Me, Myself, and the Voices in My Head

A place to ramble and maybe make some sense about a thing or two.

Archive for the tag “depressed”

Just tired of it all….

No, I haven’t been posting the past few days.  Even my therapist got upset at me because I’ve not been writing.

When you’re in a funk, you can’t write.  You can’t do anything but sit and spin your wheels which just causes more frustration over how you’re not going anywhere in your life.

I can end up waiting up to six months for someone to do something about my ERO/EEOC claim because that’s the law.  Even though I now can’t work doing the job I had because some idiot decided he wanted to make the rules instead of following the law, I have to wait for the legal process to take its course.

I’ve applied for so many jobs in the local area I’ve completely lost count.  And have I heard anything back?  Nope.  Or when I go somewhere thinking I might like to apply and I can already see in their faces the fact that they’re not thrilled over my 86-pound constant companion, I don’t bother.  Besides, I’d rather have her with me everyday than the crap that can happen at most places.

Got news about a family member who’s going through some tough times.  I want to be able to help and give support but I also don’t want to be intrusive.  I remember when I was in a somewhat similar situation and the last thing I wanted was pity from anyone and I usually got a lot of unsolicited advice that didn’t do me much good.  I don’t want to be one of those kinds of people.

One of my friends was to get married tomorrow and her fiancé left her today.  She and her young daughter who had opened their home and lives to him and his excuse is because his biological son is afraid of having to make new friends when he moves.  What a jerk.

I’m trying to help celebrate Youngest Son’s upcoming birthday.  I went to the movies with Husband, Youngest Son, and four of his friends.  They had a great time and I was really glad they could go.  I just feel like I wish we could have done more.

Husband and Youngest Son are currently in the basement doing laundry and playing a computer game.  I sincerely appreciate that they’re doing the laundry because that means I don’t have to do it and I don’t have to go outside to get to the basement.  It’s not a “finished” basement like many people have.  It has a floor and walls, but there’s no way to access it from inside the house.  And with the heat the way it is, I’m not in the mood to go outside much.

And, yes, Depressive is trying to get me to post but I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired that it’s just been easier to do nothing and sleep instead of trying to come up with something to write and crying while I feel awful.

Maybe I’ll get back on a schedule.  Maybe I’ll stop writing completely.  I’ve already told my therapist that I’m not writing anymore at the moment about my past because I’m getting to big areas that I don’t really remember.  There are a lot of blank spaces in my memory — some last days, some last years — and whatever is hidden inside them I do not want to bring back to the surface.  It wouldn’t be healing; it would be reopening the wounds that my brain has found a way to deal with that doesn’t cause me any additional damage.  I remember trying to deal with them and it didn’t work then.  Time does not heal all wounds.


Stupid flippin’ migraines in my stupid flippin’ head again

Gah!!!  This is driving me crazy!!!  But, I’m still posting tonight!!!

I know there’s nothing wrong ’cause I just had an MRI a little over a month ago and just the brain is up there like it’s supposed to be.  But all weekend I’ve been having migraines & thought I’d finally kicked it.

Nope.  Tonight just after I watched a show I wanted to see on television the stupid headache came right back.

Another night with ice on my head.  And a washcloth on my eyes ’cause they’re hurting too.  Maybe I should just ask the rest of the body to start adding their aches and pains to the pile tonight.  Get it all over with in one shot.

This post intentionally left blank

Well….not totally blank.  Depressive here!  Still writing; still in charge.  More issues on the table today, so I’m not really ready for myself to feel any different.  Not that I have a choice.  But, I don’t want to address things going on here right now, so I’m just going to “skip” today. Keeping my promise of posting but just nothing worth reading.

Greetings from Depressive

Hi.  I’ve been around for quite a while but haven’t had the opportunity to actually post anything here myself.  I’ve been trying to keep me from being noticed but when things get really hectic or stressful or disappointing, then I just can’t stop from showing up to practically ruin it all.

