Archive for the ‘Self Medication’ Category
Well, I’m still extremely disgusted about my behaviour from last night. However, it’s in the past. Get up, try and dust yourself off and climb back up on the mule again.
But had I received a certain document in the mail yesterday, rather than today? On top of everything else? There would have been ABSOLUTELY NO QUESTION PERIOD OF GETTING SO DISGUSTINGLY WASTED LAST NIGHT!!!
I knew it. I did. Just hearing a few, vague words from both Non-Arsey Neuro and Sweetie GP. I saw them within the last week or two. What I also saw was the two-and-half-page dictation from my consult with this “Specialist” (oh, he’s special, I won’t argue that!) for my ongoing epilepsy shit.
It’s really quite simple. You’ve all read it here.
1. Patient developed Typical Absence Status Epilepticus of catamenial origin.
2. Patient lost drug used to treat it, subsequently made everything to do with ALL of Patient’s epilepsy worse.
3. Patient has resumed drug but is still having convulsive seizures with a non-convulsive syndrome when she never had convulsive seizures with it from the start.
4. Patient is still gravely ill, cannot perform everyday functions, plus cannot leave her home for days.
What did I know (or was 99.58385% sure) he was going to say? I’m having Psychogenic Seizures. And he DID.
Although, I wasn’t prepared for some surprises! All wrapped up in such pretty paper with shiny ribbons and bows!
He misquoted me! He made me sound like I was a simpering, whimpering idiot! His writing about me even had little tinkle of a bell to hear.
Maybe I’m a little sensitive about all of this. It’s only been going on for years. It’s now at the point where its starting to actually effect and break down other systems of my body. It’s altered my life where I…loss! LOST! I WILL NEVER GET THINGS BACK!!!
I don’t hear any tinkling of bells. I hear him swinging a mallet against a gong, trying to smash it.
So what’s deal with all the tinkling and gonging? Psychogenic Seizures are real. But his tone. And he also mentioned figuring out things quickly, so as not to waste medical resources. I see. Or hear?
GONG! GONG! GONG!
Are you calling me a “malingerer?” Along with everything else you’ve tried to depict me as? Doing so as 3-year-old with broken crayons? Broken because you keep biting and chewing on them?
I understand he wants to do proper testing etc… but I can’t live like this. I won’t live like this. There may be a point when I really won’t live like this. If you catch my drift.
And if you think THAT drift is being a “malingerer?” Well, I actually told my mother straight to her face that I’d off myself. That yes, I would do it if things became so unbearable, I just couldn’t handle it anymore.
You could say that I was “malingering” myself all over my mother, but when I tried to kill myself, ended up on life support in the ICU, she was actually there every step of the way and after. Thus, my mother does not think I am a “malingerer.” She never displayed any emotion to me then.
When I told her about the future? An interesting, also minimal reaction.
She placed her hands flat together and put them to her mouth. She shook her head, ever so slightly. I could see some tears welling up in her eyes but she didn’t cry. I knew the tears were for both of us though. She wouldn’t want me to die, of course. But her tears also acknowledged that if my suffering did become too much, if that was what I had to do, she understood.
Nonetheless, I haven’t reached that point yet. If anything, I feel like committing homicide, not suicide.
Time to have a serious chat with Non-Arsey Neuro. This needs to get straightened out.
If I can type this right. If I can spell things right. Hey! Auto-Correct! If I could only… Stop. That’s not possible. The world is what it is and you cannot “correct” it.
Fuck. Music vs. Silence. I think music better. Silence only reinforces everything–and nothing–at the same time.
What to pick? Okay. ”Spleen And Ideal” by Dead Can Dance. Maybe my favourite except for another. But I like the haunting sounds of this one.
I’m turning it up. LOUD. LOUDER.
Wait. I have to listen to the first track before I continue. Probably the second too. And have a cigarette. Out of one pack when I bought two. The other “disappeared.”
That’s what happens when you’re a “Motherfucking Asshole.”
