I Refuse To Be Defined By My Disease(s)... Anymore

When people are sick, we say they HAVE cancer, or they HAVE the flu. It's absurd to say they ARE cancer/the flu/a broken leg. This is not the case for those of us who struggle with addiction and/or mental illness.

I am Bipolar.
I am ADD.
I am anxiety.
I am depression.
I am OCD.
I am addictions.

NO.

I may HAVE all of these things broken inside of me, but I am NOT these things. I refuse to BE these things anymore. They are lifelong afflictions. They cannot be cured. They effect every aspect of my life. Not just my life, but the lives of those who live with me and love me. Some love me in spite of these afflictions and some love me because of them.

I appreciate the love and support I get from my husband, daughter, and mother. They are my biggest cheerleaders and champions. I get support and encouragement from others in my family, but those are the three biggest. I've seen how dealing with me and my diseases have affected them. I've seen the worry in my husband's eyes when he knows I'm having a bad day. I've felt, from a thousand miles away, the concern from my mom when I'm not having a good day. Those closest to me can tell.

I haven't spiraled downward in a few months so my husband feels like he's walking on eggshells just waiting for The Black to descend. Honestly, I'm always afraid that it will, too.

Although I have those who love me and support me tremendously, they can never know what it feels like inside my head. Sometimes I think my skin is too tight and I'm just going to burst into nothingness. There are times, especially at night, when my brain is so busy that I can't go to sleep until it's almost time to get up. Some days just getting out of bed is giving it my all. And then there are those most dreaded days of the numbness. Nothing matters, nothing is worth doing, what's the point because it's all going to be the same another day. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not for a week, or a month, or a year. There is only nothingness inside of me, but every part of me hurts. These are the days I dread the most.

I often wonder if Terry and Maddie would be better off without me. He is so good and generous and handsome. He could totally find a non-broken wife. And Maddie is outgoing, and smart and wonderful and NOT broken. I feel like I'm going to be the one to break her. Words cannot express how anxious and terrified I am that she will end up like me. Broken on the inside. Feeling like a fraud all the time. Worrying CONSTANTLY if I'm going to relapse, either with the major depression or with the addiction. I'm so exhausted from having to be on guard all. the. time.

Meds are helping. I'm on mood stabilizing, anti-depressant, and anti-anxiety medications.But I often worry if it's enough. What will be enough? Will anything ever be enough? I just don't know.

What I do know is that I don't want to harm myself, or run away, or take drugs. Today. I can't worry about anything except for today because I become so overwhelmed that I just want to hide under a table. And nobody likes to hide under tables. It's very uncomfortable and there are dust bunnies that want to chew my toes off.

So. What does all of this mean? Beats the shit outta me, but I figure if all of this is out there in the universe it's NOT rattling around in my already crowded to capacity brain.

I am  have Bipolar.
I am  have ADD.
I am  have anxiety.
I am  have depression.
I am  have OCD.
I am  have addictions.

Suck it, labels!

An Open Letter to My Brain

Dear Brain,
Oh how I love you. You are so fast and are able to provide me with even the most difficult crossword clues. You are quick to retort something funny or sarcastic. There are so many reasons why I love you... But.

I understand that you are busy making and replenishing cells. I also get that your neurons are firing all. The. Time. I get it. You're busy. Well, so am I. When I lay down at night, that is your cue to shut the hell up. I shouldn't have to put you to sleep with tranquilizers or anti-anxiety medication. You should be so worn out from working hard all day that you WANT to take some time off. After all, you do help me slog through 5 classes and have to remember a shit ton of stuff so I can pass tests. (Thanks for that.)

There are other things you do throughout the day, too. Like keep a running grocery list. And remembering to pick up Maddie at school. You do important shit. But I believe that in order to keep functioning at our current level, you are going to have to LET ME GET SOME SLEEP. Don't keep waking me up every 2 hours to tell me something new. Just wait until morning. Also, if we could, I don't know, maybe sleep more than 4.5 hours a night that would be great.

I appreciate all you do for me. You work so hard maintaining your gray matter and keeping that white matter spongy. You deserve some time off. So for feck's sake, please let me sleep tonight.

