1. I am physically sick.
I have a sinus infection and it sucks. My head has felt like it might explode from all the pressure for pretty much the last 3 days straight. Work has been hell, because I feel like I totally can't focus and every little noise makes my head hurt more. My head pounds whenever I bend over, my ears keep popping and draining, and I get dizzy when I lie down. Plus I have a cough and a sore throat. Oh, and my lymph nodes are so swollen I look like I've gained at least 10 pounds. And I haven't been to the gym since last Thursday because I don't want to pass out on the elliptical. Very frustrating. And naturally this happens when I absolutely cannot miss a day of work because the shit is hitting the fan there at the moment . . . sigh.
2. I am unmedicated.
Through no fault of my own.
Let me start by saying that when I went to my dr's appt. last week, I had a couple days of medication left. Enough to get me through the weekend. And since that POS Dr. DBag assured me that he would call in a prescription for me, when I got to Monday morning and was out of Lithium, I assumed that my pharmacy would have a prescription ready and waiting for me. Because that's what normally happens when a doctor says he'll call in a script for you. So I check on my pharmacy website, and there's no record of any script for anything from that doctor. Meaning . . . it was never called in. Meaning . . . I paid $200 and all I got for my money was the chance to rehash all the unpleasant details of my history and listen to some incredibly misogynistic theories about men and women. Granted, they didn't take the payment until Friday (payday) and it could very well be that they were holding the prescription until I paid . . . but Friday was 3 days ago now, and I can tell you from personal experience, because I run patient credit cards every single day, that it takes about 2, maybe 3 minutes to run it and post the payment. So assuming they did it Friday morning, there is absolutely zero reason for that prescription to not have been called in. I was freaking livid. And if for some reason my card didn't go through . . . why haven't I been called? I also haven't been called to schedule an appt. with the other new doctor I'm supposed to see. So needless to say, I'm not too thrilled with this office right now.
Anyway, fortunately, I had one more refill of Li from my old doctor still on file that doesn't expire til 2014, so I went ahead and requested that refill. It was supposed to be ready this afternoon but wouldn't you know it, for some reason, it isn't. In fact, according to the pharmacy website, the initial request was canceled and then another one for a slightly lower quantity is processing . . . so I don't know WTF is going on. That's going to be a fun phone call tomorrow morning.
I'm definitely starting to feel the absence of the Li. Nothing major, I can just feel my anxiety/stress level creeping up a bit. It probably wouldn't be as bad if I wasn't sick already, or if things at work weren't so insane right now. I'm hoping that my refill will be ready tomorrow. If I can get the mental aspect of health back under control I think the physical aspect will be a lot more manageable.
Sigh. I'm just so irritated by this whole freaking process. I've been cruising along just fine all this year and I don't like having a wrench thrown in it by, of all people, my doctor's office.
EDIT: My pharmacy got their shit together and I have my Lithium prescription. Thank.goodness. I'm still very unimpressed with my doctor's office, though. (9.25.13)
9.24.2013
9.21.2013
Farewell Summer, Hello Fall
It's felt very fall outside lately, and it's pretty glorious. This whole past week actually reminded me a lot of Thanksgiving Day in Kingman--fairly warm but with a chilly breeze and a definite cold bite later in the day/at night. There are a lot of golden leaved trees right now, and dead pine needles all over the streets. I absolutely love it.
I've gotten to wear my cute heeled boots to work a few times, my evenings consist of thermals and fuzzy socks, there's an extra blanket on my bed, and I bought an amazing fall candle for my office. (Pumpkin Carving from Bath and Body Works=highly, highly recommend). I also got the Autumn Day BBW scent for my car. Sheer awesomeness.
The craft stores have all kinds of fun fall and Halloween stuff out, and it all just makes me wish I had my own place that I could decorate the crap out of. Not that Jerbs wouldn't let me decorate as much as I wanted to, but something just doesn't feel right about decorating someone else's house. (One of the many things I miss about living with my ex).
It's just so beautiful right now. I love this time of year. Something about it just makes me happy.
