Had quite the manic outburst today. They have become rare in the past 5 years. But wow they were they ever present in the past. Real violent fits. Guess that's why I dated a guy who abused me. Cuz I could beat him back. I could throw shit at his head and it was normal. We'd tackle each other with knives in our hands. Smack each other. I used to stab holes in the walls of my childhood bedroom. I had so much rage. So much hurt. And no outlet. Except my photography.
Maybe I need to find my way back to that. Because I do carry rage. And guilt. And I have no place to let it go. My therapy isn't covered by my insurance.
So I lashed out. And it sucked. I don't want to be that messed up girl I used to be. I don't want to be lost. I don't want to be angry anymore either.
God help me find the way out of this pit. This was rock bottom. I hurt the one I love most in this world. I don't want to be that person.
I hope all these tests find something so they can fix my body. Once it's fixed, I can fix my mind too. Because 3 years has been long enough. I want to take my life back. And it won't be easy. It won't be fast. But I'll change. Same as before. I was a normal, healthy functioning person once. I can be that again.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Productive Day
Today was a good productive day. In spite of all the comments that I woke up to today calling me an alcoholic panhandler, begging for money to support my "addiction."
First let me say that I have emetophobia. A fear of vomiting. Do you know what alcoholics do? They drink till they throw up. So guess what I don't do?! Bingo. One drink. Not even every day. Not during the day. Not in the mornings. Not until I'm drunk. Not even until I'm buzzed.
See, my doctor decided today that he didn't want to refill my anti-nausea medication anymore. I found this out today at the pharmacy when they said they never heard back from the doctor. Apparently, since I saw a specialist once, and had zero tests done, that the doctor should know what's causing my nausea by now and that I don't need the pills. You're freaking kidding me right??
I don't know what healthcare is like where some of you live. Other countries. Even outside of California. But here, the free healthcare is a damn joke. And I can't afford other healthcare because I have pre-existing medical condition which means they can charge me $600 a month if they so wanted. So, free healthcare it is! But all the doctors who accept this healthcare are over booked since now everyone was forced to get health insurance. They had to change the requirements for free health care so more people could get it. People like me. I've only had the plan for a few months now. But let's just say it's a pain in the ass. The only doctors I could find are a half hour away at least. In traffic, more like an hour.
Anyway, so I was at the pharmacy, trying to get my pills and had to call the doctor and that's when they decided I don't need the pills. The pills that I have been on for 3 years so I can eat! The pills that don't cure the nausea but take the edge off a little so I can get nourishment.
Now I have to find another doctor. I know of one that will give me the pills but she isn't covered by my healthcare and will cost $60 to see. We'll have to scrounge up some change and take in the recycling so we can pay it. But whatever we need to do, we'll do so I can have those pills. Irvin told me so. He won't let me go without. And I love him for it.
So once I dealt with that fiasco, I managed to run other errands and get everything done on my list for today. All of it! 4 different places and I didn't have a panic attack once. My mother, who helps me run errands once a week because no one wants me driving when I now black out and faint or am taking Xanax, was very proud of me. Even of how I handled the whole pharmacy pill fiasco.
Finished the grocery shopping, had lunch, did the dishes. Now it's time to give my duck a bath. And then get dinner going.
I want to thank my friends, fans and family. I was strong today because of you. And my mom. Thank you mom for reminding me that I'm a good person, with a good heart, who may have thin skin, but it comes with being mentally ill. And also she flat out told me that if she thought I were an alcoholic, she'd smack me and ground me. I'm 31 and taller than her, but she's Japanese, so I don't doubt for a second that she would ground me. Probably take away my video games or something and make me stare at the wall.
You haters may be trying to break me down. But guess what, all you did was anger me. You don't get to win. You won't break me. Because I know who I am. I know what's in my heart. I know the physical illness that plagues my body. And I know the mental illness that seeps into my soul. You empowered me.
And from this point on, non-constructive comments will be deleted.
I want my fellow suffers to come back out of hiding and continue to share their stories with me. With us. With this blog. We will talk of our hardships and our triumphs. We will share tears and laughter. But we will not judge here. We will not insult. We will not break down those who are already suffering. YOU will not break down someone who is already suffering. I won't let the dozens of people who emailed me with their stories to have to deal with it. I will be the barrier. I will speak out for those who haven't found their voices.
First let me say that I have emetophobia. A fear of vomiting. Do you know what alcoholics do? They drink till they throw up. So guess what I don't do?! Bingo. One drink. Not even every day. Not during the day. Not in the mornings. Not until I'm drunk. Not even until I'm buzzed.
See, my doctor decided today that he didn't want to refill my anti-nausea medication anymore. I found this out today at the pharmacy when they said they never heard back from the doctor. Apparently, since I saw a specialist once, and had zero tests done, that the doctor should know what's causing my nausea by now and that I don't need the pills. You're freaking kidding me right??
I don't know what healthcare is like where some of you live. Other countries. Even outside of California. But here, the free healthcare is a damn joke. And I can't afford other healthcare because I have pre-existing medical condition which means they can charge me $600 a month if they so wanted. So, free healthcare it is! But all the doctors who accept this healthcare are over booked since now everyone was forced to get health insurance. They had to change the requirements for free health care so more people could get it. People like me. I've only had the plan for a few months now. But let's just say it's a pain in the ass. The only doctors I could find are a half hour away at least. In traffic, more like an hour.
