’s not in-network, and wow, with all these triggers and emotional fucked-upness, I will likely be REALLY mad at HIM and will hold shit against HIM, THE SHRINK, if he charges me the full amount, but he HAS to be paid you see….etc etc.

I broke down in tears to explain to him that I thought he was on my side, he was referred by someone I trust and like - that being my local doctor. And therefore I trust HIM and therefore I won’t be upset with HIM and I KNOW he has to be paid. I promised him my husband would call him tomorrow and suss out the payment. I left confused, because the shrink had said repeatedly before the appointment not to worry about payment on the first visit, that he could bill me, and we’d work out out with the insurance company.

I got home, cried a bit more, told my husband all the gory details about this shrink, and we agreed HE’S fucked in the head, and that I won’t be seeing him again. But now guess what, we owe $130 for that visit, which we have to file a form with Magellan for, to hopefully be reimbursed at 70%. So, more money woes.

My husband went off to band practice tonight, which was BAD (i’ll let him tell you about it), and when he got home, his dad’s wife called to say that Kaiser caused his father to have a heart attack by giving him potassium in his IV, and now his heart is damaged, and they don’t know how badly.

I had just stressed on Sunday over them fucking up his heart, because they wanted to give him a CT scan with contrast (dye), which carries serious risk to damaging the heart in sick and at risk patients. It wasn’t the CT scan that did it, though. They were giving him his dialysis and decided he should for some reason have potassium added in, when he wasn’t supposed to.

KAISER ALMOST KILLED MY FATHER-IN-LAW.
Thankfully his wife has been keeping copious notes, and will be filing a complaint, if not a lawsuit.

Motherfuckers.

In closing, I’d like to say I have only had 1mg Ativan today. I’m taking one more right now before I go to bed.

My husband is worse for the wear, now. He’s been hitting the bottle(s). I am letting him. He’s also taking a mental health day from work tomorrow, or at the very least, working from home again.

I pray to [insert deity here] that I am emotionally stable tomorrow. I haven’t done homework in what, four days? And my husband is the one who needs me to be emotionally sound, right now.

On Wednesday, July 28, I slept for 12 hours overnight. Granted, I was on a lot of Tylenol 3 for menstrual pain.

On Thursday, July 29, I couldn’t sleep in because I had an 8am appointment with the pain management shrink I’ve just started seeing. It was my second appointment. I did not want to get out of bed. I was very slow and still in mild pain from having spent the past four days chair-ridden of all things. No sir, the bed or couch did not work this time, I was only comfortable sitting in a hard wooden chair for hours on end, for four days, during the menstrual pain.

On Friday, July 30, I slept for 11 hours overnight. The cough I had acquired back on July 18 had come back full force around midnight, and so I took codeine cough syrup. When I woke on the 30th, the cough was just as bad as the night before.

On Saturday, July 31, I slept for 11 hours overnight. I had taken the codeine cough syrup again, and when I woke in the late morning, I had a 100°F temperature.

On Sunday, August 1, I had gone to bed around 1:30 or 2am. I woke around 3:30am when my husband came home from his game convention, and I was high as a kite. I had taken a cannabidiol pill around 8:30pm and the super duper high did not set in until 1am, very slowly at best. Waking when my husband arrived home, I was higher than a kite. I woke at 11:30am and was still really high, so I went back to bed and slept til 2pm. When I woke again, I was still a bit high. I was fuzzy throughout the entire rest of the day.

On Monday, August 2, I had gone to bed just after midnight, and once again, I slept for 11 hours. Probably the after effects of the cannabidiol, says the husband.
Perhaps. I am still running an elevated temp - I’m at 99.4°F this morning.

I’ve been severely depressed, I’ve been sick with an upper respiratory infection, I’ve been down with pelvic pain in the past week, and I’ve been on a lot of codeine and cannabidiol.

I feel like I’ll need another full week to recover. Ugh.

My husband came home on dinner break last night, to check in on me, and to drop off a power cable for the iPod boombox.

We talked and I felt better afterwards. He’s not mad at me, he’s not provoking me, he’s not doing anything maliciously towards me. My brain was in overdrive and it’s the first time in a long long time that I had a so-called psychotic break. Actually, I looked it up - Back in 2000, I was verbally officially diagnosed Major Depressive with Bi-Polar Tendencies by a licensed psychiatrist, so I looked within that realm, as well as at the symptoms for ‘psychotic break’.

