Throw Out a Lifeline

The last I wrote here I'd had a breakdown. A pretty good one. I didn't take my meds for a week. I wasn't eating. I had hit apathy so hard that nothing mattered at all to me. Part of this, Jb and I am sure is that I lost my therapist for about three weeks while she was nursing her son who'd shattered his foot and had to have multiple surgeries. I don't think I understood how very important therapy had become for me. How balanced it helped to keep me.

My dose has changed again. 100MG of Zoloft, 300MG of Lamictal twice a day, and Klonopin 3 times a day. We're winnowing the meds down, which is one of the reasons I like this psych. He had tried me on Lithium, and I couldn't stay hydrated enough to keep up with the shakes and disoriented, vertigo-like sensations. So we dropped as not a good drug for me.

In between, I've been moving along as well as I'm able. I had a week and a half after the major depression where I couldn't sleep. I'd be up until 5 am and running on 4 hours of sleep a day. I was restless in bed, could not fall asleep, thinking and thinking and thinking. I think I might have swung up into a bit of a hypo mode. Anyway, now that's gone, as if hypo episodes burn my body out, and now I'm feeling exhausted and unmotivated and all around... feh.

An amazing thing happened last night, though. Jb came with me to therapy. He actually wanted to. How many guys would do that for you? My therapist thinks he's the best thing on two legs. It was a productive session. I think he got to say a lot of things that were on his mind, and none of them exactly hurt or were negative toward me, but I couldn't help feeling guilty, and ashamed, and humbled by how much he truly cares for me, regardless of my condition. There was so much love and worry there that it really made me tear up.

So. Apparently, I have the best boyfriend in the world.

Last tidbit about what I've been dealing with. Balance issues. I'm still having them. In fact, right after the therapy appoint when we got home, I literally fell on my ass when I got out of the car and rolled down the grassy slope. I'm always tottering. I almost fell on Jb while he was lying on the bed, and when I was cleaning the other week, I feel smack on the metal garbage can we keep in the front room. I've bruises on my arm, bruises on my foot where I dropped a fan on it, and I've fallen into the closet door in the bathroom more times than I can count.

What else. I've a DHHS appointment to review my foodstamps and temporary disability. It's at 8am, and there's really no way we can work the single car situation with Jb working. I've called to see if they'll reschedule, but I had to leave a message. I'll try again later because frankly, I don't trust them to get back to me.

And the SSDI. I got the info about my doctors, though I couldn't get all the dates of tests and visits. I had to fudge and guess years of when I saw some of them. Best I could do. But I can't seem to get further than that. I brought up the online application page and just sat there looking at it for an hour, overwhelmed and unable to start it.

Lost It, Again

I lost it in the office at the psych's. Completely, utterly broke down. Shaking, sobbing. I think I used half his tissue box. I couldn't stop. And he just sat there and let me cry, which made me feel stupid and dumb and broken. I admitted I hadn't been med compliant and that I couldn't keep up with the hydration on the Lithium to offset the side effects. And when he suggested Abilify, I had to shoot that down because I'd been on it and gained 50lbs. And that's when my last psychiatrist suggested bariatric surgery rather than meds. What the fuck?

So I'm out in the parking lot outside the office, calling Jb, because I suddenly realize what day it is and that he's not getting paid 'til next Friday, and I blew all our foodstamps on food for, like, 4-5 days and a bunch of crap, and we've a whole other week we need groceries for. So I fucked up. And I'm bawling on the phone to him about that. And I can't stop. I can't stop crying. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Fucking roller coaster, and I want off. But no, the psych says, "That seems to be symptomatic of your illness." So it's official: I'm a rapid cycler.

Anway, prescription changes: off the Lithium. Still on the Lamictal and Klonopin. Wellbutrin is now gone. Zoloft has been up from 50 to 100MG.

Change in Meds

Started Lithium today. I almost don't care about the horror stories, the side effects, I'd take anything right now if it'd help with these mood swings. I'm riding a roller coaster, where the drops are steep and the rises aren't nearly slow enough.

