Archive for October, 2009

It seems I’ve taken to lying in my bed these nights, with too many things running through my head.  I can not stop them.  They are like demented fish in a shallow pool, with half of their tails missing, and gills on either only their left or right sides.  If I owned a gun (which I do not and that is a very good thing), I wouldn’t be able to shoot a single, damn one of them if they weighed more than I do! Granted, these slimy bastards do weigh rather heavily on my mind.

This is bothering me for at least two reasons, that I can see so far at this juncture.  One, is that I have had these fish-thoughts, murkily paddling about in my brain before, and they should not be there.  I wish to stop this complete aberration of my mental faculties in this manner, of ongoing repetition.  “My Wish,” then poses a bit of a problem for me.  In (fish-)thinking of my “repetition,” I become a bit more…”aberrated,” shall we say? So, that is problem number one.  It also leads me to problem number two, perhaps? A bit of a Psychiatric Segue?

For the first time, in a very long time, I see a bit a shard of hope in Hades that I may be able to start getting my life back together.  Maybe.  A start.  With that rather small shard, I should have added, that is currently existing in Hades.  Let’s not hope it is made of ice or any other thing that is somewhat temperature sensitive.  Or, something that is remotely combustible in any way at all! And thus, that is problem number two.  fish-thoughts, please leave.  You are certainly “inconvenient,” in your most benign form, and you are holding me back.  You are getting in the way.

Ah, but what to use as a bait and pole.  I can tell you how many times I’ve…  No.  I can not tell you how many times I have used the “bait and switch,” to try and rid myself of my fish-thoughts.  However, what I can tell you is how utterly ineffective that method is.

Perhaps I should try and do some writing, to at least attempt to keep these reprehensible fish-thoughts at bay.  For now? I do certainly need to work on my writing–in more ways than one.  I have some items still awaiting words, and I need to get better at my writing, period.

Speaking of better writing, I read something that made me laugh recently from my current.  Let me find it, to give proper credit…

“You step up to the window in that fifth-floor lobby decorated by Kafka’s proctologist…” © Tom Robbins “Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas”

And further, speaking of Kafka…hmmm. Maybe my fish-thoughts aren’t so bad after all?

This morning I found out that I was considered for an award, and received an “Honorary Mention” from Psych Central. If you haven’t heard of them, they are pretty awesome. They have been recognized and received accolades themselves. I should have blogrolled them ages ago, but PA can be a little bit slow at times. Well, they sure will be blogrolled, now! But not because of the consideration for the award! Uh…no. Although, this certainly serves as a reminder–and a rather large one at that!

And speaking of “large,” this award is quite that, as well. You see, it was for their Annual Top Ten Bipolar Blogs of 2009. Yes, the entire year. I don’t know about you, but a year? Not to mention, a lot of Bipolar bloggers out there? Not to mention, further, I blog about a lot more than Bipolar? I have several comorbidities? Not to mention, further squared, I really don’t think my blog is that special?

Okay, I’ll stop with all of the “Not to mentions…”

However, I will say that this really came at an opportune time. Perhaps?

I’ve been struggling with my blog, lately. I don’t know if I’m going through (yet another!) “Blogging Crisis,” but I haven’t really been particularly happy regarding its content. Yes, yes…we always tell each other when this happens, “Write whatever you want. It’s your blog. Take a break if you need to. Mix things up a bit if you’re stuck in a rut…”

I know this. I do.

Maybe this absolutely, wonderful honour, that I do not think I am worthy of, will kick my arse into gear. Get me back on track to where I’ve been wanting go with this blog for ages. Some places where it used to exist before.

Or not. *much laughter and eye rolling ensues*

I have discussed this topic with my sister who is five years my senior.  In fact, we have discussed it many times.  We both have a complete: “The buck stops here!” attitude about it, actually.  However, there are multiple, marked and varied factors at play for both of us.

Even though we both suffered the same types of abuse in one way, we both had to deal with the weight of such different types, too.  Thus, as we grew older, it affected us in different ways.  Also, for the sake of this Post, I will leave out all of my diagnoses as hard as that may be.  Or, perhaps I won’t.  I may not be able to for it.  I don’t want to say they make me who I am.  I do not wish to get into the semantic, psychological and even ontological arguments regarding one with mental illnesses and disorders.  No.  Still, it shapes my perception of things.  This post is about abuse and trauma and my perception of it.  In order to deal with it, must I not perceive it somehow?