What I have been, and continue to experience since Thursday morning (so this is Day Four of it) is called a Mixed Episode:

While bipolar disorder most frequently manifests as a swing between manic and depressive episodes, in a minority of cases, a third type of Mixed mood episode occurs. In a mixed episode, the criteria for mania and the criteria for depression are both simultaneously met more often than not for at least a one week period duration. Just because criteria for both manic and depressive episodes are both met during a single day does not mean that both sets of symptoms are simultaneously present, however. Instead, what appears to be more the case is that there is a rapid alteration between manic and depressive states, occurring one or more times in a single day. Mixed episodes tend to be severe when they occur; psychotic symptoms such as hallucinations and delusions, and suicidal thinking are frequently present. -MentalHelp.net

Also check out the page on Types of Bipolar Disorder.

Since my diagnosis was ten years ago, and was never committed to a paper copy for my records, I assume the originals are by now long since destroyed. I should get back in to see a psychiatrist again for an official re-evaluation. Of course, that takes money, which I do not have right now. So I fall between the cracks. Let’s hope I don’t have to be hospitalized.

In the meantime, I have a Prop 215 card, thanks to the fact that I have endometriosis, so last night, I took a ‘0′ sized capsule of CBD to try to mitigate the brain weasels. Within an hour I’d say, I began to feel improvement in my mood. I had spent the entire day in a manic episode, moving furniture throughout the house on my own.

March 28, 2008

August 1, 2010

August 1, 2010

Prior to getting started on the furniture moving, I was highly delusional and paranoid, and feeling punished and slighted. I was suicidal. I struggled against the urges.
Once the furniture moving got underway, the manic episode sustained me through hyperactivity, but my brain remained a dangerous mess. I did not want to leave the house because of my high paranoid and self loathing state.

I struggled all day with how to medicate myself. It wasn’t until around 8pm that I finally decided to take the CBD capsule. I figured it would take an hour to kick in. At the hour mark, although feeling markedly more emotionally stable, I didn’t feel a ‘buzz’, so I poured myself a shot of Pyrat rum. I was hoping it would kick-start the buzz.

Still nothing.

I took a second shot.

I got a minor alcohol buzz, but not the obliteration I wanted to quell the head weasels.

It wasn’t until 12:30am that I started to get a buzz off of the CBD. Around 1am, I took a shower, because my back and legs were seriously aching from having been so active all day long. By 2am, I was in bed, but sleep did not come easily.

My husband came in after 3:30am, which woke me. I realised at that point that I was really flipping high. This is unacceptable - that it takes several hours for the CBD to digest and work its way to a big buzz like that. Well, it is unacceptable for two reasons: 1) When I’m in severe pelvic pain, I don’t want a buzz, I just want pain relief. 2) When I’m dealing with rabid head weasels, I do want a buzz, as quickly as possible. Dissociation is mandatory in both instances. The fact that it takes so long to get dissociated and/or high is unacceptable, because the suffering goes on that much longer. In the case of the pelvic pain, it makes me scream of course. In the case of head weasels, I could get critically suicidal in a short matter of time, so immediate dissociation is even more crucial. And in both instances, I want the high to be short term. I woke this morning around 11:30am and was still high as a kite. I went back to bed until nearly 2pm, woke again, and I was still high.

It is currently 3:40pm and I am still high, though not nearly to the degree I was in the wee hours of the night and late this morning.

So the lesson I learned is that I’m going to have to smoke the stuff if I want immediate results. Ugh. Which means I have to go outside to do this, because stale smoke in our house is not okay with us.

The whole reason I did not smoke last night was because I still have the remnants of an upper respiratory tract infection, and dammit, I hate the smell of pot smoke, anyway. I hate the smell and taste in my throat and lungs. I hate the smell on my clothes. At least I don’t get a chemical sensitivity response like I do with cigarette smoke, which has so many chemicals in it I don’t even wanna know. But something in cigarette smoke makes my throat snap shut and that’s never a pretty sight.

Anyway.

I will attempt to do some homework today. I am still on the manic side - my legs have been bouncing for several days. I will also have to tackle laundry and dishes and food recycling today.

From May until July I did not get sick. Then I spent a weekend around five sick people and of course I got sick. It’s been two weeks with a cough and lung crap. I heard there’s also an outbreak of whooping cough, but I don’t have a whoop going on, so that’s good.

I took the summer off of work to do head teacher Montessori training. I attended six weeks of schooling. I had my husband’s blessing and over $2,000 from last year’s tax return.
Somehow, all of it got eaten up, plus another $1,000 that my husband had to foot the bill for. I turned in weekly or biweekly bank statements to him, and apprised him as to my spending and eating out and all of that. I told him I needed him to check to make sure it’s all okay. I guess he just trusted that it was. He took the printouts I’d been laying on his desk and just put them in the trash!!!

