Saturday, January 31, 2009

a low day

I feel quite depressed right now. Today (yesterday actually; it's 3 AM), I stayed home from work. I called in sick and slept all day, which is why I am currently awake. I have never done that before with this job, where I have been for five months and rarely ever with my last job which is where I worked for over two years.

Things were going okay, other than the psychosis stuff. I am not sure if this is a hormonal depression or not. I hope it is, as that would be temporary.

I have so many regrets, some of which were mentioned briefly in my last post about random things. I miss some of my old friends all the time, and I wish I had not destroyed those relationships with my bizarre behavior. I wish those people were still around so I could email them and say, "hey, I got a diagnosis and I'm better now", but they aren't. The friend I miss the most is the one I previously mentioned here who I have known for twelve years or so. I have not heard from him since sometime around August. Most likely, I will never hear from him again.Since I have thought of this person as my soulmate for eleven or twelve years, the fact that I am not only NOT going to ever meet him in person but am also NOT going to even hear from him via phone or email again is very painful.

I have a hard time making friends, but when I do, I have often become really attached to people. Not all people though, just certain people. I don't feel understood - and never have - by most people. This leads to a sense of isolation and deep loneliness, which is what led to this blog's creation four years ago.

I feel a lot of regret, as well, that I am not close with my father anymore, and that I basically destroyed my relationship with him when I was psychotic and unmedicated. I still carry the reputation of a daughter who accused her father of sexual abuse, in my family, because most of them don't know I have Schizophrenia and have no contact with me (I mean my relatives in another state, not my first degree ones), and I am very ashamed about that history and very sorry about the years that went by (six years) where my father and I never spoke. And then, there is more to the story on that as well, but I don't want to go into details about it here. It's enough to say that when you have had psychosis going on for years, at some point you have to just admit that you don't really know what reality is, and with my other relative who I thought abused me, I still don't know for sure if things like that happened or didn't happen, but I have given up trying to figure that out.

I know my dad never abused me, though, and I have tried to clarify this fact to the people who had heard my previous allegations when I was not on medication and not diagnosed and totally out of my mind, years ago. I resent the idiotic therapists I spoke to back then who convinced me I was a sexual abuse survivor suffering from Dissociative Disorder, and who didn't understand (because I didn't understand) that my mind was creating all sorts of ideas that were totally not based on reality. I lost years of my life and important connections to people because of the ignorance of those therapists and my own ignorance as well.

As Anne Sexton wrote, "This loneliness is just an exile from God." I feel horribly, incredibly lonely right now, as I often do.

I also feel that things are coming to a head with my therapist, and I am probably going to stop seeing her soon. Therapy used to be helpful to me, but I am not so sure it is anymore. My therapist likes to look for answers for things, and reads a lot of medical research. I am glad she keeps updated on alternative treatments and health matters, but over the past couple months she has talked endlessly about how I most likely have Celiac Disease, and that she hoped I did have it because that would be the answer as to why my medications are not working as well as they should be, since I would have an absorption problem with my digestive system. I am back on Risperdal injections every two weeks now, because my therapist said she thinks I did better when I was on them before since the injections go straight to the bloodstream and don't have to be digested. But the injections ARE NOT working, and I just got the blood test results from my rheumatologist for my blood test for Celiac Disease. The results were negative, meaning I do not have the disease, unless the disease just didn't show up on the blood test.

I did not want to have that disease, and I am glad I got negative test results. But my therapist won't be. She will be disappointed, and she will tell me I need to get an Endoscopy (which I have had before - twice), to see if I have Celiac Disease for sure. She has already told me this. She also seems to think I have all sorts of nutrition problems because of my diet, and that I need to fix those immediately - and that this is the sort of thing I should be talking about in therapy. I don't feel my nutrition is that bad in the first place, and I don't feel like wasting time seeing a therapist so I can be lectured to about what I should be eating. I have more important things to talk about than that. I feel like my therapist doesn't let me talk enough, because she is too busy trying to tell me how to "fix" my illness, whereas I am beyond the point of believing it can be "fixed" and I prefer, now, the peace of ACCEPTING that this illness is not going away, but that I can learn to live with it, since it is not the end of the world. So I feel like my therapist and I are approaching things from two totally different angles, and this just does not work well.

