I have to say, there’s not a lot going on in the brainbox. I’ve just been like… doing things ‘as normal’, I guess. There has been knitting, gaming, and socialisation in percentages that suit my preferences. I have had the winter joy of will it/won’t it snow — I want it to snow but it’s not, hrmph! Even the work year is off to a good start. The only impediment there has been the smallest wanting lots of cuddles due to teething, and well… it’s hard to be mad at her for being cute and snuggly, isn’t it.
In short, there isn’t a lot to complain about. My mood wibbles around a tiny bit up and down, but it doesn’t seem to push too far into the danger zone. I could complain about Depakote making me gain a stone in weight, but like… I don’t care? I’m actually quite okay with being fat, and having developed an addition to teeturtle has me excited about buying clothing for the first time ever (even when tiny small with a banging body, I found clothing purchasing a drag… not for any self-loathing, just because I couldn’t be assed).
Of course, as I sit here, the list of things that I could complain about starts expanding out in my head, but I’m doing my best to ignore it. I’m instead choosing to focus on the happy things (which of course has me occasionally questioning whether or not I’m going hypomanic because oh hey, thanks bipolar). I live in a country that suits me better than my country of origin. I’m still very much in love with my spouse after nine years together. We have a nice house and cute kids. We have enough money that we have a goodly amount of free time (though I get the most ’cause my husband is amazing about making sure I can hole up and take care of myself).
Or maybe I just need to recount the good because depression lies and I’m under its shadow and not aware of it. It’s always a possibility, isn’t it. ¬¬ But at least I’m still deriving enjoyment from my life, the things I enjoy, and so on, so it’s prooooobably not that bad. Probably. All I can do is to just keep swimming, and to apply my own brand of self-motivation to myself that I would murder anyone else for attempting to do and wouldn’t slather anyone else with, because damn it is sunshine-y. *chuckles*
I’m here, honest. How many posts am I going to start with that line, ha ha. But it’s sort of the quickest and most important bit of information to impart to the rest of the Bipolaratti — I am alive. I still exist. And in my case, that existence continues to be at home rather than in hospital, the holidays went by pleasantly, and so down.
The problem has been fatigue. My chronic fatigue continues to keep me pretty much buried in my nest. Well. Holidays and birthdays mean that I’ve had to leave my nest more times than I normally do, which in turn means less resources to blog, etc. I can’t complain though — it’s been outings with the family, spending time with the family (no fights! best family ever!), a couple of social outings, and my eldest’s first proper birthday party. But it does mean that the second that I’m free of such, I’m curling up with Skyrim and knitting and doing my best to zone out besides cuddling kiddos and husband-person. And as y’all have probably noticed — if I’m not blogging, I’m not making the comment rounds either… sorry about that. But I think we all know the deal on how self-preservation comes first, and then everything else after.
Tuesday is the return to normalcy. The husband-fellow is back in the office tomorrow, while the eldest is back to school on Tuesday. I’ve not even gotten my head around work-related things yet. I hopefully will get back into the swing of things pretty quickly because this is always a busy time of year for our business. I’m trying to not think about it too much right now because I’m whelmed, and on the verge of overwhelmed. Hopefully the return to routine will do the trick though. Holidays are great and all, but stability is definitely the win. And yanno, hopefully getting back into the swing of things hereabouts. 🙂
‘Tis the season for everyone in the family to get and stay sick, ha ha. With the four of us, and our eldest being in school, she is Queen Germ Vector. Which is to say, she got a cold. Then we got a cold. And then the baby got a cold. The problem with Littlerbit getting the cold is that’s atop teething, so we’ve all had a rough week in trying to help her feel better. The husband-fellow even worked from home on Friday to give me support, because damn, it was a rough week.
But you know what? I made it through. My resilience has gone through the roof since I cut my parents out of my life//came out acon. Having the bipolar diagnosed and treated gave me a solid foundation to rebuild myself on, and while some things continue to suck (chronic fatigue, holla), I’m able to do more with what little I have. Is good, yes yes.
Of course, and as I have said many times in the past, physical illnesses help distract from the mental ones. That I am still occasionally horking up lungbutter reminds me of this (sorry if that phrase squicks anyone out, ha ha). Well yeah, and feeling run down and not being completely sure what part of run down it is. At least I have my hobbies to keep my tired brain happy (and hopefully will get a blog post up there after here tonight). Well, and a very hard-working spouse who does more than his fair share, especially since I often sort of zone out and not notice life around me. Whups.
