this, that, and the other

So I actually enjoyed Twilight quite a bit. The book wasn't really all that great on the descriptive side of things so instead of going to the movie and saying "Yes! That's exactly how I pictured Bella and Edward!" I was more or less going "Ah...yeah, that's about what I pictured they'd look like." The movie followed the book for the most part but since I'd just finished reading the book the night before we saw the movie I kept whispering to The Monkey "That so is not how it happened in the book." whenever something went way off track. I am sure I got on his nerves once or twice, but oh well. :-P

After reading the first two books, I will admit to being completely hooked. It was more or less the compulsive desire to hear the rest of the story. I finished New Moon late Sunday evening and went to Wal-Mart Monday morning to get the third book, Eclipse. Wouldn't you know it, after the movie came out people flocked to Wal-Mart and bought all the books from the series! Wal-Mart was completely cleaened out. I was so anxious to read the following two installments that I drug my sister to Dothan to go to Barnes & Noble at 5:30 in the evening. It was nice to take a trip out without The Monkey breathing down my neck. Barnes & Noble is adjacent to Ulta. My last two trips to Dothan were with The Monkey and he absolutely WILL NOT allow me to enter that store. (For the record, he has good reason. Ulta quickly became a big vice for me last Christmas. [meep!]) So Michelle and I, after my gleeful purchase at B&N, walked next door and oogled all the girlie goodies in Ulta. I wound up buying Urban Decay's Brow Box in Brown Sugar. I had my eyebrows waxed about two weeks ago and the girl that did them was a little over-zealous with the plucking. (I knew I should've waited for the girl that did them last time as she did a phenomenal job. Live and learn, I suppose.) At any rate, my right brow was marginally shorter and thinner than my left. The brow kit I bought not only solved that problem but also made me take notice of how much difference enhancing your eyebrows can make! At least my manic spending spree wasn't severely over the top. :-P

Thanksgiving was a nice change of pace this year. We had less guests than last year so it wasn't as busy. I helped my mom prepare a lot of the more time consuming dishes on Wednesday as well as finishing up the baking. So Thursday was pretty leisurely as far as holiday madness goes. Dinner was, as expected, fantastic. I ate WAY too much for my own good, I'm sure. My Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Pie was to die for as was my aunt's pumpkin pie (made with fresh pumpkin) and my sister's Pumpkin Dump Cake. I'm sure I gained a solid five pounds in two days. I'm staying off the scale, though. I read quite a bit while everyone mulled around in the garage. I became quite engrossed in Breaking Dawn and it was difficult to put it down long enough to socialize with the family. So now the countdown 'til Christmas begins. I'm still feeling uneasy about the holidays this year. I'm fully expecting to fall into a rapid downward spiral. Post-holiday blues. Then again, I should be on meds by then so who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky.

My niece turned a year old this past Tuesday. We haven't celebrated with cake and singing Happy Birthday yet because she's been sick. She started running a fever on Friday and when it hadn't let up by Monday my sister took her to the pediatrician. She was diagnosed with a double ear infection and given a course of antibiotics. The poor thing hasn't been herself at all. She's been up at night wanting to nurse (even though she doesn't nurse much at all these days) mostly for comfort. She's not the smiley, happy baby that we're all accustomed to. And she's been napping almost constantly! On Tuesday she woke up around 9:00 and was back out by 10:00 and slept until 1:00-ish. Poor baby! So Michelle is planning on baking her a cake and doing the 'birthday thing' sometime this week. She did enjoy her first Thanksgiving, though! :-)

Speaking of birthdays, mine is right around the corner. I'm not sure what we're doing (if we do anything at all, that is). I was contemplating drinking myself into oblivion. One last hurrah before I'm back on meds and have to stay away from alcohol indefinitely. One year closer to the big three-oh. Sometimes I don't feel as old as I am. Other times (like when we went to see Twilight and I was surrounded by people at least 10 years younger than me) I really, really feel it.

reading between the lines

Monday when we went to Dothan I was hell bent on picking up some books. Enterprise doesn't have a proper book store. Our only option is the piddly section they have at Wal-Mart. It's pitiful. I love book stores. I love the smell of fresh print intermingled with espresso. It's intoxicating! If I had any business sense whatsoever, I would open a book store in Enterprise. But, I digress.