I may change my mind about this idea of quitting therapy, and feel bad that I wrote this post, but I have always used this blog as a way of figuring out what my thoughts are really saying. I like my therapist a lot. She is a very intelligent, and kind, genuinely compassionate person, who I am very happy to know. I just do not think she understands some things about my illness, like the fact that it is beyond being able to be cured.

I guess I have a number of things weighing on my mind right now. I want very badly to change my life. I want to do some things I have never done, like travel outside the United States, or even some inside the U.S. I want to write a book. I want to lost about 80 pounds. I want to have some kind of career. I want to live. I don't feel like I'm living sometimes these days.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

random facts about me....

I have six or seven lipsticks in my purse right now. I wear lipstick every day.

I am a radical feminist, by definition, except when it comes to certain aspects of life where my theories and beliefs do not influence my actions. I used to get up at 5 AM every day to make my boyfriend's coffee and pack his lunch before he got up for work.

I weigh twice as much right now as I weighed for most of my life before, and this makes me deeply, deeply despise myself.

I haven't dated anyone or even considered the thought since my boyfriend and I broke up a year ago.

I never drink - most of the time, but it was my birthday yesterday and I had a strawberry daiquiri at a restaurant where my family went for dinner. I like the taste better when it's a virgin daiquiri than the way it tastes with alcohol.

I adore my cat. I have scratches all over me from the many times she's tried to play with me lately. I buy her toys and treats and treat her like a princess. She also considers herself to be a princess and she writes emails declaring her love for herself (well, I write them for her, because it amuses me), and sends them to my friends and family.

I miss my friend K. H. a lot.

I don't miss my ex-boyfriend most of the time anymore, but once in a while I still do, usually if I go to a place that reminds me of a time when I went there with him. I am glad he is not in my life anymore.

I listen to the same songs over and over forever until I get sick of them, and for years the only music I liked was Ani Difranco's. But it's not anymore.

I've read a lot of poetry and nonfiction, but not a lot of novels, because I don't like novels.

I got kicked off the set of the TV show, "Romper Room", when I was three years old, because Miss Sally didn't like my refusal to ride those dumb cardboard fire trucks when I wanted to play with the bouncing balls instead. I was an anarchist in training.

I have a ten year old little brother who I didn't meet until he was about five years old because my dad and I didn't speak for six years.

I still regret my problems with my dad which were created by my own mind and mental illness.

All my grandparents are still alive, but they all have health problems and are getting to the point that they may not be alive much longer.

I have never been to a wake or a funeral in my entire life.

I have to use eye drops every half hour or so at work to be able to read because Sjogren's Syndrome dries out my eyes and makes my vision so blurry I can't read. I have had punctal plugs put in my eyes many times in the past ten years, to treat the dry eye problem.

I love Diet Coke and consume more of it on a daily basis than anybody else you know, and I am aware that this is probably not a healthy thing to do, but it's my only vice.

I have never smoked pot, and not even because I have something against it. I just never hung out with anyone who did, and never sought it out or cared much about it.

I like to be in control of myself, so I don't drink hardly ever. There are a lot of alcoholics in my gene pool. I'm also Irish.

I got a perfect score on the verbal section of the SAT, but I didn't take it until I was 22 years old and a professor encouraged me to do so.

I still talk to that professor many years later because he's a kind person and gives useful advice.

I love daisies, and I used to think fake flowers were tacky, but now I like them, and buy them, especially if they are daisies.

I go to bed now before 10 PM on most nights, but back before I was on medication, I was a nightowl who stayed up until morning hours most nights.

I like helping people.

I was a vegetarian from age 15 till age 31, when I started eating meat again for reasons I still don't really know how to explain. I will probably be a vegetarian again very soon, for ethical reasons as well as health ones.

