Trying to remember......

...to take my meds every night...... after years of being on them it took only a few months to forget to take them. Tom is good though, he'll always ask "did you take your meds yet?" - especially when I fall asleep on the couch during the evening.

I'm not sure why but taking the meds is when I really feel crazy. Some meds you might be able to fool yourself as to why you take them. Kind of hard to pretend that Lithium is for anything but being nuts. And the "anti-psychotic" in big letters on the side of the box of Risperidone is hard to miss....... although from what's listed on the box, I could pretend it's for dementia -maybe pretending it's Alzheimer's would make it easier.

Maybe if I'd grown up without being told that there was something wrong with me would make the diagnosis easier to handle. Turns out I was crazy but not in the way the egg donor meant. From her it was a judgment. From the Dr it was a relief - a reason why I felt the way I did, one that made sense and didn't make me feel less than.

I don't mind the diagnosis. I made my peace with it many moons ago. But for some reason I mind how taking the pills makes me feel......

And so it begins....

It's been two days now since I started the latest drug protocol - 300mg Lithium and 2mg Risperidone. I feel the usual grogginess when I first get up but am hoping that will subside as my system gets used to it. I'm a little stumbly too - rather like someone who's had a few too many.

I order to chart how I'm progressing it seems appropriate to chart where I am now...... I've been med free since last fall - and that nightmare is discussed in previous postings. I'm not as sick as I have been before and while that is good, it has also allowed me to delude myself into thinking I'm not that bad now. Comparatively speaking that is true, but all things being equal, things aren't that great.

I'm feeling stuck in a persistent, low grade depression - like how you feel when you first start to slide down that slope to Sparky. I have little energy, even less motivation and spend my days just waiting for the day to pass. The weekends are the worse when I don't have the usual tv schedule to keep me occupied. No Golden Girls at 3pm, Criminal Minds at 8pm and Friends reruns at various times throughout the day. Some days I try to craft, but my creativity is still quite compromised and crafting usually brings more conflict than the boredom it is meant to offset. It's frustrating to spend all day trying to do one small scrapbook page when I can remember doing several pages in one day. Jigsaw puzzles are great though. They give me something to focus on and you don't expect to get it all done in one sitting. I find the sorting of pieces very Zen like - by giving me something to focus on I can get lost in the process.

But mostly is the feeling of I just don't care accompanied by Why Bother? Get dressed properly instead of wearing baggy flannel pants and sweatshirts? Why bother when I don't care? And the whole dressing properly is complicated by the fact that our new house is cold and it's easier to just stayed bundled in flannel and sweats and showering everyday is just too much work and I get too cold......

And my poor husband. My libido was stifled enough on the drugs. Without it's pretty much vanished. We've been here since the last day of November and still haven't christened the place. I am lucky in that he knows it's not personal, but that doesn't make it any easier for either of us. He feels frustrated and I feel guilty. For awhile. Then I just don't care anymore.

So here's to hoping that the Lithium and Risperidone combat all that without enveloping me in lithury - my word for the wrapped in cotton sensation that I had the last time I was on Lithium.

Lithurgy.......

By now, we've moved back to New Brunswick and I was finally able to get in to see my old Dr at the Mental Health Clinic. I wasn't happy with the blog site where I was writing Life With Sparky and decided to move it here where I'm more accustomed with the mechanics and layout. After this next post, all postings will be new. It's my intention to chronicle my latest attempt to find the right drugs to tame the bipolar beast within.

Finally got to see Dr Sanjay yesterday and here I go again with the meds. I was quite emphatic that Effexor was not an option. I could be guaranteed a lifetime supply and still not take it. Of course I also don’t have drug coverage at this time, so I’m back on Lithium. I was on it before and didn’t like how it made me feel, but I’m hopeful that in conjunction with the Risperidone it won’t be as bad. It’s also cheap - $14 for a 70 day supply. Dr Sanjay writes scripts for 70 days to save on dispensing fees. He’s also gave me the paperwork to apply for a drug card through Social Services. If they say no, which I’m anticipating as they said no 2 years ago, he’ll be able to get me one through the clinic. Universal health care my ass.

Funny. I only feel crazy when I am actually taking the meds, that moment of setting aside what I’m doing to swallow pills makes me feel crazier than any thing else. Panic attacks, anxiety, inability to get out of bed - that all pales in how swallowing the meds makes me feel.

It’s hard to feel like my thoughts are really my own. When I’m depressed, I feel a disconnect from my thoughts and feelings because I know I am feeling that way because of the depression. BUT, when I’m on meds or not depressed, I feel a disconnect from my thoughts and feelings because I feel that they are what they are because of the meds. I never seem to feel like they are truly mine.

So, I decided it would be good to have a project, something to do everyday and have decided to start chronicling this latest round of which meds will work. I figure it will also be a good way to chart how I’m feeling, something to look back on from time to time and see how I’m doing comparatively speaking.

So, here we go, 300mg Lithium and 2mg Risperidone daily!

Effexor free a month later.....

....another repost from November 2009....

It’s been almost a month since I stopped taking Effexor and the worst seems to be over as far as the withdrawal symptoms.

I still have the persistent feeling of coming down with the flu and oddly enough these symptoms get worse as the day goes on. I wake up feeling all right but as the day goes on I feel worse. Aching joints, sensation of low grade fever, that feeling your head gets when you’re about to get the flu or a really nasty head cold. But in the morning it starts all over again. I feel like Sisyphus.

So now I’m waiting for the reality of my untreated bipolar, anxiety and OCD to kick in. So far I seem to be doing ok. A low grade depression that hasn’t yet crippled me although I’m sure that will change over time. It’s what missing that is telling - energy, motivation, general over all giving a fuck really.

