No New Antipsychotic Is Good News?

Won't you have a piece of the pie too?

Found this in "images" and it looks like it could be for a couple different antipsychotics, eventual side effects if a lot of weight is gained from them, and no action is being taken.

The date that I quit the generic seroquel was May 18, and I still haven't had an anxiety attack. I still haven't gone out on a whim and jumped on a bus anywhere either. Disappointing, but not totally. I did not cause myself to develop agoraphobia to the extent that it has affected me, and I have to remind myself of that, and stop mentally punishing myself for that.

One thing I do need to do though, is make more of an effort to literally take steps out the door. Have a smoke on the balcony or on the bench near the door outside where you're not supposed to, due to stupid smoking laws. There, on the bench, I can sit and count the red roses that are trying to grow and bloom in spite of an overgrown bush of some sort trying to steal their sunlight.

Then there is the starschmucks on the corner that I was going to on occasion, which I'm really getting tired of. All of their seats are uncomfortable cheap pieces of shit, and it doesn't help my back, that's been acting up since I went off the seroquel.

I only realized today why I was a little instantly teary/instantly not - pms! I had an appointment with my Dr shrinker today and 4 weeks ago, so this would be the time! No wonder I was feeling a little weird and kind of down the other day. I haven't had mood swings though. It's pretty damn amazing. He - my Dr - told me today that the topomax actually does work for some people to manage the mood swings, but he's used to using more successful meds, and since I'm in that "spectrum" of disorders (bipolar), that it's eventually going to come back. I agreed. It's always been a pattern, no matter what the med cocktail.

We talked about what med to add, and I told him that I'd been doing some research. It turned out that we had been thinking of the same things. Abilify or generic Geodon (ziprasidone). I had been doing research over the weekend and making myself paranoid over what I'd end up with (or refusing to take). I found a shitload of terrible side effects for women for abilify, lots of possible side effects for all drugs in that damn class. So I had thought I'd try the ziprasidone again since it had gone generic, checked my Medicare Part D insurance, saw it was $80 a month. Ouch, but way less than abilify. 

I'd had the brand name ziprasidone before, Geodon, given to me for free, as the clinic I went to had a ton of free samples they were getting all the time. It was ok the last time I took it, but I can't remember what was going on at the time that I switched to something else. I'm sure I was on a few different things. What's new. 

I'm just glad I left the office without a single tear shed, and without a new Rx for an antipsychotic. I especially didn't want one because I woke up this morning all off balance, and have been all afternoon. I got up and nearly fell over on my way to the bathroom. After that, I was having to be careful not to hit the walls, etc. I was wearing my sunglasses at the Dr's office, and don't remember being so off balance there. Maybe I was faking it. They didn't try to make me get weighed in public, but asked how much I weighed for the record. I'd lost 10lbs of seroquel weight already. My word was good enough! :) I don't know, but the second I walked out the last set of doors into the daylight, when I was done with it all, I was all off balance again, even with sunglasses. 

Lucky I got a ride from the spouse. He didn't care about going to work anyway today. He's on "light duty" for 2 weeks due to injury at work, and filing an L&I claim. The owner of the co. is such a dick that he actually said in a meeting (I was told) with all workers present, that workers will be paying more because of L&I claims (referring to the spouse). Blame? Threatening? Both? I'd want to punch the fucker's face in. I can see why he wants to get the fuck out of there. Bad, bad scene and fuck-ups running the jobs, he says, doing things wrong. 

He said the other day that his life is weird, but he wouldn't really explain what he meant. He said "... living here, this place, us..." Then a bit later I said "your 'broken down wife'", as he once referred to me, thinking it was not an insult. Well it was a long time ago, and it stuck. He didn't really want to talk any more about it. I couldn't get him to talk much this morning either apart from what a dick the owner of his co. is. 

What will become of us? We need to talk, and he just can't seem to get into it...

So Where Are We Now?

