When the sickness hits, but you finally have the time to binge Z Nation, you get Fort Blankie to assist.
I saw my new psych doc on the 29th. Was scheduled for a 40 minute new patient appointment because, new doc. I gave him a bit of back ground information, like my current living situation, relationship status and a tiny bit about my kids. I was amazed (after the fact due to emotional Sass) that he looked at my chart and saw pretty much everything he needed. How long I had been diagnosed and insert of symptoms, but wanted me to tell him how I knew I had Bipolar 1. Oh, you know, the risky sexual behavior, the days of no sleep and the biggest red flashing light is the spending of cash. Typically 5-7 times a year. I usually cycle into depression in July and November, but this last year has been hard with all the deaths so close together of very social people in my life. I talked about my oldest friend and her suicide and being in the phone. Having a friend of almost 30 years (since Monkey’s age) and doing everything together and our boys are three months apart and all have D names. Sitting there, crying, realizing how fucking depressed I was because of Bipolar, fucking sucks ass.
He asked me to make of all the meds I have been on, then asks went I stopped taking them and I said side effects. I’m med sensitive so I get odd side effects as well. He looks at the screen then looks at me and says “You’ve been on pretty much every anti depressant and psych med that there’s no point in my giving you something that we know won’t work. Have you heard of genetic testing?” “That’s the test where they are now you metabolize meds, right?” “Yes. I want you to get that done now. The problem could be that you may metabolize meds in a way that you only need a low low dose in order the be baseline.” Cute my ABOUT FUCKING TIME inner monologue. Not only that, he saw that I started taking Metformin and he said “You have PCOS.” And not in one of those questioning other doctors way, but a statement of fact. I like this doctor, because he wasnt dismissive about any of the meds is been on and not trying them long enough or until a therapeutic dose was reached. I backed him into a corner, like my ortho doc and my obgyn. I’ve done all I can, but my body is like “NOPE! NOT GONNA DO IT”
I get the genetic testing done right there in the office (fucking badass) and they should have the results back in two weeks. Since my meds are all whack-a-do just like me, he doesn’t mess with them. Sees me back at the end of April, and send my rx to the pharmacy. My pharmacy is so awesome, that the pharmacist Heather (she’s so sweet and awesome) talked to me about my rx. New doc sent over Wellbutrin IMMEDIATE RELEASE instead of my sustained release that I’ve been taking. Then she asks how I do taking the sustained release in the am because it sounds wire me. I told her no, because after my bad I’m so damn tired I zonk out.
Sometimes it pays to go to a pharmacy where YOU know the staff and THEY know YOU.
I also saw my obgyn and told him of my period woes. Like, the way it has tapered off to nothing. And also about the right side pain again, and how it moves and all that fun stuff. Then he goes poking around and I’m like “Oh god no ow that hurts please don’t do that!” and he looks at me and says, “I have a feeling you’ll need surgery again, but let’s get an ultra sound just to make sure.” To which I reply “I knew there was a chance of the endo and the cyst coming back and i might need surgery again. I’m ok if that’s what needs to be done. What I’m NOT ok with its my uterus acting like it’s had been”. And he agreed that is not even in the realm of abnormal for my periods to be this fucked up. Hence, the Metformin. It can be used to tell the ovary to release the egg, which he disgusts is the main culprit as to why I’m (excuse me, my UTERUS is) a hot mess. Yes, it’s also used for Blood sugar management and for fertility treatments. I honestly dgaf what they’re used for as long as 1) I get regular and 2) it doesn’t cause my unborn children to have gills. *#2 is from a movie and if you can name that, I’ll make you some badass homemade chocolate chip cookies, deliever them to your house, and clean the bathroom.* I just, for a fucking while, would love to not be in pain and not have to worry about a possible but, most likely surgery coming.*
So for now, I’m tired. And tomorrow is going to be a hard day (another long and emotional post) so I’m popping two .5 klonopin so I will stop gritting my teeth and so I can cry myself to sleep. To many other thoughts that don’t necessarily have to do with blogging.
This little pill makes me giddy because it’s my favorite color
This is a post totally not about personal looks, but of the work I’ve done for 4 days.
