Category Archives: medication

Crash and Burn

I find myself crashing more on this new 3/day Adderall script.  I also find I’m more tired in the morning taking Lamictal 2/day.  I hate med changes.  The Adderall boost in the afternoon helps, but the mid day crashes leave me exhausted and drained.

On the plus side, the extra Lamictal seems to be helping and I feel less depressed.  Not sunshine and daisies or anything, but better.

Haven’t posted much because there hasn’t been much to say.  I’ve been busy with work and school but generally feeling unmotivated and doing as little as possible to get by with those things.  Where I was making 30 calls a day for work, I now make 10 on a good day.  I was spending 3+ hours a day on school and now if I spend one I’m lucky.  I’m just too tired or something.  I can’t muster the energy or ambition to do anything.

Ambition.  That’s it.  I’m usually such a go getter.  It’s like I just don’t care now.  I’m unhappy with mediocre results, but want to put in mediocre effort.  Clearly a mismatch there.  Something needs to give.  At some point my grades or income will drop and I’ll be in deep you know what.

Hubby and I are going out next weekend.  That should be a nice change of pace.  It’s something we really needed.  Our anniversary is coming up so it’ll be good to reflect on what went well and what didn’t this year.  It’s also a chance to start clean for our next year together.

Look at that.  Some optimism.  Courtesy of Lamictal.  Thank goodness for drug induced happiness.

Hopefully this coming week will bring with it some much needed energy and some serious motivation before things start to go to hell in a hand basket, as my grandmother would have said.


The Circle Never Breaks…

So Sallie Mae declined my student loan application based on the fact that I’ve only been at my current job position for 8 months, even though I’ve been with the company for four years.  That and the fact that I work on commission.  Now I’m in the fun position of having literally no money to go to school next semester.  FML.

I mean, really?  They said I need a cosigner.  I can’t get a cosigner.  My husband has shit for credit from a car repo before we got married.  My mom refuses to cosign because she said she tried to help me go to college when I was 18 and I dropped out.

Yeah, I dropped out because I had no goals at the time and had a bit of a nervous breakdown.  I told her I wasn’t on meds at the time and this time was different, even my therapist says so.  She says I did it for the first two years okay, why did I have issues the last two?  Hell if I know.  Why does my brain ever do anything?  Why did I get depressed or manic or whatever the hell I was that I can’t even remember?  I’m pretty sure I was depressed because I recall sleeping a lot and not being able to get up to go to class.  Most of it is a blur at this point.  I’m sure there was a manic episode or two that cause some of those A semesters.  Lots of energy to burn?  Try college!  But the F semesters were more likely depression.  When I got my transcript I could actually see the mood swings in my grades.  Semester one – A, B, A, A.  Semester Two – A, B, C, A.  Semester Three – C, D, F, F.  Semester Four – F, D, W, W.  Not exactly like that, but you get the idea.

She says me going back to school isn’t her problem.  I get it.  It’s not.  But since I got free tuition when I went the first time and she just paid for books I don’t see why she can’t at least cosign for me.  She then went on to say she might be willing to give me some money.  She confuses me so much.  You’ll give me money but won’t sign your name so that I’ll pay it myself?  No, she says, because if I can’t pay it her name will be on it.  Yes, I say, but whenever I don’t have money you help me out anyway so what difference does it make?  Apparently not the right thing to say.  What do I know?

So now I wonder what the fuck is the point of me continuing this semester if I just have to drop after it?  If I don’t have the money to keep on going, why waste all this time now?  I’m giving up time with my family, time sleeping, time relaxing, time working, time doing any number of things that would likely be more enjoyable than studying.  If I’m not going to get a degree out of said time, then why the hell should I be wasting it on school?  Yes, I like to learn, but at my own pace and about things I’m interested in not things that the deities of the school system think I should know.

But alas, the degree is important for my job.  My job was actually supposed to help pay half, but the declined me too.  They couldn’t even be bothered to tell me why.  I wasn’t special enough or something.  I really don’t know what to do at this point.  I need to go, but funds are limited and I’ve spent us in a total hole the last eight months.

