Its 7 a.m. My head is heavy- due to the weight of the dozen flexi-rods I have in my hair. And I am really, really hungry…but I can’t have anything to eat…water, that’s it. plain, boring water. I have an appointment today with the doctor. I’ve struggled for the past 4 months with an endless wave of M.S. relapse issues that have stopped me from sleeping more than 3 hours each night.
…And bipolar has nearly ended me, and that’s not something I say lightly.
So, its off to the doctor for the first time in two years. I’ve completely neglected my health, meaning I haven’t had medicine to help kick my lazy thyroid into shape, nor have I taken blood pressure medicine (I’ve had high blood pressure since I was 12) for the past 4 months. I feel terrible. I am exhausted-having been awake since yesterday evening after spending 13 hours in bed, because I was determined to get sleep…This, of course did not work, not even with the help of OTC sleeping pills, and instead I spent the entire day playing games and reading on my Nexus…until I somehow found 3 hours of sleep late in the afternoon.
I’m not what you would call a very pleasant person at the moment.
But there are people who want me to stay alive, and I’m not selfish enough to give in to the crazy urges that run through my mind at least 15 times each day, so I am finally doing something to stop the craziness that my world has become; Prednisone, my oh faithful frenemy (or frienemy, if you prefer), I am asking for your magic again…and that is going to mean some really sucky side effects, i realize, but I am completely at my wit’s end, and am exhausted from this happening to me every time I fall asleep:
I know-you’re probably thinking that twitch is very cute, right? Believe me, in a human with MS , it isn’t at all…this crazy Myoclonic twitching that begins as soon as I climb into bed and get comfortable has become the bane of my existence, and I haven’t found a single thing to make it go away: muscle relaxers, OTC restless leg meds, and Gabapentin hasn’t phased this craziness, nor have sleeping pills, Valerian, or melatonin-instead, these things have put me into a zombie-like stupor, which means sitting up in bed with my eyes closed trying to sleep, while my legs dance around the bed of their own free will, like devious little devils dragging me toward my grave. So, prednisone it shall be, unless of course the doctor dares to argue with a crazy woman with Medusa style curls, bloodshot eyes and a rumbling tummy who hasn’t had anything to eat since 10 p.m. last night because blood workups means fasting…and then there’s the bipolar issue I have to finally deal with…I tried, I really tried to be ‘OK’ without the help of medicine, but just like my body can’t regulate my blood pressure or lazy-ass thyroid, I realize it can’t fix my broken mind either, so I need to do something…because all of the happy thoughts and online shopping in the world isn’t going to make it OK without help…But I’m a bit more wise this time, especially after last Monday, when N’s therapist referred to antidepressants as ‘piss in the wind’ for people who suffer from bipolar…and that conversation is part, a huge part of my motivation for going to the doctor today…N has been diagnosed with ADD….. And….fucking bipolar. Looks like I passed on more than just my great taste in music and my big, dark eyes…and this realization hit me in such a deep place…guilt isn’t even close to describing how I feel about having a child that suffers from the same fucked up issue I have. All of those years of hiding my dark moods, putting smiles on and referring to my watery eyes as ‘allergies’…none of it mattered, because in the end, I couldn’t protect him from this illness any more than I could protect myself. So, today he has an appointment at the same time as I do-for Depakote, though I don’t think I will be feasting on Depakote myself, preferring to resort back to my old pal Topamax instead…that is of course, if the doctor agrees, and if I can convince him that the days of my Anna Nicole slurred speech was actually down to MS and issues with where I was living at the time instead of being completely stoned on too much Topamax. I do not want this….I do not want to rely on anything to make me think more like ‘normal’ people think, but then again, i can’t carry on like this any longer…and please, if you aren’t personally bipolar, don’t tell me that there’s something natural i can do for myself…I’ve done it all, at least as much as I could do…and I don’t care to hear from people who have ‘previously suffered with depression’ that want to warn me of the dangers of these toxic medicines…While I appreciate your concern, comparing depression to bipolar is like comparing a scrapped knee to a gunshot wound..IT’S.NOT.THE.SAME.THING. So unless you can pay to send me to New Guinea for a shamanistic soul cleanse, just respect and understand that I am doing to this to stay alive-no drama intended.
Of course I long ago gave up trying to explain what being bipolar means to people like members of my family, who think of it as just a rough patch or a ‘bought’ of depression…a lot of people seem to think like that…and yes, I’ve been depressed, so I know the difference…But you see, for those of you who may not know, bipolar wants to see me stop existing….tells me in fast moving thoughts and pictures in my brain endlessly why I should go lie down in the middle of the street…close my eyes and let everything go. A long time ago, these horrible thoughts were combated by grand highs…those fucking glorious days and nights filled to the brim with creativity and thoughts and ideas that were often too fast for me to completely capture…but my mania seems to be in exile, and has been for quite a while, leaving me with this fucker called depressive bipolar, and if I don’t kill him, he’s going to kill me.
So, now I need to go get ready…. Apply my makeup and hope that when trying to describe what I’ve been through, I don’t fall to pieces…which won’t be easy because I fall to pieces a lot these days…tears come before I even realize they’re coming, and of course I also need to remember what I should and shouldn’t say; for example, if I am asked if I have had any ‘suicidal thoughts’, I can’t play my infamous lawyer clause card and say something like ‘there are people that want and need me to exist, so I’ll stay alive’…. This would seem too sketchy, and instead I must reply with a simple ‘No.’
A month ago, I nearly closed this blog…I began thinking of blogging as a useless, self-absorbed, trite habit. But then I remembered why I originally started blogging-as a way to keep me connected to the real world while living in a pretty shitty situation, and a way to share the things I’ve created and hopefully receive constructive feedback. Along the way, I also made friends, and blogging became an inspiration, a reason for me to shake off the blues and continue to create, and I began to read some of my oldest entries and was suddenly slapped with the realization that I used to actually make frequent and ‘REAL’ entries! And seeing the effort I used to make, despite whatever Hell I was fighting at the time has inspired me to pick it back up again. I realize that I’ve said similar things in the past, but then again, i was working with a broken mind with no foreseeable help, and this morning, though my mind is broken and my belly is growling like a wild beast, I can say these things, and really fucking mean it.
So, we’re moving beyond the blues now…because I have reached the bottom, there’s no deeper places I can sink to. I’m off to sip icky water and paint my eyes with tear-proof liner. Wish me good luck with the doc! And if you’re actually reading this, please know I really have missed you-I just couldn’t say it until now.
LaLa Love U,