Oh dear.  I see you looking at what I’m writing and you’ve got that weird look on your face.  It’s the same look that my family gives me when they can’t figure out what’s going on or when they think I’m just trying to hide something.  Usually I am trying to hide something — myself.  I don’t like me being here and I don’t like it when I come around just out of the blue.

I guess I should explain.  If you’re a long-time follower of this blog, you already know that I have bi-polar disorder (along with some other absolutely fascinating issues that can cause havoc at any moment).  Now, for those who don’t understand bi-polar disorder, it was originally called manic-depressive disorder.  This is when your brain — or, rather, my brain — decides that it wants to do something different for a while without my consent.  I can either become extraordinarily hyperactive, hyper-vigilant, hyper-emotional.  Just pick a “hyper” and it’s on the list.  This is my manic phase.  This is when Manic appears and keeps me from sleeping for long periods of time (days) or has me obsessing over certain things that need to be done and I can’t stop doing them or I end up listening to the rest of the voices up in my head arguing because they’ve decided that since adrenaline, their favorite drink, is on-tap that they’re going to join in the fun.

Manic and I get along well at times but we do have problems when Manic gets OCD a little over-excited instead of its usual state.  Then I can be in big trouble.

But today, I’m here.  Well, I am always here but the specific “I” that is writing here is Depressive.  I am the one that can take any happy moment from extremely ecstatic to morbidly horrifying in seconds.  I have the ability to just wander up while I’m hearing good news and start whispering all the things that are either untrue (whether they are or not) about it or about how everything from that moment on will go horribly wrong.  And I don’t shut-up easily, either.  I’ve been around for ages and I’ve learned all of my defense mechanisms against me.  Even the medications are having problems with me now.

My favorite one was when I was ordered to a psychology group for manic-depressive people and the class leaders said, “If you just think that you’re happy, you’ll be happy.”  They repeated that a lot.  I raised my hand and asked them how that could be possible especially when I was incredibly suicidal?  Was I supposed to be happy about being suicidal or was I supposed to picture rainbows and kittens and cotton candy and hope that the suicidal bit would pass?

They kicked me out of the class.  Seriously.

For a while I’ve been puttering around here reading what’s being written and critiquing things.  It’s one of the things I do.  I also keep bad things at the forefront of my mind.  The whole ERO issue, for example.  Today I got my paperwork that the informal stage is over and I can now file for a formal hearing.  However, I keep reminding myself that I (1) only have 14 more days left to do that, (2) that I have no idea how the whole process works, (3) that I could really use a good attorney to help me, (4) that I’ve been referred to a really good attorney who wants to help me, but (5) the attorney costs $300 per hour that I don’t have and that leaves me sitting and staring at the paperwork and going back to #1.  And then I start it all over again.  See how much fun I am?

I’ve seen celebrities who have bi-polar talk about their different extremes with cute little names for them.  I don’t do that.  I am a part of me that is the whole me and nothing but the me.  Remember, even the voices are mine.  There are just too many of them at times to not give them their own grouping.

Well, that’s enough about me for now.  I have a prior engagement (I think) with PTSD.  We hang out together a lot.  Of course, I’m glad that I have Celeste who helps me keep myself from overly freaking-out when I get this way.  I’ll probably be around for quite a while longer because there’s so much going on that I have to get involved with and I’ve not seen my therapist for almost three weeks so the environment is just how I like it.  Moody, sad, stressed, and down.

And thanks in advance to anyone who types anything positive about what I’ve written about myself.  But I’m going to be completely honest with you — it’s not going to matter for a while.  When I’m here and this far out in front of myself, it takes a lot longer to get me back with the rest of the crowd.  And I don’t mean to be snappy or make anyone think I’m ignoring them.  I just enjoy screwing with my emotions enough so that I don’t want to do anything.  Well, sleep is always fun.  But I only do that when I don’t need to be doing it.  Like when the medication makes me do it.  Or if there’s a ton of things I need to get done and I fall-over on the couch or the bed and doze for, oh, say, three or four hours.  Tonight I’m going to try to make myself get some sleep because I’m really tired just from being me today.  It won’t work the way I want it to, but I’ll still try.