And as my focus seems to be wandering off, so too shall I. Hope everyone is well out there.
My friends, don’t ever let me take normal Seroquel during the day. Hell, stop me from taking extended release during the day too probably — it makes me a zombie so badly. I know that this is common, and I’ve had it before, but I felt like I had to try taking it again during the day to thump at depression. I said that a few days ago when I finally managed to rub enough brain power together to make a post. But man, that first morning back to taking it not in the morning? I had over a thousand words (my two daily writing tasks) and a good and proper bath under my belt in under two hours. It was magnificent.
I also spent some of that time trying to find where Seroquel extended release was suddenly problematic to issue, and instead finding that switching someone from extended release to normal release is a 95% savings. Yeah um… I’ve got to say a big dual middle finger dance to that. I understand that the NHS is under strain, but seriously. I lost a month of my life. Again. Trying to do the right thing in taking my meds. I know I’m not the only one who has suffered thusly. I am pretty determined at this point to make sure that my psychiatrist double red underlines makes sure that they are to give me extended release so I have both the support that Seroquel gives me (which zombie aside, is a lot), and actually be able to do things like washing dishes. Yes, my level of functionality was cut that far to the bone (not hard to do, since chronic fatigue means I’m not exactly highly functional anyways).
For now, I’m feeling okay. My sleep is firming back up, which is grand; having moved part of the Seroquel to the morning time meant that what I was taking at night didn’t have the same oomph. I don’t think I am feeling any more or less depressed, and I think whatever hypomania that Dr. K was concerned about (enough to put me on the Depakote) has mellowed out. Which is to say, I am feeling cautiously optimistic about the now? I’m still annoyed that I’ve not heard about when my next appointment is to be… not enough to pick up a phone (evil things), but also feeling well enough that I’m not too worried at this second about waiting. It also helps that winter is my favourite season and having kids makes the whole Christmas-is-coming thing a bit more fun.
And anyways, even with a rude-ass computer today, I’m feeling fairly bright. I definitely can’t complain, so I won’t. Hope all of y’all are doing okay, and that for those with SAD, that it isn’t biting too hard.
I’ve decided as of this morning that I am going to move all the Seroquel back to night time starting tomorrow. This month has been miserable with the fogginess, and I’m not convinced that it’s helped with depression (which is why I shifted it around in the first place). I think giving it a month was a fair go. I also think that my level of functionality has completely gone out the window for having to deal with the morning fog crap though. Like, chores? Ahahaha, nope. Work? Not really. I’ve managed to do my two daily blogs, and occasionally flipping through y’alls posts and commenting, but not nearly to the point or depth that I would have liked to.
At least, if my last post is any indication, I should have a fairly immediate return to morning functionality. I look forward to that. The whole thing is somehow even worse for the fact that I wake up, feel vaguely alert, take meds, then start falling asleep again. That’s just the rudest shit, let me tell you. Add in having a childling that likes snuggles before naps and my inability to nap (tl;dr it makes me feel ill, physically and mentally) and that making me drowsy… eargh.
So yeah, why did I move them around in the first place. I think it was to see if I could do something about depression. I’m not sure if it did much since I’m pretty sure I’m still going through some low grade crap (though not seasonal; I freaking love winter and the dark). It might have, but the level of fog makes it all so freaking completely not worthwhile. I could feasibly ask my psych to up my antidepressant again next time I see her if it starts to spike again.
Anyways, hope y’all out there are doing well, and hopefully I’ll start making the rounds again a bit better soon.
A big scary thing happened in Paris yesterday. Everyone seems to have their two cents about it, but I so far don’t see the need to. If I do, it’ll be in the appropriate venue(which I really should think up something to write on but like… *waves hands* nothing spooning). I will say that I had a friend at Petit Cambodge, but that she is fine and safe and we are all grateful to know that.
I think that I can tentatively report that the Seroquel split seems to have evened itself out. I don’t remember being foggy this morning, though I was still complaining about it yesterday. Mainly though, I’m just glad that my sleep seems to have gone back to normal. Messing around with Seroquel definitely makes for broken sleep for who the hell knows how long, as my time off of it when pregnant showed me. I figured it would even out fairly quickly since I was taking the same amount, so… yay for that. Well, outside of baby-induced waking; she’s unrepentantly declared herself a co-sleeper and flops like a fish, and pretty much anyone is going to wake up when headbutted in the jaw.
