Ultradian cycling: not exactly the cardio it sounds like.

Up feels like this:



20 minutes to 2 hours later (if I'm lucky), DOWN feels like this:



If lucky, I get a short respite of this:



Then... lather, rinse, repeat!

I'm losing my mind.

I owe my soul to the company store...

Miserably sad. Feelin' sorry for myself and for others. Had a crap visit for my girly checkup with a new GYN today- my shrink had hinted/agreed that after the disastrous endocrinologist visit I should see a regular doc 'bout my hormone tests rather than Planned Parenthood, so I picked a lady doc listed with my insurance (I like men, but prefer someone with personal experience of cooters examining mine). I didn't realize that because P. P'hood is pro-choice, and doesn't wanna guilt trip anyone in either direction, they don't have pictures of babies all over their walls (they have funny posters listing all the stuff you can Do instead of It- some cheesy, some not), but regular non-pro-choice gynos apparenly have HUNDREDS of babies they've helped with- and this is why I didn't choose an OB/gyn!!!!!!!. Given my extreme issues about kids-of-my-own, given my own STRONG pro-choice stance, and given that the purpose of my visit was partly to discuss birth control methods, the cute (and NOT cute) baby pics were seriously discouraging and sad. Out of all 2- or 300, there was only one little guy I wanted, (and he damn near killed me). I would never, ever recommend that office to a preggers and conflicted friend, put it that way. Then the doc- who was barely older than me, which felt weird (I miss my ARNP in Tally so much!!)- told me that the weird hormone test I owe 300 bucks for DOESN'T COUNT cause I was on the Pill at the time, and the test had to be redone. Then, during our BC talk, I realized she's the kind of doc that doesn't like patients who do their own research- unlike my fantastic (yet conservative) shrink- and then, when she heard the word "bipolar," she shut down entirely. I asked about Chantix, the quit-smoking pill, which my INSANE CHAINSMOKING coworker has done unbelievably well with, and she was all, "Well, given... your history... I'd be a little nervous recommending it...." Yeah. Whatevs. (BITCH). My shrink is okay with prescribing anything I truly should take, even cholesterol meds- which are decidedly Not Head Meds- yet this woman can remind me I have NO BUSINESS smoking at my age on the Pill, prescribe me more Pills, but not be willing to prescribe something that might help me finally quit for good, cause I'm a wee bit "off" in the head. NOT that she wanted to discuss it, even in light of the OBVIOUS cycle my moods follow, not even with the questionable hormone tests. No wonder that office has you watch a 10 minute video about malpractice and arbitration before they'll see you. To get as close to cussing as Southern women are sposed to do, BLESS THEIR HEARTS, they're more cautious than a rabbit in a fox preserve. GAR.

So I came home, took a nap, noticed I'm a hundred bucks overdrawn (whoops! Ouch!), made an appt with my regular doc to get Chantix (I told the receptionist the situ, she said, "OMG! My husband quit with that ! How's tomorrow?" I said, "I have no money for the copay," and she said, "Who cares? We'll bill you for months!" So I'm going). I felt a little better, PPV'd "Interview With the Vampire" for 2 bucks, then, 3 mins into the glorious silliness that is Tommy C playing Lestat got a txt from my friend and co-worker that he got "walked" today. That's the D***** euphemism for getting shitcanned and walked out of the building by security guards who may or may not let you collect your belongings-including car keys. He's having an Unemployment Gathering, assuming 8 or more people show up (work in-joke), and I can't go. Not cause of Dan's sleep-depped fit the other night, I just can't go. I have barely enough gas to get to the doc's tomorrow, no money to get more, my car insurance is currently nonexistent, I barely remember how to get to my friend's house, and since my bad bout of neuritis, I'm terrified when driving in the dark (the blind spot's mostly gone most of the time, but I'm terrified it'll return full-bore, especially at night. I try not to mention to anyone when it's only a little noticeable- I'm too darn scared of MS or simple (!) blindness), and I'll be DAMNED if I'm gonna tell my newly unemplyed friend that I'm too broke to come over. That's like the one-legged cripple sobbing to the no-legged cripple. Not to be vulgar, but it IS.

Anyway, I'm not the happiest camper this minute. Glad I'm off tomorrow, glad in a weird way that my cousin finally had himself a baby girl (don't ask), shamefully glad I haven't been fired yet. I keep counting off all the friends I've had there who are gone now and getting sadder and sadder about trying to have friends at work at all, but I'm okay. And lucky, so far. Yay.