We stopped at Barnes & Noble so I could search a book I've been interested in reading. (That, and I was positively feigning for a Starbucks Gingerbread Latte.) After reading Madness: A Bipolar Life by Marya Hornbacher, I decided that I wanted to read her first memoir, Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia. Her writing style seems much more advanced than her years (she wrote Wasted at 23). It was a pretty good book and delved deeply into the horrors of life with an eating disorder. Still, I think I enjoyed Madness a bit more.

I'm mostly a non-fiction reader, aside from my Harry Potter obsession. I can't remember the last time I cracked a fictional book, honestly. On a whim, I decided to pick up Twilight by Stephanie Meyer. I've heard some mixed reviews on the series but I figured what the hell? I've been needing to bury my mind into the realm of the fantastic for a while now. I have to say, the book wasn't all that impressive. J.K. Rowling definitely paints a more vivid picture with her story telling. (And so do Christopher Golden and Nancy Holder in their Gatekeeper Trilogy, for that matter.) Still, it kept me interested, none the less. After finishing the book I've decided that I want to go to the movies tonight to see the film. I think this may actually be one of those rare cases where the film is better than the book. We'll see. I know it's probably going to be over run with teenagers. I'm trying not to let that deter me from a nice evening out. We shall see.

just a few random snippets

I've already crashed from my manic high. No surprise there. I think the longest [euphoric] manic episode I've experienced was a couple of weeks. Mostly I'm lucky if the happy-happy, joy-joy feelings last for a day or two. I was sailing for about 36 hours this time.

I'm trying to do some research on medications so I can be prepared for my pdoc appointment on the 18th of December. I already know I don't want to go back on Lithium because Lithium is primarily an anti-manic and doesn't have significant antidepressant qualities. Lamictal, on the other hand, has significant antidepressant qualities but is a really, REALLY fickle medication. It carries a significant risk of a potentially fatal rash called Stevens-Johnson syndrome and titration takes a month or longer. Plus the side effects are questionable. The two I'm most worried about are, primarily, body aches and headaches. Since I stopped working I've had very few headaches. In the past seven months I think I've had three migraines. This is a phenomenal change! The thought of being on a med that causes headaches scares the crap out of me. Then there's good ol' Dopamax (Topamax). Another slow titration drug that causes my mood to get even WACKIER before it actually stabilizes. (It also takes about a month to get to my theraputic dose of 150mg.) Topamax does have some perks (mainly the weight loss "side effect") but it has a LOT of wacky side effects. Tingling in the hands, feet, and face. Aphasia. General dopey-headedness (though I never got this side effect too badly). And, the wackiest of them all - making carbonated drinks taste like CRAP. No more diet soda for me. :-/ The worst side effect of Topamax is the hair loss. My hair started coming out in clumps, unfortunately. Not to mention, the hair itself thinned out dramatically. I'm really not sure, at this point, what I'm going to ask for. The only two meds I know for certain are a no go are Lithium and Depakote.

Our trip to Dothan was actually pretty nice. We stopped at Personnel Resources (a temp agency setup) first and got The Monkey registered there. They immediately said something about a collector's position (in Dothan) but they had to consult with the company before they could say whether or not he'd be a good candidate. We were hoping for a call back that afternoon but it never came. So, we called the next day and they said the company declined to interview because they didn't feel The Monkey had sufficient sales drive. [eyeroll] However, we did stop by Farmer's Furniture that afternoon as well and spoke to the manager of the store. (FYI - The Monkey was working for Farmer's as the Credit Manager in Enterprise in 2003 when we met. He can't get back on at Farmer's in Enterprise, though, because my mom works there. Conflict of interest. Meh.) At any rate, he put in his app with Farmer's in Dothan. After the brief, but fairly productive, job hunt, we stopped at Barnes & Noble for Starbucks and I picked up a couple of books.