As you know, our sleeping arrangements have been quite fucked up and shitty since moving in with my parents. Sleeping on floors, airmatresses and couches before finally getting a bed last year. Now, before Thanksgiving mom found a futon for NSLM so that he was off the floor. Monkey has been bouncing between my bed, the couch and floor. She’s 9, what else is there to say?
Well, my AMAZING neighbor gave me a bed frame for free for all the clothes I’ve been giving her little sweet girl that Monkey adores and gets along with SOOOOO well, and for letting the girls play together and all kinds of neighbor mom friend things. So for the last 4 days I have been arranging and rearranging and moving and generally putting my shoulder and body through its paces as if I were back at work. Lemme tell ya, I am pleased as PUNCH as the way things have turned out.
I took NSLM’s futon and put it in Monkey’s area and rearranged all that space for her resulting in….
Since she looks loves the couch she has her own now!
I then moved my bed with help from NSLM into his room resulting in….
Once he figures out his setup (which will take FOREVAH) we will paint his room cool Dr. Who colors
While doing all that the living room looked like a hoarders hayday:
That is a 60 Oz Mt. Dew on the blue dresser. I was awake until 6:30 the next morning as I’d also had a real up of coffee with my sister New Year’s morning.
At one point my room looked like this:
Mind you I’ve been working in circles on all the rooms and the bed frame is fuckered up and took loooooooots of maneuvering to get it situated.
Final finished project of my room iiiiiiiissss…
Not only did I give up my comfortable bed so that Monkey could have her “couch” and NSLM has a much better and more comfortable bed for a growing teenage boy/young man, but I was able to put away the little Christmas stuff we had out, go through my memory box and upgrade to a tote and give Monkey my old memory box for her own, I also put away all of her christmas art stuff, made a large goodwill bag and books to take to Half Priced Books to sell, but I was able to grab all but one box of my stuff that has been in my sister’s garage for almost 2 years-old pictures. Monkey even set out my picture of my grampa on my small dresser and surrounded it with candles. As much as she is full of energy, she and NSLM Both have the most kind and generous of hearts. As much as they are my heathens, my Thing 1 and Thing 2, they have saved my life in so many ways. So I will GLADLY sacrifice my comfort for theirs. Oh, and not only did I to the room rearranging, I washed Barbie hair and if the sink were empty I’d finally wash Merida’s and give it a good condition. Yes, I washed Monkey’s barbies. Looks like I have some My Little Ponies to do as well. I don’t mind.
Now if it weren’t for my uterus doing her Alien Resurrection reenactment, I’d be out there going though the rest of my boxes. Yeah, nope. Not happening. Fresh tea and pain meds on board, lying in mom and dad’s bed with the heated mattress pad up to 8-oh how I need one my self-and a nice warm rice pack subtly dulling the pain.
Now, I am going to take a nap and wait to hear from N. I want to thank someone super huge hearted for getting me down to see him. Plans went arrie and I’m so beyond grateful that this person helped me through their personal time of struggle.
19 days and I’ll be in Florida. And I’m making plans to see so family friends down there too. Maybe convince N to drive me to Dr K’s Exotic Animal ER for Monkey. That show made her want to be a veterinarian, and I know Purdue has one of the best Vet schools in the country as well as their engineering programs. I wish to thank these Dr.s for showing my daughter that there are ZERO limitations. She’s amazing with animals, as observed by her pig who only let’s her pick him up and plays pearch pig on her.
Yes I know, tangent. Bit it wouldn’t be a post by a Bipolar 1 with out those “Oh a butterfly” moments. At least I’m too drugged up to rant about DB. I’m just over it. Fuck it.
Hope you’ve all had a wonderful winter break. An no new years resolutions in this household. I’ve got enough pressure on myself without committing to an unattainable and illusory goal. I’m just gonna keep being me. And if you don’t like it, no skin off my back. That’s why I keep my circle small and enemies are outliers.
Loves to you all and here’s to a better 2016 than last year. BONUS THIS YEAR: LEAP YEAR! Gotta love that extra day to fuck up out already precious scheduleds
FOR FUCKS SAKE DOES ANYONE ELSE FIND THE DESKTOP VERSION SO ABOMINABLE YOU’D FIND BIGFOOT, THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN AND JIMMY HOFFA BEFORE GETTING ANY SHIT DONE?! I kid you NOT it took 30 fucking minutes just to post a YouTube link!! GAH! FUCK YOUR DESKTOP VERSION WORDPRESS! YOU’RE FUCKING UP MY DELICATE SYSTEM AND CREATING ANARCHY AND ITS NOT GOOD FOR MY CHAKRAHS! (and idgaf if it’s misspelled!)
