Fuck you, Geodon

I'm exceedingly annoyed this morning. All because of Geodon. The med that is supposed to help me. The med that is supposed to manage my mixed episode and have fewer side effects than the other antipsychotics.

Well, fuck you.

The first night on it was horrible thanks to the drowsiness. But that passed and the next couple of nights were fine. Hooray! *throws confetti* But I had to increase my dose - from 40mg to 80mg. The next couple of mornings I was groggy. Not too bad, but enough to be mildly annoying.

Then I had a couple of mornings where I was very groggy. Like, barely-keep-my-eyes-open-for-more-than-a-few-minutes groggy. And one of these mornings I was dizzy, lightheaded and felt like I was going to faint.

For an hour.

Then, a good morning. Yay! My body is adjusting to the increased dose!

Nope. It's not.

Yesterday morning I was so groggy it was painful and was dizzy and lightheaded again. So I decided that I would take my Geodon earlier in the evening - I'd been taking it shortly before bed (and it wasn't making me drowsy after taking it anymore).

Boom. Done. Decision made.

Bad decision.

I took it at 7pm last night and by 8 I couldn't keep my eyes open. Literally. I was so fucking drowsy it was stupid. So, off to bed I go. I haven't slept the last 3 nights anyway, so I might as well turn in early.

It would have been okay if I was able to sleep. I laid in bed, to drowsy to physically or mentally function but I couldn't fall asleep. My mind was slowly racing. Lots of thoughts, just at a slower pace than when my mind usually races.

I was drowsy as fuck but I couldn't sleep.

I was already dreading bedtime since I hadn't been sleeping well. I was already dreading bedtime knowing how I'd feel in the morning. And now I get to dread bedtime knowing that the Geodon has decided to make me stupid drowsy again.

I eventually did fall asleep - probably around 10:30 or so. I woke up many times to pee (at least 5 after 10:30 - I went 4 times between 8 and 9). When I woke up this morning, however, I was wide awake. Thank the baby Jesus for small favors!!!

But now, what to do tonight? When should I take my meds? How will I sleep? How am I going to wake up? I'm seriously developing a phobia about bedtime thanks to this. I was in tears last night because I couldn't go to sleep. Because I was so fucking drowsy but I couldn't sleep. J doesn't know that part - the crying part. Well, until he reads this. Now he knows.

It's just so frustrating. I shouldn't have to deal with this. This, on top of still being in my mixed episode.

How the fuck am I supposed to function? How the fuck am I supposed to go back to work?

Where am I now?

Revolution from dissolution, hypnotizing and demoralizing
Pressure of the future, too much for today
How many hours will I let slip away
Before I realize existing and living
Are not the same
Are not the same
      -MSMR

I'm not exactly sure where I am right now. Many places, I guess. I'm stuck, I know that much. Stuck and annoyed and frustrated. Frustrated because I'm coming back to square one.

Last Wednesday marked two weeks of being on the Zyprexa. Two weeks of subdued, controlled mania. Two weeks of "stability".

Two weeks of steady cognitive decline.

Yep. Cognitive decline. Noticeable cognitive decline. It started innocent enough. Shortened attention span, being a little more easily distracted. Nothing big, nothing to write home about.

But then it became insidious, permeating everything I do. My focus was gone. I couldn't concentrate. I was very easily distracted. Everything changed.

On Monday, at work, I was going over discharge instructions with a patient - something I have done literally thousands of times. I stopped mid sentence. I had no clue what I had just said. Or what I was doing. Or what I needed to do. Luckily I'm awesome and I recovered and carried on, the patients none the wiser of my folly.

But that's not like me.

And then it happened again. And my mind would wander off as I was speaking and then I would stop, a bit confused. I couldn't focus on my charting. If there were distractions I was done. I'd have to check over everything I had just entered.

I felt overwhelmed more easily. Things that would have never flustered me were now an issue.

This past week, my first week back at work, was difficult. Because of the above. What's wrong with me?

I noticed my typing changing. I leave letters out of words or switch them around. Those damn red squiggly lines that spell check loves? Almost every word. I have to go back an recheck everything. And now? Now I leave motherfucking WORDS out of sentences.

WORDS people. Who the fuck forgets to write words? While thinking they're there? Me. That's who *points to self*.

I can't work like this. I can't. So I made a decision: no more Zyprexa. Wednesday night was the first night I didn't take it. Thursday morning my cognition was a little better. But I happened to tell two friends who made me take the one I had in my purse for "breakthrough" mania. And I was worse in the afternoon.