I can’t tell my mom this of course.  She knows.  She tells me I spend too much.  Now that I’m mildly depressed I spend in budget, but coming off the high of a manic phase I just couldn’t curb it.  It wasn’t the panicked spending in the thousands of dollars a day I was doing in the manic phase, but it was $50 here, $20 there, $100 there and it all added up.  I just kept needing things.  Don’t know why.  Just had to have them.  Would die without them.  Skincare first.  Then makeup.  Then skincare agin.  Then purses and wallets.  All always one thing I would obsess over and spend on that one thing.  When I’m manic I do that, but also buy loads of other random crap just to spend money.  Coming off the mania, it was like obsessions with categories.  I must have every eyeshadow color this brand has ever made.  I must have every Coach Poppy bag.  My wallets must all mach and I need three.  Does this sound like some type of OCD?  Hoarding?  Something.  It’s not manic spending.  It feels different.  But it’s bad.  Maybe just a shopping addiction.  I always have to be addicted to something.  Better than the drugs, I suppose.  More expensive though.

I saw my pDoc today.  She upped my Lamictal to 300mg to help the mild depression.  We also switched from 30mg XR Adderall am and 15mg regular Adderall pm to 15mg regular Adderall 3/day.  That was my suggestion because I find that the XR lasts less time than the regular.  I take the XR around 6am and by noon I can’t even focus long enough to read a book or listen to a phone call with a client.  When I take my regular dose at 5pm I can focus until around 1am if I really needed to.  So about the same amount of time actually.  But with the current setup I can’t focus from 12pm-5pm.  That’s five hours of me being totally unproductive and generally surfing the internet because I can change the page every five seconds when I get distracted or bored.  Or napping.  Whatever.

I hate these long posts.  I’m sure no one reads them.  They look too long and formidable to get through.  Ultimately I post to vent to myself, but my vanity wants to think that someone somewhere gives a shit about my crazy.  My family can’t stand my crazy though, so why would anyone else voluntarily subject themselves to it?

My husband says he hates himself all the time.  I dislike me a lot right now and I hate my life.  I love my son though and my husband, so I plow on for them.  If not for them, I’d curl up in a ball and wallow.  If it gets bad enough I still might.  I wonder if other people hate themselves often.  I wonder if other people wake up and go “what happened to me” or “what happened to my life.”  I must think that 100 times a day.

I used to be so fun, such a party girl.  I had gotten out of a deep depression and was self medicating, so of course I was fun.  Everyone loved me.  Or hated me.  Not a lot of grey area.  Most people loved me though.  I lit up a room.  I was out ’till four in the morning and staggering into work the next day with stories about having sex in front of four people or dancing on table tops or whatever other crazy shit I had come up with.  The reality check is that I was in a very unhealthy place.  The ideal version I have in my head is that people actually liked me for once.  Plus I was having fun.  I liked me.  I liked my life like that.  I liked numbing the crazy and self medicating.  It’s much more fun than the real medication.

I look back…and part of me really misses that time in my life.  As absolutely fucked up as my life was then, I kinda liked it.  I had no money.  I was destroying my future.  I was destroying relationships with my family.  I was making reckless decisions left and right.  I was filled with wild abandon.  I was let loose and crazy and manic but not in the hallucinogenic type of way.  In the fun way where you destroy your life and think it’s awesome.

Then I realized what I was doing and I got really depressed.  Like, tried to kill myself depressed.  Tried to go to a doctor who turned me away.  Got worse.  Cried all day for months.  I tried to pick up the pieces of my life and I did.  I got a good job, I got married, I had a kid.  All things I had decided to do while manic and messed up, but I held through with my crazy promises to myself.

I stabilized after a while.  Had some episodes here and there.  Had one long episode of depression the whole time I was pregnant and about three months after.  I try to forget how bad I was then because I know I made my husband miserable.  The fact that he didn’t leave still surprises me.

Stabilized for a while again, and had another break about nine months ago.  Screwed more stuff up.  Got to a good doctor.  Got on the right meds.

And now, here I am left with this normal, ordinary life.  And it’s just not enough for crazy, extreme me.  My life is filled with the highest highs and the lowest lows and middle periods?  They get kinda boring after a while.  Right now I’m holding on to “right below the middle” for dear life though.  Not the biggest fan of the depressive side of the illness.