That Close

Yesterday was close. I needed Jb, I needed the hospital, I needed something. So when Jb said he was coming home, I sat on the porch, telling myself if I could just hold it all together until he got home, I'd be okay. But all that ran through my head as I was chain smoking, waiting for him, was, "Just bleed out. Just bleed out. Just bleed out." I kept rocking myself, starring at the paving stones, looking up at every car that passed, hoping it was Jb, hopping it was the one person who'd make it all okay. Never, never have I thought Jb could fix me, but I'm better when he's around.

When he finally got home, I couldn't stop crying. I felt so guilty having to admit that I'd been having suicidal thoughts. He asked me if I needed the hospital, and I probably should have gone, but then I'd be back at square one, and I can't go back to that. I can't climb up out of that pit again, and maybe that's why I wanted to end it all. I was so tired. So tired of the meds and the therapist and the psychiatrist and the fact that even though they're brilliant, I still can't bring myself to leave the house today; I don't trust myself with razors. I'm standing at the brink, always at the brink.

Vertical Issues

That's to say: I'm having trouble staying vertical. I've never been grace personified, but there are limits after which I will not take blame for my own actions. For example, the other night, I nearly took a header off the top stairs of our porch. I could see that "oh shit" look on Jb's face just before he reached out and got his arms around me. My hero, of course. Otherwise, I'd have fallen backward down the stairs and busted my head. Crazy person in the hospital with a head injury. Ba-bump ching. Funny, funny stuff, folks.

Anyway, I really don't know if it's a side effect of one of the meds or not. Zoloft is the most recent addition. But seriously, I walk around the apartment like I'm drunk. I'm good, and then all of a sudden my entire body wants to go to the right, and my feet are trying to catch up. I trip over myself constantly, and when I get up from sitting down, I often plop right back down because I can't quite get my balance. My ex-mother-in-law had an inner ear thing that kept her off balance, but I've no inner ear thing. Thus, I can only attribute it to meds.

New Psych, New Evaluation, Same Diagnosis

I love the new psych. I am not going back to the old one. The new one spent an actual hour and a half with me, listening to me, to my history, to my ideas about my meds. I was prepared this time. In all fairness to my last psych, he got me straight from the hospital, and all I could do for several visits was sit in the chair and cry. But this time, I used my resume to help create a timeline of episodes of depression and hypomania and brought along a list of my meds and when I was given them.

On first blush, the psych agrees that I have some form of bipolar. Probably bipolar II because I don't seem to show a history of full blow mania or psychosis. He's shoving Remeron off my list of meds, which I'd tried to talk my last psych into doing because I knew it wasn't working for me. And while my new psych thinks Lamictal is good for some types of bipolar, he thinks Lithium might be the better choice for me, but we need some baseline blood tests. I go to my new PCP Monday, and my psych gave me a "prescription" for what he required in the blood test.

He also wants my past history from the hospital, from my last psych, and from my last PCP. He's the first psych to be so thorough. And I could tell he listened to me. He agreed with me when I said that I thought they were merely throwing drugs at me and couldn't understand why I was on three -- count them: three -- anti-depressents. He'd like to have me try Lithium and get me down to one anti-depressent or maybe a muscle relaxant? That last bit I'm not sure of. I need to research that more in the treatment of bipolar disorder.

It was a second opinion, though, and he seemed utterly professional and interested in my input -- that I wanted an evaluation and a diagnosis. When I walked out the door, I told him how glad I was to have found him and that he seemed very professional and gave me a better evaluation than I've had since the hospital. He kinda smiled, like he was feeling a little self-conscious, and told me I was a very good patient. So I'm encourage. He seems like someone who's willing to work together on my diagnosis, and that matters a great deal to me.

I really lucked into this non-profit organization. They are, without equal, the best treatment I've received since being in Maryland. I even called the head honcho of the place to let him know how happy I was with my therapist and the meeting with my psychiatrist. After some shoddy treatment, you don't realize what a relief it is to finally find the holy grail of psychological specialists. And we often overlook people who do their jobs, and do them well. I wanted to be sure the head honcho knew what a great set of people he had.