Whups, forgot to take my meds this morning. No wonder I wasn’t drowsy. ¬¬ Just took the lot and will skip Seroquel tomorrow morning, ’cause that seems to make the most sense to me.
Mainly, I’ve just been balled up knitting and gaming and trying to keep my head busy. Busy heads have less room to wallow in depression, yes yes. I also really want to colour-draw something with my pretties, but I have no inspiration. Maybe I just need to start throwing some lines down and see what comes of it, and then frame with lines or something. I don’t know. It would probably be a good brain-draining thing though. At least the gaming and the mild Instagram addiction gives me some sort of creative outlet at least. Or maybe I just need to pull down my colouring book, which is a proper super-thick dollar store acquisition from the days before all these new-fangled adult colouring books. Really, I will have my two cents on that — colouring is fun, you don’t need a for adults one. :p I’ve never got this whole rush to be soooooo grown up as to shun fun things like colouring and pillow forts, but anyways.
Aaaand as my brain has apparently booped out, I guess I’ll wrap this up. tl;dr still here somewhere. Dord. Still waiting to find out when my next appointment is, but at this rate I’m guessing I’ll be lucky to be seen before February unless there’s an emergency. I love the NHS, I do, but man, f this government for destroying it to sell to their richie buddies and making it harder for people to get care they need.
I didn’t think this would come in handy, but there you go. *whistles*
One thing that Dr. K made clear to me last time I saw her is that if I wanted to, I could take my Seroquel morning and night to try and keep things smoothed out. I hadn’t really thought about it until last night, and then again this morning when something disturbed by equanimity before I could even get caffeine in me. I’d commented on it to my husband, and then went ahead and took 200 of the 500mg I had in my pillbox for this evening.
So of course, care to guess who was living in Cloud City all day? Yeah… it’s not been great. I commented to my husband again that I should probably not repeat it because man, fog upon fog. He pointed out wisely that I was technically with a bit too much in my system right now, and that I should give it a bit more time to see if it does any good. I’ve taken my 300mg and am going to top it up with with some melatonin, so fingers crossed it does me good tonight.
Equanimity aside, I’ve been feeling a bit low lately anyways. I’m torn between wondering whether I should ask for a change in my meds now, or wait until I get my next appointment through and ask then. I’m thinking a bit more Zoloft might be called for, but I’m not sure that it’s bad enough to warrant worrying about it yet. Y’all know how it is, rowing this same patch of wossitdoodle. I’m probably more depressed than I realise, but what can I do about it? Oh wait, that’s what I was talking about.
Anyways, we’ll see how that goes. I mainly just wanted to take a second to check in and note that I shifted when I was taking the Seroquel around so that I would hopefully remember to think on it more later.
It was half-term this past week, and my eldest once again ended up sick for the entire duration of a holiday period. Earlier in the year, that meant two weeks of chickenpox (conveniently infecting the littler one as well) — this time it was one of the grossest mouth ulcers I’ve ever seen… and I’ve had looooooots of ulcers myself. So it was a week of wheedling and trying to not be too pushy to get her to take in sufficient nutrients and moisture. She hit this morning with realising that she could talk again, and has eaten something solid, so hooray for that much. It was probably less draining to deal with than her on full steam, but it was still exhausting.
It also doesn’t help that I’m suspecting the Depakote of giving me some not-that-great side effects. I’ve had midday headaches all week in a pretty brutal fashion. I don’t know if I can pin that on the Depakote squarely, but I feel that I can with the weird muscle twitches that I’m having. It’s mainly in my legs and it’s like… wahey, quit trying to jerk outwards kthnx. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s side effect enough to consider asking to switch off of it for something else, but I guess I will ask the doctor when I see her next. My weight has also gone up slightly, but as we’re talking five pounds max, I don’t think anyone is going to worry about that.
Mood-wise, I’m not really sure where I am. I was sitting here last weekend feeling cautiously optimistic about things levelling off when I got slammed by a random jag of depression. This was combined with me flailing to find things to do because I knew on some level that the depression was around, but that I wasn’t doing enough things to distract myself from it. Having sick kids and work and feeling physically crap do a lot to distract me from my brain, so I’m not sure where I am right now either.