But this normal life, it’s making me itch.  Normal job.  Normal family.  Normal employee.  Normal wife.  Normal mother.  Who is this person?  I don’t like her.  She’s too vanilla.  I want that fun, crazy, party girl back.  But to get that back, I’d have to give up my son and husband.  My son I tried so hard to have.  My husband I’ve worked so hard to keep.  I wouldn’t give them up for anything – not all the parties and self medication in the world.  So why do I still feel like I miss that life?  If I wouldn’t change what I have, why do I ache for what I don’t?  I guess somehow I think I could have both.  I can be nomal!Kira until 8pm and party!Kira when the sun goes down.  History tells me normal and manic don’t go well together, but I sure wish I could have the good things that come with mania normally.  The energy.  The lively personality.  The lack of fear.

Now I’m just here, with my vanilla life, hating myself for wanting something different than my wonderful family.  Well, I don’t but I do.  I don’t know.  I know I hate thinking I might want something different.  I know I hate missing the party life.  Then my paranoia kicks in and I think, what if I can think these things into reality?  What if by the mere passing thought of wanting to be that girl again that somehow my son and husband will be taken from me by some greater act of nature.  A car wreck or a fire or something that takes what’s most important to me away because I wasn’t grateful enough for what I had.  Then I’d forever be missing what I have right this second and I’m here too stupid to enjoy it.  That’s my greatest fear of all – losing them because I didn’t love them well enough.

I’m such a shit wife and mother.

And now I’m officially wallowing.


Shopping, Sex, and Sadness

I’m so exhausted lately.  My classes this semester go until 9:45 at night which means I don’t get home until 10:30.  I have a hard time getting to sleep plus I have a long night time routine so that means I’m asleep around midnight.  Then I wake up  at 5:30am and do it all over again.  Luckily I only have physical classes two nights a week.  My other classes are online.  Still, a 45+ hour work week plus 12 course hours of school is starting to get to me.  Top it off with a mild depression and I’m passing out at my desk.

Last semester even though I was tired I still wasn’t falling asleep at work, so I’m chalking this up to the combo of work, school, and depression.  I’d take my Adderall around 3:00 (when I start to pass out) but then it wouldn’t last me until 10:30 and I wouldn’t be able to pay attention in class or pay attention to drive home.

I still find myself feeling like a bad wife and mother.  I feel like I’m a burden on everyone all the time.  I’ve gotten a lot better at doing things on my own lately, but I still can’t help but feel that all I do is inconvenience my loved ones.  I feel like one day my son will say I didn’t love him or something.  Just the depression talking, but I feel like everyone dislikes me.

On the flip side, I’ve been crazy horny lately.  TMI, I know, but I felt it was worth mentioning because never have sex and depression gone hand in hand for me.  Is this what a mixed episode feels like?  I haven’t had those since I was a kid and used to rapid cycle so much that it was one constant mixed episode.  I forget what it feels like to have both sides of my personality in my brain at once.

I don’t really think it’s a mixed episode though because in the last month my spending has gone down a good bit.  After my last manic episode I couldn’t quite get the spending part under control.  It was like my brain was saying “you spent all that money and didn’t go bankrupt so you didn’t really finish the job.”  I self sabotage too much.  My brain wants me to be dead broke and I don’t know why.  I’ve worked for years savings my money and within a few months of overspending almost all of it is gone.  Granted, I could have blown it all in a day or two plus some.  Not like that hasn’t been done before…but still, I was really proud of saving all that money.  All just to blow it.  So now I’m on a cash and debit only budget and I keep all my emergency credit cards at home so I can’t take an “emergency” lunch break to the mall or Ebay and drop a few hundred dollars in thirty minutes.

Migraines are steady getting worse.  My doctor finally called in my Topamax so hopefully in a week or so they’ll stop.

Is anything in life good?  My son.  I’m happy I have him in my life.  Despite my husband’s inability to stay out of trouble online, I love him.  Like my therapist says…even though we make mistakes we are still lovable.  I don’t feel very lovable.  At her suggestion, I tell myself I am a few times a day.  Not working yet.  Some of my affirmations that I keep on my iPhone app do help, but the lovable one hasn’t sunk in just yet.  Maybe soon.