And….*sigh*….Husband and Youngest Son keep coming in to check and see what I’m doing (occasionally led by Celeste who knows something’s wrong).  It irritates me because while I appreciate their worry about me very, very much I also don’t like it because they have their own things to worry about and I don’t need to be getting in the way.  Plus I don’t like people trying to read over my shoulder when I’m writing or reading something out-loud.  And that’s not “Depressive” saying that — that’s just me.  So I’ll go for now, but we’ll meet again.  Don’t know where; don’t know when.

Feeling down and inadequate….

It’s my pity-party and I’ll whine if I want.

Youngest Son announced that he just heard one of his best friends is traveling to London (UK) for an international choir event.  I’m proud of his friend and am happy for his family who will also be able to travel with him.  I was in London in 1994 during college and loved it.  I really, really want to go there again.

And every year when I’ve been working and paying-off bills, I’ve been trying to save the money so that I can take my family there.  Or, if not able to take everyone, at least take Husband with me because it was while I was there when I realized how much in love with him I was (and still am) and I want to share with him the places I went and where I missed him so much.  But usually I’d work myself silly and end up sick in the hospital or so sick I’d have to leave and then all the medical bills needed to be paid.  Now that my former employer has taken my career away from me and people aren’t very thrilled about hiring someone who has an 85-pound dog in constant tow, I don’t know when I’ll ever get to take them.

Youngest Son hasn’t said that he’s jealous of his friend, but I know that he’s disappointed because I still can’t take him there.  I’ve been saying for years that I want him to experience another country and all of the history that can be found.  And Eldest Son has wanted to go to London for a long time as well since his biological father and step-mother traveled there but didn’t take him.  I’ve felt like I should make that up to him.  Maybe I’m irrational about it.  But I’d still like to give my kids and husband an experience they will remember forever and am just feeling awful that I’ve worked over the past eight years to do that and still haven’t been able.

Going to go watch a musical on television.  Maybe I’ll feel better.  Maybe not.  Just don’t be surprised if I’m still pouting for a little while.

Not in the mood again….

*sigh*  Just not in the mood to post anything.  Have been on the computer all day trying to post items on eBay and still have a lot more to do tomorrow for my business’ website.

My eyes are exhausted, my brain is frazzled, and my emotions are depressed.  I even polled the voices in my head and they came up with a unanimous “I got nuthin’ today” answer.

Oh well, better short and staying on schedule than not posting and freaking-out about it all night.

Could today get any worse?

Yes.  Yes it could.

Thank you for reading.

A little fall of rain

Today’s post is going to be short because it’s finally raining here and I’m taking some time to enjoy watching the birds looking for something to eat in the freshly mown grass.  They were doing that after it was mowed yesterday, but the rain has brought up a lot of treats for them.  And I also just got back from my therapist’s office and still feel in a funk about everything that’s going on at the moment.

She suggested that I go back to school.  “And do what?” I asked her.  I have a bachelor’s degree and most of a master’s, but I can’t afford any more student loans.  There aren’t many grants/scholarships for second bachelor’s (which I’d need to really do what I wanted).  Plus, if I had the money to go back to school I’d have the money to open my own business and that sort of makes the whole conversation moot.

So for now I’m going to sit and watch the birds outside.  It’s quiet and the rain isn’t falling hard, so it makes it cooler outside but not so unpleasant that you’re terrified of going out in it.  Well, I’m not terrified of going out in it but you’d think the dogs — who will romp and roll in anything — believe it’s poisonous.  They keep looking at me when I open the door for them to go “walkies” as if I’ve completely lost my mind.

They may be right.  But they still have to do their business out there.