Yours always,
The Rest Of You

I'm baaaaaaaaaaack

Ok. So it's been a year and a half since my last post. A ton of shit has happened since then. I'll do my best to (quickly) recap all the important stuff for the last 18 months.

I don't really remember.

I can tell you what has happened in the last couple of months, though.

I almost lost my marriage, my sanity, and possibly my life. I spiraled into such a deep depression I didn't see a way out. I was addicted to pain pills, in debt up to my eyeballs and hiding all of this from my husband. I was living a double life and it eventually caught up to me. I lost my dream job because of so many absences (due to the physical symptoms of the depression). I lost my husband's trust, and very nearly my marriage. I had long since given up any respect I had for myself. I was in deep and felt like everyone would be better off without me. I felt like I would be better off without me. Part of those feelings can be attributed to withdrawal from the pills. Other parts are just because, as my (sort of) friend and (definite) hero Jenny Lawson (aka The Bloggess) says, "Depression Lies". And it does. It lies so it can suck the humanity, hope and life out of you. I know this because I kept a razor blade in a drawer beside my bed and had Googled how many Klonopins I could take that would put me to sleep. Permanently. I was finally scared enough for my self to reach out for help.

This part I will preface by saying I have never believed in therapy. I didn't want someone to ask me how everything made me feeeeeel.  Pissed off is what it mostly made me feel. At this point, though, I figured I didn't have anything to lose. I should also say that in 2005 or 2006 Terry had to put me in a psych facility because I couldn't get out of bed for three days. The shrink there diagnosed me as Bipolar, but I've been fighting that label since then.

So now it's July and Maddie is in Tennessee for the month. It's just me and Terry at home with all of this baggage I've created and hauled around for most of my life. It's not easy having conversations with the one you love the most and telling him about how I've spent so much of my time and energy lying to him and hiding who I was from him. Luckily, I married a kind, patient, understanding saint of a man who has more faith in me than I do in myself. He also loves me more that I love myself. (Which, face it, isn't that hard since I mostly loathe myself.)

He does research and looks for resources for people like me. Bipolar. There. I said it. I have Bipolar. And not even the "good kind". I don't have manic episodes. I'm either depressed or REALLY depressed. He found some support groups that we have been attending. And yes, he goes too. We found a really good counselor and I've been seeing her for about 5 weeks. I also opened up completely to my psychiatrist. I had been seeing him for several months just for depression meds. He had no idea about the addiction issues, the bipolar diagnosis years ago, or my double-agent lifestyle. He just wrote me prescriptions for two depression medications, I said thank you, and went on my (not so) merry way. It wasn't until my most recent appointment that I came clean.

He has since changed my depression medicine, added a mood stabilizer, and added an anti-anxiety medication. Things are finally starting to look up. I am not completely there yet, but I do feel like I'm getting better. My therapist says that it's very healthy to journal. I write so much for school that I don't like to write for me. Also, my brain is way faster than I can write. Typing, however. That I'm okay with. So, from now on, this blog will be my journal. My outlet for all the shit running around in my head. There's more room out here than there is in there, so maybe if I get most of it out, I can finally sleep more than 3-4 hours a night. I have sleeping pills but they make it really hard to get up in the mornings.

So here we are. I have been pill-free since 7/7. I have been going to therapy every week for 5-6 weeks. I have been attending support groups and doing worksheets I download from the internet. I lost my job, but have been looking for another. I am doing okay in school and at least for now, enrolled full time. I am working on rebuilding the trust in my relationships with my husband and daughter. I have become transparent and no longer feel that I need to hide anything about myself. To anyone. Most of my family has completely counted me out and they wonder why Terry hasn't left me yet. Truthfully, I've wondered that myself. I would have left me by now. Those who are still involved in my life have been nothing but supportive. If my husband is considered my spine, my mom would be the vertebrae. They both held me up when I couldn't do it myself. (I'm in school to, eventually, become a forensic anthropologist... so I heart bones.)