Arf.

Yep, I wasn't kidding. August is crap so far. Work is not good (but could be worse), money is not good (but could be worse), and home isn't exactly terrific at the moment (Dan's now working two jobs, the time-suckage is enormous, and balancing me with his family is tough, to say the least). I just want to be 50 lbs lighter, like I'm sposed to be, and have one day with enough time and bucks so I could go to the mall and look for an outfit and go to the used bookstore-without getting lost-and misbehave a little bit there, and maybe go to a girly movie in the afternoon when no-one's there, and not feel guilty after about any of it. That's all I want. To not be tired and sad and sick for no reason, and broke on top of that, and making everybody dislike me cuz I'm a horrible Debbie Downer. Then again, at least 3/4 of the people at my job are in the same position, so at least I have company, right? And a job to commiserate over in the first place. Lucky me! (No, really, I am, and I know it. Being "broke-but-hey-did-you-see-the-fancy-cell-I-got-for-free-with-my-contract-renewal?" ain't ezactly Darfur). Here, let's all have an AWESOME happy song:

workin' for that Yankee dollar

You know, pineapple rum and Orange Coke (don't argue with the nomenclature, I'm Southern) do NOT mix well. I tried it blendered with cantaloupe and... um... that green kind of melon (?), but that's basically a waste of likker. Does get your fiber in, though.

I'm freakin' exhausted. Slept 'til noon today, been crashing at like 7 every night. We've had 5 or 6 new offers drop at work in the past week, and the calls have been balls-out back to back every day. I wouldn't mind so much except that your talk time counts against your sales, and nearly every call has been modifying existing bookings, which doesn't help my numbers one bit. Argh!

There's family drama going on too, but I won't get into that here- it's just annoying that August is always the dog days of my year, and this isn't shaping up to be any exception.

monday...

HHN was okay... I wish I wouldnt've wussed out on the haunted houses after just a couple of 'em. Got to go on "Jaws" in the dark. That was cool.

Feeling really good, really normal and happy, today, which I think is due to Drug A kicking in. El Doctor gave me samples of it, but I won't be taking it longterm cuz that mess costs five hundred bucks a month. Kinda annoying, but Drug B is far cheaper and has a good rep (except for when the side effects kill people), so I left the doc a message I'll need a scrip for that one. It's funny, when you're not well you don't want to do anything, but to get better you have to do the extra running around and waiting. My brother and one of my friends have made fun of me a little for being so happy to find out I'm nuts, but after years of being told to 'get more exercise... and take these anti-d's,' I'm really thrilled someone listened. Let's see if the good mood lasts thru work and into tomorrow-at-the-car-dealership-at-OMG-o'clock. That's a big test.

Feed your head

Huh. After all this time, I may have lucked out on shr- er, mental health professionals. A sensible one who asks for your full history and doesn't just shove a new brand of anti-d's at you is rare, from what I've seen. Still need to see what the bloodwork says, but I'm feeling much, much better about the possibility I can get my head level again long-term.

Going to the park tomorrow. Maybe to the AK, definitely to Halloween Horror Nights. Not a great idea given what a wuss I am, but I've wanted to go for years, and working it last year was not the same thing as going. So it's on.

I smell funny!

I just finished starting colortesting and dyeing my skirt fabric for Halloween. It's a three step process- I've done the first part, so my house now reeks of stewed tea and various Rit dyes, the bathroom is swathed in enough Glad bags for a body disposal, and my fingernails look like a zombie movie, but I can't clean up 'til the fabric is dry enough to take off the shower rod. And I hafta do this twice more, once with a stamp and once with sponge-and-fingerpainting. It's really fun stuff, especially since it's the first time I've wanted to do anything Lovett-oriented in two weeks, even with all the materials at hand and loads of work left to finish.

I love the Klonopin, the effects are amazing, but I'm praying so hard that this bloodwork will find a concrete reason I've had to deal with these periodic difficulties for so many years. Bonking into a car windshield and coming from a weird clan (sorry, Mommy, a one-really-weird-and-one-semi-weird-sided clan?) shouldn't be enough to produce... this. Hm. Then again, maybe it should. I don't want to do the shrink thing, I don't want to be on permadrugs, I just want to be normal. Not super-happy-chipper, just... not crazy. I'd like to keep Not Getting Fired for at least a little longer- even with better car insurance, the Tardis isn't free!