Same info, different day – The continuing rant

Well, now that my eyes are working again I can get back to the rant I so wanted to start yesterday but had problems seeing my own fingers, much less the keyboard or the monitor.

Let’s catch everyone up in the ongoing saga.  A few posts back I related the story of what’s been happening recently regarding my vision and the lack thereof.  I’ve seen my optometrist; been referred to a glaucoma specialist; been referred to a retinal specialist; have had multiple versions of two different tests taken at each appointment; and was finally being referred to a neuro-ophthalmologist at a large, prestigious college/hospital across the state from me in order to determine what in the heck is happening.  Yesterday, Husband and I drove three hours so I could have the scans and exams needed to identify the problem.  I’d been advised that it would take a minimum of three hours for everything and readied myself for being shoved into large machines to determine what, if anything, is in there with my eyes and my brain that could be causing the problem.

After arriving at the doctor’s office, I was quickly ushered back to a room where a technician asked me a lot of questions about my past medical history and asked me to read letters on the eye chart with my glasses on because my new prescription isn’t correcting me to 20/20 (which is what got this whole thing started).  She then had me stare at a notepad with a grid on it and asked me to describe what the lines looked like.  With one eye I could only see half of the grid and with the other it looked like the lines were wavy and my brain was trying to make sense of it and I started seeing boxes “popping-up” from the page.  She looked at me and scribbled notes on her paper.  She gave me a color-vision test, which I’m pretty sure I passed easily other than perhaps mistaking a “6” for an “8” because those dots are so small.  She asked me more questions, dilated my eyes, and checked the pressure inside of them.  It was normal, as I could have told her.  In fact, it was lower than it’s been in the past few exams.

Then, and here’s where I started to get irritated, she asked me why I was there.  I told her it was because I was referred by a retinal specialist who said he couldn’t help me because a glaucoma specialist said I didn’t have glaucoma and that I should see said retinal specialist and that his office was to have emailed my files to this doctor who is part of the same practice and if they needed the files they could go down the hallway to get them.  She nodded and wrote more information down on her paper and finally looked in the computer and found the notes from the retinal specialist.  She asked me to go out into the smaller waiting room and wait for the doctor.

Celeste was with me (of course) and we made our way to a small seating area to wait.  Upon arriving at the seating area, a large African-American woman began to jump up-and-down and grab everything she owned and kept repeating, “It’s a dog!  It’s a dog!”  Great….the last thing I needed….someone to cause a scene because my service dog is with me and they don’t like them.  I calmly replied to the lady that, yes, she is a dog but that she’s a trained service dog and would not bother her.  The woman continued to try to find a seat — any seat — near where her stuff was but not close to us.  She nearly sat on two other ladies patiently waiting their turn or for someone who was being seen.  She continued to protest loudly that she didn’t like dogs and that there was a dog near her and she didn’t like it.  I had already scanned the room with what vision I had after my eyes were fully dilated and saw no other vacant seats except the one I chose which also gave Celeste a small area to lay down so that should would be out of the main flow of traffic.  I sat down and said, in as polite of a voice as I could muster by this time, that Celeste would not come near her and would stay under my seat by my feet.  This did nothing to appease the woman who began to tell me that I couldn’t sit with the dog and continued to make a scene.  Finally, and I know I shouldn’t have, I replied, “Look!  If you’d sit down and shut up, she wouldn’t pay any attention to you because she is trained to keep her focus on me!  Your tantrum is actually putting me in danger because she thinks you could be a threat and is now not paying attention to me as she is supposed to.  Be quiet and don’t look at her!”  The other ladies in the seating area giggled under their breath but I know it wasn’t the most polite thing to do.  The woman sat down and tried to become one with the arm of the chair farthest from us and Celeste quickly crossed her front paws and put her head down to rest.