Last night we got a call from the Dothan Farmer's Furniture manager asking The Monkey to come in for an interview this afternoon. [snoopy dance] It looks really promising. He'll be starting off as a collector and the hours are kind of jacked up but at least it's a job. The manager, thankfully, remembers Tony from his Credit Manager days in Enterprise and, apparently, the current Credit Manager in Dothan isn't working out so well and there's a very good chance she'll be out of there in the next 30-60 days. If The Monkey gets hired as the collector, he can step up to the Credit Manager position if/when the current one gets booted. (According to the store manager, she's just too nice for collections; not assertive enough with the customers to get them to come in and pay on time.) If that happens, The Monkey will get a nice pay increase. We're keeping our fingers crossed!

All in all the week has been decent. I finished reading one of my books and I'm half way through the second one I bought. I need to get cracking on my homework, though. I have a website to setup on the topic "Blogging: A fad or here to stay?" on top of having a midterm in my other class. I got my lab for Web Development finished yesterday but I still have to take this week's quiz. Drat.

I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday. I'm craving turkey and sweet potatoes like nobody's business. My mom just needs to get the grocery list together so we can go shopping! We're really bad with waiting until the last minute. :-P

please, do not attempt to understand

Alive! Glorious, glorious autumn day! A good day for walking, running, flying.

(Sometimes I wish my husband didn't keep me so firmly tethered to the ground.)

How fleeting and fabulous am I?

Getting ready to go to Dothan. Must concentrate on doing makeup and hair. Eager to be outside of Enterprise for the first time in months. (Maybe we should consider moving to San Diego with my BFF. No one knows or understands me better, after all.)

Craving a Starbucks Gingerbread Latte like nobody's business. Planning on raiding Barnes & Noble for both books and my caffeine fix. (Also, DH will be job hunting.)

I can't even form a sentence properly or coherently verbalize my zooming thoughts. I think, today, I will buy a notebook so I can start writing in a paper journal again in an attempt to get some of these ideas out of my head and on paper before they become buried in the thick of my mind when I crash again.

Always moving forward, never wanna stop. Want to keep going up up up until the atmosphere thins and I inevitably suffocate under the weight of my own madness. Wild fires burning out of control (gotta take the high ground to avoid the flash floods, you know).

I am invincible.

insaney days - old and new

I'm having one of those rapid cycle days. Sometimes my mood cycles last for weeks, even months. Here lately, though, I've been cycling daily. I wake up in the morning and I can't even fathom getting out of bed/off the couch. So I don't. Then, I make the switch. Sometime in the afternoon (or late evening) I start feeling energetic (or very irritated) and suddenly I'm motivated to do things. I want to get out of the house and go somewhere, anywhere. Inevitably, the looming fact that we are strapped for cash comes back to bite me in the rear-end and I wind up spending the night alternately frolicking on the Internet, feverishly doing school work, and channel surfing. Thoughts zip through my mind at neck-breaking speed. I don't bother even trying to keep up. Go with the flow. I bring things to a screeching halt with a milligram of Xanax which might account for my early morning lethargy. But it's that, or stay up all night with the thoughts.


Lately my thoughts have been drifting back to the turn of the century. I was approaching my 20s in a bad state. Coming off of a year of near non-stop binge drinking, I made the decision to move back in with my parents. I can't even begin to describe the unrelenting feelings of doom that moving back to Germany gave me. But everyone had convinced me that if I stayed in Kentucky my life would never amount to anything. Even if they were right, it still seems like they were wrong because my life still hasn't amounted to much of anything. From 2001 to 2003 I did lots of things that, depending on your personal point-of-view, could be seen as normal things that people my age did or completely insane/stupid/irrational. Maybe both. Knowing what I know now, I realize that I was coming into bipolar disorder.