Anyway, so I was at the pharmacy, trying to get my pills and had to call the doctor and that's when they decided I don't need the pills. The pills that I have been on for 3 years so I can eat! The pills that don't cure the nausea but take the edge off a little so I can get nourishment.
Now I have to find another doctor. I know of one that will give me the pills but she isn't covered by my healthcare and will cost $60 to see. We'll have to scrounge up some change and take in the recycling so we can pay it. But whatever we need to do, we'll do so I can have those pills. Irvin told me so. He won't let me go without. And I love him for it.
So once I dealt with that fiasco, I managed to run other errands and get everything done on my list for today. All of it! 4 different places and I didn't have a panic attack once. My mother, who helps me run errands once a week because no one wants me driving when I now black out and faint or am taking Xanax, was very proud of me. Even of how I handled the whole pharmacy pill fiasco.
Finished the grocery shopping, had lunch, did the dishes. Now it's time to give my duck a bath. And then get dinner going.
I want to thank my friends, fans and family. I was strong today because of you. And my mom. Thank you mom for reminding me that I'm a good person, with a good heart, who may have thin skin, but it comes with being mentally ill. And also she flat out told me that if she thought I were an alcoholic, she'd smack me and ground me. I'm 31 and taller than her, but she's Japanese, so I don't doubt for a second that she would ground me. Probably take away my video games or something and make me stare at the wall.
You haters may be trying to break me down. But guess what, all you did was anger me. You don't get to win. You won't break me. Because I know who I am. I know what's in my heart. I know the physical illness that plagues my body. And I know the mental illness that seeps into my soul. You empowered me.
And from this point on, non-constructive comments will be deleted.
I want my fellow suffers to come back out of hiding and continue to share their stories with me. With us. With this blog. We will talk of our hardships and our triumphs. We will share tears and laughter. But we will not judge here. We will not insult. We will not break down those who are already suffering. YOU will not break down someone who is already suffering. I won't let the dozens of people who emailed me with their stories to have to deal with it. I will be the barrier. I will speak out for those who haven't found their voices.
Enough with the drama - here's my health update
For those of you who are actually following the story, I suffer from Chronic Illness. And I'm not talking about the bipolar disorder or the panic attacks. Physical illness that leaves me too sick to work. To do much of anything really. I am nauseous 24/7. My bones ache in places I never knew possible. And yes, it's embarrassing, but also bad diarrhea. I faint from a lack of certain vitamins because my body can't get nutrients when you throw everything up. I also suffer from exhaustion (I just fall asleep randomly and was NEVER able to nap before due to the bipolar disorder), black outs and memory loss. I can not drive a car as it's unsafe in case these things happen behind the wheel.
So I finally saw a specialist yesterday. Why has it taken me 3 years to see one? Because I lost my health insurance when I lost my job. And I lost my job because you can't work and keep running to the bathroom.
I so far have done 3 separate blood tests (7 vials of blood taken each time), 3 different stool tests, and had x-rays. Now lined up is an endoscopy, a colonoscopy and an ultrasound.
Hopefully at least one of those tests tells us what's wrong. Now of course, I am nervous about these procedures. But they must be done. So I can get better. For 3 years, I've been living half a life. I want the whole one back. I want to work and socialize and be productive. I want to give back to society again.
It's going to a be a long hard road folks.
For those of you sending me good thoughts, money for my psychiatric care (that my free health insurance refuses to cover) and those of you commenting, sharing and emailing, I thank you. I will always thank you.
When this is all done, we need to celebrate!
So I finally saw a specialist yesterday. Why has it taken me 3 years to see one? Because I lost my health insurance when I lost my job. And I lost my job because you can't work and keep running to the bathroom.
I so far have done 3 separate blood tests (7 vials of blood taken each time), 3 different stool tests, and had x-rays. Now lined up is an endoscopy, a colonoscopy and an ultrasound.
Hopefully at least one of those tests tells us what's wrong. Now of course, I am nervous about these procedures. But they must be done. So I can get better. For 3 years, I've been living half a life. I want the whole one back. I want to work and socialize and be productive. I want to give back to society again.
It's going to a be a long hard road folks.
For those of you sending me good thoughts, money for my psychiatric care (that my free health insurance refuses to cover) and those of you commenting, sharing and emailing, I thank you. I will always thank you.
When this is all done, we need to celebrate!
I wanted to make this a safe place for people to come together and share their stories of mental health problems and overall life problems. But then the hate mail started
Worse than that, I started getting emails from people who wanted to share their stories on my blog, until they read how judgmental people can be. They asked me to take down their own stories and not post their personal struggles because they fear they will be hated on too.
This is a very sad thing for me as that's not what I wanted. I wanted to connect with others. I wanted a safe place where we could tell each other "you're not alone." But I don't think it's meant to be.