How do you spell relief?

Klonopin is amazing, y'all! I know benzos aren't for long term use, but I am blown away at how much one measly dose helped. I got thru my short night at work with no problems. Yesterday I was shaking like a dog and trying not to cry or barf if someone asked me how much a one day ticket costs, today I was perfectly okay. That is one good thing about years of scary-brain episodes: the lows are so, so horrible that when you actually feel normal again it's a red letter day. Tell ya what, I may stockpile the rest of those little yellow buggers 'til next time it gets truly ugly, just for the insane niceness of the relief.

Mood altering drugs + fried chicken = fun afternoon?

All's I know is, either these meds had better work or the bloodtests find something actually physically wrong that's fixable, cause I can't handle feeling this awful for much longer. Y'all know how I feel about drugs: I want a here's-what's-wrong-and-here's-the-fix-it-takes-one-dose-and-it's-cheap answer. I can't function in public hardly at all right now, I'm nearly catatonic in private, and I'm physically sick on top of that. This bout showed up and worsened really suddenly and swiftly (I was FINE Labor Day!), and it's a pretty bad one. I mustn't keep missing work, but I can barely function in my job when I'm there, so I'm constantly freaking out, which makes the attacks worse. Dammit, these drugs had better help. Or at least be fun to watch cartoons on. My new doctor isn't too bad (well, I only saw his PA), and they were helpful in checking for a couple of shrinks my insurance will cover (NOT that I want to go that route, but she wants me to 'see someone' in case I'm crazy rather than just offbalance). The lab stuff should be back by Monday, so maybe they'll find something actually wrong, and I can decide what to do from there. It's not a great feeling, waiting to find out if your body needs fixing, or if you're... just an insane person. This is why I prefer drinking.

I used to think that the day would never come

I was outside just now, peeking down at my Autumn-sized neighbor. She's got a Hello Kitty wallet, a folded, dirty dollar, a tin box full of dirt, and a pointy stick. Plus a pudgy friend visiting. I badly want to know what she's digging for- worms? fairy corpses?- but if I made my presence known, it would ruin everything. Being grownup is such CRAP sometimes.

I can haz ego boosties?

So today was a "Damn, I look pretty good!" day. My grey britches are finally loosey-goosey, my cheekbones looked sharp, all I needed was some eyeliner and a lipgloss, and... it all worked. No credit to me, it's all in the genes (Happy Birthday, Mommy!).

And then I got propositioned, which is always nice. I freaking LOVE getting asked out properly by a man with sense. Shoot, I don't even have an opinion on the fella in question, but I'm happy to have met a second man in Orlando (in over a YEAR) with some skill in dealing with us hoochies. And, like I said, just being asked is nice, just cuz.

Blargh

BAD mood. Stupid depression-toad hovering in the corners of my vision, frowning and going, "Bwaaaaaarp" every time I think of something I might want to do. The pool's closed, I don't get paid 'til tonight, and I'm not in the mood for a movie. I could get drunk and watch cartoons, but that's a bad idea. I've read everything I own at least twice, and am horribly upset that the only nearby used bookstore is moving way far away in a coupla weeks. I'm just... grouchy and frustrated today. At least Spongebob's coming on soon, cause "Yo Gabba Gabba" is TERRIBLE.

KILL ME.

If somebody would bash me on the head with a shovel, I'd be quite pleased. I slept on my neck funny a few nights back, and it's gotten progressively worse to the point of nauseating pain. Got off work six hours early, don't even care that I need the money cause I was so worried I'd get killed in traffic trying to look around without passing out. Drugs didnt work, icyhot hasn't worked, I need a neckectomy NOW.

But ooh, hey, I've lost 16.5 lbs now, so if I die of this at least I'll die smaller!

A pirate's life for me!

As dorky as being solitary-natured makes me feel sometimes, it can be a good thing when there's no-one around for company. I don't mind so much when I end up doing stuff by myself, and I can be selfish about doing exactly what I want. Went to the MK this morning for a check on traffic before next week's family visit. Shouldn't have worn flipflops (but they looked cute!) cause now my feet want to fall off, but other than that it was alright. Talked to some nice little kids, went on the rides I like best, rode the train for a bit, roamed back home. Now I'm debating whether to hit the pool- it was GROSS and scrungy yesterday, but the pool guy might've come by? Nothing else to do 'cept some dishes, and they can wait 'til after dark.