I try not to have unrealistic expectations about my disease(s). I know I will never be "cured". I also know that the addiction, depression, anxiety and bipolar can be managed well enough for me to FINALLY be able to enjoy life. I'm not comfortable in my own skin yet, but I do hope to be one day. I understand that there will be setbacks and relapses. I now know what to look for and have told Terry the signs. I've had my meds increased and that is helping my mood tremendously. There are still several days where I have to make myself get out of bed because I know, if I continue to lay there, it will just get harder. I have stopped trying to do better for Terry and Maddie and instead I'm trying to do better for me. There's a lot of really awful shit that I have to come to terms with but I have to take it a little at a time so I don't get overwhelmed and feel hopeless. Patsy, my therapist, is all about hope. I can't say I'm very hopeful, but at least I'm no longer in the bottom of a pit and not able to see the light.

I know this was kind of depressing and rambly, but coherent thoughts are just too elusive yet. I have to write stream-of-consciousness or I lose it all. I used to pride myself on my writing and memory abilities and these days seem to have none. But at least I'm not in the bed, right?

Other miscellaneous news: I got a dog. Her name is Roxie Crow, she is a 2 year old chihuahua, and she is totes adorbs. We adopted her a few weeks ago. She is not the usual yappy chihuahua and is a very good girl. She is potty trained, spayed, and loves to cuddle. She already knows her name and loves to ride in the car to go get Maddie (Sissy) after school every day. She has made herself at home by claiming a blanket and a spot on the couch that is hers. She fills a tiny part of my Grinch-like heart that has been missing since we had to give Oscar up when we moved here. She doesn't replace him, just helps fill a little of the hole he left. Also, I'm almost 38 years old and I just got my first tattoo a few weeks ago. Terry found this really cool site: www.projectsemicolon.com so I got a semicolon tattoo on the inside of my left wrist. My thought process for getting it there was I'd be less likely to slice open that vein if I paid to have something put there. Wouldn't want to waste money like that, would we? Anyway, if you have or know someone who has been/is struggling with any kind of mental illness, it's a really good site. The premise is that a semicolon is used when an author could have ended a sentence but chose not to. Get it? I am the author and my life is the sentence. Deep, I know.

Okay, so to recap.... I'm totes whackadoodle but I'm getting the best help I can find. I'm kicking ass in school (so far). I'm looking for a job (or a rich relative). I've been clean for almost 2 months, which is longer than I have been for a long time. I have no suicidal/homicidal tendencies (today) and no desire to take a pill (other than the ones currently prescribed to me). I'm not, nor will I ever be, an optimist. I'm a die-hard realist. But for today, and face it, today is all that matters, I'm not Eeyore and I consciously try to not be a pessimist.

So, take what you want to from this ramble and do with it what you will. I'm not sure if I'm even MORE whackadoodle because I'm writing this like I'm talking to someone because I don't even know if anyone other than me, and maybe Terry, will read it. But, whatever. This shit isn't in my head anymore, so I feel a little better already....

Who Moved My Bliss?

Conversation I had with myself at 3:20 this morning:

Wow. How did I end up like this? I have no passion. For anything. I can't recall that I ever did. I wish... I don't know what I wish. I remember when I was about eight years old. That was the one and only time I ever saw a shooting star. I can't remember what I wished for, but I do remember squeezing my eyes shut tight and wishing with all the power of my eight year old self possessed. I can't ever remember being passionate about anything, even as a child. I was born middle aged. I had toys, sure, but I didn't play with them. I just organized shit. Sorted and labeled and bagged it all up. Why am I so.... lukewarm? I watch shows like The Voice or America's Got Talent and see these kids, basically, that just know what they want to do. Hell, I'm looking down the barrel of 40 and I have no flippin' clue what I want to be when I grow up. I really don't want to grow up. I am jealous of those who go their whole life pursuing one goal, one dream, one passion. What is my passion? How does one go about finding their passion? Seriously. How do I find that? I've had interests, sure. Hobbies, even. But a passion? A dream? A personal "bliss"? Nope. Nada. This realization kinda makes me sad. If I could go back and talk to my eight year old self, I don't even know what I would say to her. "Sorry, but you're gonna flounder through life. Good luck with that." Somehow, I don't think that would work out too well. So, am I in the minority? Do most people have passion about something and I am just more out of whack than I originally thought? Or am I like the majority and there are fewer people that just know what they want out of life? I often wonder how my life would have turned out if I had made different choices in life. I know everyone does the "what-if" game and it really serves no purpose, really. Even doing the "what-if" game, I can't figure out where I would be or what I would be doing.