I don't think people understand that my photos, my journals, my blogs... they are just pieces of me. Windows into moments of time that create a life. They are not a whole life. They are pieces. And sue me if the sad stuff is more inspirational to me to write about, to photograph. But if you know me. If you're on my facebook. If you've talked to me. You'd know. I'm not a damn victim and refuse to ever be one. But even more so, I refuse to let these people turn my friends into fodder. I put myself out there KNOWING that people will hate on me. But my fellow bloggers who tried to reach out, did not ask for the drama.
So I thank those of you who contributed to the blog and I am sorry that you no longer want me to post your stories publicly, but I do hope you know you can still email them to me and I will reply.
PS, I apologize for a lot of typos and wrong words and such in my entries. I've been using my phone to post on here cuz it has internet. Just can't use a ton of data because my mom pays that bill and I don't want to go over the limit! But it's darn hard to type a journal entry out on a bloody phone ;p
Worse than that, I started getting emails from people who wanted to share their stories on my blog, until they read how judgmental people can be. They asked me to take down their own stories and not post their personal struggles because they fear they will be hated on too.
This is a very sad thing for me as that's not what I wanted. I wanted to connect with others. I wanted a safe place where we could tell each other "you're not alone." But I don't think it's meant to be.
I don't think people understand that my photos, my journals, my blogs... they are just pieces of me. Windows into moments of time that create a life. They are not a whole life. They are pieces. And sue me if the sad stuff is more inspirational to me to write about, to photograph. But if you know me. If you're on my facebook. If you've talked to me. You'd know. I'm not a damn victim and refuse to ever be one. But even more so, I refuse to let these people turn my friends into fodder. I put myself out there KNOWING that people will hate on me. But my fellow bloggers who tried to reach out, did not ask for the drama.
So I thank those of you who contributed to the blog and I am sorry that you no longer want me to post your stories publicly, but I do hope you know you can still email them to me and I will reply.
PS, I apologize for a lot of typos and wrong words and such in my entries. I've been using my phone to post on here cuz it has internet. Just can't use a ton of data because my mom pays that bill and I don't want to go over the limit! But it's darn hard to type a journal entry out on a bloody phone ;p
Monday, July 14, 2014
Inspirational
I don't really believe in a higher power. But I love this video and this message just the same. I cried tears of pain and tears of joy for this strong woman. I guarantee you that she still has bad days. Times when her past pains catch up to her. But she's facing it head on. You go girl.
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=470736836295471&set=vb.100000774768296&type=2&theater
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=470736836295471&set=vb.100000774768296&type=2&theater
Post by Dakysha Sullivan.
Getting Ready
I'm seeing a GI doctor today. A specialist to figure out what's wrong with my stomach. The first step of many to find out what's wrong with me. I know that if I get my physical health back in shape, the mental health will follow.
But I'm not looking forward to it.
I ate breakfast today. And let me tell you why that's a big deal. When I know that I have to leave the house for an appointment or to run errands, I don't eat first. Because food makes me sick. And with my phobia and all, that terrifies me. I don't want to get sick stuck in public. So I don't normally eat until the errands or whatever is done. But my appointment today is very late in the afternoon. So I knew I had to eat something. Because going that long without eating will just make things worse.
Did I mention I hate doctor offices? Not only because most of the time, the doctor is not helpful. But also that I hate the waiting rooms. Anxiety plus being stuck in a tiny room, with poor ventilation, and a bunch of sick strangers hacking all over the place... Well it's not fun. And I've been warned that this office is slow. So I'll be stuck in a personal hell for at least 45 minutes to an hour. I'll take a book to read, but I'll probably just read the same sentence over and over again.
Also, this particular waiting room has no restroom. When I get panic attacks, I have to pee. Nervous bladder I guess. And it's like an every 10 minutes type of thing. Anyone else get that? Have to pee when you're anxious? Even when I know I need to leave the house in like 30 minutes for something, sometimes the peeing starts then. I keep going and I'm not even drinking anything.
I don't mind it as much once they put you in your own exam room. I feel better without the strangers and their germs and their judging eyes. Let's face, you're having a panic attack, and you're trying to appear normal and fine, but it's so obvious that you're not. And people notice. They stare. Stop staring at me! Read a bloody magazine. And for goodness sake, cover your mouth when you cough!
I got about an hour before we have to leave. It'll be a long drive in bad afternoon traffic and it's hot as hell out today. I know I'll survive this. But I don't have to like a single minute of it!
But I'm not looking forward to it.
I ate breakfast today. And let me tell you why that's a big deal. When I know that I have to leave the house for an appointment or to run errands, I don't eat first. Because food makes me sick. And with my phobia and all, that terrifies me. I don't want to get sick stuck in public. So I don't normally eat until the errands or whatever is done. But my appointment today is very late in the afternoon. So I knew I had to eat something. Because going that long without eating will just make things worse.
Did I mention I hate doctor offices? Not only because most of the time, the doctor is not helpful. But also that I hate the waiting rooms. Anxiety plus being stuck in a tiny room, with poor ventilation, and a bunch of sick strangers hacking all over the place... Well it's not fun. And I've been warned that this office is slow. So I'll be stuck in a personal hell for at least 45 minutes to an hour. I'll take a book to read, but I'll probably just read the same sentence over and over again.