I spent two and a half years on Zoloft. The maximum dosage of Zoloft, at that. Between the self injury, the depression, the suicidality, the frequent mood swings, the intense and irrational fears of abandonment, and my complete social awkwardness - my pdoc (whom I loved and adored and trusted without a shadow of a doubt) diagnosed me with Borderline Personality Disorder. It seemed to explain everything about me, especially my self-destructive nature. And when something fits, we wear it, right? It did not, however, explain why I failed to get any better after two years of regular treatment. In fact, it seemed like I kept getting worse. I was making a ridiculous amount of money ($13.70 an hour, tax free, 70+ hours a week) for someone with no bills except for rent and car insurance yet there were several months that I found myself reeling, praying my landlord wouldn't kick me out when I told him, again, that I'd be late with the rent. (Towards the end of my stay at that apartment, I blew off paying the rent all together and wound up moving on New Years Eve in the middle of the night.) I was constantly going on crazy spending sprees but never seemed to buy anything substantial. I regularly overdrew my account for something I had to have but never needed. I always drove at least 20 MPH over the speed limit. (Which, since I lived in Germany, meant I frequently drove at least 80 MPH even on the twisted, dangerous back roads.) Nevermind when I could come up with an excuse to go somewhere that involved getting on the Autobahn. My friends hated riding with me because I embraced the complete lack of speed limit. Most everything that gave me a rush paled in comparison to the exhilaration of pushing my gas pedal to the floorboard wishing I had a car that went faster than 90 MPH. (Once, in January of 2002, I actually rented a brand new Mercedes sedan to pick up my best friend at the Frankfurt airport. I managed to get the damn thing up to 140 MPH. Fortunately I had a friend riding with me and she was terrified and made me slow down after a few minutes. It's the closest I've ever been to flying.)


I wish I could say that was the extent of my recklessness but, alas, no. I was a complete pot head and experimented with other drugs regularly. I can't say that I drank much because I always preferred getting high to getting drunk. Still do, in fact, though I haven't smoked pot in well over a year. (See, my lack of self control always catches up with me when I drink but there is no such thing as smoking too much pot. And the intoxiciations are comparable so I've always opted to smoke rather than drink when the option was there.) Looking back, I'm amazed that I have never been arrested. I often associated with people that were being watched by CID for dealing and/or using drugs. But I was invincible I tell you! It never occurred to me that I could be arrested. It never occurred to me that having sex with random guys could result in an unwanted pregnancy (oh, the irony) or, worse, an STD. (I did wind up with a bad reputation, but really didn't care.) I never gave the statistics that Autobahn accidents were almost always FATAL a second thought. And the fact that I was consistently estranged from my family comforted me instead of bothering me. After all, who wanted to be like those up tight, self-absorbed, righteous, holier-than-thou assholes, anyway? They weren't invincible like me. They didn't have my talent, smarts, or charm. They were boring, to say the least! And when I did find myself wishing our relationship was different, it was nothing more than something to bitch about in therapy.


Okay, so by now, you're probably wondering why on earth I was on such a high dose of antidepressants when I clearly wasn't depressed, right? Well, I've only told part of the story. Certainly, according to the DSM-IV, by the aforementioned behaviors, I was clearly manic. But I haven't mentioned the relentless depression yet. Nights that I sat up smoking cigarettes and writing morbid entries in my paper journals, drowning myself in depressing music, desperately fighting the urge to raid my fridge and cabinets for something, anything to eat. Those were nights that I wanted nothing more than to sleep but sleep just wouldn't come. I'd lie awake in my freezing cold bedroom, tangled in my sheets and comforter, surrounded by pillows, Olivia perched and purring on my stomach, trying to ignore what sounded like soft conversation coming from my living room. What on earth were they talking about?? Sometimes I had to shut my eyes tightly to chase away the spiders crawling on the ceiling and walls. If they made it into the bed, forget it. I ran screaming into the living room where I'd proceed to sit on my couch, wide awake and vigilant. Antidepressant-induced psychosis.