Migraines, Work, and Medication

I’ve been getting migraines every day for two weeks now.  My insurance started requiring 90 day supplies of “maintenance” medication, so my Topamax prescription was denied as it was a 30 day supply.  As such, I have gone a month without it because my migraine doctor is about 45 minutes out of the way and frankly I’ve been too lazy to call and ask her to call in a refill.  Too lazy to pick up the phone, even though I’m on the phone all day at work.  I have no valid explanation for this.  But after two weeks of insane headaches that are causing me to take random naps on my desk to avoid the pain, I finally called her yesterday and asked that they call in a 90 day refill for me.  Was it at the pharmacy today?  Nope.  Took some Treximet and another nap on my desk.  How productive.

I’ve been at my current location for work six months now.  I’ve yet to tell any of the people that I now work with about my illness.  Since things have mostly been under control, I just come off as kinda quirky.  I guess I’m okay with that.  I have an office to myself, so there isn’t ever an issue of anyone touching stuff on my desk and sending me into a rage of fury because my pen isn’t where I left it.  Plus if I’m feeling unmotivated no one is standing over my shoulder asking why I’m not working every second that I’m there.  I get some down time and breaks, which has been super helpful.  Not every day, but most days.  On days I’m up and ready to work my ass off, I’m left alone to work like mad.  What’s really great is that since no one can see into my office unless they go really out of their way, the constant switches between super productive and totally useless go unnoticed.

Since I’m so secluded at work, talking about my bipolar hasn’t really been enough of an issue for anyone for me to have to bring it up.  The only time that I get concerned is when I have to go to my doctor (which is usually 2-3 times a month) and people ask me if everything is okay and what I’m going for.  Usually I just say I have a myriad of medical issues that need tending to and mention my migraines and then leave them to wonder what else might be wrong with me.  Is it bad I’d rather them think I have some life threatening illness rather than know I’m crazy?  Then they pity me instead of back away slowly and run for the door.

Part of me doesn’t like not talking about it though.  It makes me feel like I’m lying to people, which I hate doing.  My manager said I shouldn’t mention anything unless there’s no other alternative though, so I guess I’m gonna keep on with what I’m doing it.  The times I’ve had to leave over the crazy I’ve just blamed it on a migraine and everyone mostly seems okay with it.  I just have to avoid crying or acting mental long enough to get out the door (so about five minutes).  Usually manageable.

I gotta say, medication that works is truly a blessing.  Every medication I’ve ever taken has caused so many side effects that my head spins, but my current cocktail seems to be working with no side effects at all.  My mood is mostly stable (as stable as it’ll get at least) and I’m not so tired that I can’t wake up until noon or feel drugged up all day.  Xanex days aside, of course.  On a high anxiety day if I have to pop a Xanex I’m out of it for half the day.  Most of my coworkers know I have anxiety though, so I can write that one off as well.

Overall, I’m still mildly depressed but working through it.  I’m surprised at how little I wallow in sadness.  Usually it’s all consuming, but now I just feel more sleepy than usual and have “down” moments through the day where I just sit and do nothing for a while.  Of course, doing nothing is really bad for depression, but sometimes I just can’t get the motivation to do anything else.  It’s usually not for long periods of time so I’m giving myself a pass.  My therapist said I should time these moments and give myself one to two minutes of self pity and then force myself to move on.  I haven’t really tried this.  Don’t know why.  Maybe because I don’t like to be forced to do stuff if I’m not in the mood.  I feel like if I did this I’d be forcing myself to work when I don’t feel like it and the quality of work would be awful and thus not worth doing.  My perfectionist personality rearing it’s head.

We’ll see how this all plays out, but for now I’m hopeful that this will be a short lived and mild depression.


Migraines, shots, and naps

I’ve been beyond crazy busy.  Today my body not so nicely told me to slow it down by giving me a migraine from hell that kept me home.  I got to try out my Sumavel shot, which needle free it may be, but as the doctor warned, pain free it is not.  I messed up on the first one and successfully did the second one.  I then slept for eight and half hours.  I am now feeling headache free and very rested (as one should be after seven hours of sleep at night followed by an eight hour nap).

Therapy has been going well, but that’s a long post for another day and the Topamax that’s supposed to make my headaches not happen has my fingers too numb to make a long post tonight.


Your pills make me dizzy

I went to the neurologist yesterday for my migraines.  I couldn’t take the constant headache anymore.  I left with FIVE prescriptions.  I now officially take more medicine than a 90 year old.  My life is so depressing.