Also, this particular waiting room has no restroom. When I get panic attacks, I have to pee. Nervous bladder I guess. And it's like an every 10 minutes type of thing. Anyone else get that? Have to pee when you're anxious? Even when I know I need to leave the house in like 30 minutes for something, sometimes the peeing starts then. I keep going and I'm not even drinking anything.
I don't mind it as much once they put you in your own exam room. I feel better without the strangers and their germs and their judging eyes. Let's face, you're having a panic attack, and you're trying to appear normal and fine, but it's so obvious that you're not. And people notice. They stare. Stop staring at me! Read a bloody magazine. And for goodness sake, cover your mouth when you cough!
I got about an hour before we have to leave. It'll be a long drive in bad afternoon traffic and it's hot as hell out today. I know I'll survive this. But I don't have to like a single minute of it!
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Guest Post - My Story
This is sent from someone who read this blog and wants to share their story with you guys, as well as with myself. Thank you for your bravery.
Hello.
First and foremost, thank you for sharing your story and writing where others can't.
I wanted to say "hang in there" but it is never enough or even insulting at times.
Your diagnosis sheet almost looks the same as mine: Bi-Polar, Depression, Panic Disorder, and phobias. I can... understand, the struggle it takes to get through each day. I read a lot of other examples or blogs people write to remind myself that I am not the only one that suffers, but your story, as I mentioned, hits almost the same path mine has taken.
You wanted to know other stories to share and know your not alone. I hope mine can give you some comfort (and others if you choose to share it). I will not go into a lot of detail, but if it can help another I will gladly share.
I grew up isolated even though I had a large extended family and many friends. There was always something off, though I was the only one that really knew it. I was outspoken around others, so much so, that I never realized it was a coping mechanism until my early twenties. I dealt with Bi-Polar and anxiety without realizing it, but my youth and desire to be away from my father was enough to get me through. (My father was not physically abusive, but emotionally.)
At the age of 18, my future mother-in-law recognized the traits of depression in me, but I refused to believe her until one day in college I could not go on anymore and the only thing I wanted to do was find a corner and cry. I don't know why or even how I ended up in the school councilor's office, but I did. From there I ended up at the mental health facility with her by my side waiting to speak to a psychologist. I hated the psychologist I first saw and almost gave up... and did because I lost my insurance that paid for it.
Long story short, for about 4 years, even after getting married, I went through the motions of therapy and meds... the only reason I never turned to self-medication was a hyper-paranoia (my term) that made me afraid of almost anything, especially drugs and alcohol since I had seen the aftermath of its misuse in some of my childhood "friends". Now out from under my father's roof I also started to feel more comfortable at home, and soon became to fear going out my home more than I did staying within. That is when the anxiety disorders presented itself in full.
Until I was 24, I took meds, refused to accept skill training and merely talked to my therapist. The meds helped the most but could not stop the worst. I ended up in the hospital many many times for suicidal thoughts, a couple of times for trying. Something in my own mind always made me seek help at the last possible minute.
I finally accepted help from the teachers in my Partial Hospitalization group... after my third time in the program. (This is where I am also diagnosed with Schizoaffective disorder but that comes and goes as it pleases...)
I went off my meds on a med holiday (to clear my system and start over), but I haven't been back on them since. (I don't recommend this for anyone - I do it because I am afraid of being suicidal again, of which I was only truly suicidal while on the meds... the whole not stopping the worst, but may have been causing it even though I was more stable in between...) I turned to skills (DBT) and my wife. I opened up to her. To this day she does not always understand or tolerate me, but she tries and strives to. This has been a big help. (Do not withhold from your boyfriend if he honestly tries to help and it seems your mother is understanding... even if it is hard.)
I eventually got on disability because I was unable to hold a job. It took 3 years and help from a professional lawyer (one that deals with helping get disability) and ALL of my doctors (regular doctor, psychologist, and psychiatrist) to get it finally. (So, do not give up hope!)
As TV us to you, video games are to me... a coping mechanism. It is also an addiction, but one that is better than substances. It has taken me years to get where I am and it is still a struggle. I am impatient to get even better so I still feel like a failure. I feel worthless and stupid for playing video games all day, or yelling or being withdrawn. But not every day, and even most days the skills can counter those feelings enough to get through them.
Keep trying and fighting the mental battle. The physical as well. As you said in one of your blogs, the mental illness leads to physical illness and back around. I deal with the same. Phantom pains I call them. Many feel like heart attacks even without a panic attack (though the panic makes it worse), but I get pains elsewhere that no doctor has yet to tell me the cause.
Thank you for your story... and your photography. I found your blog from DeviantArt. You have some very great photographs!
Because I ramble and cannot keep up with my own mind (thus the writing is fractured and sometimes incomplete - I too can understand that :P ) I will end here. I hope it may help you and others. Keep fighting.
A fellow sufferer
Hello.
First and foremost, thank you for sharing your story and writing where others can't.
I wanted to say "hang in there" but it is never enough or even insulting at times.