Holy shit, it's been a long time since I've been able to sit down, concentrate, and actually write. It's been one month since I went cold turkey off the 600mg generic seroquel, and what happens after that? I go and get a terrible cold from out of nowhere, like I can't remember ever having! I mean, criikey! I never fucking get out! I've only been out a couple of times to the store, to grab a coffee maybe once, maybe up to Post Office just to drop mail, the drugstore, and my spouse isn't even sick! WTF?! Just as I was starting to get used to feeling "normal" agoraphobia, bipolar, anxiety,  and PTSD on the current meds: all generic - 450mgs wellbutrin, 4mg clonopin, 40mg prozac, 150mg topomax, I have to go and get fucking sick and miserable. 

Well, not miserable, but a little irritable about the non-stop runny nose - like a fountain, partially taken care of by antihistamines for allergies, dry cough calmed by finally having a bit of phlegm coating, and my body's not feeling so much like I've been run over by a truck, and backed up on today. Too weak to even think about the treadmill. Lame. I feel so fucking LAME!! I NEVER GET SICK! I'm offending myself with this lameness and not being able to overcome it and just pretend all is "normal". Fuck fuck fuck fuck! If only I could get this pissed off about my anxiety... Hmmm... Maybe I will.

I have an appointment with my meds shrink on tuesday of next week, which is ok, I guess. I should be fine by then, maybe able to even catch the buses there, but I don't know yet. I don't want to push myself when I'm still feeling shitty. I don't even really want to think about it. I'm not even quite sure how I feel in the head besides the head cold going on. Damn thing's been giving me headaches, too. 

Before the cold, I was suffering quite a bit from lower back pain, so I've probably burned a nice hole in my stomach by now, but I refuse to take anything else but aspirin. Somehow the thermometer got lost during the move to this place, so I couldn't tell for sure whether I had a temperature or not, but I did feel feverish a couple of times. Then hot/cold. Kind of annoying. 

I'm so glad I have no shrink appointments this week, and I definitely am glad that I will be formally firing the last one after I receive the bills from her. I'm so grateful that I have no place that I have to force myself to go to this week, because I sure as shit feel like shit. No more dreading mondays. No more fucked up sunday nights because of it.

At least I'm able to sit up today and type this. I don't have enough energy to do much else. That could be from lack of enough coffee. I'm afraid to look at my main email account and deal with that.

My spouse injured himself at work, and went to a Dr. So he took the week off, said he was going to do an L&I claim, waits until the last minute and then asks me to basically fucking do this shit, and phone calling for him because he needed the help, and didn't know what he was doing. I didn't know either. He gets pissed and freaked out, directs it toward me, and I vow to myself to never help him again. I actually cried a few tears. On seroquel, I would have had a very different and way less emotional reaction. As in NOT ONE FUCKING TEAR. Of course I didn't let him see me cry. Later on he comes out and says he's not bothering with the physical therapy he's supposed to have made appointments for - this week, and went back to work today. I just shook my head and said, "there goes your claim." 

I don't know, but it's as if he wants to get hurt and not work or something. He says he hates his boss, who really sounds like a little dick and a 1/2, so I can't blame him. He claims he's thinking about joining a union  and getting work that way. He says that some of his former workmates have done it and made big bucks, especially working out of town, or state, something he claimed he didn't want to do when he was in England: paying for a place, working, and not living there. That was #1 on his hate list. And then there's me... ? Well, all the fucking bills are in my name, of course, I don't know where his head is at other than I think he hates working, and he thinks he should be able to retire at 50ish.

The other kids in his family have bought their own houses, or "married well". He never saved his money, all that he made, that he could have. Me, I never wanted the responsibility of a house that I couldn't afford, a giant debt hanging over my head like a noose for the rest of my life. I'd rather have the real noose. Unless I had a partner whom I could trust, that had my back, that had his shit together. I couldn't see that happening for me. I trust no one anymore, even if I am married now. 

The spouse seems too comfortable being unemployed, when it would freak the fuck out of me, if I could work. Must be a UK thing. I didn't give a fuck with it when I was there when I wasn't working, for the most part. I know where I was, but where are we now? It's not all B&W.