Alright, enough of the Philosophical Mumbo Jumbo.

Apart from the different forms of abuse and trauma that we both endured (only some details for brevity), how did we both fare in “Ending the Cycle?” How are we both faring to this day?

Well, I must say that she’s winning the race! *rolls eyes* She has three children so that has made a huge impact! It has pushed her to the extremist point, probably in that fact alone! She loves them so much, and despite the fact (more abuse and trauma…) that their father is a real doozy of an alcoholic, she has done an amazing job as a single mother (with Fibromyalgia that limits her to only working part time, might I add!)

I question if her age has anything to do with it.  I think that is inconsequential.  I do know that she completely cut off non-bio dad (her bio dad), and his side of the family a very long time ago.  She had very good reason to cut him off.  Not a pretty sight there, in terms of abuse and trauma.  On that note, I do wonder to this day about myself in that area.  I have so little memory of anything growing up at home, and that includes this disgusting realm.  I have asked my sister, and she has said she doesn’t recall a thing regarding me.  Nothing.  I still wonder, though.

The only tender spot that still comes around for her every once in a while, is the fact that she tends to ignore our extremely, mentally ill mother.  I always tell her to get over it.  It’s not such a big deal. *laughing*

And in terms of laughter, at least one good thing about the living hell we went through, is that my sister and I now get along? We may not be as thick as thieves (well, we are definitely close), it’s just that our contact is not so steady.  It’s quite erratic, really.  Although, what would or should you expect? The entire family, even in extended form, is completely fractured beyond all recognition! It’s amazing one solid relationship still exists at all! Plus, it took us years to even establish it, despite that fact we were already siblings!

So, where am I? Well, I gave non-bio dad the boot several years ago.  You see, both of the Parental Units elevate Self-Absorption, Attention Seeking Behaviour, Passive-aggressive behaviour, wow…just all of it right through the 96th Floor’s Penthouse Ceiling! As a result, I have some “issues” with these things.  I understand very well that we, as human beings, can be the utmost, fragile entities.  We all need love and care.  However, with PA, there is a threshold and a tolerance level with these acts.  She is an extremely, patient and forgiving person.  But with those, above, acts and behaviours, even with her threshold and tolerance level quite high, due to the abuse and trauma, she will go batshit in dealing with them!!!

Non-bio dad really wasn’t such a “dad,” at all.  When I was a teenager, after he and Mental Mommy became divorced, he was like my “buddy.”  At the time, I thought that was just the coolest thing, ever.  He bought me alcohol for parties (although, I was a “good girl” and never really drank, much less being such an unpopular, Aspie kid, I hardly got invited to any parties, anyway.)  However, he was completely inappropriate.  He told me things, and discussed matters largely sexual in content; things a young girl (despite how bloody mature I was), should not have heard!

He also continued to pull more unbelievable crap when I was an adult, and just about sold me down the river financially.  Minus a paddle or two.

It was funny though, as still having that notion in my mind, that “buddy thing,” I still felt we were so close.  I still felt I could rely upon him.  Well, the financial disaster woke me up pretty quickly (I managed to recover quite the tidy, little sum, thankfully.)

Also, he pulled another Self-Absorbed, Attention Seeking Behavioural, Passive-agressive manoeuvre on me, just when I needed him most (or at the time.)  Finally what did it, though, was sending me a quasi-suicidal, birthday present in the form of a spammy email.  It was one of those (KILL ME NOW!!!) PowerPoint slide shows of van Gogh paintings (okay, not so bad on the eyes?) yet it was accompanied by Don McLean’s version of “Starry Starry Night.”

Is the “irony” lost on anyone here? van Gogh was a severely disordered man, spent time in a mental institution, and whose death was suicide? Non-bio dad is a very, very intelligent man.  In fact, so is Mental Mommy, in a “brilliant madness,” type of way.

That “birthday present” put a halt to all communication with non-bio dad through a flurry of emails, more of his painful-make-PA-go-batshit-behaviour as already stated.  I can almost feel my eyes turning red, my brain splitting in two and my hair about set itself on fire, just reliving all of this! GAH! Kidding.  Still, he is…I can not find the words!

Mental Mommy? Well, I must admit I am still tied to her to a degree.  More so than my sister is for sure–but for very different reasons, as well.  In its most succinct form for me, I want to try and find out as much information as I can about bio dad.  It may be difficult due to her denial, conflicting stories, such skeletons in the closet.  Not to mention her periods of lucidity where even I can not distinguish the real from the not.  I have made some strides in that area, though.  I just have to keep hammering away at it.