Axis of Evil

I'm slacking on my meds again. I got myself a day/afternoon/night pillbox to deal with all the meds I'm on because, frankly, at 12:30am, I'm not thinking the clearest; I'll pass up my meds if they're too much damn trouble. And that's what I've found myself doing. Late night can't be buggereds and early morning forgets. On top of that, my stomach and gut are acting up real bad.

It's the meds. It all comes back to the meds. It takes me roughly 2-3 hours to completely wake up in the morning. If I get caffeine, I can muddle through on 1 1/2 hours. But that's just it. Having to get up and drive Jb around in the early mornings, I've started chugging caffeine again after being off it for nearly a year. On top of that, I'm smoking more often. American Spirit Menthol Lights give me a slight buzz that Marlboro Menthols never did. The combination is chewing up my stomach, though, and it's creating this "axis of evil," where I'm using caffeine to get me up, cigarettes to bring me down, and meds to keep me level.

You Are What You Eat

So, now that I've a cocktail of five drugs, I'm interested about what, exactly, I'm putting in my body. I mean, what's the difference between the three sets of anti-depressants I'm on?

According to Crazy Meds, Wellbutrin XL is a multiple reuptake inhibitor, which means:

These drugs affect more than one neurotransmitter, usually serotonin and norepinephrine. Serotonin, norepinephrine and dopamine are the big three neurotransmitters responsible for a lot of depression issues. My wild-ass guess / rule of thumb is that imbalances of one or more of these three are responsible for 80% of the depression issues people suffer from. It's all just a matter of figuring out exactly the extent of the tweaking and what neurotransmitters you exactly need to tweak.

As for Remeron, it's a tricyclic anti-depressant. According to McMan, that means:

They work by preventing two neurotransmitters - norepinephrine and serotonin - from being absorbed by the brain cell's receptors, and can be a life-saver where other medications have failed. Some experts contend that because these meds have strong action on two neurotransmitters, they may be more effective than the newer generation of antidepressants, which largely zero in on only one. But owing to the fact that tricyclics are imprecise weapons that take out unintended targets such as opioid receptors and histamine receptors, patients are at risk for a range of unwanted side effects. Overdoses can be fatal.

Yay for fatal overdoses.

So, now, what's the Zoloft for? Apparently, it's an SSRI, or a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. Nice to know that the three are at least three different kinds of anti-depressant. Still, here's what Crazy Meds says:

These drugs don't make you produce more serotonin, rather they make your neurons soak for a longer period of time in the serotonin you already produce.

But is that the same thing?

That depends on the person and the sensitivity of your 5HT receptors. Sometimes it's the same effect, sometimes not. When not it could be sub-par (to the point of being useless) or too much.

These days serotonin is the first line of attack in conquering depression, and the most likely neurotransmitter to really mess you up if your problem is actually bipolar and not unipolar depression. While these are not happy pills, for unipolar depression they are often quite effective at keeping depression at bay. In addition to depression, SSRIs are frequently good for panic/anxiety disorders and some are good for OCD as well. SSRIs are sometimes good for the more common forms of premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD).

Basically, the psych nurse is trying to cover all bases, it seems. I don't know how I feel about that. Wellbutrin and Remeron are in my system and have been for a while now. The Zoloft is the one that'll take nearly a month before I can possibly see any benefit.

I'm not even ready to touch the debate about anti-depressants and bipolar disorder. Maybe it means I don't have it. Maybe the fact I'm not having an adverse reaction means I've something else: major depression, unipolar depression, what have you. Sometimes, I think I'm drug resistant. Because I've been on Zoloft, on Effexor, Prozac, Cymalta, Trazadone, and one or two more I can't remember because it was long ago. They either seemed to help, then pooped out, or didn't help at all, or made me suicidal. Now I'm on nearly every type of anti-depressant, except an MAO inhibitor, which no one uses anymore, and a mood stabilizer.