So Thursday night and last night I didn't take it. I'm focusing a little better, my typing is a little better.

But my mood? My mood is now not better. It would seem I'm going back to being in a mixed episode. Yesterday at work I started the day hypomanic. Then I got irritable. Then I spent almost 20 minutes in the back room sobbing, crying the ugly cry, while filled with crippling despair and hopelessness. I was depressed for awhile, then down, then irritable, then hypomanic.

Today I've been cycling between feeling down and being irritable. Right now, as I write this, I want to hide. I want to be alone, in bed, under the covers, crying. It's what I want to do so badly but I can't. J and A are here and we're going to decorate our tree soon. It should be a happy time. It should be fun and I just want to hide away and not exist and not deal with the shit anymore.

This is so frustrating, you have no idea. I can take the Zyprexa and be stable mood wise but lose essential cognitive functioning (not to mention the insanely increased appetite and sudden appearance of about 5000 pimples). Or I can not take it and have my brain power but be mixed and unstable again.

Why the FUCK can't I just be okay??? Just okay. That's all I want. Just to be stable and okay. But I can't. I can't have that. I can't just be okay.

Why can't I just be okay? Please. . . 

I'm scared about what's going on, about these two choices I have in front of me. My choice, for now, is to not take the Zyprexa. I'm done with it. I can't do it. But this starts, again, the search for a different med to replace it, lest I want the mixed episode to worsen.

I'm not okay with either of these choices. I'm not okay with any of this. I'm not okay . . .

Please . . .

Still Cycling

I'm still cycling. It's mild, but it's there. Which is annoying. Can't I just be better already?

Also:

On Nov. 20, the first day of my last hospitalization, I was started on Zyprexa (I was manic and delusional and it was decided that an antipsychotic is a good idea). This is my first time being on an antipsychotic.

Now, I've been having some slight cognitive decline over the last 2 years, but nothing to write home about. But since the 20th . . . sweet mother of GOD what the hell is going on?!?!

First - memory. I'm forgetting everything. EVERYTHING. Things that I know inside and out - forgotten. I've done discharge instructions with patients literally THOUSANDS of times, but now I stop mid sentence not knowing what the hell I was just saying or how I should proceed. It's gone. I just stand there like an idiot stumbling over what I'm trying to say.

Second - concentration and focus. Yeah, totally not there. I get distracted easily. I just can't seem to focus or concentrate AT ALL.

Third - typing. Yep. Typing. Cami, what the hell are you talking about? Well, when I type I randomly leave letters out of words. For no reason. I don't know if my brain is moving too fast for my fingers to keep up or if I'm just literally forgetting letters. (I had to go back and reread this several times to make sure it made sense).

I know some of this is the disease itself - I've had some of these cognitive deficits already. But they haven't been to this extent. And I've declined so quickly.

Could it be the Zyprexa? I'm thinking yes. I emailed Dr. C about it and I'm guessing we'll be taking me off of it (which I'm perfectly fine with).

How stupid is all this???

My Poor, Befuddled Brain

That's right. Befuddled. I like that word. It's a good word. And under used too. We should change that . . .
Anyway, this is a little rant about my brain (Clancy. I named my brain Clancy. Don't judge). I've noticed a steady cognitive decline since last February (2013). That's when I was hospitalized the first time. My second hospitalization was last week, and it's gotten worse.

I have a hard time concentrating. I get distracted easily. I'm having memory issues (I don't remember who told me what, if I'm repeating myself, what did I need at the store?) - if I don't write it down, I tend to forget (this is soooooo not how I used to be). I get overwhelmed easily (again, NOT how I used to be).

I think this realization hit me hard tonight. So, it's Thanksgiving (but you knew that already, didn't you, you sly minx). My hubby and I decided to go to Walmart tonight for their 6pm "Black Friday on Thursday" sale. And guess what? It was bloody busy! Lots of people. Okay, fine, I'll deal (crowds have been making me anxious as of late). While standing in line, my sister called. I was trying to talk to her when I suddenly lost my ability to do anything. I'm not even joking. I was trying to concentrate on our conversation but there was so much going on. So many distractions and people and noises and lights and there's a screaming kid and that lady is being a bitch and what the hell did my sis just say?

It was too much. I babbled incoherently. Seriously. Words came out. Just words, no specific order. Let's just pretend that was a sentence. Yeah . . . that was TOTALLY a sentence. I finally stammered out that I would call her back when we left the store (we did, by the way, score a laptop for $278).