So, the whole POINT of this tirade is that I am going to have to post from my phone- which is JUST AS MUCH AS A PAIN IN THE FUCKING ASS as the desktop version. Not too mention the app “update” is shit as well and some of my loyal tribes persons AREN’T GETTING THEIR NOTIFICATIONS WORDPRESS YOU USELESS DICK! I’ve been in a hell of a place so I make no excuses for my sailor blushing mouth.
Monday I just hit this emotional wall and I did all my self soothing thingies and it was either self harm-which I have NEVER done, OR……
I paid someone to give me pain. Yes, I got new ink. I called and they weren’t busy, drove right over and this was done in about an hour, start to finish. I can not believe how amazing it is. The guy did a fucking FANTASTIC job. He said he’s never put Roman Numerals in an infinity symbol. WOOHOO I’M A FIRST!! Ok, so the numerals are for my kids birth dates. The BBFL-explanitory. But I chose purple for Shawna, as it was her favorite color. 4 really special and important people in my life immortalized on my arm forever. Best $80 ever spent.
Now, christmas was shitty as I didn’t have my babies. I DID however FINALLY get to spend time with my niece for the first time and loved it. My father in law and step mother in law sent me $150 and a beautiful necklace. I still haven’t taken a pic of it yet as I put it on as soon as I got home. My mother in law and step father in law got me smell good candles and a $25 gift card to Bed Bath and Beyond. If I’m repeating this, I DO apologize as someone has been calling at all hours and…. *blushes furiously* Anywho, I think I’ve FINALLY gotten all the kids christmas CLOTHES out away from the grandparents, and tomorrow is room rearranging day. Yay. Therapy is going well on my shoulder-HALLELUJER I CAN CARRY A GALLON OF MILK WITHOUT PAIN!! PRAISE BABY JESUS!! Tomorrow the kids and I are going to sis’ for new years. Nothing big, at least I hope not. I can’t do a bunch of people.
I need to do my year in review… Maybe tomorrow, idfk. It happens when it does.
Tonight I’ll kiss my lucky cotton ball and keep wishing for what I desperately want. And no, I’m not gonna fucking tell anyone because then that destroys the point of my magic cotton ball?
Sass, out ✌
Mom and I ventured out Friday morning about 8 am for the bargain of the year.
It was rainy and warm and I drove cautiously concerned there would be people all over. Oh how wrong I was. It was just like any other early Friday morning in Plainfield minus the work traffic to the warehouses. Not that u complained about that. There’s ALWAYS at least one car pulled over EVERY MORNING on Ronald Reagan, Stafford, Perry and the roads through the warehouses themselves. Traffic is a bitch.
Anyway mom and I ventured not to Kohls or the other retail stores, not Walmart, Meijer, or Target. We went to Pet Smart on the hunt for a new cage for the pig.
I had found one a week or so ago but it was $130-but it came with a little play yard attached and was much bigger than his current cage. You know your guinea pig is too big when he stands up and cam chew on the TOP of his cage 😕
They advertised their small animal habitats for half off and we thought “Score! We can get the one I looked at!!” That would be a no, Bob. So we looked and asked questions and looked and looked-IN ONE AISLE-and lo and behold on an end cap we found a cage. $100. Black Friday price…….. $25! And a $10 bag of hay for $5. We had a $5 off coupon (tried to get a different water bottle for the pig but it was worse than the one he has now) AND donated a stuffed animal to our local hospital for the kids and spent less than $50. WOOHOO!
And I even ran into an old high school friend who looks FABULOUS! That bitch looks better now than he did in high school! He was looking for a bird companion for his little Pompeii birdy. TOOOO CUTE!
We hit Speck’s to try a different flavor of food for May. When she had her biopsy the doc said her kidney function was on the high side of normal-cue pet parent freak out-and while we are still waiting for the results we changed her food to a fish based instead of an all meat based. And I let the vet know we were trying a different food too.