And after I listen to my music and hopefully write in a lucid manner, NO PITY. If you pity me, I am all the more worthless.
Triggers. They’re “Motherfucking Assholes” too. Even more so when you realize that they shouldn’t be. Something happens, you know the deal, so why should it send you into a downward spiral?
Well, I have no goddamn clue. Not to mention “so much stress” in my life.
Call it what you will, but I’m too stubborn to call it anything. That probably makes me a bigger “Motherfucking Asshole” than I already am.
I’ve been trying to quit drinking for a while now. Somehow, I can’t get past two weeks. It’s almost like a cruel joke. Any relationship I’ve had has never lasted past two and a half years. That’s been the cut off point. Today was 11 days.
I’m a “Motherfucking Asshole” for that issue alone. And more.
I’m sitting on my bed with baby MacBook, fully dressed and my shoes still on. I’ll probably not even bother to alter my clothing as such, to go to sleep.
If I can.
But I have a good drug arsenal. I’ll keep pushing to close my eyes for at least a bit. Even though I don’t want to see tomorrow. Or a lot of tomorrows right now.
They all just seem to be empty.
Yes, I’m an arsey, little twat but I’m stubborn until I can get answers! And I got it. I knew it all along since how a “particular” liquor is made and its contents.
No, it was always in the back of my mind. And tonight I pushed it. No, I really did. Arsey, little, stubborn twat. But I do want to figure this out and make sure of what’s going on before I see Sweetie GP. Is that just a pathetic excuse or actually valid?
Right now I feel about as sober as a judge who in way days back forgot to put on those dusty, white wigs. Today? I feel about as sober as a judge who forgot to put their pants on.
But I don’t feel sick!
However, that does not to mean I’m going to start running around like a mad woman chugging back vodka all over the place. Even if it may not look it, I do consider it a matter of my health. Just what is going on here that never happened before?
So I’ll try to get more on the ball with more intelligent posts, all of you Twitter gangs and comments and yeah? When I’m more sober. *laughing quite a lot*
PRE-RAMBLE: I’m out of my head. I hope you can be patient. It’s been taking me a long while. Midst way through I’ve only now realized I need music.
And a cigarette.
Good luck reading. Thanks.
I think I might have mentioned this somewhere. Twitter or a blog comment within the Detox posts. Yes. posts, I think.
Allergies are funny (or not.) If you have one and you’re lucky, it’ll go away. Vanish out of thin air. If you’re just you, pick a card, any card. Random. Yes or no? Will you get nailed?
If you’re unlucky? You can get one. And it could be BAD! It could move around all over the place.
There are ones that are silent, at first. They can hide and grow. Almost sitting a cave and just waiting for the right opportunity. Maybe it won’t grow if you’re exposed again. You’ll be fine.
Or maybe it will and you’ll be fucked.
At least I’m lucky enough to not have a prior reaction to a bee sting, get stung again and go anaphylactic shock. Yes. That can happen. Although I did have a minor reaction to a bee sting so I freak out if one comes near me!
If you didn’t read the Detox posts, I’ve developed an allergy or intolerance (as I wrote semantically irrelevant) to beer–or maybe something in it. So did that mean just beer or all alcohol, together?
I started experimenting with a bit of red wine lately. I felt okay.
Fuck. I had some tonight and I feel SO SICK. Just like the beer made me feel. I want to die. I’d barf if I could but a) I’m Emetophobic and b) my brain is too confused to comprehend throwing up, and if you can believe it c) my gastro system is even more confused. It has no clue how to throw up at all.
Right now, I have taken no meds to try and treat this.
More exposure. To an allergen or whatever you wish. I don’t think I can ever drink again.
God, now I have to figure out what to do with myself! *laughing* Gravol! Ibuprophen! Meds! Valium! LOADS OF WATER!!!
Anything and everything in the arsenal. Stop typing. Enough computer screen.
Okay, now. Med-in-di-cation. I’ve shoved everything down my throat. I even poured enough water to do it, I spilled it all over myself! I have one more pill in reserve. My Valium that is a bid prn. You can bet your ass I’m going to use it after trying to chill with some music.