Hah, so of course, I manage to find allll the things to distract me for an hour. As long as I’m getting by and mainly smiling, right?
The past week or two had reminded me that happy and sad are not the same thing as hypomanic and depressed. I’ve been a bit depressed, yeah, but I’ve come out of it enough to like, do more than basic grooming. I’d realised I’d been wearing the same outfit for a solid week once I’d done the laundry; all I found in there of mine was underwear and socks. Whups. The less said about the state of my body hair, the better (having body hair is fine if that’s someone’s thing, but it’s not mine).
But that’s solely on depression, and has nothing to do with happy or sad. The sadness has been waxing and waning, and is slowly fading as the shock of the deaths wears off. I still need to drop a line to my friend whose wife died, but… well, no buts. I need to do it so he knows I’m thinking about him. You know how it goes — time passes, and it gets harder and harder to feel like it’s relevant when it still totally is. *forces self to stop writing this and to write that* Done.
This sad has been there, but running at the same time in parallel has been happy. I’m happy with my life, I’m happy with my family, and I’m still mainly pleased with my assorted hobbies and work and the like. I might be pouring myself into work and hobbies to distract myself, but I cannot feel bad about that. The sadness and depression were feeding each other as I mentioned in my last post, and if I can keep myself a little bit above it somehow, then it can only be a good thing (within reason, obviously). But also… feeling sad? It’s been this weird sort of luxury. I’m not sure that I’ve genuinely been able to let myself feel sad before. It’s a brutal and painful feeling, but it’s a feeling that everyone gets/should get, so I’m grateful in a weird way about it. Having it at the same time as my genuine joy at my life as it stands has been very good for reflection. I don’t know how else to say it but as that… I suspect most of you folks reading this understand what I mean.
So yeah, actual emotions like a real girl. Who’d’ve thunk it.
Having said that, I’m not really sure what my bipolar is up to. I’m slightly amused because I never thought my emotions themselves would mask my ‘mood’. Does that mean it’s okay? I… guess? I don’t really know what to think. That’s the downside of keeping oneself busy to mask a thing — it masks other things. Rude. But eh, whatever keeps a girl alive and out of too much trouble.
Earlier this week, I was sad. Just sad. Sad is different from depressed. Unfortunately, it’s such a huge dose of sad that now it’s feeding depression, which is feeding sad, and let’s go spinning down down down. *sighs*
You see, there were two deaths last week in the extended not-blood family. The first was my stepfather’s best friend, who we called Uncle T. He was family to a high degree, and we all loved him. Even if I have chosen to cut my parents out of my life, it doesn’t change my feelings for Uncle T. If I’d been married in the States, he would’ve been the one doing the ceremony. But as I’d not seen him this side of 2000, it was sad, but not crushingly so. A fleeting whiff of ‘oh’, quickly masked by my ability to bring forth fond memories of him into my head. To me, someone isn’t truly dead if I can remember them, and there certainly enough memories for me to pick from that he will always be alive there.
The second death hit me a lot harder for some reason, despite the fact it was someone I had met only once. She was the wife of a dear old friend, and while Uncle T’s death was untimely, hers was even more unfairly so — she had a seizure and suffocated. I can go on Facebook and see comments she made the day before she died on mutual friend’s walls and it’s just like… ow. You were alive. So alive. And now you’re not. And I have no memories to associate with her outside of one brief meeting, and I think that’s what makes my grieving worse. Well, and it’s not my grief to grieve either, so I feel sort of selfish for feeling so upset about it. I know, stupid feeling, and it’s not like I’m putting myself out there or here looking to be cossetted. I don’t want people to be sorry for my loss — neither loss is mine exactly.
But even recognising that… shit. It still hurts physically and emotionally, and logic doesn’t want to touch it. I recognise it’ll just be a matter of time passing before I feel better, and at least my humour maintains its acerbic edge here in the house — I managed to get a wicked laugh out of my husband over the weekend that reminded me that I sooo married the best person for me. Plus, he’s good at being around without being in my bubble, which was even more appreciated over the weekend than it usually is. I kept swinging between feeling clingy and wanting people around to not wanting anyone around to not having the energy to care. I’m somewhere between the latter and the former right now — I don’t have any energy to deal with people, but I wish I had company.
Blah. This too shall pass. But you’ll forgive me for wishing I didn’t have to deal with it at all. Hope the rest of you guys out there are having an okay time of it.