I know that I am not doing the things that I should to stay healthy--mentally or physically. I know that I should not stay up super late working on beading. I should do other things during the day-- like get outside in the beautiful weather and interact with people...
But instead I feel sick (once again not convinced that this is not in part psycho-somatic) and stay inside working obsessively on my projects. AND I DON'T CARE I have no interest in changing this behavior that I am well aware is not productive. This is the part I read about in literature aimed at friends and family of bipolar people. It talked about bipolar people not being willing to take responsibility for their own contributions to hypomanic/manic/depressive states. Which is NOT to say that we are necessarily in control of these states any more than anyone is in control of their own emotions. But it was saying that it is the responsibility of the bipolar person to recognize early signs of mania/hypomania/depression and take appropriate action to prevent a full-blown mood episode from starting. BUT I DON'T CARE I am getting things done. I like the result of my progress. I am getting much more done (art-wise) than I would be getting done if I behaved responsibly. I will give myself this much credit: I have stayed out of the garden and not engaged in large-muscle hypomanic activities. I will list the things that I have not done...
There are any number of things that need to happen in the yard, but I don't trust myself to do those things. So I remain stuck inside on my beading projects in thrall to creation of something new. And when I stop doing these things, when I start to engage in grown-up and responsible activities, the edges of panic creep back. I guess my reasoning is that if I am going to have so much anxious energy, I may as well get something tangible out of the deal. A friend has suggested that I try to get stuff ready for application to the women's art expo... Gotta go. Planning to write a bit (novel-wise) before returning to running a glover's needle through leather. Apparently my body has caught on to the fact that I am spending too much time stressing out. So now I am experiencing intermittent loss of hearing to one or both ears. "Hysterical deafness" is my affectionate terms for this infrequent occurrence.
This imaginary hearing loss only strikes when I am quite stressed out. Only I realize that it isn't just that I can't hear, but I have that ringing buzz of tinnitus. Which can apparently be one of the symptoms of high blood pressure. And mine has been a bit elevated recently (even before the recent stress binge). So the fact that I associate this ringing with stress (which can also contribute to high blood pressure) makes perfect sense. Which means I should probably go have it checked. Which I was supposed to do anyway. I have nothing more to say at this time, apparently. Saw family Spent some time outside took my meds did not physically implode from stress Friday morning Really really really did not want to go to conferences. Because it meant that I would have to see people that I didn't know and people that I did know and I would need to be intelligible and remember things and in general be way more put-together than I felt. Which meant I dressed nicely and wore heels and did my make-up and stuff. And it was apparently a good disguise because I also had my hair quite short and was wearing contacts for the first time in 20 years and even people who knew me didn't recognize me. The rest of the day -- beading. I'm on a Van Gogh kick. ALL DAY beading. No, seriously. Until I decided to check my emails and messages as I have been endeavoring to do lately. Remember how I mentioned my view that opening email is like this: someone hands me a box that may or may not contain a venomous snake. Or it might not. And I need to decide whether or not to open it... So Friday there was a snake in the box. As per usual, education funding is not equal to the task.. and jobs are in question. And there was an email sent out to everyone at my job indicating how staffing cuts would be determined and who would be let go first (in general). And then the rising tide of anxiety and stress suddenly tripled. And I felt like I might implode from the stress of not knowing what will happen with my specific job in the fall and whether I might even have a job in the fall and who will be let go because even if it isn't me it is going to suck. And this makes morale very crappy with everyone wondering and worrying. And I projected that I might have to face this uncertainty for some time. Perhaps I should work in a more stable field. A growth industry. Like mortuary science. The dead out-number the living and their ranks are growing day by day. An it is not dependent upon school boards and tax dollars and referendums and per-pupil funding rates and test scores and... stuff. Here is the other thing: I am fairly certain that if it were up to my boss I would be able to stay where I am doing what I am doing. But it is something out of her control. And something out of the big boss's control too. They have to juggle the money they have with the staff-- and must place contract teachers first. I stayed up until 2:30 am beading. I woke with a screaming headache, went to teach with a claylike face and little energy, and beaded throughout my sons' piano recital. Even now I resent that I am not working glass beads into leather. I am uncomfortable without the needle in my hands. If I allow myself time to think, I begin to spiral into stress again. I'm going to stop this and go back to beading now. Because of all the things I could self-medicate with I'm pretty sure it is harmless and I feel like I have burst at the seams and all my stuffing has come out and all that is left is the empty shell. Cheers (Pretty sure this is what dysphoric hypomania looks like when ameliorated by mood stabilizers. It's a pity they aren't a magical cure.) I had a crappy Wednesday. A video that I was showing had faulty closed captioning and I kept scrambling to try and find some way to make this work for my class (which includes several hard of hearing/deaf students and even if it didn't the thing should be subtitled)...
