Category: Mental Health

Floodgates open? Well, there’s a trickle

#bipolar, #books, #dystopian, #publishing, Abnormal, anxiety, Mental Health, Novel, SCA, Sci-fi, Stress, Tattoo, Work, Writing

Well, after a good solid month of being blocked, I’m back to writing. It’s still slow going, and the progress isn’t marked, but it is progress.

I’m starting to get more of the world in place, the situation–locally for my characters as well as globally–the timing…things are coming together. Or, well, for my characters they’re falling apart. Lol

I can’t say too much without getting spoilery, but I’m getting more confident in the direction Book 3 is going. It’s fleshing out, it’s developing, it’s coming to light. (Sounds silly for only having added about 1500-2k words this morning, but you’d be surprised how much can be conveyed–or inspired–by those few words.) I have more of a vision of what’s happening and what’s going to happen.

Of course, this means that my long work day in the surgery department will seem even longer, because I’ll be away from my laptop and unable to continue my momentum. My brain might end up being stuck in the distant future instead of being rooted firmly in the present. (Don’t worry–I don’t do anything more crucial than taking vital signs, giving drops, and maybe giving discharge instructions. Lol)

Adding to the time-taken-away-from-writing is my upcoming anniversary. Six years this Saturday! We’re going to get coordinating Gallifreyan tattoos once we have the extra funds saved up. It was my husband’s idea, but I fully endorse it.

Tomorrow I’ll start on the full-dose Vraylar, which means I’ll be taking it only three days a week (yay for a long half-life!) and hopefully seeing even more improvement in my stress levels. I handled yesterday’s work day well, and it seems even the days that are craptastic aren’t as bad as they normally would be. I tried to cut hours where I could, but it looks like I’ll be in OT again this week–which means I’ll probably be sent home early tomorrow. Darn. Guess I’ll have to write or something until my husband gets off work and we can leave for our weekend trip.

We’ll be going to an SCA event on Saturday, but Friday-Sunday we’ll be staying with his dad and stepmom, and Saturday after the event we’ll be having a nice dinner with friends at a delicious restaurant. The adult in me is looking forward to a beer; the kid in me is looking forward to FOOD!! Seriously, this place has the best chicken pot pie I’ve ever tasted.

Well, it’s getting to be That Time again. Time to leave for work, to leave my comfy abode and make the twenty-minute drive to employment.

Vicious cycles

anxiety, Insomnia, Mental Health, SCA, Stress

Here we go again…

…I don’t know quite how it happened. Things were going at a fairly manageable pace, and then suddenly I was thrown back into back-to-back weekends of SCA-related events while still having the embroidery deadline looming…and now I have more embroidery to do (not that I’m complaining–I adore my friend that has commissioned me, so I’ll definitely do it). But yeah. I’m back at it. Somehow, despite my determination to slow down and maintain my sanity.

I might have to put my foot down (again) and say (again) that I can’t be doing this (again). It’s got my anxiety up, which I think is affecting my stomach (I’ve had more frequent reflux recently, so I think my gut hates the anxiety too), and I’m having a harder time sleeping through the night and functioning the Monday after the event weekend.

Last weekend had an event on Sunday. This weekend has a birthday party Friday and a household meeting Saturday. Then the weekend after is our anniversary weekend (with an SCA event on our anniversary). Then an event that my husband’s Peer is running the weekend after that. Then I’m pretty damn sure there’s something the next weekend (because even though my calendar doesn’t show anything, there’s gotta be something), then a big event for our Barony the weekend after that, then Coronation the weekend after that (where I have two smaller embroidery projects due)…then I think I might get a weekend or two off. But damn. That’s a lot of stuff all at once.

What happened to slowing down after Estrella?? It happened, and then it didn’t…and I don’t know how I let myself get wrangled into this many engagements again.

I have to sit down and evaluate what events I have to go to and what ones I can stay home for. I feel obligated to go to the birthday party because it was nice of them to invite us, which means since we’ll be in Tucson anyway we might as well go to the household meeting. The anniversary weekend I can’t skip. Maybe my husband’s Peer’s event? That gives me one, maybe two (if my calendar’s right) weekends “off”… but there’s still the two back-to-back weekends of SCA stuff, and while it’s pretty much right in town, I have a lot of work to do for both events and I. Just. Don’t. Know.

And of course now that I’m getting all this typed down the anxiety is creeping back up. Maybe creeping isn’t the right word…how about skyrocketing? Yeah, that’s more accurate.

Guess I’m back to running on high octane again for an indeterminate period of time. At least a month, maybe a bit more. I hope my mind can take it.

The treatment is a success…or is it?

