Another Day, Another Monkey Wrench, Solutions Welcome! (gibberish and rambling are included!)


I am not sure why I can’t seem to remember that I am absolutely powerless to control pretty much anything, especially the whim and will of other people or the weird Kansas weather or (to a degree) how my body will react (generally dramatically, whichever the direction) to a big medication adjustment or how my frizzy-ish hair is going to handle the day’s vacillation in humidity.

Here we are, another week has gone by, there have been ups and downs, but I am surviving, and am in fact surviving in somewhat decent humor.  A bit over a week ago, things were getting a bit too roller-coasterish with my mood, and my Seroquel was increased (for the second time this month) and I really thought that was not going to affect things (overall), too much.  I was, of course, terribly wrong and while it has given me moments of extreme grogginess, the really irritating thing is that I am just extremely hungry at all times, no matter what I have just eaten or what else I have done that day.  In addition, the sugar/carb cravings are back and I really do put a lot of that on the Seroquel.

Some of it is me, though — me not handling anxiety well, me not handing “change” well, me just reverting to slacker (eating) ways.  The other problem the past week or so has been that I have not been able to do my normal exercise routine, partly because of bad knees, but mostly because of serious toe infection (both big toes) and extreme ingrown toenails.  My primary care, thankfully, decided that now was the time to pull both toenails.  They  have actually been giving me trouble for years, so in a sense, I am happy to start over with a fresh nail bed, but it was quite painful and remains a bit more than slightly painful, the dressings are not easy to change, and I have had to back off of my daily trips to the pool to do aqua aerobics.

I am on Day One of no exercise, and one would think I would be faring better, especially considering years and years of slackerdom and the past year in which I barely moved from the couch.  No lie, however, I am going quite stir crazy and have been bouncing from project to project to project.  Nothing is satisfying the itchiness inside my brain, and to keep that itchiness company, my stomach is constantly complaining that it be filled.  It is a miracle that I am not hugely over-eating my plan calories allotment, but the desire is definitely there.

I am going to have to figure out some more creative ways of telling my cycling brain to shush, of telling my growling tummy that it is not in fact starving, of settling the  feeling in my legs of wanting to bounce around, and so forth.  I am employing all of the usual remedies, like chair exercises, doing new crafts, working on special projects for others, reading, talking Kizzie and Lucy’s ears off, browsing the internet, trying to organize different spaces.  I think I need something totally different, and I have thought about it all day and decided that maybe YOU have the suggestion that I am needing.

So please, do tell, what amuses you when you feel similarly?  I am pretty open to suggestions, provided it includes nothing illegal, smoking cigarettes, or imbibing in any kind of mood-altering substance.  Let’s hear it!

On the Brink or In the Throes?

That is the question, that really doesn’t even need to be answered at this point.  Careful observations of my own behavior, as well as listening to what other people are telling me, indicate that I am experiencing the most terrible, violent mood swings.  I wake up happy, all is well.  I have coffee with DSB and am content.

Then the day really starts.

I have been really angry.  Little things are setting me off.  I am becoming quite vocal about it.  I almost threw a steaming hot cup of coffee at an idiotic McDonald’s worker today.  I still feel like she had something coming, just maybe not a scalded torso and face.

I was nasty with my mom this morning about my work schedule.  I didn’t know what I was asking for and I don’t know what I want, other than to not sit in a chilly bait store all winter, for five hours a day, three days a week, doing nothing except waiting on the occasional customer and reading my Kindle.  I felt like I was communicating with a blank wall and I just got so very frustrated that I could have screamed.  I turned that frustration into anger and took it out on her.

I had a fairly good group session yesterday, but when I got home I immediately started to pick on DSB until it got to the point where I was sobbing and screaming and shouting and cursing.  I don’t remember what started it, but I knew the gist of it was, “YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND!”  And he admitted that.  He doesn’t understand the “bipolar thing” and doesn’t believe that one can truly understand it unless one is living it.  I appreciate that about him.

What it is that he doesn’t understand and won’t empathize with is the lack of motivation, the inability to make oneself get up and do something.  Just get up, just do something, just do it, just make yourself.  He doesn’t understand it and he has no sympathy for it.  He just doesn’t get it.  And for some reason that hurts me deeply.  Why can’t  he have even an inkling of understanding and sympathy regarding this matter, when he is so compassionate  in other matters?  It is deeply frustrating and makes me want to punch him in the face, literally.

A few nights ago, my mom really pissed me off with a flippant comment and I immediately got up and left.  Because, in that moment, I was worried about what I might do or say.  I could feel myself losing control, so I had to leave.  The comment and the idea still piss me off something fierce, and again I just have this feeling of being misunderstood.  Which enrages me.  Which brings me to tears, huge, racking sobs.

I don’t quite know what to do about these mood swings, but today, DSB says, “It’s got to stop.” in his “I really mean it” voice.  It means he can’t take much more abuse, much more hatred and sarcasm and nastiness thrown his way.  He is, of course, the most convenient target because we spend the most time together.  And it is he who sees me at the end of the day when I feel like the world has been unfair and I have been shat upon.  He gets all the fallout and, when my mind is clear, I see that as terribly unfair to him.  Well of course it  is!

I want to scream, “Life isn’t fair!”  Well, no shit.  When has it ever been fair?  Why do I keep expecting it to be “fair?”  I am just so angry and sick of everything.  And I’m tired of hurting the people I love, but find myself almost in a blackout of anger, spewing out vile things and saying the most hurtful.  And in the frame of mind I am in, I feel those hurtful things I am saying to be true.  So true, so very true.

And while the most vile things are thrown at others, I do a bang-up job on torturing myself with my own shortcomings.  Fat, lazy slob.  Worthless, stupid bitch.  Can’t even function on a day-to-day basis.  Not with it enough to get a shower daily, can’t even keep your house moderately clean.  Worthless.  Stupid.  Fat, lazy, ugly slob.

And still it goes on.  Those thoughts don’t help me, but they are there.  I hate myself intensely, and all of that bile and sickness in me just rises up for me to spew at the ones I love most.  I find myself apologizing over and over for things I have said.  And, while I feel like I am justified in some of the things I say, satisfied even, that I’ve managed to throw that feeling at you, see how you like it, called you that name, brought up that-one-time and rubbed your nose in it, I don’t feel good about it after the fact.  Just because something has a grain of truth in it, doesn’t mean it should ever be said out loud.

I am just so angry, so pissed at the world, at the people that love me most.  I am having hateful thoughts about the people that care most about me, and most of thoughts are right along the lines of

“He doesn’t really care about you.  He’s going to leave you.  She won’t make time for you because you aren’t important to  her.  He is only calling because he feels guilty for all those times he wasn’t there.  He pities you and your pathetic life.”

And really, most of this is untrue.  But it’s on a tape and it’s playing over and over in my head and I just get angry and depressed and then I lash out.  I feel horribly misunderstood and un/underappreciated.  I feel like no one “gets it” and that people who say they “get it” are lying.  I feel like I’m all alone and everyone is out to ruin me, to hate me, to kick me while I’m down.

There is, of course, a part of me that knows this isn’t all true.  That part of me comes and goes and for the last several days has been missing altogether.  I’m just not sure what to do.