I've gotten to wear my cute heeled boots to work a few times, my evenings consist of thermals and fuzzy socks, there's an extra blanket on my bed, and I bought an amazing fall candle for my office. (Pumpkin Carving from Bath and Body Works=highly, highly recommend). I also got the Autumn Day BBW scent for my car. Sheer awesomeness.
The craft stores have all kinds of fun fall and Halloween stuff out, and it all just makes me wish I had my own place that I could decorate the crap out of. Not that Jerbs wouldn't let me decorate as much as I wanted to, but something just doesn't feel right about decorating someone else's house. (One of the many things I miss about living with my ex).
It's just so beautiful right now. I love this time of year. Something about it just makes me happy.
9.19.2013
The Temp Doctor
I have come to the conclusion that there are two things in this world that I just seem to attract like a magnet: people driving the speed limit in the left hand lane of the highway, and crazy doctors.
Yesterday was my first (and only) appointment with my temporary psychiatrist. He practices out of the same office as my old doctor, and he was basically a "bridge" doctor. Dr. Wright didn't refill any of my medications in August, and I'm eventually going to start seeing Dr. Boyle, who's joining the practice in October. But that left a gap so I saw Dr. F. We'll call him that both because his last name starts with an F and because it's the letter grade I'd give him based on my visit.
It was just an odd, odd experience. He talked a lot and most of what he said I disagreed with or felt like it had absolutely zero relevance to me. For example, when I talked about having been in a relationship with Jerbs, Dr. F went off on a ridiculously long tangent about how women can never be emotionally fulfilled by men because men are literally incapable of listening and connecting emotionally women; according to Dr. F women only marry men in order to have children but that in doing so, they sacrifice ever being emotionally fulfilled. He said that biologically speaking women have to have close female friends and that his marriage has been successful because his wife is "permitted" to have her girlfriends. He said the stone ages were easier when men went off together and hunted and women banded together to raise the kids.
I pointed out that I have no desire for kids and he reassured me that was just because of my past. Mmmk.
He also said that my and Jerbs' breakup was completely my fault and that I need a man who's older than me, not younger like Corey is. He also kind of insinuated a couple times that Corey used my "past" against me, and I found myself coming to Corey's defense because that is just the farthest thing from the truth. And defending my ex wasn't something I expected to be doing during this whole thing.
It was very frustrating. I left feeling . . . offended. Almost violated in a way. My next appointment will be with Dr. Boyle, but it hasn't been scheduled yet. It just felt like a waste of time to see Dr. F at all because I'm pretty sure I still had a Li refill from Dr. Wright. Waste of time and money.
I know that some of the way I felt about it was me, too. I had to tell him my whole story, from the beginning. All the hard, painful, yucky details. And even though I don't mind telling people I'm bipolar and talking about recovery in general terms, I don't really like talking about. I want to take my 5 pills a day and completely forget that I'm bipolar past that. So of course rehashing it was sucky. (And I'll get to do it again in a month or so with the new doctor! Yay!)
I'm just glad it's over and done with. And glad that I don't have to go back to Dr. F.
Yesterday was my first (and only) appointment with my temporary psychiatrist. He practices out of the same office as my old doctor, and he was basically a "bridge" doctor. Dr. Wright didn't refill any of my medications in August, and I'm eventually going to start seeing Dr. Boyle, who's joining the practice in October. But that left a gap so I saw Dr. F. We'll call him that both because his last name starts with an F and because it's the letter grade I'd give him based on my visit.
It was just an odd, odd experience. He talked a lot and most of what he said I disagreed with or felt like it had absolutely zero relevance to me. For example, when I talked about having been in a relationship with Jerbs, Dr. F went off on a ridiculously long tangent about how women can never be emotionally fulfilled by men because men are literally incapable of listening and connecting emotionally women; according to Dr. F women only marry men in order to have children but that in doing so, they sacrifice ever being emotionally fulfilled. He said that biologically speaking women have to have close female friends and that his marriage has been successful because his wife is "permitted" to have her girlfriends. He said the stone ages were easier when men went off together and hunted and women banded together to raise the kids.
I pointed out that I have no desire for kids and he reassured me that was just because of my past. Mmmk.