Frank Miller's Sin City: A Dame to Kill For - Trailer 2 

Frank Miller as a co-director working with Robert Rodriguez 

No Feelings

True Blood Season 7 Teaser

I got the above video in my email while sitting here in my usual spot on the couch of gloom and doom. My jasmine tea and water are sitting here, and I'm kicking myself for forgetting to buy saltines at the store yesterday eve. Oh, yes, I remembered the sweet fucking cinnamon graham crackers, but forgot the saltines. I remembered the peanut butter and the canned peaches, but forgot the fucking saltines.

Fuck, I am so nauseous that I had to take my sports bra off because it was putting some pressure on me near my stomach. Then I turned my workout pants into some low riding hipsters. I look like one of those deflated teenagers on the couch in those PSAs about talking to your kids about pot. Funny, now you got to talk to your kids and tell them why you're smoking pot. 

Smoking Pot Is Really Stupid / Anti-Marijuana PSA Video

For the life of me, I can't decide which med it is that is making me feel sick and ruining my scheduled treadmill/"Supernatural" morning time. Fuck, I made it out to starschmucks without meds this morning, and the sun had almost come up already. I didn't have a freakout, but I did have my sunglasses, etc. I didn't feel sick there, or jones-ing for clonopin just yet... I just felt kinda spaced out, I guess like I "normally" would as I was walking down the street back home. Living in my head, almost getting hit by cars, you know, that kind of "normal" shit. 

Maybe there's something EVIL growing in my stomach. There's pain now. Maybe I accidentally swallowed an alien while in a feeding frenzy. Maybe I don't ever want to see a Dr except for meds. Last time I went for some dumb pain, they eventually took my gall bladder. What's next? Maybe they planted something in there while yanking out the gall bladder. Something alien. Something evil. Maybe an alien/human hybrid. Maybe I should go and have an ultrasound! 

Maybe I should just finish my tea, curl up in a ball, and think about the reminder of the end of "True Blood", and say fuck it. There's a "Supernatural" marathon on again on TNT tomorrow. I'm sure I'll be fine by... oh... 3 or 4 today. Maybe I can force myself to get on the treadmill then. I have the DVDs, so no excuse if I feel ok.

 At least I got out this morning without freaking out.

Oh, by the way, I'm not having any feelings or moods at all. I'm just existing. Does that make me a zombie? Be sure to aim for the head.

Sex Pistols - No Feelings

The Guilt Machine and the Emotionally Crippled

William Staub, Inventor of the Treadmill, Dead at 96

Well fuck me. The walking shoes under my table (where my computer is) and the fact that the evil treadmill is in the same room, got me up off my ass yesterday. I write in the same room of the behemoth creature. I felt like I was at a dangerous point of sliding downhill into thoughts of the "s" word. So I managed to put on some appropriate clothes and force myself to do a brisk 3mi walk while forcing myself to pay attention to the tv. It was also the only way I was going to get myself into the shower (afterward). That would be a much-needed shower. My hair must be filthy by now. Oh well. I used to be much much worse. I also managed to drag out the trash and recycling in one go yesterday. An amazing feat.

I was fucked last night, tossing and turning yet again, and again my spouse woke me up with noise at 6am today. I was cursed to get up out of guilt. Besides, I had my alarm set for 7am. What's one more hour lost. A lot, sometimes, I tell ya. According to my meds shrink, I should be sleeping better for taking more seroquel , but since he wrote my latest Rx wrong in a hurry, I stuck with the lower dose, and got a refill on that. Since I've been having the random anxiety/near psychotic attacks, I haven't been sleeping well.

The Rx from my meds shrink should have been for 500mg horse pills, but was for 400mg. Good enough for now, since I have a few leftovers that I hope will get me out of this anxiety/near psychotic funk. That's a serious fucking funk. I've been taking 300mg or 350mg near the middle of the afternoon, and only other half of the big tab, which is 200mg at night. I take 450mgs of wellbutrin, 40mg prozac, and 4mg of clonazepam spread out for the rest of the day. I'm supposed to take one at night, but it's needed much more during the afternoon when my anxiety is at it's worst.