It makes you think: if this doesn't work, what the hell will?

Psych Check-In

I haven't felt like writing here much. I had a good bout of depression going last week. Slept until 2:30 one day, got up for a few, then went back to sleep until Jb came home. Couple fights put me so low that I was thinking about the hospital and suicide again. It passed, though, which is good. I did make up an excuse to not see my therapist last Friday. Jb'll have a fit when he reads this, as I told him I was sick, which I was, just not in a way he could understand. Or so I felt.

There's other little things. I haven't cooked in a week or so. Haven't made a grocery list yet for this two weeks. Haven't done dishes in a week. Let the apartment go to hell. Jb helped me clean up this weekend (i.e. Jb mostly cleaned up. I've yet to do the dishes). On a side note, I did apply for unemployment today, and we'll see how that goes given the obnoxiously ridiculous situation that was my work's request for a voluntary resignation and then an unpaid LOA without any documentation whatsoever. I finally just quit, and I'll probably have to explain that.

Did see the psych, or rather, the nurse practitioner, who I like better anyway. She still considers me unstable and has put me on yet another medication, Zoloft. So that's what? Five psych drugs. You've got to be kidding me. I'm really unhappy with this. I'm almost to the point where I'm ready to throw up my hands, throw out all the fucking meds, and just try to work through things with this therapist, who I'm liking quite a bit. I mean, seriously, five fucking meds:

Remeron 30 MG 1x a day (Sedative/Anti-depressant)
Lamictal 150 MG 2x a day (300 MG total) (Mood Stabilizer)
Klonopin 1MG 3x a day (Anti-Anxiety)
Wellbutrin XL 300 MG 1x a day (Anti-depressant)
Zoloft 50 MG 1x a day (Anti-depressant)

Plus the Benicar, the Levsin, and the Protonix that I'm always on for hypertension and IBS. I honestly need a pill organizer at this point. A quarter of the time, I forget to take my meds. Maybe not so much. But I'm not daily compliant. I don't remember until too late in the morning, or I totally forget at night. Maybe an organizer would help. I don't know.

Feeling increasingly frustrated.

Psych Check-In

Haven't been sleeping well. Unable to fall asleep, so up until 3am, etc. Wake up feeling like I have a hangover. Using caffeine to get me functioning after being off caffeine for so long. All things I tried to convey to my psych today. She still considers me unstable, which is frustrating, and yet, true, and while she doesn't think I'm stable enough to consider a part-time job, she thinks some volunteer work would be good for socialization at this point. Happy to hear I have a therapist appointment tomorrow, as well.

My change in meds:

Benicar 45/100 -- 1x a day (Same)
Klonopin 1mg -- 3x a day (Upped)
Lamictal 150mg -- 2x a day (Upped)
Remeron 30mg -- 1x a day (Same)
Wellbutrin 300mg -- 1x a day (Same)

Since I'm having trouble sleeping, she's given me some leeway to mix my drugs around (i.e. taking Lamictal all at night or all in the morning, taking half a Klonopin in the morning if I'm groggy, etc.) The problem with the Klonopin is that it has a 12-hour half life, so if I take it all at night to help me sleep, how does it help my anxiety during the day?

I'd also be curious if anyone else experiences episodes of hypomania or anxiety that seem to be directly set off by doctor visits. I always seem worse when I go.

Oh, we also discussed my driving. I haven't been driving in a year or two. Jb's basically been using the car and what not. Lately, he's been encouraging me to try to get behind the wheel again, but it's causing me such anxiety that I don't think I'm ready for it. More importantly, my meds keep me off-balance, dizzy. The psych agreed that with my meds I probably shouldn't be driving until I'm more stable.

On a side note: The nation's health care system may suck, but state insurance for the needy, such as Medicaid, is a godsend. All of my prescriptions cost me $4. Free psych and therapist visits. Free doctor visits and lab tests. That's such a financial relief right now when I can't be working.