He also said that my and Jerbs' breakup was completely my fault and that I need a man who's older than me, not younger like Corey is. He also kind of insinuated a couple times that Corey used my "past" against me, and I found myself coming to Corey's defense because that is just the farthest thing from the truth. And defending my ex wasn't something I expected to be doing during this whole thing.
It was very frustrating. I left feeling . . . offended. Almost violated in a way. My next appointment will be with Dr. Boyle, but it hasn't been scheduled yet. It just felt like a waste of time to see Dr. F at all because I'm pretty sure I still had a Li refill from Dr. Wright. Waste of time and money.
I know that some of the way I felt about it was me, too. I had to tell him my whole story, from the beginning. All the hard, painful, yucky details. And even though I don't mind telling people I'm bipolar and talking about recovery in general terms, I don't really like talking about. I want to take my 5 pills a day and completely forget that I'm bipolar past that. So of course rehashing it was sucky. (And I'll get to do it again in a month or so with the new doctor! Yay!)
I'm just glad it's over and done with. And glad that I don't have to go back to Dr. F.
9.10.2013
3 Years Ago And Some Thoughts On Regret
Three years ago I was falling in love. Being swept off my feet by a guy I never would have expected to end up with. It was all so beautifully unexpected because neither one of us was looking for anything resembling a relationship when we met but things just clicked too much for either of us to stop. I'll never forget the first few months of that relationship--staying up all night eating cold pizza and drinking root beer and talking about everything, flipping my TV back and forth between football and Dancing With the Stars on Monday nights, him playing our song and dancing at his apartment . . . it was wonderful. I don't think I could have imagined a better start to anything; it was exactly what I wanted, even if I didn't know I wanted it, even if before I'd never really imagined myself spending the rest of my life with anyone. I fell for him on our first date, lying in his arms in a raft under the stars in the middle of a lake.
But three years ago, I was sick, too.
The thing is, when I look back over the past year, over the time that he and I have been apart and the time I've spent getting better, I feel nearly nothing but pride. Because I know--I know--that I have accomplished something tremendous. I've talked about it time and time again, and I'm sure I'll talk about it more in the future, because it's true. I know exactly how far I've come and exactly how much better I am. I'm aware of it every single day. And I am grateful for it every single day, even on less than awesome days.
I've worked hard to get to where I am now, and I like my life. And I really want to be able to look back and say that if all I got out of that relationship was this, then that's fine. That's enough. That whatever happens after that is just icing on the cake.
But I just can't think like that. Not now, anyway.
Because sometimes when I think about what I've accomplished, it just doesn't feel as good as it should. I'll never, ever think that it was pointless, because it wasn't. I wouldn't trade being mentally healthy for anything. I needed to get better, regardless of what was going on in my life otherwise. That wasn't a maybe, that was a for sure.
But at the end of the day, no amount of being better can change the fact that I spent a pretty big chunk of time treating an amazing person who loved me and was trying to help me like absolute dirt, and that guilt and regret still overwhelms me sometimes. Sometimes I honestly can't believe how awful I was, and it makes me feel terrible. So getting better wasn't pointless by any means, but there are moments when it seems like it was too little, too late, at least in this one respect. Because, aside from my own health, the biggest and most significant thing the bipolar crap cost me was that relationship.
I feel like I've fixed almost everything else. My relationship with my family is fine (aside from normal family stuff, of course), my relationship with Jerbs is good, and I've reconnected with people from college who I cut out of my life when I was sick. My financial situation is improving and I am slowly but surely learning how to manage my money correctly. I'm taking baby steps towards physical health (and I'm fine with that . . . better small steps than no steps, right?).
I would just love to be forgiven. I would love for him to see that I really am better and that the issues I used to have were genuinely not me; I would love for him to know how absolutely horrible I feel for every terrible thing I did and said. I would love--really, really love-- for him to know this me. I would love a second chance and a clean slate. And I'm better enough now that I could have a second chance and make it work.
But, I can't change the past. I wish I could. So for now, I am just going to hope that this person eventually finds his way to forgiveness and that he still has feelings for me.
These are the thoughts that I'm putting out into the universe tonight. And hopefully whatever powers are out there--God or stars or vortices or whatever--see fit to return them to me in a good way.
But three years ago, I was sick, too.