I kept looking for alternate ways to play the documentary while simultaneously apologizing to the interpreter, the students, the interpreter-in-training, my co-teacher and the rest of the students who were forced to wait while I tried (and failed miserably) to get the thing to work properly. Which it never did. I printed out a complete transcript for my deaf student and apologized in ASL and in English. And she was very understanding and said it was not a problem (but it was!). This led directly to my feeling like a complete failure as a teacher and a detriment to the class. (I had previewed the first few minutes of the film, btw, and the captioning worked just fine.) I decided after such a hard day I really just wanted to go and bead and write and have some time to myself at local coffee shop (where I really enjoy going-- twice a week at least). But there was a Tenor Voice Major (with capital letters and all, if not italics and a marquee) tutoring some lowly undergrad in music theory. VERY LOUDLY. In the middle of the coffee shop. And no matter where I sat I could here him quizzing his student on different inversions and major and minor and dorian and phrygian... and then he began to SING VERY LOUDLY. I could not write. So I decided to bead instead. I am beading on leather. With a knife-edge needles. Which is intended to go through leather. And I had JUST enough wherewithal to not use said needle on Tenor Voice Major. Even before he sang, I could feel his tenorness from across the room. He projected each syllable as if he were on stage. He sat like he was holding court. And he kind of looked like Henry VIII. This makes it sound like I do not like tenors. That is not true. I just don't like the way this particular person (who happened to be a tenor) comported himself without regard to anyone else. Thursday I did NOTHING but bead. Okay, I wrote a little bit. But other than that, I spent the rest of the day feverishly beading. When it came time to go to band practice I began to feel ill. But I knew full well that it was just because I did not feel up to being with people. So I made myself go. But I told my friend that it felt like... you know when you have a pretty bad cold and you're trying to decide whether or not you should stay home from work? This was like the mental-health version of that. I was right on the border of "good god I cannot possibly go out of the house are you effing kidding me." My coping strategy (which seems quite odd, until you realize that all the beading was helping me cope with rising panic and anxiety) was to paperclip my current project to the edge of my music folder so I could touch it whenever I started to feel panicky. Which was quite frequently. But I am still glad that I went. Stay tuned for Friday and Saturday... I have not blogged (which you might have noticed) and I can feel my entire body being flooded with stress hormones. Which I do not like. I have plenty of extra if anyone would like some. Maybe if I had fangs like a venomous snake I could just have the cortisol extracted for use elsewhere. Maybe they could develop some sort of antidote.
Because SD:FLKJ:Q#IOU$}){(*T{@OIH :KN!!!! I am stressed. And it has presented as both hyper-focus obsessive AND Depressed mood/sleep crap. I have been alternating between staying up super late because I can't (won't) stop beading and going to sleep REALLY early because A. I am tired B. I do not have the emotional reserves to deal with anyone else C. Particularly whiny children at the end of their own long day I was going to write last night, but the computer wasn't charged which meant that instead I spent five hours straight beading. And wished that I could have spent more. The other night I had a dream that I was out with my family (in-laws) and we tried to order pie at an Indian restaurant. They had no pie slices to sell, but did have whole pies that we could purchase. It turned out that "whole pies" actually meant pieces that you could add up to make a whole pie. And the OFP was the person selling them to me. She threw in a special K bar, a chocolate biscotti and a piece of cake free of charge. So I called to make an appointment with her. Because I didn't have one of my ones regularly scheduled AND she said she wanted to see me while I was in the middle of some crap and not after I had figured things out. Well the earliest they can get me in is May 19th and HOPEFULLY by then I will not feel so spinny. I have been reading about the responsibility that bipolar people have for their own mood states. Like if I can tell that I am teetering on the edge of hypomania, I should not begin new beading projects. And I know this. And I don't care to make myself stop. I HAVE avoided doing giant things in the garden, which is beginning to beckon me in a big way. I think it will be very good that I am working during the day instead of the evenings this summer. Less time to get in trouble in the dirt. I cannot commit to leaving my beading alone. (Okay, I WILL not commit to leaving my beading alone.) But I will endeavor to write with greater frequency because otherwise I will have no real record of what is going on when I am in this crap. Which I don't even know what it is. It could very well just be regular stress and not a remnant of the bipolar whatsoever. I could so easily sink into Depression if I let myself. Or go the other direction. Perhaps the mood stabilizers and awareness of my condition is helping to prevent this from happening. Blah. I am going to go stress out now. And worry about my job, my children, my finances, my family and... larger more important global issues just for fun. Happy Earth Day (which rhymes with birthday) This morning I began the day by strong-arming my pre-teen into taking a shower. There was some yelliness on both sides of the equation. But it didn't tank my morning and apologies smoothed things over.