The doctor soon called me to come back and be seen and Celeste and I left the seating area, still hearing slight giggles from the other ladies and hearing more protests from the woman who believes dogs shouldn’t be allowed wherever she is.  He was a nice gentleman and asked a lot of questions about my past visual history (which isn’t good) and he performed some basic visual field tests.  I’m so tired of having to look at someone’s nose and tell them when I can see their fingers and how many they’re holding up.  I could almost give lessons on how to fake it because they all use the same pattern and the same number of fingers on each test.  But, I’m desperate for answers and I tried really hard to stare at his nose and not look around for his fingers and made myself wait until I could actually see them before answering.  I didn’t get some of them right.  Sometimes I thought there was only one but he was actually holding two.  That was depressing.

He said he wanted to do a specialized visual field test that would better determine my peripheral vision.  I asked if it meant sticking my head into the large, white, fish-bowl like structure and clicking when I saw dots of light appear on it and he said it was.  I sighed because I knew it was going to be another one of the same tests I’d just done back in January and in February.  I told him I’d had those tests before and even referred him to the large stack of papers I was given that had their results.  He said he wanted to do this “different” version because it worked more on my peripheral vision instead of my entire field of vision.  I walked back to the waiting area and blindly tried to find an empty seat FAR away from the woman who was still upset from our previous encounter.

The doctor’s technician came and got me and we went to do the test.  The difference between this test and the others I’d taken was that she manually controlled the dot of light and I had a washer in my hand and was supposed to tap it on the table when I could see the light.  She kept reminding me to tap the washer and I said that when she turned the light on I would.  We both realized that she was using a light too small and faint for me to see.  So, she changed the size and intensity of the light often and I clicked the washer on the table whenever I could see the dot.  It’s very hard to keep yourself from looking around in the dome because you want to see the light or verify that you saw what you thought you saw.  When the test is done by the computer, it registers if you look away from the target area.  This one didn’t and I hope I did it correctly.  One bad thing about it was that my eyes were dilated and the bright lights kept creating shadows that made it harder to see each new light.  Like when you stare at the sun or have a flashlight shown in your eyes and then you can’t get that annoying spot out of your vision?  Yup, it’s like that but with dozens of those spots and new ones being created every second.

I finished the test and was led back to the seating area.  This time I wasn’t seated near the lady who hated dogs but ended up next to a family that thought Celeste was for show-and-tell.  They wanted to pet her but weren’t sure if I would let them (I could overhear this conversation as they thought they were whispering but also believed she was a guide dog which would automatically make me blind and deaf) and were quite shocked when I looked at them and told them they couldn’t.  Then they wanted to ask me why I had her if I could see and what my medical condition was.  No questions about her and what she does — just very personal questions about me and my history.  I was very pleased that the doctor called me back to his exam room so I could get away from them.

I put Celeste back into the corner of the room and sat down to await the result and find out what is causing all of my problems.  He said that I did well on the test and actually did better than he thought I would and that it all must be in my head.  My jaw dropped when I heard this.  I explained calmly (because by this point I was so stunned at what I’d just heard repeated for the umpteenth time that I wanted to scream) that ever since I was 19 and started having to wear bifocals and was first diagnosed with lattice degeneration that I’ve been hearing that “it’s all in my head.”  I asked him why I can’t see at night unless something is brightly illuminated.  He said he didn’t know but that if I was worried about it and was afraid to drive at night to not do it.  I asked him why I’m having problems seeing items in my visual periphery and why my vision can’t be corrected to better than 20/50.  He said he didn’t know but that his specialized test (done by a human, not a computer, remember) said I should be fine.  I then asked again why even during the daytime when I’m driving I can’t read the road signs and have to guess at what they’re saying and that I use my GPS everywhere I go because it sits closer to me and I can read the street names on it because I can’t read the road signs.  Again, he said he didn’t know but that if I was concerned about driving I shouldn’t do it.  I asked him if there were any answers he could give me and he said that when I went back to my glaucoma specialist that I should tell him all of this.