The doctor told me that I had a lot of things working against me.  She said people with psychiatric problems tend to be treatment resistant (figures).  She also said a lot of the medicine I’ve either tried and had issues with or can’t take because of my bipolar so we’re limited to what we can use.  She also doesn’t want to prescribe narcotics, most likely because of the bipolar.  I really don’t care what she gives me if the headaches go away.

I walked out back on Dopamex Topamax.  The pill that makes me tingly and stupid.  She says orange juice will make the tingly go away.  Something my crazy doctors didn’t know I guess.  I also got some kind of fancy Ibuprofen (Ketoprofen?), Trexemet, Imitrex shot, and a refill of Promethazine.

I find it increasingly odd that all of my problems are treated with similar pills.  This leads to me believe all my problems are cause by my crazy.

She also wants to do a spinal tap because she says maybe, based on my headaches, I might be leaking spinal fluid.  Really?!  I mean, really?  Can’t I catch a break??  Jury is still out on if I believe this is possible enough to deal with a spinal tap.  I’m untrusting of lots of tests.  I’m sure the doctors get a kickback on these things.  There’s a lot of money in big problems.  Perhaps not so much with treatable ones.  I’ve been stressed like crazy over it and my hypochondriac head is now making my spine hurt all day.

I had to get a new book to track all my medications.  My old book ran out of room.  I really hate my life on days like this.


Look how far I haven’t come

From 2004:

This week I’ve had a really bad manic period. Mania can sometimes be fun because you can get stuff done and go on little amounts of sleep. But soon it either gets worse, catches up to you, or both. This week all three have happened. It started out with mild delusional things, which are horribly annoying but not horrid. But every night it got worse and worse. Two nights ago I was waking up every thirty minutes thinking there were bugs in my bed and people in my house until I finally gave up and just stared at my door and my sheets for the rest of the night. Last night I was sitting on my computer (looking at designer bags and clothes, as tends to happen when I get manic) and I heard this strange noise on the side of my bed. It sounded a bit like a gurgle. I was SURE there was something in there and played the muting TV game to make sure I heard it more than once. The second time I heard it I felt like if I didn’t go get my mom it would kill me, so I woke my mom and step-dad up at 3:30 rambling about something in my room. [Step-dad] came in but didn’t find anything, at which point I started going on about how I was delusional, but I think it came out as one word that he couldn’t understand. He told me to go sleep in mom’s room since I tend to feel safer if someone is next to me. But her room is full of shadows which is NOT good when you’re seeing things. I think there was something dog-ish looking next to the bed and I started to see lights everywhere. The lights aren’t bad because they’re not scary, but the rest is. I didn’t feel like I was going to die like I did in my room though, so at least an improvement. The worst though is that the whole room feels alive moving and you can’t scream. Or at least I never will. If I talk about it after it all happens, that feels okay. But if I get so scared that I scream it means I’ve lost control. There is nothing worse in the entire world than not being in control of yourself. And you know all that crap isn’t there but as many times as you tell yourself it just won’t go away. After a while of talking myself down by talking to mom, I finally went to bed. I had some crazy dream about twin cats and one of them died and the school was burning or something. Made no sense and made me restless, but not the worst part of the evening. I told mom I would go to the doctor if and ONLY IF there was a deal in place that he wouldn’t try to make me take pills. So we might do that. The other idea I had was to just take a few pills when I had episodes to knock the valporic acid level up long enough to get me through the week. Haven’t done that yet though. The thing that scares me the most is always the thought that I’ll never have a time when I don’t have to worry about randomly melting down. Which in essence means I’m a liability at any job I have. I refuse to accept defeat over that, but it’s really scary. Ugh. Anyhow, other than just being really really tired I’m okay now. No meds required, so HA. And no panic attacks or rages, so I’m really proud of myself. 

I noticed people on my tag reader have been posting old journal entries, so stupid me decided to go look at mine.  I am now depressed that I have effectively made NO progress whatsoever.  Seven years ago.  Age 19.  Now 26…same shit.  Remember the post that I mentioned the title “A Line Allows Progress, A Circle Does Not”?  Welcome to my circle.

My life blows.

Chant in head says “don’t get depressed, don’t get depressed, don’t get depressed….”

Note:  Before that post I hadn’t taken meds in a while, if you couldn’t guess from the content.  Again, circle circle circle.  You’d think all the times not taking medicine hasn’t worked out for me that I’d stay on the stupid things.  Alas, insanity is doing the same thing, as they say.