The thing is, when I look back over the past year, over the time that he and I have been apart and the time I've spent getting better, I feel nearly nothing but pride. Because I know--I know--that I have accomplished something tremendous. I've talked about it time and time again, and I'm sure I'll talk about it more in the future, because it's true. I know exactly how far I've come and exactly how much better I am. I'm aware of it every single day. And I am grateful for it every single day, even on less than awesome days.
I've worked hard to get to where I am now, and I like my life. And I really want to be able to look back and say that if all I got out of that relationship was this, then that's fine. That's enough. That whatever happens after that is just icing on the cake.
But I just can't think like that. Not now, anyway.
Because sometimes when I think about what I've accomplished, it just doesn't feel as good as it should. I'll never, ever think that it was pointless, because it wasn't. I wouldn't trade being mentally healthy for anything. I needed to get better, regardless of what was going on in my life otherwise. That wasn't a maybe, that was a for sure.
But at the end of the day, no amount of being better can change the fact that I spent a pretty big chunk of time treating an amazing person who loved me and was trying to help me like absolute dirt, and that guilt and regret still overwhelms me sometimes. Sometimes I honestly can't believe how awful I was, and it makes me feel terrible. So getting better wasn't pointless by any means, but there are moments when it seems like it was too little, too late, at least in this one respect. Because, aside from my own health, the biggest and most significant thing the bipolar crap cost me was that relationship.
I feel like I've fixed almost everything else. My relationship with my family is fine (aside from normal family stuff, of course), my relationship with Jerbs is good, and I've reconnected with people from college who I cut out of my life when I was sick. My financial situation is improving and I am slowly but surely learning how to manage my money correctly. I'm taking baby steps towards physical health (and I'm fine with that . . . better small steps than no steps, right?).
I would just love to be forgiven. I would love for him to see that I really am better and that the issues I used to have were genuinely not me; I would love for him to know how absolutely horrible I feel for every terrible thing I did and said. I would love--really, really love-- for him to know this me. I would love a second chance and a clean slate. And I'm better enough now that I could have a second chance and make it work.
But, I can't change the past. I wish I could. So for now, I am just going to hope that this person eventually finds his way to forgiveness and that he still has feelings for me.
These are the thoughts that I'm putting out into the universe tonight. And hopefully whatever powers are out there--God or stars or vortices or whatever--see fit to return them to me in a good way.
9.07.2013
Today Sucked
Today was just one of *those* days. In the bad way. It just flat out sucked. No other way to say it.
(This is your official TMI warning. I'm going to talk about my lady part issues in a second).
First, I'm on my period. Which basically means this whole past week was bad what with PMSing. This particular cycle's symptoms have been some weepiness and exhaustion. Seriously, this whole past week, no matter how much sleep I got/how well I slept, I was just too tired to get much done. Work was miserable and I hardly got to work out (and I did OK diet wise and I really wanted to exercise). So just . . . yeah. I was most definitely looking forward to the weekend.
Which brings us to today.
I woke up earlier than intended thanks to vicious cramps, and by the time they faded (after I took an obscene amount of ibuprofen), it was too late to go back to sleep. So I thought whatever, and got dressed, because I needed to go to the bank.
In the process of leaving the house I grabbed my purse and discovered that one of the cats had pooped in it during the night. IN my purse. IN it. And it was runny. And it was all over basically everything in my purse. I had to throw out the purse, my wallet, my daily pill thingy, two tubes of chapstick, a couple of hair clips, and a whole bunch of receipts. Needless to say I was not thrilled. At all. I fought the urge to throw said cat off of our balcony. (Note: I dug out one of my old purses and am using it for now, and Jenny bought me new chapstick and a new wallet).
I got home from the bank and change into a pair of sweats that were lying on the floor of my closet, and they were covered in cat pee. (Seriously, the cats here hate me).