From there I just sort of spiraled slowly downward into a small puddle of blah. Not sure there is any particular reason. I wrote in the morning for an hour or two. And when I came home, I set about beading, which I typically don't do in the middle of the day. But it was all I felt able to do at the minute. Then there was a meeting at work, which was a fine meeting. But I left feeling like I should be accomplishing some sort of super-human over-arching amazing culmination to the year for my team. And I don't think that is actually called for. But the downward mood wasn't due to that either. Honestly I could not pinpoint any particular cause. Just a bit blah. Perhaps it is just a bit blah sort of day for me. These happen. It was a lovely day outside. I was not coughing up a lung. But by the end of the day (which is now) I can tell that my face is in its "negative neutral" position. When I am doing pretty much mostly okay, my face has a positive neutral expression. I appear cheerful and friendly. When I am doing a bit less okay, my face has a sort of mean "back off" sort of a look. The muscles can't be bothered to pull my face into any kind of expression. Things are just sort of blank. There was a time in the afternoon that I thought things were going to spiral down even further. This was when I was hiding in the bedroom with the cover over my head while my overtired four-year old screamed at me that I forgot to make her herbal tea and that it wasn't nice to not do things that you said you would do. In order to calm down and so I could be somewhat functional, I practiced piano. Three times today. Once in the morning when 12yo was being twelve. Once this afternoon when 4yo was shrieking. Once this evening when I was trying to stay awake so I wouldn't fall asleep and forget to put 4yo to bed on time. Only I didn't fall asleep but I did lose track of time and tired out my pinky fingers by over-stretching a bit on some bombastic chords. (Loving Chopin Scherzo No.1. I will not have it learned any time soon) I need to set a timer when I practice. I know I have said this before, but it continues to be true. Yesterday went to see my NAMI speaker for practice. Now I get to contact the volunteer guy and meet with him again so I can begin to go out and speak as part of the Speakers Bureau. I am pretty stoked about that. Tomorrow will be tomorrow. And then it will be done. I think I need to talk to my boss and figure out some things about job-related stuff and that will help some of the underlying stress that is simmering about nebulous issues that I can't even identify. Just some nameless creeping dread at low levels. Not terribly good, I suppose. I feel disconnected. But from what? Or from whom? Don't know. Let's just call it a puddly sort of day. Grateful Crap: the shrieking has stopped Equatorial Actions: took my meds relaxed (went to the goodwill today, in the full knowledge that it was an attempt to deal with the low mood.) Not quite up to my daily blog post goal, but at least I am letting less time pass. The word now is "longlingeringviralinfection." Okay. I realize that is actually not one word. But it is one thing. And I am not fond of it. Here is my only bit of whining about that for this post: I'll feel better for a day and then worse. And then have a fever, and then not. Of course I suppose that is better than feeling terrible all the time. Shutting up about it now. I have been engaging (kind of obsessively) in writing the sequel to my first kinda-trashy novel. I have 26,000 some words on it so far. It will likely take 70 - 80 thousand words to tell the whole tale. We'll see. Second (kind of obsessive) project has been working on beaded cuffs. So far I have made two for myself and 1 just because and I am working on another just because. Last night I snipped threads and un-beaded about 1/3 of my newest project. Which violated my no ripping, no "frogging," no un-doing after ten pm rule. It's a pretty good rule. I should probably stick to that. But I will be much happier with the result, so this time it turned out okay.