On That Note

I feel pretty good today, though I forgot to take my meds last night, and I haven't taken them yet this morning. There's a false sense of not needing them in that, I know. Because I feel fine. But that's probably because they're still in my bloodstream. The half-life of most drugs isn't short enough for one missed dose, or even two, to end in the drug completely leaving your system. But I will take my meds, I will try to make a cake I've been determined to make for weeks, and I'm going to try to mop, and maybe vacuum, while I have the energy and motivation.

N.B. This is when I wonder why I need to go in to see the psychiatrist or the therapist, now that I have one. I'm afraid I'll have nothing to tell them. That it'll be a waste of time. That I'll be fine, and no one will believe me about how I did feel, have felt. It causes me genuine anxiety.

Frustration Personified

I've been med compliant for at least two weeks now. So no weird ups and downs in meds, and the last few days I've been depressed as hell. Spending too much time in bed, not caring about anything, not even enough to make food. Just sort of let the hunger gnaw at my stomach because I can't be buggered to feed it. I have all these good intentions: straighten up in the front room, maybe sweep, do dishes, keep bathroom picked up, mop in the bathroom and kitchen. Doubt any of it will get down. Jb has the cigarettes at work, and I can taste them in my mouth, it's how I know I'm missing them, and I hate that, hate the way the taste comes in to remind me. I'm in such a mood today that I really think it's best for everywhere if I just keep to myself.

Groggy

Forgot my meds again last night. Waking up groggy as hell. Having problems falling asleep and sleeping through the night. Up a couple times a night, sleeping until 10ish. My whole sleep schedule is screwed. Can't blame it on the Wellbutrin, as this had started before they upped my dose, and from what I understand, Wellbutrin acts as more of stimulant than a depressant.

Also, might have forgotten a psych appointment today, which, to be honest, is fine. I haven't even been on the higher dose of Wellbutrin for a week now. Can't imagine why they'd want me back so soon, except that, yes, they think I'm still unstable. Haven't heard back from the therapist I called. Should call another one. Everything is such a hassle, truly.

Back to sleeping, dreams are vivid, very vivid, but gone almost completely on waking. Struggle to focus on waking, as if I'd rather stay in the dream world.

Self-Medication

In researching bi-polar, you read some interesting things. Lithium for mood swings, though it leaves your speech slurred, your hands shaky, and causes possible rash. Lamictal, rash. Drug-resistant bi-polar. People who've been on the merry-go-round of drug after drug after drug with little to no real relief. And that's when you start reading about marijuana use and bipolar.

A study out of New Zealand swears marijuana use puts users at a 200% greater risk of developing bipolar. But what does it do for those who already suffer from it? Most message boards are filled with long-term pot users who claim marijuana is one of the few things that keep them straight. The other half of the forums are filled with people calling the marijuana users potheads. I decided to see what all the fuss was about.

A co-worked gave Jb some pot she had in her car yesterday. It was probably under a gram. Not very much at all. He brought it home, rolled it up in a cigarette paper, and we toked up in the bathroom. Three hits each. It was a little like the scene with Craig Ferguson and Brenda Blethyn in Saving Grace, in which, to quote IMDB, "a small-town English widow, facing financial troubles after her husband's suicide, turns to agriculture of an illegal kind." Fantastic little movie if you've never seen it. But there's a scene where Brenda and Craig are up at the bluffs because Brenda's character insists on smoking a joint if she's going to be growing marijuana. There's that 15-20 minute period of, "Is that it? Honestly, what's all the fuss about? I don't feel anything." Jb said he knew that's when it was going to hit me.

It all started with a bit of lightheadedness, which I get as a side effect from my medication anyway, then the giggles kicked in. It creeps up on you slowly, but once it does, it feels like you've just stepped out of the best massage, sauna and whirlpool treatment you've ever had. You are utterly, completely relaxed. So relaxed that for the first time you realize how stressed and anxious you had been. For anxiety, it's ten times better than Klonopin. I had been in a depressive funk all yesterday, asleep when Jb got home, emotionally inaccessible. But as soon as the marijuana hit, I felt like me again. I could laugh. I could feel. I could interact with Jb. For the first time in a long while, we really connected, had fun together, participated in a relationship that had gone somewhat dry with the extent of my mood swings. Three hits kicked me right out of depression, and I still feel fine today, the day after. There's no mixed mood: no depression, no anger, no racing thoughts, no irritation. There was only the feeling that, for a couple hours, I didn't have to deal with the constant mood swings. I felt relieved, relaxed, revived.