In some way, I kind of had a feeling that this would be this case. I’ll call it Bad Karma for now?
TRIGGER ALERT: If you’ve been sexually assaulted, raped, bullied or know anyone who has, you may wish to pause to decide whether or not to read this post.
So, I’m lying here in bed, watching TV after some dinner and pondering my “Red Wine Test.” This is distracting me from the TV. Or is it? If you’re at all confused about the “Test” it’s because I have developed an allergy to beer and I wasn’t sure if it was to alcohol period or if it was only limited to beer, or something in it. As far as the wine, I think I’m alright but I don’t want to drink in excess, if at all, really.
NOTE: See Twitter blather if you wish.
Which brings me back to being distracted from the TV. I was thinking about alcohol consumption. I was thinking about seeing my Therapist tomorrow and what I was going to say, since she knows I “have quit” drinking. My mind then meandered off to my drinking history.
Well, to cut to the adult chase, I became a complete addict when the Bipolar hit in my early 20s. Crazy, non-stop, drinking. My tolerance was so high, it would probably put the “average” drinker or just the “average” adult into an alcohol induced coma. I’m not kidding.
But as a kid? Holy fuck. No way! I was “The Good Girl!” My older sister and I had to parent our parents. I went good? She went bad. The whole sex, drugs, rock and roll deal.
Being an Aspie, I went to how many parties? Well, a few more as I got older. Or maybe a few more due to this. Because the same shit happened. Again. And again? I just didn’t realize that this was the first. I think? And wait. Two assaults in one night. Yes, it was the same night? YES! Because the first one was laughing at this dumb quiz in the morning.
The guy who held the party was not only beautiful in looks but in spirit. He helped me before the second and worst. Fuck me (oops) about the bathrooms that night!!!
So Guy #1 drags me into the upstairs bathroom and tells me all this shit about how this is what you do, and how I’m gonna like it and he’s REALLY gonna like it and ALL the girls like it and this is WHAT I WANT TO DO TO YOU. YEAHHHH…JUST.TO.YOU. He went down on me and I had no fucking clue what he was doing. I don’t know if he got off, but he didn’t ask me to give him a blow job.
Break. Dissociation. Head Fuzz. Weird tingling in my body. Just smoked a cigarette and took a Valium. I’ve already taken my meds. I hope I can sleep now.
Guy #2. I can’t remember how old I was, but I was born with impeccable manners. When invited to a party, always bring something for the host etc. Non-bio dad told me as soon as I started going to any parties that he would buy me whatever alcohol I needed. Well, I brought something for the host, much more than I needed and some for “friends” who couldn’t get any. I was a walking liquor store.
After Guy #1, I ran back downstairs in terror and began drinking anything I could get my hands on, and doing it as fast as I could.
Bathroom #2. I had to go to the bathroom at some point, obviously. So I went to the downstairs one, locked the door, sat to pee and passed out–subsequently puking all over myself. The lovely boy, the host, FINALLY managed to get the door open and was…god, I don’t know how he felt when he saw me, but I know by what he did.
I woke up and he said, “We’ve got to get you out of these clothes, but don’t worry.” He moved quickly and tried to keep things private. When I was naked, he gave me his robe and guided me up to a bedroom to sleep while he washed my clothes.
Guy #2. I was so fucking out of it. I knew him. Host, Guy #1, Guy #2, me? All friends? Guy #2 said you’re freezing, shivering. You’re so cold! Which I was. He was in a double bed with a duvet. He said come in here with with me. I kept saying, “NO! NO! NO!” Did he pick me up? Did I wander as I was freezing?
Then he started fucking me. I tried to fight him off and I did. He was laughing, laughing so hard.
Bullies. Somehow, word had spread that we were in bed? We were having sex? I don’t know, but all I ended up knowing, was that while I was fighting his cock, and to get it away from me, a bunch of other kids came running up the stairs, turned on the lights and one had a camera.