I must confess to a bad habit that I have developed recently (during the sleepless nights and the super tired afternoons of this recent bout of COUGH COUGH COUGH). In order to get to sleep-- especially if there are other noises going on in the house, I listen to (but not watch) Netflix on my phone. I believe this is likely NOT conducive to sleep. Especially because I listen to criminal procedural murder mystery shows. You know... the kind designed to be soothing and relaxing? Just thought I would try to convince people that was the case. It's the sort of thing that I would never allow my children to do... I remember back when they would stay up super late listening to books on tape until we made a music only rule for bedtime. Maybe that's what I need to do. Except I find it less distracting to listen to people talking. But not news. I think I just need to exile my smart phone from my dumb bedtime routine. Ban it from the Bedroom. Bring only Books. P.S. I have misplaced my yellow glasses. It makes me sad. P.P.S. I am sporadically adhering to my plan to check email and calendar twice per day. it is much less terrifying when i am strict about that schedule. Like checking often for scorpions in my shoes. If I lived somewhere that had scorpions. And usually its just shoes. I should remember this. Happy to report nothing exciting on the whole bipolar front. I've been only the normal amount of moody and irritable given my stupid cold. Except I have been stressed about nebulous work stuff and the scramble to find childcare for many meetings that I really should attend. Daughter is not in childcare because most of the time I am home. When I am not, relying on Friend, Family and Neighbor care. I think the stress comes more from my recent detachment from time and inattention to calendar. (I need to plan things further out than: OH CRAP, I have a meeting tomorrow and who is going to watch the daughter???) Perhaps I should look into arranging play dates for her when I only have short meetings. That suddenly seems brilliant. And not like, "Hey, I should totally trim the branches from the maple tree by standing on an icy roof" kind of brilliant. Just the regular kind. Grateful Crap: normal stuff that is just the normal amount of stressful Equatorial Actions: ALWAY ALWAYS ALWAYS take my meds (but still have not okayed my increase in lamotrigine with behavioral psych nurse practitioner. have an appointment tomorrow. I promise I will address that when I see her) one time I went to the gym. but I am balancing the need to rest with the need to exercise. Have not been up until 1:30. But I am often up until past midnight. Non-optimal. Still sometimes feel like hibernating, but I'm pretty sure I can blame that on temperament and not pathology. I am so far behind on this that I am not even sure what has happened since the last time I posted. Which is really too bad because it is for just such intervals as these that I would like a record to look back on.
Three weeks ago (I think) was when I had asthmatic bronchitis. Then I had the week of continuing 2-3 hours of sleep. On the Friday of that week (after two weeks of VERY minimal sleep) I thought to myself: I have a BRILLIANT idea. I will shave off all my hair! (Spoilers: I did not shave off all my hair.) I have learned from recent experience that whenever I find myself saying (to myself) I have a BRILLIANT idea... it is typically not so great and I should probably think about it for a while. In this case it wasn't so much the thinking about it that saved me, but the fact that I was at a library and waiting for my daughter to get done with preschool. So instead I scheduled a haircut and someone else shaved off some of my hair. I think it was a much better plan. So this brings us to last week when I made the lovely discovery that my asthma medication and my bipolar medication do not get along. The inhalers have a manic-inducing effect. So when I am already leaning toward the (hypo)manic side of things-- what with spring and lack of sleep and recent decrease of venlafaxine-- it is NOT GOOD. Unfortunately this gives me the choice of being able to breathe or being able to have a fully functional brain. Not great choices. On my list of things to do (which I have not done) is to call my psych doc and ask if I can/should increase my mood stabilizers. Also to call my allergist to see about recommendations for less stimulating asthma medication. From my extensive study at Google University, it appears that albuterol and ventolin may just cause a physiological response that FEELS like hypomania. Okay. So I'm not hypomanic, but I feel hypomanic. How is this functionally different for me? Talked to the OFP who says she wants me to schedule with her when I am in the midst of hypomanic episode. The thing is, I am pretty fricken' rapid cycling and I have only had bursts of hypomania followed by a crash in energy and enthusiasm. Had coffee with a friend who pointed out that most of my worst hypomanic episodes seem to be kicked off by some kind of work-related stress. Cue work related stress. Yesterday my Saturday class was on spring break. At least that was my understanding. Unfortunately I did not communicate this understanding to my boss or to my students. So on Saturday morning when I got a text from my boss telling me that there were confused students showing up... This was all the excuse I needed to go into a whirlwind of panicky stress-related hypomanic cleaning, hyperventilating, poor relating to people, crying jags and the certainty that I am going to be fired. On the plus side, I have a really clean bathroom and a well-organized bedroom. On the minus side, I never want to see anyone ever again. Ever. I managed to come down very suddenly with chills/low fever/no fever/cough/body aches/headache at about the same time. Up most of the night shivering and coughing. Feeling better (physically) today. But secretly overjoyed that I don't have to socialize with anyone for the easter holiday. And I can't imagine that my illness was all imaginary. I would have imagined a much better illness. So I don't really want to share my germs. I did communicate with two non-spouse people about my panic yesterday, which i think gets me some bonus points. One of them was friend who laughed when I told her I thought I would be fired. The other one was a friend/coworker who was equally dismissive of the idea that my job was at risk for failing to inform students of spring break. It's more the lack of communication in general that has me worried. I need to patch things up so I don't spend more time spiraling on this. When I am good, I am very very good and when I am bad, I'm horrid. But I don't have a curl in the middle of my forehead so I'm pretty sure that nursery rhyme is not about me. Oh yes, here is the punchline... After the hair thing and before the work thing I decided that I probably was not bipolar at all. It seemed more likely that I was making the whole thing up for laughs. Ha. |
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K. BuchananQuaker, teacher, parent, |