Your diagnosis sheet almost looks the same as mine: Bi-Polar, Depression, Panic Disorder, and phobias. I can... understand, the struggle it takes to get through each day. I read a lot of other examples or blogs people write to remind myself that I am not the only one that suffers, but your story, as I mentioned, hits almost the same path mine has taken.
You wanted to know other stories to share and know your not alone. I hope mine can give you some comfort (and others if you choose to share it). I will not go into a lot of detail, but if it can help another I will gladly share.
I grew up isolated even though I had a large extended family and many friends. There was always something off, though I was the only one that really knew it. I was outspoken around others, so much so, that I never realized it was a coping mechanism until my early twenties. I dealt with Bi-Polar and anxiety without realizing it, but my youth and desire to be away from my father was enough to get me through. (My father was not physically abusive, but emotionally.)
At the age of 18, my future mother-in-law recognized the traits of depression in me, but I refused to believe her until one day in college I could not go on anymore and the only thing I wanted to do was find a corner and cry. I don't know why or even how I ended up in the school councilor's office, but I did. From there I ended up at the mental health facility with her by my side waiting to speak to a psychologist. I hated the psychologist I first saw and almost gave up... and did because I lost my insurance that paid for it.
Long story short, for about 4 years, even after getting married, I went through the motions of therapy and meds... the only reason I never turned to self-medication was a hyper-paranoia (my term) that made me afraid of almost anything, especially drugs and alcohol since I had seen the aftermath of its misuse in some of my childhood "friends". Now out from under my father's roof I also started to feel more comfortable at home, and soon became to fear going out my home more than I did staying within. That is when the anxiety disorders presented itself in full.
Until I was 24, I took meds, refused to accept skill training and merely talked to my therapist. The meds helped the most but could not stop the worst. I ended up in the hospital many many times for suicidal thoughts, a couple of times for trying. Something in my own mind always made me seek help at the last possible minute.
I finally accepted help from the teachers in my Partial Hospitalization group... after my third time in the program. (This is where I am also diagnosed with Schizoaffective disorder but that comes and goes as it pleases...)
I went off my meds on a med holiday (to clear my system and start over), but I haven't been back on them since. (I don't recommend this for anyone - I do it because I am afraid of being suicidal again, of which I was only truly suicidal while on the meds... the whole not stopping the worst, but may have been causing it even though I was more stable in between...) I turned to skills (DBT) and my wife. I opened up to her. To this day she does not always understand or tolerate me, but she tries and strives to. This has been a big help. (Do not withhold from your boyfriend if he honestly tries to help and it seems your mother is understanding... even if it is hard.)
I eventually got on disability because I was unable to hold a job. It took 3 years and help from a professional lawyer (one that deals with helping get disability) and ALL of my doctors (regular doctor, psychologist, and psychiatrist) to get it finally. (So, do not give up hope!)
As TV us to you, video games are to me... a coping mechanism. It is also an addiction, but one that is better than substances. It has taken me years to get where I am and it is still a struggle. I am impatient to get even better so I still feel like a failure. I feel worthless and stupid for playing video games all day, or yelling or being withdrawn. But not every day, and even most days the skills can counter those feelings enough to get through them.
Keep trying and fighting the mental battle. The physical as well. As you said in one of your blogs, the mental illness leads to physical illness and back around. I deal with the same. Phantom pains I call them. Many feel like heart attacks even without a panic attack (though the panic makes it worse), but I get pains elsewhere that no doctor has yet to tell me the cause.
Thank you for your story... and your photography. I found your blog from DeviantArt. You have some very great photographs!
Because I ramble and cannot keep up with my own mind (thus the writing is fractured and sometimes incomplete - I too can understand that :P ) I will end here. I hope it may help you and others. Keep fighting.
A fellow sufferer
Tired of defending myself against strangers
I am NOT giving up. I used to. The depression has been a part of my life for so long. And long ago, when I was just a naive teenager, sure I gave up. Handfuls of pills. Wrist slashing.
I am not that person now. So what if I drink once in a while? I can't get anti anxiety meds, so I have a shot of vodka so I can go to sleep and sleep it off. Big deal. I'm not asking for donations to pay for my "drinking problem." Just because I mention it a lot here, doesn't mean I do it every day. Plus, $5 for a bottle of wine isn't the same as $360 for my bipolar medication.
This blog is merely a window into thoughts in only parts of my day. Moments of weakness really. Where I spill here what I can't spill elsewhere. Because I thought here was safe. But I guess it's not.
I'm seeing a specialist tomorrow and I'm so nervous. I'm tired of being turned away by doctors. I am chronically ill. Physically. And it affects my mental health to a point that maybe not everyone can understand. And maybe I need to stop being so open about what I feel in a dark moment. Because I'm getting a lot of emails telling me how weak and stupid and annoying I am.
Guess what? I'm not here to please everyone. I'm not perfect. I'm struggling in a world where my own health insurance won't cover the things I truly need. I need a root canal but that specific tooth isn't covered. I need therapy, but that's not covered either. I need medications that some doctors don't believe in. So I have to see several before I can find something that will help me keep a meal down.
I've been beyond sick for 3 years. And mentally ill for most of my life. But I'm not giving up. I'm just in a rough patch. And screw those of you who can't understand that.