This isn't to say that I necessarily agree with self-medication. Nor that I think becoming a pothead is the way to go. I wouldn't want to do it all the time, but I genuinely understand the recreational use of pot. And, having done it, it felt a little like the first time I had sex. People try to scare you, guilt you, warn you off of it, but once you're adult enough to responsibly handle the decision to indulge in your first time, you're left wondering afterwards: "What was all the fuss?" It feels good, it hurts no one, and as long as you're responsible, why not?

I can't tell what sort of long-term effects marijuana use might have on bi-polar patients. I understand enough that it could affect the effectiveness of your medication. But then, most bipolar marijuana users seem to suggest they use it as an alternative to medication. And that I could understand. Because all too often, the side effects are worse than the disease, and they're almost never as effective as your psych would lead you to believe. I've been on a med cocktail since March, nearly four months now, and I'm still in this half-life, neither sick enough for hospital, nor well enough for the real world. But last night, I slept the best sleep I've had all week.

Depression

The depression is still with me this morning. Coming up from sleep is like coming up from deep water, and I'm confused and off-balance when I wake. I realize I didn't take my meds last night. I am up at 1am, 3am, 4:50am, 8:30am, 9:40am. Something in me is empty, and it registers as hunger, so I eat two South Beach granola bars at odd times during the night. I feel nothing but this plateau of emotion that walks a straight line, never rising above the depression, or dipping below it. It's like the static buzz of white noise in the background, constant, consistent. When I am depressed, the only things I seem able to do are the passive things. I can read. I can watch movies. I can--without effort--fall into someone else's story, someone else's life, and subsume my own. In fact, I want to. I don't want to think about myself, or I how I feel (or how I do not feel, which is more accurate).

I know why everyone prefers mania, in whichever way it manifests itself. Because then, you're active. You may be crawling out of your skin, your brain may never stop, but you're productive. You can pretend normalcy. You can achieve things. Sometimes. When it isn't too bad. Yesterday, I accomplished so much, so much more than I had in days. But that night, I was left feeling depressed and bodily tired, while my mind wouldn't let up. It kept going and going and going, despite my body's inability to keep up, but that never shut my brain down. And so I laid in bed, anxious and restless, and unable to stop thinking, but heavy and leaden feeling, depressed at the core.

This is when I'm unsure of this "bipolar" diagnosis. In the past, yes, I've had full weeks, even months, of depression, or mania-like symptoms. But these days, nothing lasts. I don't have hypo/mania for more than four days. It's usually for a day, even an afternoon, then down into some anxious, irritable mixed mood, and further into depression--all within two days. The downs last longer. I'm almost positive of that. Or maybe I was feeling fine, happy, wanting to get out of the apartment, do things this weekend, and then, like a punishment, several days later, the depression hits. And it is like a punishment--for having too much normalcy. Always, it is: this too shall pass. And it does. The good and the bad. Round and round in an unbreakable cycle.

Lost It

Completely flipped the fuck out at the psych's. Anxious all the way there, pacing the office while I waited, he'd barely sat down when I started trying to talk to him about work. Couldn't sit for my nerves, just kept walking back and forth, and goddammit if I didn't start crying. Told him about how my job had forced me out, the deal of unpaid leave for insurance, the lack of a determination from the county, everything, and his reply? Why didn't I take the voluntary resignation, go on unemployment and take Cobra. And I had no reply for that, except that Cobra's expensive. But now I don't know. Maybe that's exactly what I should do. The situation couldn't be worse than the one I'm in now, and even after paying for Cobra, I couldn't be bringing in less than the county's giving me. So why the fuck not? I plan to look into it.