Looking back now, I may have told my eight-year old self to play more. Just be a kid and stop worrying about EVERYthing. Or I might have told her to invest in Apple and don't worry about it. Oh, well. "What-if"s aren't going to get the dishes washed.....

This Post Pretty Much Wrote Itself

I just got home from the dentist. I had a couple of cavities filled. I was supposed to have three done, but instead, I got two filled and one temporary filling. When she got into that third one, she realized it was way deeper than she thought. I wouldn't have minded if she'd went ahead and filled it, though. Because of two little words.

Nitrous. Oxide.

Here's a rundown of my thoughts while high on laughing gas. (Which, by the way, didn't make me want to laugh at all.)

-I wonder if I should tweet about this?
-OMG. I wasn't paying attention. Did she say to close or NOT close my mouth?
-Do I look like a dying fish with my mouth hanging open like this?
-I've never seen "How I Met Your Mother"
-Ooooooooh, Maroon 5 is on the radio. Maybe I'll drift off into sex with Adam Levine dreams.... (No such luck, though. Bummer.)
-My feet feel like they're floating...
-Why is the upper half of my body still but my legs are doing the hula hoop in opposite directions?
-I should get a manicure. I bet they're looking at my gnarly fingers and thinking the same thing.
-I want a pet opossum. I'll call him Petey and I'll love him forever. Or until he bites me.
-Did she just tell the assistant to crank it up to make me MORE comfortable?!
-Was that my phone? Shit. I thought I silenced it. (side note: I didn't silence it, but I'm not popular anyway so I was just hearing things. The phone didn't actually ring.)
-I should have eaten more than just Lucky Charms...
-Man. Each sound I hear has a different color. And I can feel them bumping against me.
-Maybe they should turn this shit down a litte.... Nah.

And then I was done. For the time being, anyway. I have to go back next week to get the other
filling(s). And yes, I'm boarding the Nitrous train again then, too.

My final thought as I was coming out of my gas-induced stupor was:
            My mouth may hurt, but at least my toes look smashing!!

What The Hell Did I Get Myself Into?!

We arrived in Texas on December 29th. The ride from Georgia only took 16 hours and was super comfortable, seeing as how the three of us were smooshed together on a bench seat in the U-haul. Also, Maddie was an awesome traveler and didn't whine OR get bored with all the shit I packed her to play with. And then we lived happily ever after. (My sarcasm font is broken.)
                                                
Yeaaaaaaaah, not so much. The ride was ass-numbingly long. We were crammed into about a 4x2 foot space, with Terry driving, Maddie in the middle and me hugging the passenger door. Along with the three of us, I packed a bag of stuff to keep her entertained. She took each thing out and played with it approximately 4 minutes before handing it off to me to switch for something else. Before we had even crossed into the Central time zone, she was done with all her stuff.

A couple of weeks prior to moving, I bought her one of those $20 Seat-Pet things. You know, it's kinda like a stuffed animal but you attach it to the seat belt and it serves as a pillow. Well, that was a total waste of money. Out of 16 hours, she only slept about 45 minutes. All I can say is thank God for iPods! There were enough apps on there to keep her (marginally) entertained and off my nerves.

So there we were, just bumping along, headed a thousand miles away from everyone and everything we knew. I had to keep reminding myself to look at it as an adventure. Otherwise, I probably would have had a nervous breakdown. We had to stop several times to pee, get gas and just stretch our legs. Maddie continued on her quest to visit every public bathroom we come within a mile of. I tried to tune her out so we didn't fuss at each other. I'm glad my mom let us use her iPod for Maddie to play on. I have one, too, but it's older and doesn't have the apps. I listened to a ton of music, though. Imagine Dragons is my favorite right now. I'm pretty sure they kept me from totally losing my shit. Them and Maroon 5.

Anyway, when we finally crossed into Texas (although still several hours from Houston) we stopped at the first rest stop so we could take a picture. And pee. Again. The pictures aren't very good, but at this point we had been riding for about 13 hours.

