Wednesday, March 07, 2018

Anxious Animal

It's very hard to write when your mind is all over the place. For the last year, I have worked so hard to balance my mental health with my physical woes. Both are on the right track but it hasn't been easy. There are days when I just want to stay in bed, eat jellybeans and watch Netflix. And I do.

Recently I went back to KIT. A new clinic opened 10 minutes from my house with a very well-known KIT advocate/doctor.  Yesterday was my second booster in 30 days. My dosage went from 110 (last June) to 86. My new doc has concerns about neuro-damage at higher levels so we cut back to a lower dose and somehow, it was more intense. I started the session thinking "why would anyone use this for fun" and ended with "weeee". That begin said, I will never use Ketamine recreationally. Not that I use any drugs for fun, but this one in particular is insanely wild.

My mom said to me, when we were chatting about KIT that she thought I would go through the initial treatment and I would be done. So did I; or at least I had hoped that was the case. There is no knowing if KIT will be something I continue to work with in the long run but the research suggests that it is the major breakthrough that mental health advocates have been waiting for. The gods know I certainly waited long enough. 

xoks

Monday, December 04, 2017

The Chemicals Between Us

This one goes out to all the married or otherwise attached men I have fucked.

xoks

Wednesday, November 08, 2017

Shake It Out

I haven't written much about my mental health lately. Mostly because, since I completed my KIT, I haven't felt the need. My depression, which has been like my invisible twin for most of my life, is now just a ghost. That isn't to say I don't have feelings; I have the feels all the time. It's just that issues that used to floor me (mind you, issues that most people would easily brush off) don't have the same impact that they used to. I have the occasional mild anxiety attack but I am better equipt to breathe through it, refocus, and move on. It's a kind of freedom I never thought I would have and I could not be more grateful.

KIT doesn't work for everyone - about 80% of the people in trials seem to get the kind of relief that I am experiencing - and while I would like to think that I will never need another booster, it is a really great feeling knowing that should I ever start to slip into the dark again, I have immediate and long-lasting help. My last booster was on June 18th. I have used the nasal treatment six times. It's a much lower dose with a much lower absorption rate but it does kick start my brain and allow it to do its healing thing. When I brought it home I feared I would use it as a crutch, but that isn't the case. I have two refills before December 15th and I won't have even used an eighth of the bottle.  

I am still at 75 mgs (down from 150) of my anti-depressants. I hope to cut that in half before the end of the year. Weaning off has serious side-effects so I am moving slowly but I am hopeful that one day I will be altogether free of medication.

As for my physical health, sigh, that's for another post. On the plus side, no cancer, on the minus side, no real answers. That's the body for you...

Thursday, October 19, 2017

Sick Child

I have been feeling too tired to write so this might be even more confusing than usual...

Follow-up to my last post - TMI - Warned 

Four days after my ridiculous second period I got a third. You read that right. October 5th, as I was heading to CalJams (Foo Fighters were not going to be missed) I started another cycle. My app, once again, wanted to argue that I didn't know what I was talking about but I MADE it take the entry; it can't beat me!

I rang my doctor who told me that I needed to call every obgyn she knew to get an appointment. I already had one scheduled but it was for October 25th and they wanted me in sooner. After calling six, I finally got an appointment this past Tuesday. 

My mom went with me because she is literally the best. New doc comes in. She is super empathetic and a little pissed off that the doc who initially saw me didn't explain what might be going on with my body (made me like her even more). I can't recall everything but she told me that the fibroids are on the small side and one might be submucosal (I had to read about that in detail and I don't think you need that image in your head) which is less common but likely not the cause of my ongoing visit from Aunt Flow. She believes it is likely hormonal (here I come menopause) but, as a precaution, asked me to have an endometrial biopsy (absolutely do not watch on YouTube) to test for cancer. I did try to offer up my uterus as a sacrifice in lieu of having to deal with this continuous mess but she wasn't into it so we moved on.  

Let me say, I have never, in all my life, experienced pain like that. I passed a kidney stone in my twenties and had a failed spinal tap in my thirties and I would opt for either again before getting another biopsy. Doc wanted three samples, I did not make it past one. I was sweating and hyperventilating. When she finished the first, I basically begged her not to do it again. I was in tears about the thought of having to feel that kind of pain again. My fucking hat is off to all women who have given birth! Unclear how you ever did it more than once...

So now I am waiting on my results. I don't think it is cancer, I am not even concerned that the results will come back positive. Will be happy to rule it out to talk next steps. Doc has me on progesterone for two weeks in hopes of resetting my system. We can only move forward once I am done with the meds. 

I had been hoping this latest round was just a little break-through but no, I am still going strong 15 days later. The progesterone will only make it last longer and my body will think it is menstruating along with all the fun side-effects. So this round I will be experiencing my period for 30 straight days with cramps, PMS and a fuck-ton of chocolate.

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Walk It Back

TMI Warning

Today was a mess. To begin my story, let me take you back to September 9th, the first day of my week-long beach vacation and the first day of my last period. I knew it was coming and the timing sucked but what can you do? However, my period was totally bizarre. It was 10 (TEN) days of nearly nothing. Since I started my period at twelve I have never experienced that before. I thought to myself that perhaps, at 48, I am heading into the peri-menopausal part of my life and put it out of my head to chat to my doctor about at a later date.

Flash forward to last night. Bam! I get my period. It has only been 7 days. When I went to log in the date on my period app (yes, I have an app) it asked me if I was sure...yes I am fucking sure. This time (I warned you at the top) it is crazy heavy. I threw up from the cramps. I was in the fetal position half the night. Basically, I was fucking miserable. 