But what truly pisses me off is that that was my appointment. How's the Klonopin? Sometimes it's enough, sometimes it isn't. I don't go out unless I'm with my boyfriend. It's too hard. Do you have enough Lamictal? No, I'll run out this week. Do you have any samples? No, Lamictal's going generic, so they're not handing out any samples anymore. (Then it doesn't matter because I can't fill this prescription until I have the money anyway.) Are you seeing a therapist? I'm on the waiting list for one. Why? Because they're sliding scale. You're making an appointment for one when you go out front. Do you need to see someone today? No, don't worry about it. I always worry about it. You're seeing Nicole in one week and making a therapy appointment.

And out the door. What the hell did that do for me? I'm hustled off to his psychiatric nurse practioner for prescriptions and off to his wife therapist for her 15m of infinite wisdom: "Take a 10m walk, take one thing at a time . . . " Because, you know, I'm not a fucking moron who hasn't had successful and useful cognitive-behavioral therapy before. I've a Master's degree for Christ's sake. I'm not an idiot. I think it's time to take things into my own hands, to shut the hell up, dust myself off, and get out there and do what needs to be done. No more cowering. No more safety net. No more allowing myself to be weak. I need to muscle through. No excuses. If I'd done that, I would have never ended up in the hospital or lost my job.

And to top off my day? My fucking computer won't boot. I'm so screwed.

8:08 a.m. Med Check

I took my meds. I didn't yesterday. The IBS has been on flare-up all week; that's five days now. I read an article that described the link between IBS and depression. It comes down to a scenario of what comes first, the chicken or the egg? Most gastro doctors, including my own, consider IBS to be linked to mental health problems (i.e. depression causes IBS, so if the depression is treated, IBS should go away). However, it's easily argued that having IBS in the first place can make a person depressed. I can attest to this. It certainly does not make it easier or make you feel better about yourself. There is even some possibility, apparently, that IBS and mental health share a genetic link. A Mayo Clinic study show that people with IBS also tended to have a family history of alcoholism and mental illness. Since IBS, alcoholism, and mental illness share a genetic link, if a person isn't an alcoholic, there's a good chance they'll have IBS instead. Both alcoholism and mental illness run in my family, which, I suppose makes me a shoe-in for IBS since I'm not an alcoholic.

10:11 a.m. Check-In

Meds: Did not take them last night. Yeah yeah: bad me. Took my morning dose. Added Protonix to the mix again today. Stomach's bothering me.

Mood: 4. Not feeling well today. Could be allergies. I'm going sans-allergy meds this allergy season since they're all OTC now and expensive. Short of patience. Generally annoyed. Cranky.

Sleep: Woke up at 4:30, then again at 7-something. Had a hard time falling asleep last night. Was 11 p.m. when Jb went to bed, and I laid there for a long time trying to sleep. Yesterday afternoon, I was tired, but also couldn't sleep for thinking too much. Unable to relax. Feel vaguely hung over today: still tired, but unable to sleep restfully.

Misc: Don't feel like writing today. Feel as if blog isn't a substitute for a therapist. Also feel don't need therapist. Contrary as hell today. I don't know that I really have anything of importance to say and feel as if all this blogging has been egotistical navel gazing. Hate the blog. Hate myself.

Hearing Things: Heard humming in the kitchen last night. Melodic. Human. Was odd.

6:00 a.m. Med Check

Woke about 5:45 a.m. Took my meds. Ate them with some cheese and crackers--got my protein in. I now sing Kate MacLeod's "Me and My Medicine" in my head every time I have to take my meds:

"I'd rather be a pillar of salt
Then to leave my self behind"

Didn't sleep very well. Vivid dreams again. More on those in the next post. Woke up achy, probably still because of sleeping on the floor. Went to bed around 11ish last night.

8:01 a.m. Med Check

Lamictal and Wellbutrin taken. Breakfast: salmon cream cheese and bagel. I've taken my pills and eaten--like a good girl. I'm fairly miffed at having to do this and beginning to resent it.