So returned home from our little jaunt and put together the pigs new cage and he’s now a happier pig! Only he’s getting to big for his pigloo. So Smores is happy, mom and I are happy and Monkey is happy.
So unlike all the other fucks with money to burn on bullshit they DON’T need, we got a fucking deal on something desperately needed.
Worth the bargain.
Since I haven’t been loudly announcing my presence the past few weeks, I thought I’d share my Sunday morning ritual that I do for my week. I got the idea from Our Lives Experience and my butch Blah. See, it was a picture of a young lady sticking out her tongue with all her meds on it. Must have been 7 pills and though I can’t remember exactly what was said, it translates-in my recollective mind-what I need to survive.
We all have to take pills of some form or another for various reasons. Some are “fortunate” to only need a few a day, while a majority take so many pills we need expensive pill organizers with post-its and timers to make sure we either: A) Don’t die or B) Don’t kill other people. It’s a fact of our lives. Those of us with Chronic and Mental Illness will NEVER get off the Medi-Go-Round of trial and error hell. That’s just fact. I see Dr Kamal Wednesday-HALLELUJER AND PRAISE THE BABY BUDDHA JESUS because I haven’t seen him since August. And you all well know by now the pure emotional hell I’ve been through. I’m sure there will be med changes, part and parcel for my life.
And so, now we come to the “exciting” part of my post where I show my Sunday morning ritual in pictures.
This is how I start my Sunday-pills open and my organizer at the ready.
My med train. Choo choo!
Ready for the week
The joys of Bipolar 1
What’s not included are my pain meds-trying to wean down but this weekend was AWFUL for my pain. I have therapy today at 3, and I’m doing really good. The doc did take my bone spur off and 1 cm from my collar bone. Everything is really tight across the front-where the majority of my surgery was-and I should be 100% in 8-12 weeks. Which means I still won’t be able to work until next year, but my shoulder will be functional. Wahoo! I REALLY need a nap, then a shower. ✌
This is the first bloom on Ma in 2 years. She didn’t bloom last year, and my last year was absolute shit. I’m taking this as a sign from all of my guardian angels that this year will be better.
Today, I turn 36. HOLY FUCK! THIRTY-FUCKING-SIX! I actually feel that after all the upheaval starting last April I lost a year of my life. And I look and I see that I have. I went know where. I wasn’t stagnant or rebelling against it all. I was truly and actually dead inside. So much had and has happened. I’ve made tremendous growth and fallen many MANY times. But I look back over the last year and I can see, I never let it kill me.
Yes I have been depressed and manic, over and under medicated, and seriously contemplated taking my life April 3 as I sat on my Grandpatents headstone with 17 Xanax pills in my hand wondering how my life would continue if I didn’t have my husband, another half of myself. That was one of the lowest points in my life. But I fought back.
I have come to realize the other part of self I have been missing has nothing to do with another person, but with myself and the lacking of wholeness I have felt from an early age. I know that I have made great strides in acknowledging this and working on it so that I can be a better Shannon, a Feistier Sass-if that’s possible!
I have come to accept the things I have done wrong and while I can’t completely atone for them, I have apologized and asked for forgiveness, and I have accepted that some of the forgiveness may not come. That’s been a bitter pill to swallow as I have always been a people pleaser, and thinking my only validation came from them. My validation comes from one person and place only: me and my heart. My happiness is only contingent on my own self.
I have grown a lot this past year in ways I never knew i could even BEGIN to fathom or understand until I was in the thick of it. I have experienced a lot of loss, and while I am still in the throes of grief, each day gets a millimeter better, a tiny ray of Sunshine through the darkness I have been walking for 18 months.
Today I celebrate a better year, a better me, and for things that were impossible last year to be possible this year. And it always helps I get to do so with my birthday treat from Starbucks in a Red Cup!