What???  By now I was between numb and furious and those two feelings kept changing back-and-forth quickly within me.  I told him that I wasn’t going to be seeing the glaucoma specialist anymore because I don’t have glaucoma and that’s why I was referred to the retinal specialist who looked at my eyes and said he couldn’t do anything for me either.  The doctor said that the retinal specialist (who is a part of the same practice, remember) wasn’t known for taking very good notes and didn’t really send much info to go on regarding what he thought about my eyes.

I thought I was going to scream.  Really scream.  I could not believe that I was hearing the same old line — “It’s all in your head.”  I even told him that if it was “in my head” and I was making it up I could most certainly think of a lot of better things to dream-up than this.

He finally decided that I need to have an MRI and an ERG (electroretinogram — basically a big word for a test to determine which parts of my retina actually work) because I could be one of the few with normal-looking eyes but who actually has a problem.  Normal?  When I was in my early-twenties I had a doctor looking at retinal photos who thought he’d entered the wrong room because I was sitting there and he said that the photos looked like the retinas of an 80-year-old.  But, at least now he’d decided that the big tests (which is the whole reason I was referred there) needed to be done.  But he couldn’t do them.  Not that day, anyway.  The person who ran the ERG machine was out and I’d have to come back.

After three hours in the doctor’s office, I went home with nothing.  I was told that the purpose of that visit was for me to have the MRI and ERG and figure out what was wrong and to expect to be there at a minimum of three hours for all of it.  Husband took the whole day off work so that he could drive me there and back and hopefully get some answers.  Nope.  Nothing.  The doctor’s office is supposed to call me back today (maybe) to schedule another appointment for the tests I was expecting to have done yesterday.

When we were in the elevator of the parking garage and finally had some privacy I told Husband what the doctor had said, followed by a sharp expletive that I won’t reprint here.  I’d stamped my foot and said it loud enough without realizing that we were arriving at the level where we’d parked that I startled someone waiting to use the elevator.  I apologized and we made our way to the car.  I cried on the way home.  Husband is very understanding and has been constantly reminding me that whatever is wrong we’ll deal with and that he’ll always be there to help take care of me.  I thanked him again and again but couldn’t stop crying because I was so frustrated.  I’d just been told the exact same thing by a doctor — supposedly one of the best in the field nationwide (and will probably cost me a fortune) — that I’d been told over and over again.

Today both Celeste and Harley can tell I’m upset.  I’m sitting and waiting for a phone call that may or may not come to schedule an appointment for me to go all the way back and maybe, just maybe, finally get some concrete information.  Something….anything…..information so I don’t have to keep my life on pause while I’m worried just what I’ll do as this continues to worsen and worry about what my last vision could be.

So, there you have it.  Either I’m going blind from a mysterious cause that no one can diagnose or I’m bat-crap crazy and my brain is telling me I can’t see things that I really can, which is an incredibly stupid thing for it to do since I need my vision to continue designing for the theatre (which I enjoy) and, more importantly, so I can work to pay-off all the bills I’m racking-up (which isn’t as enjoyable but needs to be done).  Oh well….I guess the standard “SSDD” (I’ll let you look up what that usually stands for) idiom is certainly alive and well in my world.

Happy whatever to me….

Yes, it’s my birthday.  No, I’m not going to tell you how old I am.  Yes, I went out to lunch for my birthday.  No, I didn’t do anything else special (at least as of 5:30 p.m.).

Youngest Son had a great time at his friend’s party last night.  They played Laser Tag and other games before going back home and watching endless episodes of Big Bang Theory before they fell asleep.

Eldest Son called me from college to wish me a happy day.  Fortunately he’s doing well this semester, doesn’t have to have a roommate in his dorm, and weathered the big storms that rolled-in a few days ago and yesterday very well.  It’s been drilled into him what to do in case of a severe storm/tornado/etc. and his weather radio is on to tell him where to go.  I worry, but at least I don’t have to worry as much when it comes to things like that.

Anyway, that’s all for today.

See….if I’d started this last year like I kept promising myself I was going to I’d be done now.

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