There's a Lyle Lovett song called "If I Had a Boat" that just exactly fits where my head is at today. Chilled out whether everyone else wants to let me be or not.

Boombastic, tell me fantastic

Something very unusual just happened. I woke up happy. Not worrying about my six-dollar paycheck, not sad about the nonsense intelligent men come up with, not moltogrosso about my weight. I can deal with money stuff, men ain't nuttin' but a hobby, and my weight is dropping steadily. I don't need fixing, I don't owe apologies- thank you very much, I'm rockin'! My mum and sisters will be here next week, and I'm really looking forward to that, and- don't tell anyone, it's just a thought, but.... I'm kind of, sort of thinking about considering getting back in school. Kinda. I'm tired of people giving me the "you're too smart to _______" speech, tired of working dead end jobs, and I hate never having finished my worthless degree when I'm still paying for it. So... maybe. I just looked outside, and it's beautiful, all I hafta do is decide whether to go to the AK or to the pool, or the pool and then maybe the MK for fireworks. I can do anything I want, without consulting anyone for input. I own myself again, and it's about time. So I'm cranking up the beach music, highdosing on caffeine, grinning from ear to ear. If ya wanna call me today, ya better be happy too.

(Later)
GUESS WHAT? I just put on my swimsuit (aka The Ugliest Garment Ever, aka The Fat Tent), and the top is loose! Like, trying-not-to-fall-out loose! I may have to buy another one this summer! YESSS!

When I said I'd give anything...

... to get rid of the horrifying weight I've put on, an attack of emotional bulimia REALLY wasn't what I had in mind. One nasty aspect of my weakness for certain types of guys is an inability to stay nourished when the bullshit starts. When I had the first of several extremely ugly splits with the cross-dressing redneck, I lost 20 lbs in SIX DAYS, while drinking beer and eating Doritos with onion dip every night. (I briefly considered whether I might've caught something from one of his yard dogs- he had six, any of whom probably woulda been a better BF). I'm beginning to wonder if this bout is gonna be equally extreme. Of course, the measure of my hopelessness re: losing 58 pounds can be taken from the fact that I kinda wouldn't mind if this were a bad bout. I figure, at least I'm not confused by what's happening, I saw this train coming and chose not to step out of the way. Of course it hurts like a bastard, but I've just gotta wade through the sad stuff. I'm not drinking- hiding from this pain won't help, and will drag the process out unnecessarily- but a few hours (days, weeks) of unconsciousness seems tempting when I allow myself to stop analyzing and just feel. So I'm not doing much feeling. I'm analyzing the non-emotional stuff (with a little help...etc ) to pieces and watching as much Spongebob as possible. And I've lost six or eight pounds in the past two days. It's awfully nice to see my cheekbones again- and, hell, I might as well LOOK good if I can't FEEL good, right?

Okay, don't shoot me yet.

Quiet and hollow all day after last night's meltdown. Not to TMI, but I absentmindedly started reading the patient info that came with my pills while in the john a little while ago, and guess what? Severe depression was listed as a possible problem. I just started my 3rd month on Yaz, the bc pills that are marketed as a wonderful, fabulous godsend for women with severe PMS. The smarmy tv ads (with the obnoxious doctor chick at a SATC-type party) obsessively lecture on the dangers of smoking, but do they mention the possibility that your severe PMS might turn into PLAYING WITH RAZORS?!!??! Nope. So I got online, Googled Yaz + depression, and what did I find? A plethora of reviews from women who have not only had major depressive issues, but gained weight and had CHUNKS OF THEIR HAIR FALL OUT. I am so angry about this. As if I haven't had a hard enough time for the past 12 years dealing with my brain's natural f-ed-up-ness, I gotta have these deceptive pharmaceutical bastards marketing a pill as helpful that actually makes things WORSE? And it doesn't help that Dan spent fifty dollars on these things Tuesday, money we NEEDED, and the only reason we've been willing to pay so much is that they were supposed to be HELPING me. So we're out fifty bucks, plus whatever money we spend on...er... something else, because I'll NEVER take one of those horrible things again. Grrrr... at least I can quit taking them, and maybe quickly get my life back to maintenance-level pain rather than the horrible wracking misery it's been for two months. Thank God for small (actually, middlin'-large) favors.