RealMental

It has been so long since I have written anything really mental.  My life has been caught with mostly good things.  Good things.  Some travelling, spontaneous purchase of a new house, won a trip to China to go to the Olympics, went to NYC for the first time, stayed with a fabulous hostess and the most terrific time.  I did see a Surgeon who wanted to Surgeonate my knee.  I scheduled and then cancelled.  It didn’t feel right.  All the Good Things were and are overwhelming me.  Change is overwhelming me.  I changed from Paxil for my anxiety, which I didn’t believe was doing anything to Effexor, which I think is doing something, but we are tweaking the dose.  If you read my regular blog, you would also know that I had weight loss surgery in December, just before Christmas.  More change.  Rules.  Rules are meant to be broken and CONTROLLED when people tell you what to eat, even though I am almost 40 years old. How to exacerbate an eating disorder: give someone rigid rules about what to eat and when and how much and then a list of vitamins and activity or your expensive paid for out of pocket operation will be for naught.  I got it done to gain health, and the losing of the weight surprises me a bit.  My clothes fit differently, but I feel the same about myself.  My skin is drooping, sagging, my boobs, oh dear, my boobs. 

 

I am still on the lamictal for mood stabilization, and the effexor, but still taking a fair amount of klonapin to keep my shit together most days.  Still taking diabetic meds, except have pretty much stopped my injectible insulin altogether.  My sugars were so low after the surgery and I honestly haven’t been monitoring them.  I am 3 months late getting blood work.  Ok, I lie, I am 4 months late.  I am not monitoring my blood glucose levels.  I am shit at self care right now.

 

I am scattered and paralyzed.  I wish I could add the adderal back into the cocktail of drugs for the ADD.  My memory is sketchy, I miss appointments, I have to write almost everything down.  I am very jumbly and klutzy and trippy and my word aphasia is bad.  It is a good thing I am not working a full-time job right now.  Self imposed deadlines are killing me.  Deadlines like let’s say, packing.  We are moving into the new house on May 15.  I have done nothing.  The spouse has all sorts of boxes, his office is packed.  I just lie in bed or watch tv or flit away time on the computer.  That reminds me I have an eye appointment sometime in May.  As usual I am trying to keep up the ok, functioning façade that only so many people in my life even buy anymore.  Even when I am feeling jitter anxious and tell people so, my affect falls flat and I wonder if they believe me.  I am having a bad day, like a computer reading it. 

 

I can’t tell hypomanic from feeling less anxious.  Initially the Effexor made me feel a little hypomanic, but I think that has subsided.  Still seeing psychologist and psychiatrist.  The meds are ultimately what is helping me right now.  I don’t even want to talk about coping mechanisms.  They might make me give up my ostrich like behaviour.  Sleeping, shutting doors, television, senseless errands.  I sit here in my home office and the debris is everywhere.  It has been for months.  I don’t even know where to start.  Last week I lost my wallet and became obsessed with finding it.  Looking in the same places over and over and over again.  I felt I could not do anything but take my kid to playschool and back.  I felt lost and annoyed because I knew I has misplaced it IN the house.  My husband found it 5 days later and the relief I felt was disproportionate to the actual event.  I felt freakish.  I feel freakish and crazy.

 

I have been having little paranoid moments where I keep needing reassurance that people like me and aren’t going to leave me.  Seriously, do you really like me or are you going to change your mind once you find out the mysterious secret thing that is permanently flawed about me that even I am now aware of.  That is why people leave me, or reject me, or ignore me. 

 

I have been chastising myself for not writing here.  Reneging on commitments that I made.  I hate breaking promises or not following through.  Or not even starting, finishing.  You know, classic ADD.  I do stupid things all because of my mind?  No, I make choices for certain, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.