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.

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.

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.

Morning Check-In

Sleep: Up since 8:30ish. Not so bad. Had Jb still been around this morning, I'd have begged him to take a day off. Don't want to be alone today. Slept fairly well last night, though, I think.

Dream: Had a dream about my ex-husband. How we were both dating now, how we'd both changed, seen the changes in each other, and wondered if those changes would have made a difference when we were still together. Sure that they would have. But that all passed us by.

Cigarettes: Still smoking. Probably a good 4-6 yesterday. It's good I bum off Jb so they're not around during the day, though I could use some later when I go to the DHHS.

Weight: Don't want to look. No need to ruin an already stressful day. Besides, we ordered in last night and I had a P'zone, so that can't be good.

Meds: Compliant. Took them last night and this morning.

Food: Protein Boost Special K (the psych says I need protein) with a little milk and an apple.

Mood: Enh. I'm here. Like I said, this morning I was a little grasping, would have wanted Jb to stay home, which he wouldn't have and couldn't have. I'm intensely lonely and isolated right now due to the unemployment. It's made me needy and restless. Think it might be time to find that part-time job when I get my stimulus check and can afford a new blouse to interview in.

To Do: Should call HealthChoice and see if they sent my insurance package yet. Need to reschedule psych appointment. Need to schedule a PCP appointment for blood work. Need to find a therapist, which means making some calls.

The Bad Part of My Day: Have an appointment at 4:30pm at the Department of Health and Human Services to review my need for food stamps and temporary cash assistant/temporary disability assistance. Both rather important things that are helping us get by right now. So, of course, the stress about this started last night.

Relationship: Jb and I are snapping at each other a great deal. I'm ugly and mean a great deal of the time, irritated by everything and hateful. It shows in contempt and so many other ways that I feel like if I can't control this, get even somehow, I'm going to ruin everything. I used to treat my ex this way, and it's little wonder he never wanted much to do with me. He was always happy to go his own way. I'm sure, toward the end, he never felt loved. How could he?

I miss friendship, though. Not the constant caretaking of a relationship, but the ease of a friendship where you're allowed to be who you are without having to worry about stepping on someone's overly sensitive feelings. Everything becomes internalized in relationships, when I'd really rather just have someone to listen and say, "Yeah, that really sucks, you know?" And affection, an arm around the shoulder, a hand at the small of my back, some actual caretaking, the kind you get from a parent if you have good ones: a shoulder rub, a smoothing back of your hair, a body to curl up into and hug, a sense of safety and being loved. I get tired of paying bills, doing dishes, doing the grocery list, cooking, doing this or that, being responsible for this or that. I feel like I'm only good for the things I do in this relationship, and I'm tired of taking all the responsibility for these things. It's too much, and I resent it.

Smoking & Mental Illness

Hi, my name is -----, and I'm a smoker. I started 2 1/2 years ago under a period of great stress: a separation from my husband, a new boyfriend, financial stress due to both, my father's bout with a tumor in his colon, and the unexpected death of my wet-headed ninja kitty of 9 years. It didn't help that my boyfriend was also a smoker. I didn't originally know this. He'd been hiding it. Once I found out, I preffered he smoke than continue lying about it. And so, it was readily available. If not the best of options for dealing with my stress.

Before any judgments are made, yes, I know the risks. I've had an uncle who died of lung cancer, a great uncle who died of lung cancer, possibly two grandfathers who died of lung cancer, and a grandmother with empysema. Both my parents smoked for years. I know the risks firsthand. Most people don't need studies to understand that smoking often starts under duress of some sort. But the most interesting thing, in my mind, is the link between smoking and mental illness. According to an article on Bipolar World, 70 percent of bipolar patients smoke. Sixty percent of patients with major depression smoke. The numbers go up for those with schizophrenia and down with panic disorder and Post Traumatic Syndrome (PTS).

Even more surprising is the controversial subject of marijuana use among bipolar patients as a mood stabilizer. Try the following Google search: (marijuana or cannabis) "mood stabilizer" (bipolar or mental illness). There's ample anecdotal evidence on the subject, but no real clinical research. Although, the BBC News might disagree with that. According to a news report based on clinical trials in New Zealand, cannabis doubles the risk of developing mental illness. To slog through the actual report that the BBC story was based on, you can view it for free on Blackwell Synergy's website. Whether mentally ill patients are using smoking or marijuana, the underlying issue is the need for those with mental illness to find some control over their moods, sometimes even over the side effects of other, more popular, and more "accepted," pharmaceutical drugs.

So, do I smoke? I do. I'm around 4-6 cigarettes a day. It's gotten higher since the depression and the hospitalization, though the hospital was a "smoke free campus." For days, I was in nicotine and Cymbalta withdrawal, and no one on the staff educated me to the fact that I could ask for either the patch or the gum, as well as Ativan, which is commonly prescribed for withdrawal from alcohol and substance abuse. Again, it was a case of the patients educating the patients in the hospital, which seemed to happen far too often. Because almost all the patients smoked. And this is perhaps the crux of the problem, when you can't find help and what little help you can find feels far too insignificant for the uncontrollable illness wrecking havoc in your mind, where do you turn?