Thank you to my WP friends for being there: Morgue, Diane, Zoe (Pluto) for all the animal hybrids and uses for Barbed Wired Dildos, The Ever AHMAYZING Blah whilst told me I was psychotic and needed help-I will come and we shall have tea, to Chris for giving my first guest post blog-you are an amazing man and I am PROUD to call you my friend! To Alf for all the support and for being the ONLY who got my Party Girl quote, and being a fucking inspiration to me ❤️. And last but FAR from least, my buddy Andrew. There aren’t enough big words in my head to explain how grateful I am for you. We are able to bounce things off each other and we can be raw and truthful and honest without illiciting overwhelming emotions. Thank you. Thank you to ALL of you that follow me even though I started my blog just to vent, and NEVER in my wildest dreams did I EVER imagine I would find such fucking badass people and friends. I love you all!
HERE’S TO 36 BEING OND BADASS FUCKING YEAR!!
I am waving my white flag of surrender. I concede defeat on this day and on my fragile emotional state that the doctors don’t seem to concerned about. Assholesonsabitches. FFS I’ve been doing everything PROACTIVE to keep from falling further into the rabbit hole. Today, I call it quits on trying to function even as a zombie. Panxiety set in at the tire place. 10 different calls made for various reasons to various people for various appointments. Wtf happened to common fucking curtesy and fucking decency when leaving a voicemail saying it’s imperative you call ASAP?! Or to even check the god damn thing for Christs sake. Not in the mood to deal with the above taking offense. My blog, my emotions, my words. FUCKEST THOU if you want to ride my ass over that. I have bigger shit to deal with right now.
Teeth clenching for 3 hours, panxiety at level 7-8, pacing, hunger, guilt, loss, isolation, invisiblity, frustration, anger-and throw some hate in for good measure, and I’m a walking time bomb. Fuck my muscles hurt from the 2 hours I clenched them together.
My white flag of surrender-Buspar, Klonopin, Ativan, and Celexa
I have climbed into Fort Blanket and plan to reside here until further notice. If you need me, or are über concerned about me, email, call or text. Cuz right now, I just can’t cope with it.
While reading a post at 5 something this morning I replied to it. The above was the reply to my reply and it made me cry. It made me cry to know that I have had a profound impact on this person by just being me, sharing my stories, my life. All I have ever been is honest to myself and to others about what goes on in my brain. The bouncing balls I try to catch that are my thoughts. The constant hum of the bees as back ground noise that can be quite soothing. Recently it’s been songs running through my head before I fall asleep-and it’s god damn annoying! I’m laying in bed, hugging Toothless and my Otter trying to have a conversation with whatever high power there is out there and some stupide verse comes trotting in to disrupt the serenity I’ve made. FUCK!
I still-STILL to this DAY hope that I will find love, someone that really wants to help me be a better person, mother, lover and wife. I hope that I can get out of Indiana and start a new life somewhere in the south. Florida was a pipe dream. I would love to have a farm of some kind, somewhere were I can SEE my hard work pay off daily. I want a strong man to love me, and I want to stay at a good baseline. I’m not naïve knowing that once I get to baseline I can stop meds-that’s just idiotic. I know I’ll never have “recovery” or “cure” but there will be times of remission. I’ve had it before. I know meds and therapy and hospital stays will always be part of my life-not just my treatment, MY LIFE. I have accepted that. What I DON’T accept is sub-par treatment anymore. Just because I have Bipolar doesn’t make me less of a person. If anything it makes me MORE of a person, because I see the world differently. The colors are brighter, smells and sounds intensified. Don’t believe me? There’s research-I’m just too damn lazy to find it and link it. Y’all got Google and Bing and whatever. Fucking use it. Tangent much? Yes, yes I do.
I’m getting more and more clarity of my life and my future. And I’m not taking people’s shit again. Obviously with my final Florida post I mean business. I’m about to go down to Tennessee to whoop my cousin’s ass. He thinks his finger waggin’ is gonna scare me? Bitch, please! I’m a city girl, I know how to handle a gun and I may have a bad shoulder but I can still throw shit. Oh-and I have a set of lungs. If I can out yell my marching band my senior year of 200 people, 1 42 year old boy ain’t gonna deter me. *Look-Sass is on a roll!* He may have seen country girls pissed, but he hasn’t been blessed to see one pissed off SassaFrass. It’s just fucking common curtesy. Fuck! Kinda like R. Oh don’t get me on THAT soap box.