But, a couple years ago that wouldn't have phased me. At. All. And it's frustrating. I've started noticing little deficits here and there at work, too. That's not good. I'm an RN. I deliver babies. I have to be on top of the game. But it's creeping up there. Stupid Clancy. Clancy is an ass.

I know it's part of the disease progression. I know it can be side effects of the meds. But let's be honest - this shit is annoying. And it's affecting my typing!! OMG! WHY?? I mistype constantly!! And if my mind is racing . . . well, my fingers can't keep up. Lame.

Boom. Rant over.

Defeated

That's how I feel right now. Utterly defeated. Just got home from my appointment with Dr. C and we're doing exactly what I thought - stopping Cymbalta and starting Wellbutrin. Joy. Another med change.

It seems that's all that ever happens. Try this med, stop this one, add this one, decrease this dosage . . . It's very frustrating. It's getting me nowhere. And I'm tired of it.

I left the office in a daze, near tears. I had to fight the tears while driving. And I'm sitting here, on the couch, struggling with what to write. My head is a whirlwind, but at the same time, sluggish and quiet. It's a very strange sensation.

I want to sleep. I'm so tired. Mentally and emotionally tired. But I only want to sleep so I don't have to deal with what I'm feeling. So devastatingly lost and defeated. I'll be honest - I'm not hopeful. We've been through this song and dance before and look where I'm at. Again.

I can't even write right now. I can't make sense of anything or concentrate. I'm staring off into space. I'll go cry. I'll try to sew. I'll carry on as best I can.

I should be sleeping . . .

If you only knew
What I'm trying to do
Trying to prove
Keep my head high
Remain alive
Take it in stride
If you only knew
The turmoil inside
Exposed by my eyes
Hidden with lies
If you only knew
That this would lead me
Back to the start of this
Always
Back to the start of this
This is
Not the end of this yet . . .


Bit of a random poem. Haven't written poetry since high school. That's, well, 15 years. But it's been floating around in my head, so I figured I ought to get it out.
And yes, I should be sleeping. But I'm not. Insomnia setting in, racing thoughts again. Quite lovely. That's sarcasm, by the way. If you know me, you picked up on that though.
I've had a couple of "normal" days. Thank god for that. Less manic symptoms, no real depressive symptoms. I'm hoping my lithium levels are becoming therapeutic now. Because the racing, the not stopping, the shaking, lack of concentration, the nervousness . . .all of that is getting old. It's slowing, leaving. Seemingly. And away it should stay, locked up in the recesses of my mind, a tidy coffin of black and red with gold filigree . . .
I don't think I'm making sense. I've taken a klonopin to help me sleep . . .so I may ramble. Who knows really. This is more stream of consciousness anyway. And my own blog. So I'll write how the fuck I want. That was rude. Oh well.
I keep getting nervous about my next therapy session. I dropped a bit of a bombshell 2 posts ago. I had printed that post for M to read, to better understand my confusing thoughts . . .and, well, those bombshells? We're going to be talking about them. Yes we are. And it's terrifying. I've never told ANYONE ANYTHING about them. Ever. At all. Not even my hubby knew. He found out by reading my blog. Sorry hon. Thinking about it fills me with dread like I never thought it would. I always thought, hey, no big deal. You got through, you moved on, it doesn't affect you. And I truly thought it didn't. And then . . .it randomly comes out in a blog post. Which must mean that it affects me in some way. Maybe it's through my relationship with M that I somehow now feel comfortable enough to talk about it. But I have to admit, it had been on my mind for a couple of weeks before I wrote it. Like I was looking for a reason to bring it up. A reason to get it out in the open . . .but what the hell do you say? Oh hey, by the way, I was raped and sexually assaulted. Have a good weekend! It's not something you bring up in casual conversation. Or, if you're me, then you do. Because you're an idiot and you don't have proper filters or self control. (I mentioned my nervousness about talking about my rape to my 2 best and trusted friends. In casual conversation. WTF, self? Obviously, they didn't know, and didn't know how to react. Whoops.) I should also mention that this was after it was decided by M and I that we were going to discuss  this topic.
So yes. I will talk with M about it. we'll see how it goes. And then, if I'm comfortable, and J wants to know what happened, then we can talk about it. Which is equally, if not MORE, terrifying. I don't even know.
Kick in klonopin. I should sleep. I need sleep. No sleep makes the racing worse. And I had a busy, overstimulating day at work. An almost full resuscitation on a newborn in a delivery I did. Gets the adrenaline pumping, the mind moving . . . Though I kept us from having to do chest compressions. Go me.
I don't think this post will make sense in the morning.
You're welcome.