#bipolar, anxiety, Depression, Health, Mental Health, Short Story, Stress, Work, Writing

So it’s been almost a week since I started the new bipolar med, and it’s got mixed results. I mean, I’m not feeling the sky-high levels of stress and anxiety that I was feeling before, but at the same time…I’m not feeling as much of anything.

Stress levels are down–which is great–but my give-a-shit-o-meter has crashed. I just don’t care. Ten-hour day on my feet with a fifteen minute lunch? Eh. Forgot to get my lab work done before my appointment today? Whatever. Probably going to get yelled at by my rheumatologist for not taking the $2k-a-month medicine she prescribed? Shit, she yells at me all the time anyway. Like it’s my fault the RA isn’t under control–try prescribing something that doesn’t cost more than my mortgage, lady.

I even didn’t get that upset when I threw up my breakfast yesterday. It was like “Okay, this is happening. I’ll just hold off on eating anything else until I’m sure my stomach is settled.”

Don’t get me wrong; I’m extremely grateful that the stress and anxiety are almost completely gone. That part’s great. But I gotta admit, it concerns me a bit that I’m not, well, concerned. I’m just rolling through life, doing what I need to do. I’m pretty sure there’s going to be backlash on that at some point. Things can’t be this smooth without some bumps along the way.

Oh well. I’ll take the bumps as they come. I’m handling things much better now. I don’t get the all-consuming sense of being overwhelmed by what I have to do. My interest in my interests hasn’t 100% come back yet, but I’m getting there. Got a new short story in the works, got Book 3 moving along–at a snail’s pace, but it is moving–and I’ve got the embroidery that I’m slowly getting knocked out.

Speaking of which, I should probably work on that while it’s nice and quiet. I’ve got most of today to work on it, but there will be that 3-4 hour period where I’m off to my appointment where I can’t embroider. (I feel weird embroidering in the doctor’s office).

Try, try again

#bipolar, #books, #dystopian, #nerd, #publishing, Abnormal, AMA, anxiety, Celebrity, Depression, Education, Geek, Health, Interview, Learning, Mental Health, Musings, Novel, Podcast, Promotion, Q&A, Sci-fi, Social Media, Stress, Thoughts

On the advice of many, many people, I went to my psychiatrist yesterday (a month earlier than scheduled) and talked to him about all the stress I’m under. New medicine acquired, old medicine discarded, and now we play the waiting game.

Basically I have a month to adjust to the low dosage of the new med (which totally sounds like an alien species) before I get the full dose filled. There are a few bonuses to this new med:

  • No known weight gain side effects
  • Long half-life, so once I’m on the higher dose I’ll only have to take it Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays
  • Teeny little capsule, so not a huge gag issue

The med is soon-to-be-approved for bipolar depression, so that’ll help with that side of things, but I am dubious as to the anxiety/stress benefits of the med. If it’s supposed to help with depression, will it also help these other things? We shall see, I guess.

Speaking of bipolar disorder, I’m slated to appear on a podcast called Speak Your Mind, which is a mental health podcast. I know, I know, it’s not my usual book/writing podcast venue, but the host is excited to talk about Abnormal and my writing in addition to discussing mental health issues in my life and in society as a whole. More info to come on that once I’ve gotten a date scheduled. We had a good, long chat the other night, so I’m hopeful that someone listening in gets some benefit out of hearing my story and my struggles.

I try not to get too political about mental health, but let’s face it: mental health is widely ignored by insurance companies and even more widely stigmatized in society as a whole. I think back on the work that Carrie Fisher did to try to destigmatize mental illness, and I think this is one cause I can get behind, not only because it directly affects me but also because it affects such a wide range of people, and not enough people talk about it. Maybe one day, when I’ve hit the NYT bestseller list, I can have the kind of influence where my experiences make a difference.

Yes, I have a mental illness. Yes, I have bipolar disorder. Yes, I take medicines to be “normal.” No, I’m not crazy.

Rusted blade, broken heart

#bipolar, #nerd, anxiety, Depression, fencing, Friendship, Mental Health, Musings, SCA, swordfighting, Thoughts

It’s my own fault, I suppose. I stopped practicing and fighting rapier because depression got the better of me, and now the rapier community in my Kingdom has all but forgotten me.

My husband gave up on rapier long before I did. He quit bringing his gear long before I did. But I’m a nonentity, a no one, so while he gets people asking him what gives, I get silence (save for a few steadfast friends who always ask where I’m at).

I don’t know. Maybe I’m not approachable. Maybe I hide off to the side too often, and people assume it’s where I want to be. Maybe they don’t know how much it hurts to think that almost no one cares if I’m out there or not.