I’m depressed enough that I don’t care and right now things are such in my life that there seems little point in really doing anything to improve the situation. I have to move back to a province I hate to be near relatives I don’t have much in common with. I’ll get to live in the whitest community I’ve ever seen. There is virtually zero diversity of any kind. Ethnicity, orientation, beliefs…. you name it and it’s conspicuous only by it’s absence.

And did I mention that there is no book store?

I suppose I don’t really have to move back. I could stay here and find my way. But staying here means being left behind while my husband moves anyway. He’s made it clear that he’ll go without me. Easy threat really for him to make. He knows I’d go wherever he goes and I’m working really hard not to hate him for that.

Two weeks Effexor.....

....this was originally written October 2009 two weeks after I had to quit Effexor cold turkey whenI couldn't afford it any longer....

I was prescribed 450mg Effexor daily, dispensed in 75mg capsules. With no job and no drug coverage, I was doing the best I could with what I had.

I wasn’t taking my Effexor properly. I was getting 50 capsules at a time and making them last for a month. Two capsules most nights, one capsule 10 nights a month.

It wasn’t working. And despite the fact that I was still taking the Effexor, I was having mild withdrawal due to the decreased dose.

I wanted off the Effexor. I asked the pharmacist to dispense the same amount of meds, but in 37.5mg caps so I could wean off. She refused. I’ve worked several years in drugstore retail. Had I been a long time customer, or one who spent obvious amounts in the store, it would have been done.

So I quit. Cold turkey.

It’s been a few weeks now. The withdrawal is abating somewhat but it is still awful.

Persistent flu feeling. Chills. Hot flashes. Vomiting. Aching joints and muscles. The feeling of a fever without actually having one. And excruciating sensitivity to light that has the television screen practically black with virtually no contrast. I wear my sunglasses when I play my Nintendo DS. Dizziness that hits at any time. My bowels, never the best at the best, are impaired. I feel constipated without being constipated.

There is nothing to take to alleviate these symptoms.

Except Effexor. Swallow a couple and within hours I’d feel sooooo much better.

Except I wouldn’t take this shit if they guaranteed me a lifetime supply.

Ever.

Meet Sparky

It was Winston Churchill who first coined the phrase the black dog ~ it was what he called his depression. And it’s a metaphor that really works and in many ways makes it easier to try and understand what Depression is like to live with. Although my best friend Tanya made a good point when she said that Depression is like childbirth ~ you can have someone tell you all about it and understand it on an intellectual level, but until you’ve gone through it, you really don’t get it.

I’ve always had Sparky ~ my black dog ~ but I didn’t realize he was there until my late 20’s when my Dr discovered him. And then began the process of learning how to care for Sparky ~ my black dog. The first thing I had to do was accept the fact that Sparky would always be a part of my life and that having Sparky was not a character flaw, a weakness or my fault. I was never a dog person and accepting the fact that I now had one of my own was a long and difficult process. And Sparky is a very picky eater. He’d eat a certain food for awhile and then decide that he didn’t like it and act up. And then the search for a new food would begin again. And this would be after Sparky was given different portions of the same food. When he continued to act up, then a new food would be looked at as a possibility. Different foods at different portions, all the while trying to keep Sparky under control.

That’s the other reality of having a black dog. Even when he has the food he likes at the right portion he can still act up. Often for no reason at all except that he feels like it. And most people don’t care for being around an unruly dog ~ even when they know that you are doing your best to contain him. And even when he is behaving, he is always at your feet. You just do your best not to trip on him or wake up him and have him get too active. Looking after Sparky is a tricky business. When people realize you have a black dog you often are then in a position of explaining to them what having a black dog is really all about. It can be extremely difficult to accept you have a black dog when others are always questioning his presence. And Sparky himself adds to the questioning. He’ll try his best to control me. When he is acting up, he gets bigger than me, overshadowing me until even I feel invisible. And the bigger he gets the stronger he gets. The tricky part is knowing when he’s about to get stronger. Recognizing the signs of agitation. Accepting the oncoming, and often inevitable, period of bad behavior.

But there are things I can do to rein in Sparky as much as I can. I make sure that I have a professional trainer to help me when Sparky acts up. I do my best not to listen to Sparky when he tells me that his presence is shameful and I should just hide him and myself away. Sparky tells me that merely having him makes me unworthy. He wants to me the master and control me. It’s a balance between knowing he will act up and working not to allow him complete control. When Sparky is in control it is easy to allow him that control, to let him call the shots and submit to his will. At these times Sparky doesn’t like to go outside, see other people, eat, sleep or even take care of basic hygiene. He even barks at my partner, scaring him and keeping him back. Some friends are so scared of Sparky they never come back.

And Sparky has offspring and they tend to wake up when he does. Generalized anxiety, social anxiety, OCD, PTSD……..and they require a different diet than Sparky. And the diets themselves can be just as hard as having Sparky. Decreased libido, hand tremors, increased need for sleep, the sensation of being muffled from the rest of the world. Other than when Sparky is acting up, the time I feel his presence the strongest is when I have to feed him. It is a daily reminder that he is with me and he will always be with me. You can’t put a black dog down. You can do your best to control him but you’ll never be rid of him. And I mean no gender bias when I call Sparky “him” ~ it’s just how I always thought of Sparky.

So exercise him. feed him properly. Take care of him as best you can but accept that he’ll always be there. Accept that there will be times when you can’t control him. Accept that some people will never accept him. Do your best to explain Sparky’s presence to those that will accept him as part of your life. Inform others what it means to have a black dog. But most of all remember that having a black dog is not your fault. He is not a punishment and you should feel no shame in having him.