You'll notice the giant star and the flag poles in the background. Apparently, Texans are super proud of their state. They are the only state that flies the state flag at the same height as the American flag.

Anyway, we took the pictures and then went to the bathroom in the rest stop. On the way up the ramp to the bathroom door, I noticed a sign off to the side. Mind you, we hadn't even seen the "Welcome To Texas" sign yet, as it is on the far side of the star and flagpoles. The sign read:
                                                WATCH OUT FOR SNAKES

WTF?? That's how Texas welcomes their newest inhabitants?! Before the "Welcome to your new home, we hope you like it here" sign was a warning about snakes. Then Terry, being ever so helpful added, "Yeah. And look out for aligators, too. The last time I was here there were three under this deck up by the fence." I'm sure my mouth was wide open. I'm undecided if it was open to ask further about this wild new land I found myself in, or if it was just a silent scream.

Once we hopped back in the truck and headed out, we passed the "Welcom to Texas, Y'all" sign. All I could think was, "Someone in a government-y position should either move the welcome sign to the closer side or move the snake sign further away. No one should have to have their first encounter with Texas be a warning for snakes!"

The rest of the drive wasn't too bad. It was dark, of course, so we couldn't really see anything. Mountains were noticably absent, though. We passed this one oil refinery. It was all lit up. I thought it was a little city we were about to go through. It was as big as downtown Chattanooga and spanned out for miles on both sides of the highway! They probably have a tram like Disney World to get their employees from the parking lots to the factory.

So, after much excitement and numb tushies, we made it to Houston. We passed Bush Intercontinental Airport, which was H U M O N G O U S! Also, on the road we came in on, there is everything. Chain restaraunts, mom-and-pop places, clothing stores, big chain stores like Target, and strip malls lining both sides of the road. After about a mile, they repeated, just on the opposite side of the street. We passed 2 Wal Marts, 2 Targets, and I don't know how many other stores in the last 3 miles before home. My first impression with Houston was: "Ho-ly crap. I'm NEVER gonna find my way around here!"

We got to the apartment around 11 p.m., went straight to the air mattresses Terry had been sleeping on, and crashed. Maddie was so exhausted she snored. (She will deny this, but she is lying. I heard her.) The next morning we ventured out for breakfast and took a little tour. It was so much bigger in the daylight. (Adventures' blog post coming soon.)

We had scheduled some help to unload the truck, and they got there around lunch. Four guys unloaded all our stuff and hauled it up a flight and a half of stairs in like 22 minutes! They were super unloaders! And they didn't just throw the stuff anywhere. They put the furniture where it was going and everything! That was the best $200 we ever spent, according to Terry.

So..... I know this is kinda rambly and probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but that was our "adventure" moving to Texas. In my next posts I will tell you about the scenic tour, the beach, update on school, and other information you just can not live without. :)

XOXO
Tab
   

Greetings From The (Transplanted) Crappiest Blogger Ever

Ok. So it's been like 3 months since I posted anything. It's not like life has been boring or anything. I'll give you a super short update and will do some more in depth posts later.

November: Terry was still in Texas. He came home for a couple of days at Thanksgiving. Life went on. We packed.

December: Spent most of the month packing and organizing crap to move. I threw stuff out like a mad woman. Terry came home a couple of days before Christmas. We didn't even put up a tree. Maddie and I made our tree. We took green tinsel and glued it down to posterboard. We then hot glued little ornaments on it. It was cute... in a kitchy, corny kind of way. She liked it, so that's all that really mattered. We did the family tour at Christmas and the month flew by really fast. A couple of days after Christmas we rented the U-haul and began the loading process. By the 28th we were loaded and ready to go. We spent that night at my in-laws'. Around 6 a.m. on the 29th, we got up, dressed, checked and double checked that we had everything. We were on our way to Texas by 7 a.m.

Tons of stuff happened between 7 a.m. on December 29th and today. I am going to try to compose my thoughts in an orderly manner and break up the posts so I don't have a 30 page post.

There will be drama, danger, and decongestants.
There will be snakes, school, and the seashore.
There will be... ok, ok. There's gonna be a lot of stuff. So, until next time (which won't be 3 months from now)...

XOXO