I'm starting to really wonder - is anxiety an emotion or a horrible condition? I don't really count it as an emotion. Come to think of it, I don't consider a lot of the shit that goes through my head as emotions, except for crippling depression. Maybe I've been going through depression as well, but I can't really tell from the inside, due to the horrific anxiety. 

When I think about it, I almost feel like I have no emotions at all, just symptoms of illness. That there are no real emotions that I can honestly feel anymore, including a "mother's love" for my daughter, or the love I should feel for my spouse. I had no example as I was growing up as far as a mother goes, and in the father dept., he was either emotionally abusive, physically abusive, drunk, not around, or didn't seem to care much for me. 

There's a big fucking hole in my heart that I've tried to fill with all sorts of things and people, but no one and nothing has been able to fill it. It's so damaged and has been that way since I was a little kid, from what little I can remember. What am I supposed to do with it now? Try to feel the appropriate feelings when the situation calls for it? I don't think I know how to love. I don't think I ever knew.

And now for something completely stupid - here.

Jeebus, what a pile of depressing shit! I don't feel as bad or lost as yesterday. I feel like I'm up too early again, but I'm going to try to take things one half hour or hour at a time, like I have to do these days. I don't know if I can make today turn out as good as yesterday, but I will try to try. Yes, try to try is the perfect expression. Already my guts aren't liking me this morning, but that should pass if I force myself to eat something. 

I had a handful of vitamins for the hell of it, as well as my meds. It's hard enough to keep up with my daily meds, let alone some crazy cocktail of supposedly beneficial vitamins and fish oil. There's no reason that I took the vitamins. Just that I saw them and took some. Maybe something in the back of my mind hopes that taking vitamins will help me. Help me what? Push myself to walk and shower today? I don't know. I haven't been in my "right" mind since I was 3. I don't have the discipline it takes to do vitamins every day. It's a little difficult to swallow a handful of pills of any kind, because I am reminded physically and mentally of one of many times I OD'd or tried.

Yesterday, I think, I bitched about positive messages and all that. I'm old and have been ill a longass time, so those positive messages and messages of hope have actually become depressing in their own way. Depressing because someone out there is affected in a good way by them. I become irritated and depressed. WTF.

This shit IS a daily struggle. Not to mention blogger. For some reason, it's fucking up all my spacing. Apologies.

Which Way is Up?

 

Down. That's how I've been feeling. The kind of depression that 's more like anxiety and horror at the thought of dealing with anything. I'm afraid of having panic/psycho attacks more each day now. I survived yesterday, but I don't know how. I didn't get any exercise, or bother to take a shower. I did throw on some clothes before the spouse came back to make things look less pathetic. Things = me.

If I see one more positive fluff crap "posts", I'm going to be sick. I already feel sick from my meds. Again. I have the feeling that things are going to be pretty much like they were yesterday, only today my stomach is acting up, unfortunately, because I was going to try walking on the treadmill.

Walking for a few miles on the treadmill seems to be the only way to get me into the shower. I don't bother washing my hair more than once a week. I don't like shutting the door when I take a shower, because I guess I feel a little claustrophobic. I also don't like taking showers when I'm not alone at home.

My head is a mess and refuses to do its own thinking. I don't want to feel or think anything. I'm just going to listen to geeky audiobooks for the rest of the morning and afternoon. At least I can pretend that someone is reading to me. Pathetic, I know, but I can't be in the presence of a real person right now.

Guilt is the only thing that keeps me from just crawling back to bed and trying to sleep. Guilt that my spouse would think that all I did was watch tv, eat, and sleep today. I just don't have the energy to do anything but write a bit, listen to the audiobook, and curl up in a ball. Fuck it. Fuck guilt. I can't force myself to do anything today. It just scares me - the thought of stress and how it affects my moods so much. The thought of a shower is awful too, as well as washing my face and brushing my teeth. We're seriously down to the basics.

I don't know what I'll do. Tv can't seem  to hold my attention any longer. This is kind of scary, but I don't know exactly why. I'm a fucking zombie. At least I'm not crying. Crying scares the hell out of me.