Without any oversight, I totally went over the limit. I know that there were emergency cat expenses and car expenses thrown in, but it still should not have toppled us the way it did.

My husband has been very upset with me, and I’ve been very upset with him. I’ve told him over the last ten years that we’ve been together that I cannot manage money AT ALL, despite all the methods I have tried. He told me he has no money left, and doesn’t know how he can make rent, and then goes away for a weekend stay in a hotel with his buddies for a gaming group outing.
I was cleaning the bedroom today and found $250 cash just sitting on top of his armoire. And here I am, flat broke, eating macaroni and cheese, not able to go out dancing with friends or buy the groceries I want, because he has refused to put further money into the joint account. When he went grocery shopping for us last night, he got all kinds of snacks for himself and took those to the gaming group, and got nothing for me. I am eating leftovers and mac ‘n cheese, as I said.

As a result, I am dangerously depressed. The other day, I had to force myself to put a razor away, and the entire time it took to walk to the tool box (mere seconds) seemed like an eternity as I struggled against taking the razor from my hand and using it to slice the wrist of the other arm.

Money has always been a huge depression trigger for me. Shame and guilt have always been another trigger. I grew up in poverty and had a mentally ill christian fundamentalist mother.
I realise that these are triggers. I realise I can have power over these instead of the triggers having power over me. It is very difficult to maintain sanity most of the time.

I’m currently taking a break from cleaning the bedroom - it’s another thing I’m pissed about - over the six weeks I was in school, my husband whined about how much housework there was to do, and how he busted his ass, but he never vacuumed behind furniture, never dusted thoroughly, never cleaned the bathroom tub, toilet, sink or walls. I came home with an upper respiratory tract infection already going on, and it’s just gotten worse by living in this filthy house.

My husband laughs and says the house is not filthy. He’s completely insane. I took photos to prove his insanity.

Dust & cat hair

Dust & cat hair

It’s been there since July 18.

Blankets that need washing

My desk

Food that went bad while I was away

Dust

Dust

Thick dust on moulding and carpet

I’m so tired. I get this tired not only when I’m sick, and not only when I’m right off my period like I am, but also when I’m severely depressed.

I’m severely depressed. I’m dangerously depressed. I have no money to go to the doctor. I don’t want anti-depressants. I want anti-anxiety medication. I want safety. I want security. I want to be taken care of. I’m tired of fighting through life on my own. I’m supposed to be married, dammit. I’m supposed to be taken care of. I was promised I’d be taken care of financially and somehow that didn’t work out and now I feel I’m being punished when clearly my husband was as much at fault as I was in not keeping close enough eye on where the money was going. I only spent the money on class tuition and supplies, groceries and eating out, and motels - CRAPPY CHEAP DIRTY MOTELS I might add!

It’s so not fair. I’m so mad and sad, and yet my horoscope says this financial mess will continue through til 2012 on and off, and that I’m to make the best of it in order to come out on top and alright career-wise and finance-wise.

But I can’t do this alone, and it feels like the one person who said he’d be there for me has already abandoned me.

If we weren’t married, I’d be homeless right now. My bank account has less than $300 in it. I have no other money or income right now. Nothing. My credit cards (there are two) are completely maxed out. My husband is paying all the rent, all the groceries, all of his and my bills. If he decides he can’t do it anymore, I’m on the street.

I’m always one step away from being on the street, even in marriage. This is why I am dangerously depressed.

We talked about how things would change financially when we got married. He just refused to pay attention.

What am I going to do when I sign off of my blog today? I’m going to pick at the available food in the house, and I’m going to stare at all of the crap we have, and try to reorganise it somehow. I might even just leave it all as-is, furniture and whatnot askew, and take a nap, and force the husband to Do Something About It when he gets in late tonight from his gaming adventures.

My gods, I sound like a kept Victorian woman. WHERE’S MY LAUDANUM.

Despite all that’s going on with MCS, I’d like to answer my own question from back in March, when I wondered if I would still continue to get sick with sinus infection after sinus infection, respiratory tract infection after respiratory tract infection, allergic pink eye and all the rest….

The answer is NO, I did not get sick AT ALL from March through May and onwards. That’s two months removed from the outdoor classroom and no infections. Now I go back to the family doctor to let her know.

And of course, I will have to go back to the outdoor classroom - I’m hoping I can put that off until after my trip to Michigan.