Picked Jerbs up from work and went to PetSmart to buy spray refill for Max's no bark collar. For whatever reason the spray refills are locked up with the bark collars so you have to have a manager get it out for you. Well, I had a cashier page someone over once, we waited about ten minutes, then Jerbs asked her to call again, and we waiting about 15 more minutes. By that point I'd absolutely had it (customer service is NOT THAT DIFFICULT), so I told the cashier we were still waiting, to just forget about sending someone over, and that we'd be going to PetCo. She apologized and I flat out told her it was their loss. Which makes me sound bitchy, I know, but I don't screw around with bad customer service BS anymore. (And we did go to PetCo, where we got the spray in like 5 minutes, and found a killer deal on cat litter. Plus Max was ecstatic that he got to go to TWO stores in one day, so that was good).
While I was out and about with my emergency replacement purse, my water bottle leaked in it, soaking my phone and keys and debit card . . . so freaking annoying.
We got home and I was showing Jerbs how wedge make up sponges work and I inadvertently rubbed my eye with one she'd had in her mouth. So I got Jerbs spit on my face. Lovely. Why she was chewing on it I have no idea.
And finally, a little while ago, I went to the bathroom and was going to remove my nail polish while I peed (I don't care if anyone thinks that's gross or judges me, peeing is boring and I like multi-tasking, K?) So I had the nail polish remover, open, on the edge of the tub, and I flushed the toilet because there was tissue with make up on it in there. And the toilet overflowed, and by the time I was able to grab the plunger the bathroom had mostly flooded. AND in trying to get to said plunger I knocked over the nail polish remover which spilled on one of the rugs. Now tomorrow I get to wash a big load of towels and rugs along with my normal laundry. Fabulous.
So yeah. I'm about done.
And with that in mind, I am going to go to bed, and get a good night's sleep, and tomorrow will be a better, more productive day.
Seriously, though, Saturdays aren't supposed to suck.
(This is your official TMI warning. I'm going to talk about my lady part issues in a second).
First, I'm on my period. Which basically means this whole past week was bad what with PMSing. This particular cycle's symptoms have been some weepiness and exhaustion. Seriously, this whole past week, no matter how much sleep I got/how well I slept, I was just too tired to get much done. Work was miserable and I hardly got to work out (and I did OK diet wise and I really wanted to exercise). So just . . . yeah. I was most definitely looking forward to the weekend.
Which brings us to today.
I woke up earlier than intended thanks to vicious cramps, and by the time they faded (after I took an obscene amount of ibuprofen), it was too late to go back to sleep. So I thought whatever, and got dressed, because I needed to go to the bank.
In the process of leaving the house I grabbed my purse and discovered that one of the cats had pooped in it during the night. IN my purse. IN it. And it was runny. And it was all over basically everything in my purse. I had to throw out the purse, my wallet, my daily pill thingy, two tubes of chapstick, a couple of hair clips, and a whole bunch of receipts. Needless to say I was not thrilled. At all. I fought the urge to throw said cat off of our balcony. (Note: I dug out one of my old purses and am using it for now, and Jenny bought me new chapstick and a new wallet).
I got home from the bank and change into a pair of sweats that were lying on the floor of my closet, and they were covered in cat pee. (Seriously, the cats here hate me).
Picked Jerbs up from work and went to PetSmart to buy spray refill for Max's no bark collar. For whatever reason the spray refills are locked up with the bark collars so you have to have a manager get it out for you. Well, I had a cashier page someone over once, we waited about ten minutes, then Jerbs asked her to call again, and we waiting about 15 more minutes. By that point I'd absolutely had it (customer service is NOT THAT DIFFICULT), so I told the cashier we were still waiting, to just forget about sending someone over, and that we'd be going to PetCo. She apologized and I flat out told her it was their loss. Which makes me sound bitchy, I know, but I don't screw around with bad customer service BS anymore. (And we did go to PetCo, where we got the spray in like 5 minutes, and found a killer deal on cat litter. Plus Max was ecstatic that he got to go to TWO stores in one day, so that was good).
While I was out and about with my emergency replacement purse, my water bottle leaked in it, soaking my phone and keys and debit card . . . so freaking annoying.
We got home and I was showing Jerbs how wedge make up sponges work and I inadvertently rubbed my eye with one she'd had in her mouth. So I got Jerbs spit on my face. Lovely. Why she was chewing on it I have no idea.