For those of you new to this blog, I suggest going all the way back to the beginning posts before making judgement. It's not all doom and gloom around here. I'm just in a rough patch. You can't define a person by a few sad posts.
And you can't know how you'd behave in my position if you haven't been there yourself. I used to hate my father for leaving us when his cancer got really bad. He walked out. And I didn't get it. But now that I too am ill all the time, I get it. I can see why one would want to leave their family. I'm not saying I'd make the same choice. But I couldn't even imagine it before I came to this place.
And let's face, I'm still feeling out what "this place" is. Am I happy? Am I sad? It's not as simple as that. But when I figure it all out, I'll let you know.
I am not that person now. So what if I drink once in a while? I can't get anti anxiety meds, so I have a shot of vodka so I can go to sleep and sleep it off. Big deal. I'm not asking for donations to pay for my "drinking problem." Just because I mention it a lot here, doesn't mean I do it every day. Plus, $5 for a bottle of wine isn't the same as $360 for my bipolar medication.
This blog is merely a window into thoughts in only parts of my day. Moments of weakness really. Where I spill here what I can't spill elsewhere. Because I thought here was safe. But I guess it's not.
I'm seeing a specialist tomorrow and I'm so nervous. I'm tired of being turned away by doctors. I am chronically ill. Physically. And it affects my mental health to a point that maybe not everyone can understand. And maybe I need to stop being so open about what I feel in a dark moment. Because I'm getting a lot of emails telling me how weak and stupid and annoying I am.
Guess what? I'm not here to please everyone. I'm not perfect. I'm struggling in a world where my own health insurance won't cover the things I truly need. I need a root canal but that specific tooth isn't covered. I need therapy, but that's not covered either. I need medications that some doctors don't believe in. So I have to see several before I can find something that will help me keep a meal down.
I've been beyond sick for 3 years. And mentally ill for most of my life. But I'm not giving up. I'm just in a rough patch. And screw those of you who can't understand that.
For those of you new to this blog, I suggest going all the way back to the beginning posts before making judgement. It's not all doom and gloom around here. I'm just in a rough patch. You can't define a person by a few sad posts.
And you can't know how you'd behave in my position if you haven't been there yourself. I used to hate my father for leaving us when his cancer got really bad. He walked out. And I didn't get it. But now that I too am ill all the time, I get it. I can see why one would want to leave their family. I'm not saying I'd make the same choice. But I couldn't even imagine it before I came to this place.
And let's face, I'm still feeling out what "this place" is. Am I happy? Am I sad? It's not as simple as that. But when I figure it all out, I'll let you know.
Friday, July 11, 2014
Oh how easy it would be...
That's the thought that passed through my head today while driving. Oh how easy it would be... To not look before crossing that intersection, to drive right out into oncoming traffic, to maybe take a turn too quick, or too slow. To somehow just get my car smashed to bits.
That's not healthy to think now is it? But there it was. It was such a strong thought. An urge. I had to fight hard to drive the rest of the way home in a careful manner.
I'm just so tired. Tired of fighting with doctors to get the meds and tests I need. Tired of trying to convince people that something is wrong. Tired of being rejected. Tired of the anxiety that pops up each time I have to see yet another specialist. Because that specialist is just as likely as the last to tell me, "it's all in your head."
Apparently, I'm stressing my fiance out to the point of which we bicker over stupid shit. And even his mom is upset with me for stressing out her baby. I get it. I do. I watched my father deal with bone cancer most of my life. I know how it sucks to love someone and watch them waste away. Then my dad left. He left out of pride. He left out of guilt. He left for a number of reasons that I may never really know. But being sick now myself, I can see why one might want to leave. I feel a burden. I'd go home to my mom, but she has no room for me and the pets at her place. I don't want to put a strain on my relationships. I didn't ask for this. Any of it. The bipolar disorder. The anxiety. The nausea. The body aches. The exhaustion. The confusion. The black outs. I didn't wake up and say, "hey, I think I'll be miserable today, and every day from now on."
And I just wish that maybe for a while, we could sit and deal with what my illness is doing to me. I wish I could see my therapist again. But not enough money. Even with the huge discount she gave me. Because my healthcare doesn't cover mental health. Really??? I would think they'd want less crazy people roaming around town!
Oh well. I managed to catch a cold, on top of everything else, so it's time to sleep now.
Thank you to those who have donated so far. I think we'll be able to make it another week now without being totally broke! Yay, because I like having food and electricity and my medications :)
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
That's not healthy to think now is it? But there it was. It was such a strong thought. An urge. I had to fight hard to drive the rest of the way home in a careful manner.
I'm just so tired. Tired of fighting with doctors to get the meds and tests I need. Tired of trying to convince people that something is wrong. Tired of being rejected. Tired of the anxiety that pops up each time I have to see yet another specialist. Because that specialist is just as likely as the last to tell me, "it's all in your head."