I guess in a way, then, that is part of my portion of Ending the Cycle of Abuse.  The “Dirty Little Secret” of my entire existence was known to everyone but me, until I was 29! Talk about a hit of trauma and abuse that gave me! So in seeking out as much truth as I possibly can there, that may assist in some way of ending at least a bit more of my “Cycle.”

These women are so amazing.  I heard of them recently and was not sure how they would compare with my blessed Tallis Scholars (an a capella en semble that sings Scared Music.)  The Tallis Scholars are from Oxford, England.  These ladies are based in New York City.  Let me tell you, they are quite like my Tallis Scholars–minus the men’s voices.

This piece (and CD in its entirety), is music from the 13th and 14th Century.  I was listening to it yesterday, to “test” my Phonophobia, it being my first day of being post-“ick”tal.©  I have tried to find a suitable excerpt that would be both pleasing to the ear, and decent in length.  Many of the chants are very brief.

So, I hope you like this.  Perhaps it may not take you as out of this world as it does me, but still.

Also, the “Anon” part of the title? That means “Anonymous,” as in the Composer.  It does not refer to the group’s name.

“Anon: O Maria Stella Maris” by Anonymous 4

Alright, let’s move back a bit to the beginning of my day, prior to when I exploded last night.  Something was desperately wrong with me.  I felt like I was permanently living in a state of Orthostatic Hypotension.  I was so dizzy, felt so faint, and like you could knock me over by simply blowing on me.  I had eaten, had some tea, low blood sugar? That didn’t make sense.  I may have had a headache, too.  I can’t remember.

This continued all day.  I went to see Merlin #2 which was fine–great even.  He gave me refills for my Concerta/Extended Release Methylphenidate.  Yes, you heard that correctly.  Refills for Amphetamines. *shakes head* I love Merlin #2.  He loves me.  Also, inconsequential but he wants to refer me to a therapist.  He said he didn’t do that, and it was up to me to “find one.”  Ah, more love.

So, after that, still feeling so sick.  I met J. for coffee/tea.  I bought a cookie in case this low blood sugar issue was the problem.  It didn’t make any difference.  We had plans for dinner–get me some food.  That made no dent in my ickiness, either.  What was going on?

Transit ride home.  At this point, I was feeling even worse.  I was thinking, am I going to faint? My eyes were blurry, I could barely move, I just stared straight ahead and listened to my iPod.  Then, things started to head a bit in the seizure direction, but I was so out of it, I just couldn’t tell where.

On comes the epigastric rising.  My eyes were such a mess, and I was so weak already, no concept of what they were doing but probably not much in the blinking dept.  But maybe? Was I starting to lose my vision as I have done before while seizing? However, a major Simple Partial (or aura of things to come), as I experienced a huge feeling of panic and fear.  Now, interestingly enough, this happened when I had the same (or similar), type of seizure in the past.  Also, I don’t have Panic Attacks.

After that, an odd motor twitching in my lower, mouth area and jaw.  This is/was something rather new, lest one time when I believe I had something called epilepsia partialis continua. What that is, basically, an going period called “status” (a prolonged–extremely prolonged) seizure.  The name in italics means that version of a Simple Partial Seizure.  I only prayed that wasn’t going to happen because when it did before, it was the most painful thing in the world as per my seizure history.  It lasted for several hours.  I have written about it here before, I believe.  I’m quite sure.

Next, some weakness in my left arm.  This is not looking good.  I am now quickly approaching my stop.  This is not looking good, either.  What is going to happen when I stand up?

I stand up and by this point, my face has stopped doing it’s twitching thing but I am incredibly weak, still feeling like I am about to fall over and am having trouble walking.  I look very odd.  My knees and ankles are all bent in strange positions.  I slowly begin walking and immediately start to shake.  Then begin the motor spasms throughout my entire body, from the neck all the way down.  It is pouring rain, just sheets of it, so I walk under an eave to someone’s flat.  My entire body is going crazy.  I lose all postural tone, and on the way down, drop my rucksack and bang my head on the brick wall where I am standing.