Extreme adrenaline when a human must survive to live. Right before the flash when off, I whipped the duvet over my head so only some whisps of dark brown hair were visible. That bitch with her camera was going to pay. The host came to my rescue again (or at least to calm down the ruckus.) But there were only the two of us in the room. He knew I wasn’t a slut.
And yeah. Guy #1. How I knew he was there? I woke up to get my clothes and they were all looking at this dumb teen magazine. The Quiz. Just as I turned the corner, he read a question: “What is the worst thing you’ve ever put in your mouth?” He yelled out loud, not knowing I was behind him, and howled, “PAs CUUUUUNNNNNNTTTTT!!!!!”
He eventually noticed me and no expression on his face. Like nothing existed at all. Including the party. Including me.
Detox Day #5 was yesterday. Not so good.
I woke up so completely depressed I tried to keep things as dark as possible in my apartment. I screamed at the sun to fuck off. I only left my bed to go to the bathroom to fill up my water bottle, piss after drinking said water, and change the most “make-you-want-to-rip-your-heart-out” CDs. Then I lied not moving at all in a rather(?) significant Dissociative state. After a long time I think I moved. The sun went down. All was black. *sighs* I guess I had to turn on a light.
That’s why I didn’t post a damn thing on this blog. Although, as the night moved on, time for some more Bipolar hypomanic euphoria! That’s how I ended up actually looking at Twitter when I couldn’t be arsed to at all earlier. Maybe that godawful depression was linked to some Bipolar activity as well. I didn’t care. Until the euphoria ended pretty quickly and I was plunged into a state of depression again.
There’s more to the picture than all of this Detox stuff happening now though. Look at what time of year it is! Not good for me. I thought if I maybe went to my mother’s place it might help. At least people would be around me? Or something? No go. Her husband has prostate cancer and is deteriorating in other ways. She needs to be with him 24/7. I can’t make the trip on my own. At least not now.
Fine. Another Christmas alone. And I already know it’s going to be a bad one. I don’t have to “wait and see” like other years. I’m going to “fight” to not make it bad. Pfft. Well, I can still try. Pfft.
More family bullshit went down, there are more Christmas triggers than just family, let’s toss my epilepsy in here now–Typical Absence Status Epilepticus. Am I missing anything? If so, does it matter? That’s enough. Go lick a frozen pole and get your tongue stuck to it so hard, it has to be cut off with garden shears.
Oh, I’m not talking to you guys if there’s any confusion.
Thus, now on Detox Day #6, I have no bloody clue what is going on. Although, I do think I am feeling better somewhat in that area. Maybe all of the neurochemistry theories that I mentioned in the previous posts are proving to help? Or, it could just be the time factor. I just want to start feeling better. Ah, I think I forgot to mention the headaches every day. Like someone had taken an axe to my skull. They are gone now. Definite improvement there.
Still, a thought last night. When I get well, what if I can’t cling to what is in my head, what I know? How sick drinking makes me? What if all of the sudden it doesn’t anymore, like the migraines I also mentioned earlier?
I said to someone that the hardest part of all this would be getting through the Detox. After that, I’ll be fine because I’ll know it makes me sick. Will the “hardest” part be the Detox? Or will it really be when I’m able to get out, function again, and enter places where they serve alcohol?
I’m trying to work on that concept now. Along with, “How about sticking your cock or all parts your vulva to the frozen pole along with your tongue? Then you get forced to eat raw sheep innards as well.” Yes. All of that stuff.
If you don’t hear anything further in terms of counting these days, it means either nothing has changed, I’m going through all the above, and it’s probably flat out fucked me over. If that’s the case, let’s hope I don’t find myself near any frozen poles. No matter how much I want to “fight.”
Today, I am stubborn. Today, I am weak. I am stubborn because I wanted get to all of my outstanding blog comments. I am stubborn because I want to write this–no matter how tired I already am, and no matter how long it takes.