Apparently, I'm stressing my fiance out to the point of which we bicker over stupid shit. And even his mom is upset with me for stressing out her baby. I get it. I do. I watched my father deal with bone cancer most of my life. I know how it sucks to love someone and watch them waste away. Then my dad left. He left out of pride. He left out of guilt. He left for a number of reasons that I may never really know. But being sick now myself, I can see why one might want to leave. I feel a burden. I'd go home to my mom, but she has no room for me and the pets at her place. I don't want to put a strain on my relationships. I didn't ask for this. Any of it. The bipolar disorder. The anxiety. The nausea. The body aches. The exhaustion. The confusion. The black outs. I didn't wake up and say, "hey, I think I'll be miserable today, and every day from now on."
And I just wish that maybe for a while, we could sit and deal with what my illness is doing to me. I wish I could see my therapist again. But not enough money. Even with the huge discount she gave me. Because my healthcare doesn't cover mental health. Really??? I would think they'd want less crazy people roaming around town!
Oh well. I managed to catch a cold, on top of everything else, so it's time to sleep now.
Thank you to those who have donated so far. I think we'll be able to make it another week now without being totally broke! Yay, because I like having food and electricity and my medications :)
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
Friday, July 4, 2014
Tv and internet is gone again. Those two things help keep me sane. When you're sick and can't do much but just veg out on the couch. But other bills take priority. Obviously in this heat electricity is a must! And water! And the roof over our heads. I don't mind not having a lot of food since I just throw it up anyway. But I'll miss the escape tv gave me. Guess I don't have to pay netflix this month either :p
I have a terrible pain just above my belly button. It hurts to move around. I now walk hunched over like a little ol lady. I hope it goes away. It's been almost 24 hours. If it doesn't go away by the time Irvin gets home, I'll be making him take me to hospital.
Anyway, dunno when I'll be back around. I'm typing this on my phone but I have limited data so I can't be using the internet often unless I go steal me some wifi!
Love and miss you, my fans.
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
I have a terrible pain just above my belly button. It hurts to move around. I now walk hunched over like a little ol lady. I hope it goes away. It's been almost 24 hours. If it doesn't go away by the time Irvin gets home, I'll be making him take me to hospital.
Anyway, dunno when I'll be back around. I'm typing this on my phone but I have limited data so I can't be using the internet often unless I go steal me some wifi!
Love and miss you, my fans.
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
And there it is again. The sickness that has me reaching for the bottle. The nausea. The panic attack that slams with the first sickening wave. The body aches are easy enough to ignore. It's that damn nausea that throws my world into chaos. All because of a strange phobia that I can't trace or understand. My medications take the edge off. But it's no cure. And my free healthcare won't cover anything stronger. Plus, no one wants to give me anything stronger anyway. I don't work and I'm on free health care so they all assume that I must be some druggie or dead beat who just wants to get high off my pills. Oh if only that were the case. I don't drink for fun anymore. I drink to numb. To sleep. To escape. And I feel so weak for it. But there it is. This is how I cope.
And no, I'm not spending my money on alcohol. We have a stash that's been around for a long time from when we used to throw parties.
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
And no, I'm not spending my money on alcohol. We have a stash that's been around for a long time from when we used to throw parties.
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
Thank you
Thanks to those of you who have donated. Also thanks to those of you who have sent me words of hope, compassion, ect. Every day is a battle. Some days I win. Some days I lose. But each day is another chance to say, "I can do this." Another chance to face my health. Both physical and mental. Each time I walk into a store is a chance to say, "I won't run away." To not let my anxiety beat me. I will fail. I will falter. I will stumble and fall. But because of your support, I will get up again. I will fight. And maybe, just maybe, someday, I won't have to battle anymore. I'll just be ok.
Stress related illness
That's more or less what I'm being told. And I guess it's true. I'm always sick. But it's worse when something bad happens. Say we argue about money, bam, I'm throwing up dinner. Or I'm freaking out about yet another doctor appointment and how I do and yet don't want to go. Bam, I'm having a panic attack.
I'm truly sick of the cycle. The mental illness causes the physical illness. The physical illness causes the mental illness. On and on and on.
Ok, so it's not quite that simple. My bipolar disorder has pretty much always been there. But looking back, I was sick much of my life. I have a weak immune system and always wound up with something wrong with me. It drove my dad nuts. "You're always sick!" I hear those words now, but from another man. You're always sick. We can't go out. We can't have fun. We can't go on vacation. You can't work. You can't clean house. I'm stressed. We're broke. Because you're always sick. Or too afraid of getting sick to even step outside the front door...
Each appointment gives me anxiety. And oh boy is it gonna get worse. I have to see a specialist for my stomach. Get to have the ol' colonoscopy and endoscopy. For those of you who don't have to know these things, I get to have a camera shoved up my butt and another one shoved down my throat. Thank god they sedate you. Because I'll be a hot mess. And of course, my phobia of vomiting has me terrified that the anesthesia will make me puke. Or that I'll gag on the tube and throw up. More reason to have a panic attack.
I wish I could hire a live in nurse. Or a maid. Or something. Probably not tho. I prefer to to do my suffering alone. To be by myself when I am my sickest. Having the worst panic attacks. Have the worst bout of nausea. Laying on the floor when the pain hits my legs and back. Curling in fetal position when the stomach cramps kick in. I don't want to be seen that way. I don't want to remembered that way.