I continually wished for death, almost never finding a good enough reason to keep on living. I dissociated a lot; feeling that I wasn't real, that nothing was real. Those nights were the worst and inevitably ended bloody. After enduring months of this hellish torture, I finally fessed up to Doc who proceeded to prescribe me an antipsychotic (first Risperdal, then Seroquel) and a sleep aid (Restoril). I blame myself for things getting worse after that. Vanity before sanity had me 86ing the Risperdal after a few weeks when I noted marked weight gain. I gave up on Seroquel after I returned from my vacation in California because my friends were always commenting on how I turned into a complete zombie after I took my dose. I agreed, obviously. The sleep aid was the danger factor in this equation. When I wasn't self-medicating with pot, alcohol, or other street drugs, I abused my prescriptions. Shortly after I was released from the psych ward I was fired from my cushy, well-paying job and I just snapped. To me, it was the end of the world and one night I decided it was over.

I downed every pill from a leftover prescription of Trazodone (probably seven or eight pills) and poured out my freshly filled bottle of Restoril onto my end table. I then proceeded to alternate taking a pill with slicing my forearm. The sting of the cuts kept me alert and focused on the task at hand. Thankfully Restoril is relatively fast-acting so after roughly nine or ten pills I was in a fog and noticed that the cutting was no longer snapping me back to reality like it had when I started. Curious, I pressed harder and harder with the razorblade but still, nothing. This was it. I'd reached a state of complete nirvana where pain no longer existed. Not only was I completely oblivious to my emotional pain, physical pain had vanished along with it. Content, I swallowed another mouthful of pills before passing out. (I only know now that I took 15 pills because I counted what was left of my prescription several days later.) The next couple of days are hazy. A pounding on my door. Blood soaked rags. At some point I'd apparently woken up long enough to fix a bowl of cream of wheat (which was crusting on my couch when I awoke a second time to the pounding on my door). My sister and mom drug me off to the ER where things are yet more hazy. An inept Army "doctor" poking a needle into my arm and mumbling something about subcutaneous fat, tendons, and an artery. Plenty of tears, whys, and attempts at comfort by my mom and sister. The ER tried to force me into a German psych ward but I managed to talk them out of it. They notified the on-call pdoc since Doc was TDY. I talked her out of sending me back to Landstuhl by promising to stay with my sister for a while. Soon after, Doc PCS'd, ending my long-standing relationship with therapy. When my logistical support from my dad ran out a month later, I was forced to stop taking medication all together.

I don't know if it was stopping the meds, surrounding myself with understanding friends, my blooming social life, landing the best job on earth, or all of the above that kept me mostly sane for my remainder in Germany. For the first time since I'd been back I felt like I was in control of things. Yes, I still had my mood swings but they weren't nearly as debilitating as they had been while I was on Zoloft. (There's a monumental difference between being manic or depressed and being in a mixed state - a dangerous combination of the two - which is what I'd spent the previous two years dealing with: a perpetual mixed state.) My new job at Outdoor Recreation kept me active and accomodated my social awkwardness nicely. It had fantastic perks like white water rafting trips in the summer and ski trips in the winter. Not to mention early AM airport shuttles to quell my need for speed and to disguise the fact that I was back to not sleeping, or sleeping very little. My boss adored me, my coworkers thought I was interesting, and best of all, I was good at and enjoyed what I was doing. But almost all good things come to an end. When I decided to move to Alabama it was really a no brainer. It was supposed to be temporary; a weigh station on my way to a bigger, better, more exciting life! My plan was to stay with my parents long enough to get a job and save up enough money to move out to California with my best friend where we would take on the world as a fiercesome duet. We made plans to attend college together in the winter and road trip and/or travel the globe during the summer. All that changed when I fell in love. Isn't it strange how something so volatile can be so can be so compelling? Compelling enough to change the course of your entire life.