I am weak because I am filled with guilt and remorse. Am I also weak for wanting a drink just to make all of this go away? I know, I know. Addiction is an illness. It doesn’t make you “weak.” Having a drink will just make me sick anyway–despite how much it would temporarily ease, or even take away all the disgusting things I’m feeling from withdrawal. I’m still shocked. I thought I would be fine in a few days. And here’s some irony: I’m supposed to be attending two Christmas parties tonight!
But now that I am reliving a lot of things I’ve done when I’ve been totally blasted? If I told you some of them, I’d probably have the entire world reading my blog. Or, not a single person at all. Many of those things were to hurt me. That, I can live with. Sort of. Some of those things were brutal, awful, violent.
Although, what’s really doing me in, is the things I’ve done to hurt others. I can try and heal my own wounds, but is it at all possible I can heal theirs? Even a little? I cannot simply sweep it under the rug and say, “I’m sorry. I was drunk. I couldn’t help it.”
REASON BUT NOT AN EXCUSE!
I live by that credo. Or at least I started to when I got my brain sorted out after so many years. Before that, I would either say nothing about what happened, or do “the sweep.” Even now, no matter what you’re addicted to (and it’s not limited to drugs or alcohol!) I realize that a million apologies or more can never be enough. People have their limits and things get destroyed.
Detoxifying Dr. PA (who is not a real doctor) will now move on to more of the medical aspects regarding this. However, before I begin, a lot of you out there might be completely aghast. Aghast, due to the fact I’m alone at home doing this, and not in a proper Detox Facility. ”Don’t do this at home kids” but I’m safe, I’m eating when I can and I’ll know if or when to get help. This just might take a bit more than a few days. Plus, I found a real neurological gem last night that seriously might help me. Read on…
But before the “gem” I had some other thoughts about the whole allergy/intolerance thing. I remembered I was stung by a bee years ago. I didn’t feel well after it happened. It was during my first attempt at uni so I went to see the nurses. They say if you have a reaction to a bee sting, if you get stung again you may have a more serious reaction. It can even go as far as anaphylactic shock! That’s why I’m extra-mental about bees, irrespective of a phobia to all insects.
I did quit drinking a few years ago as it started to give me migraines. Then, the problem went away after several months. Back to drinking. Perhaps like a bee sting, an allergy/intolerance is coming back in a HUGE way with my alcohol consumption!
Finally, the gem I mentioned above. It ties into all of the up-/downregulation business I wrote about in Detox Day #3.
Last night I was thinking just exactly why do they give you benzos in Detox? Surely it wouldn’t be (just?) to try and calm everybody down! Some addicts in Detox are going insane! What I’m going through? It’s rough for sure, but I’m not going out of my mind 24/7, screaming so loud they have to take me to Detox. So, benzos make Detox easier. Yes, I knew that, but why and how? Quick Google search and answer in two minutes.
I don’t need anyone to sell me some GABA anymore. Benzos knock on GABAs door like an angry mother and says, “Wake up! Wake up! What are you doing in there! You’re going to be late for school again!!! It’s already happened 18 times today! Wake up!”
Long acting benzos are what you want of course, and my Valium is set for the task. Instead of treating my Valium as a prn, I’m going to incorporate it into my treatment to try and get GABA to wake the hell up faster! I can take two a day prn. So really, all I’m doing is making my prn scheduled. prn means whenever you need one!
POSTSCRIPT: Just one more thing I wanted to check out. I’m totally nauseous all the time so regular Gravol/Dimenhydrinate schedule. Guess what? It likes to knock on GABAs door as well.
I’m surprised I’m actually writing this right now. I did the dishes and it basically sapped me of all energy. I can’t find my brain. If it’s still in my head, it may start seeping out my ears at any moment. But I’m restless. I can’t find my brain. I’m restless. I can’t find my brain. I’m…
I think the only way I can actually pull off writing this is by being a total med geek. However, after this? I might need a Valium to settle down this RESTLESSNESS!!!