Do I put on too good of a show? Have I hidden the pain that well? So few people seem to acknowledge my existence beyond a smile and a nod. I get a rare hug from someone outside my circle. I don’t get invited to stuff (except tangientially, as an extension of my husband or friends), and I often wonder if I ever cross people’s minds when I’m not there.

The worst part is he doesn’t realize how much it hurts me when he goes on and on about it. About how so many people talk to him and chat with him and I’m over here like “Hey, I exist too. I’m a person. I’m a rapier fighter.”

Have I lost that part of my identity? Am I perhaps no longer a rapier fighter? If not, then what am I? I’m not an artist until my husband shows off my work. I’m not a leader, not a helper, not anything. I just float along on my husband’s coattails, clinging to the hope that one of his friends will think I’m worth talking to.

I think I need to go to bed now. I’m clearly not thinking right. I’m getting emotional over something silly. Maybe these people do give a shit. Maybe they just think I don’t need conversation or comraderie or anything other than a smile and a nod.

It Never Ends

#bipolar, anxiety, Depression, Mental Health, Poetry, Stress, Work

The stresses and the hits keep coming.

They never really end.

The punches to the gut keep coming.

They never really end.

When one thing’s over, three more begin.

When will the whole thing end?

Up and down and this and that,

They never really end.

Piles and piles of things to do,

They never really end.

I try to pick the pieces up.

But I cannot find the end.

Dropping balls and tripping up,

It never really ends.

High octane and low on fuel,

What happens if I end?

Shedding Light on My Darkness

#bipolar, #books, Abnormal, anxiety, Celebrity, Depression, Education, escape the light, Health, Interview, Mental Health, Musings, Novel, Podcast, Poetry, Promotion, Q&A, Social Media, Stress

Bipolar disorder sucks, but it’s livable given the right access to good mental healthcare and the right combination of therapy and pharmaceuticals. Why am I bringing this up now? Well, I’m in talks to, er, talk on a podcast about mental health issues. I was introduced to the podcast by a fellow bipolar author, and it seems like a good fit. I have mental health issues that I have to deal with on a daily basis; they’re a show about mental health.

I talk about mental health a lot here, about my stresses and stressors and stressing out in general, but I want to make it known that you can fight the demons inside and live in the world outside at the same time. It just takes a lot of effort.

It also takes admitting that you need the help.

Hopefully my appearance will help others realize that they don’t have to be holed up in their own little world of demons, suffering through hell on a daily basis. Hopefully it will help them realize that there are options and avenues for relief. And hopefully they’ll realize that they can’t give up after a few things don’t work; they have to keep trying until they find the right combination of therapies for them.

I’d say more, but that would be potential spoilers for the show. 😉 More details as they come!

Almost Home

#bipolar, #books, #dystopian, #nerd, #publishing, Abnormal, anxiety, Celebrity, Depression, escape the light, Fandom, fencing, Friendship, Geek, Health, Home, Insomnia, Interview, Marketing, Mental Health, Novel, Promotion, Q&A, SCA, Sci-fi, Sleep, Social Media, Stress, Work, Writing

It’s 0432, and I’m at a friend’s house for the night, waiting for my husband to wake up so we can go the rest of the way home. So what’s an insomniac to do but write?

I tried to take a writing break during Estrella War, but my story started speaking to me again, and I couldn’t ignore it. This is after weeks of little to no progress on Book 3, so I’m glad the Muses decided to become chatty. Still, hand writing when you’ve pulled a muscle in your back (on your dominant side) isn’t exactly fun. I’ve already called out from work–well, texted out, I should say–and I foresee a heating pad in my future once I’m home… Possibly a doctor’s appointment. Depends on how much worse it gets. At the moment, I really don’t want to yawn, as I discovered last night that breathing too deep causes pain in the pulled muscle.

My feet hurt, too, as well as my legs, but it’s more of an ache from overuse of muscles that I’m not accustomed to using. You’d be surprised how many new muscle groups you will discover when you have to sludge through half a foot of thick, slippery mud for days on end. It actually got to the point where walking on dry land felt unnatural.

I’ve been tasked by my publisher’s publicist to find and book no less than three (preferably five) podcast appearances by mid March. I’ve had terrible luck getting responses, so that’s another thing I’m going to have to do once my laptop is unburied from the mess that is our car. I’ve enlisted the help of Twitter, whose #writingcommunity hashtag is a wealth of help and knowledge for newer authors like me, but I’m still going to do the “legwork” of searching podcast apps and contacting shows. It’s going to take a lot of my time, but I know it’s for my own good. I need to keep promoting ABNORMAL even though I’m working simultaneously on ESCAPE THE LIGHT and Book 3. An author’s work is never done, I guess.