These last six years have had their perks and quirks. My loving husband accepted me and all my disordered ways long before, I believe, he really knew what he was getting himself into. I know he loves me and I know I love him. But more than that, I think we're heavily dependant on one another which may be what truly keeps our relationship from falling apart at the seams. Mental illness is trying. It's a strain on every relationship I forge. Most of my family members have come to understand bipolar disorder and how it works. This makes our relationships much easier to manage. Instead of seeing me as pathetic and lazy for staying in bed for days on end, they try to understand the severity and all-encompassing symptoms of my depressive states. Instead of making me feel worthless and irresponsible when I spend money we don't have (or otherwise act with reckless abandon) they try to understand that I'm feeling invincible.

I can't really say whether things are better or worse than they were almost nine years ago. Mostly things are just different. The scenery has changed. I'll always be as different as I've always been. My imagination will surely on occasion run away with me as its hostage. It's almost guaranteed that, for the rest of my life, I'll experience times of intense despair that are all too familiar to me. It's just part of who I am; part of who I'll always be.

a dawn of great change!

I am so proud of Americans for exercising their right to vote yesterday! I have suffered from voter apathy since the outcome of the 2000 election and have remained very cynical about our so-called 'democracy' for the past eight years. Today, I have renewed hope for this country and this world. I certainly do not believe that Obama will work miracles while he is in office. (Though I hope like hell that he'll do his best to begin to mend what is broken.) His speech last night gave me chills. Senator McCain's speech actually brought me to tears. He conceded very honorably and I truly believe he is an awesome man that deserves much respect for what he has done and will continue to do for our country. We need to set aside our differences and stop thinking in terms of blue and red and start acting like the UNITED States of America. My best wishes go out for our new commander in chief. May he continue to make history for the next four years and beyond!

The third month that ends in 'ber'

So, Halloween was completely yawn-worthy this year. My parents decided against the traditional Halloween party which really bummed me out. So no nifty costumes or jell-o shots or cute Halloween-themed cupcakes this year. Nope. Just a night hanging out with Tony's brother and niece for a little while and lots of crying and general moodiness during the day. Now Christmas is on the way and I'm just sure to crash into severe depression. I do every year and I just know this year is going to be worse because we don't have money to spend on gifts which usually helps alleviate some of the holiday blues. But oh well. I did get to carve a pumpkin and I did show my Halloween spirit by wearing black and orange. (Plus I found a wicked-cool eyeshadow tutorial for smokey orange eyes and I must say that I think it turned out pretty kick-ass.) The kids went trick-or-treating and their costumes looked really good.


































I'm 28 in a month and two days. So close to 30 that I am really starting to feel it. (Not that being 30 is a bad thing or anything. I just feel very under accomplished for someone reaching the "big" three-oh.) Some days I feel okay with not being pregnant (or having a child) yet. Then there are days where I remember that this would've been our baby's first Halloween (and first Thanksgiving, and first Christmas... etc, etc). And the fact that we won't be embarking back on our TTC journey for a long time just doesn't help. But whatever.

I have an appointment with our county's Mental Health service on Thursday. This appointment is strictly eval and therapy. I'm not sure when I'll actually get to see their pdoc and talk about meds. They do not offer free services (contrary to what the SSA told me) but they do offer a sliding scale payment method based on income. So we'll find out how much it's going to cost on Thursday. Hopefully I'll like the therapist and the pdoc because they only have a few of the former and ONE of the latter. I guess it can't be any worse than my usual pdoc in Dothan.

My moods are everywhere. I sleep a lot and then I can't sleep sometimes at all. Here lately I've been drugging myself with Xanax when I look at the clock and see that it's 3:00 AM and all the TV channels are going to "Paid Programming" and I notice that I'm desperately awake. Trying not to throw/break things or hurt myself. Trying to supress the urge to verbally wish myself dead. Wishing my life meant something significant or served some greater purpose. And again... whatever.