First, no DT activity. So my theory about my meds helping me getting over that and even helping me get through this could be right? How many people in detox take all of my meds! This is all going to be “theoretical.” But look out for up-regulation PA! Does anyone have some GABA for sale? Read on…
For those of you who missed my rather “excited” Tweets last night, I got shot like a rocket into a Bipolar hypomanic spree. Thank god it was euphoric.
Anyway, what’s happening is that there are basically five big neurotransmitters involved, as far as my withdrawal. These would be: GABA, Glutamate, Norepinephrine, Dopamine and Serotonin. Downregulation means this: they had raised my tolerance, but now that I’ve quit drinking, GABA has taken a huge nosedive!
Then, we have up-regulation. That’s what was going on to raise the tolerance too. However, while I’m in this state, they’re all still in up-regulation mode. Situation normal (more or less?) This ties into your sympathetic nervous system being a wreck, it leads the parade of neurotoxicity…but hey! You’ll be alright!
This would precisely (well, theoretically) explain my Bipolar Euphoric Trip to the Moon last night. I’ve got too much Serotonin in my system right now and I can’t take Antidepressants regarding my Bipolar.
I’m not sure if anyone’s noticed but there’s been a little bit of talk around here about being an addict (me=alcohol.) That was on Twitter. Then I mentioned it to a commenter here. I apologized if I made the person upset, but I call things as I see them. The proof is in the pint: I just said I am an addict as well.
*takes deep breath and exhales*
Speaking of deep breathing and exhaling. I need a cigarette. I can’t believe this. All of it. Day #2!
Okay. First the medical. I have read about this before, but based upon what is happening to me now, does it apply? Semantic debates. Alcohol Allergy vs. Alcohol Intolerance. Well, call it what you will, but as far as I’m bloody concerned, it’s the same damn thing!
Never before. When I drink alcohol, and not even much, I become unbelievably sick. No. Really, really sick. And it happens while I am drinking. It’s now progressing to drinking even smaller amounts. Obviously, I have to stop? It’s like someone managed to slip some Antabuse (aka Disulfiram) into me behind my back!
Three nights ago, I had only two bottles of beer in my fridge. I decided it was time to do it. While I drank them, I wrote notes all along the way. I want to post them all on my blog. It will have to be in a series. Lots of writing.
Now, today. A lot of shit can go on when you’re trying to quit drinking, but I think I’m probably going though another Typical Absence Status Epileptics round. That can make things harder to discern. But this? NOT Typical Absence Status Epilepticus.
I had a good dinner last night, had breakfast today, as I’m trying to get my body back in shape. I felt fine. I was not prepared for this at all.
Oh, dear god! I’ve actually got Delirium tremens. My hands are shaking (or maybe a bit less now–I’ll get to that.) Shortly afterward, holy shit. Another “never before!” How do I explain this? I couldn’t bear being in my skin! The feeling of being in my skin! AHHH!!! Let me out! I can’t stand it!!!
I held on to my bottle of Valium for about five minutes until I finally slapped myself (not literally) and said (not out loud) “This is why you’ve been prescribed them dummy! For anxiety! Take a fucking Valium!” I’m still pretty freaky. You also treat people quitting booze with benzos anyway!
A bit all over here, but the DTs can mess with your heart. I’m okay. Resting bpm not throwing me into Tach. Maybe that’s the Valium calming me down a bit. And my hands too. They’re not so shaky anymore.
Finally, as I mentioned with my hands up there? All of my friggin’ meds may actually help me with this!!! More medical mumbo jumbo about cellular up-regulation and downregulation, but my Anticonvulsants (and my Atypical Antipsychotic) are involved with the neurochemistry. That could “homeostate” me faster (sorry, I wanted to make up a word.)
Fine, I’m on Biphentin as a stimulant for my ADD, but really. Three ACs plus one AP can beat that. I sound like I’m playing Poker with all of my meds.
So that’s where I sit right now. This has taken a long time to compose. Should go. Not feeling so great. This is harder than I thought it would be. Way more. For some reason.
Thanks for reading everyone,