I don't think I know everything. One of my sisters thinks that I do think I do.

I don't like coffee, but I love my morning dose of Diet Coke!

I have an affinity I can't really explain with people who are Jewish. When I'm psychotic, many of the things I see and hear are related to concentration camps and anti-semitism in the world which I perceive - and, although these perceptions result from psychosis, I am pretty sure there is an underlying reason for them most of the time, that has to do with things not in the scope of this post.

Yesterday was my birthday! I am now older than Jesus was when he was killed, and grateful that I no longer hold the delusional belief that I am him.

I miss my friends Sara and Ali and Christa. We used to call our group of friends a "garden". My nickname in the garden was "Daisybee".

I am still friends with Lauren from the garden. She will be a Wildflowyr to me forever.

I don't like drunk people, and I don't really understand why so many people I know have addictions to alcohol or drugs or both.

I was anorexic for a lot of years, and it almost killed me, but in the end, I came out of it as a stronger person - however cheesy that may sound.

I cut myself with razor blades and knives for years. I stopped doing that a very long time ago, but sometimes I start thinking about it again.

The most common thing I hear from voices is "Die!". I never hear positive, encouraging, or cheery words from the voices I perceive.

I am afraid of roller coasters and motorcycles, but I'll ride roller coasters any way.

I am disgusted by gross stuff and hate bathroom humor so much just typing these words is making me gag.

I sometimes think I'm an alien. Sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes you don't.

I have a dry sense of humor and an appreciation of sarcastic wit, such as that of Oscar Wilde, Dorothy Parker, Jonathan Swift and the writers of The Onion.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Tree Hugger ode to a mama

This song is dedicated to my mom, who I love, but who always wishes things were different, that we would have done the thing we did not do, that we could have, that we should have, and who believes that if only this or that was not the way it is, then life would be better. (Or, to sum: shoulda, coulda, woulda).

This song is from the soundtrack of the film Juno and is available at your friendly Limewire site.

"Tree Hugger" by Kimya Dawson
The flower said, "I wish I was a tree,"
The tree said, "I wish I could be
A different kind of tree,
The cat wished that it was a bee,
The turtle wished that it could fly
Really high into the sky,
Over rooftops and then dive
Deep into the sea.

And in the sea there is a fish,
A fish that has a secret wish,
A wish to be a big cactus
With a pink flower on it.
And in the sea there is a fish,
A fish that has a secret wish,
A wish to be a big cactus
With a pink flower on it.

And the flower
Would be its offering
Of love to the desert.
And the desert,
So dry and lonely,
That the creatures all
Appreciate the effort.

Et le chacalot a dit:
"Je voudrais être un yéti
Pour voler dans la nuit
Et m'envoler loin d'ici"
Mais le yéti a dit:
"Je veux être un monstre marin
Pour pouvoir sauter dans la mer
De tous les requins"

And the rattlesnake said,
"I wish I had hands so
I could hug you like a man."
And then the cactus said,
"Don't you understand,
My skin is covered with sharp spikes
That'll stab you like a thousand knives.
A hug would be nice,
But hug my flower with your eyes."

The flower said, "I wish I was a tree,"
The tree said, "I wish I could be
A different kind of tree,
The cat wished that it was a bee,
The turtle wished that it could fly
Really high into the sky,
Over rooftops and then dive
Deep into the sea.

And in the sea there is a fish,
A fish that has a secret wish,
A wish to be a big cactus
With a pink flower on it.
And in the sea there is a fish,
A fish that has a secret wish,
A wish to be a big cactus
With a pink flower on it.