Well I'm off to do more blood tests. Do you know they don't even give you juice and a cookie when they take 8 vials of blood? The juice and cookies are only for blood donors. Not those being poked and prodded like lab rats. Thankfully, I'm not driving. I'll be too dizzy.
I'm still asking for donations to help me pay for things. Money is so tight, it's like a cruel joke. You check the past entry for details.
Thank you again for your support.
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
Ok, so it's not quite that simple. My bipolar disorder has pretty much always been there. But looking back, I was sick much of my life. I have a weak immune system and always wound up with something wrong with me. It drove my dad nuts. "You're always sick!" I hear those words now, but from another man. You're always sick. We can't go out. We can't have fun. We can't go on vacation. You can't work. You can't clean house. I'm stressed. We're broke. Because you're always sick. Or too afraid of getting sick to even step outside the front door...
Each appointment gives me anxiety. And oh boy is it gonna get worse. I have to see a specialist for my stomach. Get to have the ol' colonoscopy and endoscopy. For those of you who don't have to know these things, I get to have a camera shoved up my butt and another one shoved down my throat. Thank god they sedate you. Because I'll be a hot mess. And of course, my phobia of vomiting has me terrified that the anesthesia will make me puke. Or that I'll gag on the tube and throw up. More reason to have a panic attack.
I wish I could hire a live in nurse. Or a maid. Or something. Probably not tho. I prefer to to do my suffering alone. To be by myself when I am my sickest. Having the worst panic attacks. Have the worst bout of nausea. Laying on the floor when the pain hits my legs and back. Curling in fetal position when the stomach cramps kick in. I don't want to be seen that way. I don't want to remembered that way.
Well I'm off to do more blood tests. Do you know they don't even give you juice and a cookie when they take 8 vials of blood? The juice and cookies are only for blood donors. Not those being poked and prodded like lab rats. Thankfully, I'm not driving. I'll be too dizzy.
I'm still asking for donations to help me pay for things. Money is so tight, it's like a cruel joke. You check the past entry for details.
Thank you again for your support.
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
It's been so long and I need your help
First, I apologize for my absence. It's been so long since I've been on here. So long, that I worry I've lost my words. My ability to even say anymore how I feel.
It's the same old thing. I'm still chronically ill. And the doctors are still stumped. I've turned into a human lab rat. All dignity and pride has been taken away. My anxiety is at an all time high.
I can't even grocery shop with my mom now. Well, I can... But it often takes a few tries. I have to run from the store and to the safety of her car. I also cling to her arm for dear life out of fear of blacking out.
And I need your help, dear fans. The government has turned their backs on me so many times. I don't get disability. No welfare. No social security. No money aid at all. I get free health care. But its so limited, that it's almost a joke.
I need food. I need money for rent. I need cable or at least internet to keep me from losing my mind. I need summer clothes so I'm not out in triple digit weather in either sweats or pjs.
I'm asking for donations. Even just a dollar. I hate to do that. I hate to beg or turn into a panhandler. I'd like to think I could support myself. But how can I, when I can't even leave my own home anymore? My man lost his business. He works, but it's a huge pay cut and we're not even living paycheck to paycheck. It's more like, "hey what can we sell so we can get through the rest of the week?" Mortgage won't even get paid this month.
Ugh I hate this. It causes even more anxiety. Even depression. I sleep a lot now. Not much else to do.
I self medicate to the point of which I hate myself. I deal with the worst of my illness alone. Day/night, doesn't matter. I use alcohol so I don't feel the nausea. Don't feel the aches in every bone of my body. Don't feel what a worthless waste of space I have become.
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
Thank you in advance. And even if you can't send anything, thanks for reading and for supporting me.
It's the same old thing. I'm still chronically ill. And the doctors are still stumped. I've turned into a human lab rat. All dignity and pride has been taken away. My anxiety is at an all time high.
I can't even grocery shop with my mom now. Well, I can... But it often takes a few tries. I have to run from the store and to the safety of her car. I also cling to her arm for dear life out of fear of blacking out.
And I need your help, dear fans. The government has turned their backs on me so many times. I don't get disability. No welfare. No social security. No money aid at all. I get free health care. But its so limited, that it's almost a joke.
I need food. I need money for rent. I need cable or at least internet to keep me from losing my mind. I need summer clothes so I'm not out in triple digit weather in either sweats or pjs.
I'm asking for donations. Even just a dollar. I hate to do that. I hate to beg or turn into a panhandler. I'd like to think I could support myself. But how can I, when I can't even leave my own home anymore? My man lost his business. He works, but it's a huge pay cut and we're not even living paycheck to paycheck. It's more like, "hey what can we sell so we can get through the rest of the week?" Mortgage won't even get paid this month.
Ugh I hate this. It causes even more anxiety. Even depression. I sleep a lot now. Not much else to do.
I self medicate to the point of which I hate myself. I deal with the worst of my illness alone. Day/night, doesn't matter. I use alcohol so I don't feel the nausea. Don't feel the aches in every bone of my body. Don't feel what a worthless waste of space I have become.
Money can be sent to my paypal. kedralynn.amber@gmail.com
Thank you in advance. And even if you can't send anything, thanks for reading and for supporting me.
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