I finally pass out around 2 AM. I wake up this morning disoriented and super sleepy. I stumble to the kitchen to get my coffee. I sit in my big velvet chair and jump online to buy a ticket to see The Struts in NOLA and I am fighting with the presale code. I go to put my coffee on my bedside table and somehow knock the GIANT cup over. It spills over the top, down the front, in the drawers, onto the floor. I jump up to get paper towels and get to cleaning it up. Takes me 15 minutes. I am so fucking cranky.

I go back to the kitchen and grab a new cup, meander back to my chair and...I forgot to change my tampon when I first got up. I have bled all over my favorite chair (again, I did warn y'all up there.)

Now I am just pissed. I haven't had my coffee and I am cleaning up another mess. Once I have finished I say fuck it, I need to get out of this house and start my day. I get myself ready and head to work. 

At this point in my story I would like to say to any of the men reading my post who are grossed out, I am not fucking sorry.

Once crossing the bridge, at the 580, 80 split, I hit dead stopped traffic. My slack starts blowing up from other employees who are also stuck. I find out that on westbound 80 a semi-truck has flipped over and on eastbound 80 there has been a car chase that ended horribly. Both sides are stuck with nowhere to go. It took me three hours to travel 2 miles. 

I head straight to a lunch with my co-workers and blather on about my morning until no one wants to talk to me anymore and then I just shut it and decide this day will get better! I order pancakes for lunch and spend quality time with my co-workers.

I arrive at the office around 1:45 and spend the rest of the day working on various projects; the morning now behind me.

5:15 pm, I go to the kitchen in my office and grab some carrots. I sit back down at my desk and snack while I work. Suddenly, the temp crown I just had fixed (for the 5th time) pops off. I push it back in place thinking I need to be careful not to break it so I can get it recemented tomorrow but it pops back off. I spit it out. It is my fucking tooth. My tooth has broken off INSIDE my temp crown and is now sitting in the palm of my hand. My first thought; I am a little more hillbilly than I was 2 minutes ago. I want to cry but I simply stare at it wondering what the fuck I am supposed to do now. 

I call my boss over to my desk to tell him how my tooth just fell out and our conversation goes like this:

Bossman: "Is it the meth?" 

Me: "Yes, yes it is the meth, thanks for understanding."

Bossman: "Would you hate me if you came in tomorrow morning to find a quarter on your keyboard?"

Me: ".............I am going home now."

I jump in my car and ring my mom to tell her the story y'all just read:

Mom: "Which tooth is it honey?"

Me: "Fourth from the front tooth on the upper right side."

Mom: "So it's a bipolar tooth." (Mom is a therapist)

Me: "......Mom, did you just call my tooth bipolar?"

Mom: *hysterical laughter with mumbles of "Oh my god, I can't breathe, help me."*

Me: "Mom, is it the meth?"

Thank the gods for my mother. She turned an otherwise shit day into a rather glorious evening.

Friday, August 04, 2017

On Hold

Someone is reading very old blog entries of mine. It made me go back to read them myself. Holy fuck, I am stuck.

I am 47 years old (for 27 more days) and it's like I haven't learned a single lesson about men in all these years. For fuck's sake people, I thought when you made a mistake, you learned something and then worked on not doing it again. It is embarrassing to reread. I sound like a 15-year-old emo chick.

I am on a mission to not put energy into any of the men in my past. Whenever I start to delve into my "misery of love" thing I simply remind myself that I deserve that energy to be spent on myself. There is not one ex in my life that spends a minute thinking about, missing, wondering about how I am so why should I give them anything? I am done. 

When I find myself slipping, I smile, straighten my spine, and remind myself of who is important. Me.

Monday, July 31, 2017

In Undertow

I had a grand plan to blog about my bizarre trip to Colorado. From my emotional rollercoaster ride in Boulder to my blissful days in Denver. It was going to be brilliant, insanely funny, and terribly heartbreaking. Each night, as I fell asleep, I would write it in my head. It would have been one of my best pieces, but now that I am a few weeks out, I changed my mind. Instead, I give you...stalking.

Actually, I give you cyber stalking, but you were kind of thrilled for a minute, weren't you?

Social media gives me way too much access to people I don't need to know anything about. From celebrities to my exes; I can stalk them all. What I can't (personally) figure out is why I would want to? Especially the exes. Why the fuck would I care about what they are tweeting, IGing, FBing? Why do I want to see if they are happy or broken (although, I seem to be the only one who is openly admitting to how broken one can be.) Anytime I find myself Googling an ex I end up feeling raw for the remainder of the day/week/month. I get distracted and upset. I feel...lonely. Yet, at least once a week, I seem to be stalking someone's page like the masochist I am.

I am pulling back a little from social media. I have locked my Twitter down, blocked a handful of people from accessing any of my accounts, and am posting less and less on FB. I need to step away a little from the ability to torture myself. In my continuing journey to be an emotionally healthier person, I realize that most of my social posting leans towards a specific audience that I shouldn't be seeking. 

I am terribly imperfect. I fight with myself every day to try to do what is best for my heart and it is a tough battle. I know that the more distant I get from the tragedy that was my love life over the last twenty years, the better I will get. Allowing my past to be my past, moving towards a healthier future, is the only way I can move. Sadly, some days, it seems my feet are stuck in cement and when I try to take a step, I simply fall on my face.