It's All So Strange . . .

That last week has been . . . .interesting? I don't know what it's been, quite frankly. Saturday was the Dirty Dash which was quite fun. It was also the night I wrote my last post. Sunday we had friends over for lunch, which went well - no anxiety or anything. Monday, more of the same. A little anxious, irritable. I guess I should mention that on Thursday night (prior to the weekend) I started taking Klonopin to try and knock out the mania. Dr. C also upped my dose of Lithium to 1200mg. The klonopin . . .oh god. I was so loopy and out of it the first two nights. I couldn't even walk straight and I'm only on 1mg. And then the tiredness lasted through half the day, balance was off. Let's just say I didn't like it.
So yes. Tuesday. I didn't take the klonopin on Monday night. Didn't want to. Got to work and was exceedingly hypo manic. More than I've been in a while. Racing thoughts, pressured speech, a need to constantly talk, constantly move, unable to focus, no verbal filter, I had to move to pace to fidget to DO things, to talk, I was anxious, who's watching me? . . .it was a nightmare. J had taken Tuesday off just because and I actually had him bring a klonopin to my work. I only took half. I was too scared to see my patients until it kicked in. I could've gotten myself in trouble just by opening my mouth. I got some "concerned" looks from coworkers. Fuck what's wrong with me, is all I could think. But the klonopin kicked in. Within 20 minutes. I calmed down. I could function. But at what cost? I was flat. Emotionless. I didn't care about anything. All I could feel was mild irritation. Depressive thoughts started to creep in later. Feelings that nothing mattered. Nothing. I wanted to cut again. And then? The klonopin wore off. Guess where I was. Manic again. Goody. No in between. No middle ground. One or the other.  So frustrating. I wanted to pull out my hair.
Wednesday? Meh. Not bad I suppose. I was at home. I sewed I think. It's a fog. A klonopin fog. Thursday? I seemed to be okay. Mostly normal? See, the thing is, I don't know what normal is anymore. I'm so worried about being hypo manic that ANY elevated mood scares me - whether it's "normal" or not. I get anxious more. I'd say it was a good day. Busy at the baby factory, kept my irritability mostly in check. I had klonopin with me just in case. At the end of the night though . . .mania. Oh yes. My old friend. My mind and mouth were a mile a minute. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep. I wanted to sew and draw and workout and sculpt and maybe write a novel and hey I have Halloween props to make . . . So in goes the klonopin. My new steady friend. I was able to sleep.
Today now, Friday, I was mostly hypo but mixed. I had energy. Oh did I. Finished 3 Halloween props, made a stuffed animal for my son, went to the post office, shopping. I felt impatient, anxious. I kept thinking about all the other things I needed to do too. Laundry, dishes, bathrooms, vacuum, dust . . .maybe tonight, while everyone sleeps I can clean quietly. Or sew. I need to stock my shop. STOP. I decided to take a half a klonopin (so as not to be knocked out). And then what? Flat. Irritable. Tired. Annoyed.
It's frustrating. I can't just have a happy medium. I'm mixed, I'm hypo manic, or I'm nothing. The meds are great, don't get me wrong. I'd probably have been hospitalized if I wasn't on them. But I wish there were less side effects. Heh. Doesn't everyone?
I work tomorrow and I don't want to. I'll have to bring klonopin just in case. I'm not taking any tonight. I know I have to go day by day . . .take each as they come . . .and not worry about the future too much . . .but that's hard to do when my mind WON'T SHUT OFF. That's all that cycles through, over and over. The one thing I can't shut off.
Well that was a pointless ramble I guess. I had it worded so eloquently in my head. I'll blame the drugs. I DID take klonopin today.
At least next week I can look forward to to therapy with M, getting my hair colored, and bipolar support group.