And finally, a little while ago, I went to the bathroom and was going to remove my nail polish while I peed (I don't care if anyone thinks that's gross or judges me, peeing is boring and I like multi-tasking, K?) So I had the nail polish remover, open, on the edge of the tub, and I flushed the toilet because there was tissue with make up on it in there. And the toilet overflowed, and by the time I was able to grab the plunger the bathroom had mostly flooded. AND in trying to get to said plunger I knocked over the nail polish remover which spilled on one of the rugs. Now tomorrow I get to wash a big load of towels and rugs along with my normal laundry. Fabulous.
So yeah. I'm about done.
And with that in mind, I am going to go to bed, and get a good night's sleep, and tomorrow will be a better, more productive day.
Seriously, though, Saturdays aren't supposed to suck.
9.01.2013
Weigh In # 9 (2013)
Weight: 195.8
BMI: 34.7
I really don't want to talk about August, actually. It wasn't a great month. I don't have any real excuses, either; the absolute fact is that I just didn't feel like working out or eating right. I wanted the food I always eat and I didn't want to go running or whatever. It sucked. I honestly don't know how to motivate myself anymore.
I keep hoping and hoping at the start of every month that this stuff will finally just *click*. Because at this point I think that's what needs to happen. So far nothing that I've tried as far as motivating myself has really worked so I think I just need to hit rock bottom and then something will just click.
A little while ago I cleaned out my purse and dug out all of the fast food/restaurant receipts I'd accumulated for the month of August. I didn't have every receipt from every fast food trip in there; some I know I've thrown out at work, some are probably in my car, and some have been tossed out with the bags the food came in. But I sat down and I added them up, and the total (and keep in mind that this is only most of it, not all of it) was $355.25
Ummmm . . . yeah, I don't think I even need to put into writing why that is disgusting/unacceptable/shameful/destructive/counter productive. That's more than my car payment and car insurance payment combined. It's about the amount of those two things plus a tank of gas, actually.
I'm destroying my body and my bank account simultaneously by doing this month after month.
Seeing that number was a wake up call. I mean, obviously I knew I was over spending on this crap but . . . I didn't really realize it was that bad.
So this month, I'm going to go grocery shopping every week, and maybe do a little menu planning (I don't cook so I don't really see the point of menu planning). I'm also going to (obviously) work out as much as possible. One thing I realized in August is that going to the gym on my lunch break works pretty well for me, because I get in a good work out and then don't have to worry about it once I get home, plus it means I'm actually tired by bed time, which is nice.
Hopefully this is my month. I'm definitely going to try my best to make it my month.
BMI: 34.7
I really don't want to talk about August, actually. It wasn't a great month. I don't have any real excuses, either; the absolute fact is that I just didn't feel like working out or eating right. I wanted the food I always eat and I didn't want to go running or whatever. It sucked. I honestly don't know how to motivate myself anymore.
I keep hoping and hoping at the start of every month that this stuff will finally just *click*. Because at this point I think that's what needs to happen. So far nothing that I've tried as far as motivating myself has really worked so I think I just need to hit rock bottom and then something will just click.
A little while ago I cleaned out my purse and dug out all of the fast food/restaurant receipts I'd accumulated for the month of August. I didn't have every receipt from every fast food trip in there; some I know I've thrown out at work, some are probably in my car, and some have been tossed out with the bags the food came in. But I sat down and I added them up, and the total (and keep in mind that this is only most of it, not all of it) was $355.25
Ummmm . . . yeah, I don't think I even need to put into writing why that is disgusting/unacceptable/shameful/destructive/counter productive. That's more than my car payment and car insurance payment combined. It's about the amount of those two things plus a tank of gas, actually.
I'm destroying my body and my bank account simultaneously by doing this month after month.
Seeing that number was a wake up call. I mean, obviously I knew I was over spending on this crap but . . . I didn't really realize it was that bad.
So this month, I'm going to go grocery shopping every week, and maybe do a little menu planning (I don't cook so I don't really see the point of menu planning). I'm also going to (obviously) work out as much as possible. One thing I realized in August is that going to the gym on my lunch break works pretty well for me, because I get in a good work out and then don't have to worry about it once I get home, plus it means I'm actually tired by bed time, which is nice.
Hopefully this is my month. I'm definitely going to try my best to make it my month.
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