Anyway-I just wanted to post this reply because it really made me feel good and warm and touched my heart in a way that hasn’t been touched in years. So thank you, kind friend, for the lovely and amazing words. I won’t change. I’m still hoping, and my little ray of sunshine is coming back-and I have YOU to thank for that. I love you to infinity and beyond ❤
*Warning: Boring and Dull Content Ahead*
I have had a LOT on my mental platter recently, as you all well know. These past three weeks have drained me physically, mentally and emotionally. I have not been coping well. I spent money I was saving for gas for my trip back from Tennessee last weekend. I’m reverting to old habits because I am flat out overloaded and overstimulated by life. I’m trying to escape, heaven KNOWS I am trying, but right now I feel pretty bad. Not bad as in depressed, but more disappointed in myself for spending money designated for a certain purpose.
The trip to Tennessee was interesting-as I drove down 65 South, in construction, at night, IN THE RAIN, with only tiny lane markets in the middle of the road. I did 65 the entire way, and google maps was a douche and couldn’t decide on the best route so I did it for him-because let’s face it: men can NOT ask for directions, let alone give them out in any coherent manner. I made it safely to my destination, into which I walked into the god damned Arctic. So glad I took my warm fuzzy blankie. I was under a sheet and THREE blankets and STILL FROZEN! I was a Sasscicle (Blah, copyright please!! Kiss kiss).
Saturday it rained ALL DAMN DAY. I got dressed long enough to go to the store so my cousin could make me his chili his momma said to make for me (yeah, I’m special like that!). It was damn good, too-AMLOST as good as Daddy’s. He made me my apple cinnamon moonshine-yes, I am spoiled-got tipsy and wore a tiara around the house. You get what you get with me! I cleaned up my cousin’s room-he did a great job before I got there but I couldn’t handle the rest. He didn’t like that-he broke out in hives. His sister said its because he’s allergic to his clean room! Then guess who shot a gun?? A .410 single barrel rifle. Pretty damn good shot too.
As I was lying down my mom text me urging me to sober up and get some gas money to go home right then and there, as my sister had just come from the er and has viral meningitis. So, of course, being the emotional, bipolar big sister 4 hours away I freak out and had to take extra anxiety meds. Needless to say I still didn’t sleep well. I woke at 730 having a panic attack that my sister was in the ICU dying. Thanks mom-you KNOW I’m the one that catastrophises any situation when it comes to my family. So I laid there, fidgeting for 4 hours before my cousin woke up and got motivated.
I packed up, got my goodies and thanked my family for the stay. Talked to my cousin long enough with my car door open I needed a jump-3rd time that week. Away I went back to Indiana. I was sad to leave because we couldn’t really do anything because of the rain Saturday and going home Sunday, but it was so nice to NOT be in the city or the suburbs. The drive back was longer. I took the right lane of the divided highway and did a whopping 40mph for about 20 miles. And I’m so glad I did because the left lane had had a HORRIBLE accident where the lanes merged back together. I had to pull off in Sonora, pee, get a drink and have a panic attack-mind you my body is still shaky from the one earlier in the morning. I should not have driven home then. I took more medicine to calm my nerves than medically necessary.
I made it home and my cousin text me almost right as I walked in the door to make sure I made it home. We chatted a little, but he had taken so much Benadryl that day he totally zoned out. No biggie-I had to put some stuff away and get myself and kids ready for bed.
It was a nice break and I’m planning to go back to spend more time with my other cousin who is BP 1 like me, and a recovering addict. She gave my NSLM clothes from HER NSLM-all Aero, since that’s all Nanny buys for him. Hey, not my house, not my mess. We are grateful for the clothes. She and I were talking and she was like an AK47 with bursts of chatter. Her son was like, “Mom! Slow down she can’t understand you.” I said, “Oh honey, I have a sister and I understand your momma just fine.” He looked sceptical-as all teenage boys and men do. It’s like twin talk. Plus-2 BP1 people in a 3 foot vicinity of each other, ain’t nuthin stoppin THAT conversation!
So I had a decent weekend-minus Saturday’s rain. I watched my first Alabama college football game, followed by the Gators. I paid slight attention as my blood alcohol content was increased-and my tiara was fun for a bit. I’m hoping to go steal my cousin for the week.
And whoop her brother’s damn ass for something COMPLETLY uncalled for. But that’s another post for tomorrow…