Rapid Cycling, Hooray

Yes, I know it's been awhile since I've written anything. This is for many reasons. Reasons I won't go into. Today's writing is just for me. So I may say things you may not know the definition of. And I'm not going to explain it. And for this, I'm sorry. But sometimes I need something just for me.
The last 2 months I've been in a mixed episode. Maybe slightly longer than that, I'm not sure. I had tons of stress and other circumstances that threw me into this episode. One was trying to go down on my lithium. BIG mistake. Others don't need mentioning here - I know what they are and how they contributed. So on came the mixed episode. Ups and downs. But they were somewhat manageable. Then, it got worse. The mania side mainly. Racing thoughts, pressured speech. I saw Dr. C and we agreed that I needed to go back up on the lithium. Done. I thought I was golden.
Nope. Not so much. Then came the rapid cycling. The ups and downs that came every few hours or minutes. Feeling like I could burst into to tears at any minute for no reason. The anger, the RAGE that would wash over like a tsunami, pulling me under its currents with no escape, helpless to reach the surface. Anxiety. About everything. The racing thoughts still, pressured speech, word vomit, inability to sleep . . .shaking, paranoia, scared, exhausted. Lost.
My days are made up of me trying to keep all of these feelings bottled up, under wraps, so know one knows - family, friends, coworkers, AND patients. I have to bite my tongue, lest I offend someone. I have to breath, slowly, deeply, lest I punch someone or the wall. I have to walk away lest I start sobbing uncontrollably. Constantly I have to keep myself in check while inside I'm withering, crumbling, dying. I constantly wonder if people know, if they see past my shaky facade. Do they know how badly I hurt? Do they know the anxiety I feel? Do they know how lost I am? How empty? And worse, do they know my anger? My irrational, explosive anger? So far I've only taken it out on a wall and an elevator door . . . but, sometimes I worry.
I want to cut. So bad. J still has the blades all hidden which is good. For at home at least. But at work I have access to unlimited scalpels. And the temptation . . .to just get one and and go to town. My leg probably. Fewer people would see it. I've not fallen into the temptation. Mostly. I did take a plastic fork to my hand. It's not deep, barely visible. but it kept me from the scalpel in my pocket. I've punched the wall, a box and the elevator doors at work when the anger and sadness was too much. No one knows I've done this. Suicidal ideation is starting to come back with all this. Hooray to that. And the scary thing is that I have a whole bottle of Klonopin in the medicine cabinet. It's very tempting. But I don't want to die.
I DON'T WANT TO DIE.
Let's get that clear. But I want this turmoil to end. I know it will, eventually, but right now I see know end in sight. I try not to catastrophize this, but when you're in the throws of  it? Pretty hard not to. My emotions overtake my intellect. Plus, what's annoying, is that I see myself taking on the roll of the victim. This is not me. I'm NOT a victim. I never have been. I was raped by my ex boyfriend, verbally and emotionally abused by him and, luckily, only hit once. Not a victim. I was sexually assaulted by my manager in the back room at Albertsons when I worked there. Not a victim. (Also? I've never told anyone about those things before). Never took on the victim role. NEVER. Because that's not who I am. And now? I see myself doing that. I have bipolar disorder. Poor me. Look at me suffer.
FUCK THAT! That's what I try and tell myself. I'm stronger than that. And when I was controlled on my meds? It was true. I was stronger. I was NOT my bipolar disorder. Right now I have no idea what I am. A ball of emotional wreckage, ready to self destruct at a moments notice. Feebly trying to keep my head above the rising current while the undertow gains constant strength.
Sadly, I'm now having a harder time talking to anyone about this. I have a feeling that people are growing weary of my mood instability. J especially. He's tolerance seems to be slipping. Not all the time. But the past week . . .I don't even want to mention anything to him. I don't want to burden him with this. My close friends? They've heard and dealt with so much from me. My other friends? They don't want to hear it. Coworkers? Fuck that. All I can say is that thank God I have M to talk to.
Anyway. That's me right now. Lost and stuck and sinking. Ever down. Always down.

Thursday

I had another very good and successful therapy session yesterday with M. We talked about my past week, how I spontaneously applied for a new job position (oncology) without even thinking about it and subsequently had a major panic attack. (that type of behavior is very manic behavior). Talked about ways to curb the impulsiveness that goes along with my illness (so I don't make a mistake I regret). And talked a bit about my mum and then about my constant brain fog.
This mental fog I'm in is getting bad. And each day, it gets worse. By the end of the day, I physically and mentally can't focus and have difficulty even forming words. I feel as though I'm moving in slow motion through a thick sludge and it saps all my energy in doing so. I have trouble concentrating, thinking, focusing, speaking, staying awake. It's a horrible feeling that makes me want to scream and cry. I'm pretty positive it has to do with my medications. This is one of the side effects of Lithium and, well, we increased my dose of Lithium 4 weeks ago and the fog started 3 weeks ago. It may be as simple as decreasing the Lithium. It may mean that I have to switch medications and start all over again (which would suck, mind you). We'll see. I sent Dr. C an email about it and I see him next Wednesday. Wednesday can't come soon enough.
At least, still, for the most part the depression and manic symptoms are staying away. Just gotta get rid of the fog now.