I’ll be glad to get home. I miss my cats, miss my shower, miss my bed. I miss my house, my comfy couch, and all the things that I couldn’t take with to Estrella.

I wish that I had ventured out from camp more during the War. I was so miserable that I didn’t make enough of an effort to see friends that I rarely get to see or even to meet new friends. To my SCAdian friends, I apologize for not having much of a presence this War. I’d promise to make more events or something, but I’m still not sure what my mental state is following this “break” from work. I feel somewhat refreshed in the sense that, aside from a few frantic texts, I haven’t had to think about work in a week. However, that little twitch in my right lower eyelid is still there, and I still don’t know how I feel about getting back into attending more SCA events. I want to keep active, but I also need to take my mental health into consideration. That being said, I got some of the best hugs this past week, much needed and sorely missed.

Goodbye, Estrella War. Until next year.

Dry for now, but a mudpit to clean up later

#bipolar, anxiety, Depression, Geek, Health, Mental Health, SCA, Stress

Estrella War has been wet. It’s been damp and mucky and gross. I’ve escaped two nights in a row to sleep off-site in a warm bed. Tomorrow, however, we have to go back and clean up the mess that is our tent and pack up the car.

That means three hours in a car loaded up with mud-soaked items. It means sorting what can be saved and what is a wash. It means tomorrow is going to suck.

I tried to get stuff together today in preparation, but the task was too daunting for myself alone, and my husband was busy most of the day. Over half of our stuff is soaking wet, another third is damp, and a small sampling of the rest is salvageable.

I’m so done with this vacation. I’m done with the mud and the port-a-johns and the cold. What was supposed to be a relaxing break from work has been nothing but a mudpit. I enjoyed the time I spent with my SCA family, but overall it did nothing to destress me.

I’m going back to a slammed office, or at least I’m pretty sure I am. I’ve stopped receiving text messages from work, but it’s a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I’m not getting inundated with texts about work stuff while on vacation….on the other hand, I could be walking in to anything. Chaos could be awaiting me when I walk in the door….or it could be handled. Who knows.

I might end up going to my psychiatrist early after all. I can’t keep going at the pace I was and survive. War did nothing to relax me. It just keyed up different triggers.

I’m still writing. I’m still holding in there. But I’m not going to be able to hold in there much longer.

Can’t afford to heal the pains

#bipolar, anxiety, autoimmune, Depression, embroidery, Health, Mental Health, Sewing, Stress, Work

Healthcare in the U.S. sucks donkey balls.

Here’s the thing: pharmaceutical companies are able to charge out the freakin’ nose for stuff that’s basically essential for physical and mental health. I called my insurance’s compounding pharmacy for a refill of the latest biologic my rheumatologist prescribed for me. They informed me it would be two thousand plus dollars per injection (a monthly injection). That’s almost twice my mortgage! Does the medicine work for the rheumatoid arthritis? Doesn’t matter. Can’t afford twice my mortgage every month, so I’m not getting it.

It’s crazy. Two. Thousand. Dollars. A month. Most people can’t afford that even without mortgage and credit card debt and utilities and gas to-and-from work and medical insurance and… point is, it’s excessive. It’s punitive. It’s the pharmaceutical company saying ,”Fuck you, if you can’t shell out more than minimum wage’s monthly salary, you’ll just have to be in pain.”

Add to that the fact that I need to at some point find a urologist and a nephrologist and see my psychiatrist and call my rheumatologist (do you get the “gist” of it?)…Yeah. Copay city. I could afford it if I tighten up some things, but it’s getting out of hand. Long story short, a person can’t afford to be sick in the U.S. these days unless they’re in the upper tax brackets.

It’s all just another series of stressors that are ripping my psyche apart these days. Work is stressful. SCA life is stressful (at least until my royal embroidery project is done). Work is stressful. I feel work needs an extra mention, because I’m so stressed at work that it’s causing me to burst into tears any time I stop. I mean, I go on break, and the slightest trigger has me crying. I leave work, and again, I’m sobbing. Basically, I’ve been operating at such high stress levels lately that as soon as I release any of it I’m a big ol’ ball of tears. I’m hoping that my upcoming week-long vacation from the office, combined with the surgeon’s upcoming week-long vacation next month, eases enough of the stress that I can get things done. If not, I’ll be back at the psychiatrist’s office before my scheduled follow-up…crying. Again.

I know I’ll get through it. I always do. But just knowing that it’s getting harder and harder to even afford to take care of myself is overwhelming. How am I supposed to get myself well enough to function if I can’t afford the things I need to get well?

This isn’t really a political post. I’m sure there are plenty enough of those out there that are better-informed than I am. This is just a rant, a scream into the nothingness to release that pent-up frustration and get it off my chest.