And the flower
Would be its offering
Of love to the desert.
And the desert,
So dry and lonely,
That the creatures all
Appreciate the effort.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Measuring out my life in coffee spoons

I feel obligated to write an update here, but to honest, I am not up to writing much more than that at the present time. I'm not sure what exactly the problem is with my brain these days - other than the usual suspects - but I have not got much that I feel like discussing here at present. So, I will give some information on what has been happening:

-hearing double speak all day long, every day of the week
-having the feeling that I'm reading minds, and people are reading my mind
-having a lot of thoughts about the supposed delusion of mine regarding a present-day Holocaust occurring
-hearing people telling me, every day, that I'm going to be sent to a concentration camp
-hearing whispering voices when no one is around

and I'm a bit on edge, anxious, and randomly depressed at times.....

What I am doing to help myself:
-continue to take all medications as prescribed, and got my Risperdal oral tablets dose doubled
-therapy every week
-listening to music whenever I'm at home (if the TV is off) or in my car (luckily I have a computer that can burn CDs now, thanks to my brother who fixed it up)
-talking out loud to myself to get through difficult times and to process the information that gets confused in my head
-creating flower beds out of fake flowers for my balcony (since all the real flowers I've ever put out there have died due to lack of sun), so it looks better
-buying stationary and sending cards to people
-watching inauguration coverage (yay, we got Obama!)
-working 5 days a week (six one week)
-going to movies with a friend on the weekends

That's about it. As you may notice, there are some things I'm decidedly not doing. right now. I am going to start exercising again regularly, but I just haven't gotten around to it lately. I have been shopping a lot at discount stores and thrift shops, and I try to convince myself this counts as some form of "walking" - but obviously that is a load of crap. I don't really like the physical pain exercise causes me from my Fibromyalgia and various places where I have arthritis now, so that is my excuse, and you can take it or leave it. It's a lame excuse, I know. I regularly hear this from medical peoples.

So that's about it for the update. I will try to write something profound and prolific when it comes to me, if ever. Lately, it just hasn't.

I hope anyone who stops by to read this can forgive me for writing rather sporadically these days, and I hope you are doing very well.

The title of this post comes from the Prufrock poem by T.S. Eliot....and here is an excerpt from that poem ("The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"):

indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

Monday, January 12, 2009

Risperdal and side effects

My mom and I went shopping the other day. When we were eating lunch she mentioned that I "look" like I used to look back when I was on Risperdal injections a few years ago, and that I am always shaking my legs like I did back then. I said I am not aware (because I am really not) of making any specific looks with my face these days, and the leg shaking is just a normal side effect (albeit nobody else ever thinks it looks normal). I take Inderal for the shakiness but with the Risperdal, it still happens.

Meanwhile, I am hearing voices intermittently and it doesn't seem to be getting any better on the Risperdal than it was without the Risperdal. Sometimes this frankly pisses me off, because I am sick of this situation and sick of having to constantly argue with myself if whether double speak or voices I hear are real or not real, and sick of the fact that medications do not seem to fix this problem for me as they are supposed to.

In other news, a kind friend gave me an old computer and once I get my brother - the computer wiz - to reinstall Windows on it, I should be able to get online and write more frequently again than I have lately (as my computer was broken).

Saturday, January 10, 2009

a small update on things in general

I am irritable. I blame this, partially, on Risperdal, only because I started feeling irritable directly after I started back on that medication. I do not remember if it had this effect when I took it before (a couple years ago), or not, but it seems to have this effect now. I find myself getting frequently annoyed with most of the human race, and this is not normal for me. I am not irritable all the time, but some of the time. And it's not a severe problem.

I have wondered recently if I might by hypomanic right now. I have this constant desire to go shopping lately, which is not the way I am much of the time. But, like being irritable, it's also not a big issue or problem, so I am not really worried about it. I don't get flat-out manic ever, although some years back I did, just not anymore since then.

Otherwise, I am still going to work everyday and fulfilling obligations, despite the fact that I have the same old symptoms much of the time. They're manageable, mostly, and it's not nearly as bad as it could be if they weren't, but I do hope there will be a day in the future when I am completely, totally devoid of psychosis. I don't know when that day will be, or if it will ever be. I just hope it will.

Four be the things I'd have been better without:
Love, curiosity, freckles and doubt
-Dorothy Parker