I am still lying there and a huge, immediate, post-“ick”tal© outbreak of tears and wailing comes out of me.  Several people walk past me and offer no assistance.  Either they are too consumed with getting home in the horrible weather, or they think I am drunk, or somehow under the influence of something.  Perhaps both.  The perception of someone being under the influence is such a sad and unfortunate fact of Epilepsy.  It’s really just so awful.

I remain there for what seems like forever, completely drenched, with my limbs sticking out all over, until I think I can move.  I feel paralysed.  When I finally gather the strength and courage to try and move, I do so, but it is so hard.  I stand in the rain, waiting for the light to change at the intersection, to get to the pub across the street.  They know me and I have seized there before.  I walk across the street looking the Quasimodo.  I can only hope that I don’t fall down and get run over by a car.  I do not say this in jest.  I can barely walk.

I see a server I know and can just utter simple words to put me in the back.  Another server I know brings me water and a bag of ice.  I wait.  Eventually, I feel I have enough mobility in my legs to walk home but I am very dizzy.  The pub must have called a taxi to make sure I made it there.  I see one parked outside of where I live with no one in it.  As soon as I make it to the stairs to climb up to the building, it drives away.  Very kind of them.

I do not know how long any of this lasted.  This will not be a very accurate report for Non-Arsey Neuro.

Now, don’t quote me on this, but I think I recall reading a paper how there can be a build up of neuronal activity, and a seizure can act as almost a “release valve,” to let it all go.  I no longer feel they way I did like yesterday.  I could try and find the information, but I am too post-“ick”tal© and out of it in that manner.  However, I may try and find it later.

As per my post-“ick”tal© state.  Extreme fatigue, some dizziness, gastro not so bad but present, extreme cognitive impairment, and in fact, so bad I can not even denote my psychiatric symptoms that usually occur: depression and anxiety.  However, I am sure they are there.  Photophobia and phonophobia.  Headache.  These are the usual suspects, but I may be missing something due to the cognitive impairment.

So, I think that covers everything?

whadn’ ‘dat long ‘go.  nope, don’ b’lieve so.  nope.  *PA pulls toothpick from mouth*

see? ‘dang is, ‘dis guy.  he made me do i’d.  ‘dis guy, he goes by ‘dis name of? whadn’ his name ‘gain? sump’n like. cun…fussin’? cun’foosin’.  yeh.  ‘dat right.  he slick, know? he ge’d ya.  righ’d in ‘dere.  righ’d in! b’fore ya even knows i’d comin’! ‘dat hows he go’dden me in ‘dere! gran’d.  i ain’ sayin’ i’s complainin’ s’much.  hard t’member ‘do, hard ‘de say.

problem is ‘do, an’ ya go’da follow ‘kay? ya hear? ya lis’nen?

see, ‘dang is, i’s fall’n off ‘de path.  kin’a like ‘dose holy folk.  whadn’ ‘dey say? yeh.  fall’n off ‘de path.  ‘dat whadn’ I done.  wid’ ‘de bloggin’ an’, well readin’ mos’.

‘dat ‘dere slick guy lesson me in ‘do.  well, i’s fall’n off de’ path!

bu’d I can sing.  anybody ou’d ‘dere go’dn ‘dem a bloggin’ hymnal? i’s always good a’ ‘de singin’  i knows how ‘do ‘dat?

i know.  i ain’ been readin’ ‘dem blogs s’good.  i’s fall’n off de’ path.

mebbe ‘dem holy folks can say ‘dose prayers or some’in’ ‘dey gots.  mebbe ‘dat’ll get me back on ‘de bloggin’ path.

I feel like a filthy, disgusting rat that has been traipsing endlessly, throughout the sewers of the city all night.  And speaking of filthy, disgusting and night, I awoke from the worst nightmare of my entire life! Absolutely! Without question! Bar none! I will not disclose any of the content, lest I throw the majority of my readers into permanent hospitalization! Except for the odd fact that it came in two versions.  Like film ratings? One for viewers with more hearty stomachs and one for…? Those who wish to have their entire innards obliterated!

Further, why on earth am even remembering my dreams at all now? I never could before! I suppose the one benefit of it all is if they are pleasant?

I did not take my meds before my MRI (which I suppose is one semi-good thing–the MRI was no problem.)  I did this anticipating it would make me more dopey, so I could just flop there and not think of much.  Well, of course I thought of all sorts of icky things, but I tried to squeeze some good things in there, as well.  So, perhaps some more “semi-good-ness,” in my thinking of those items in the MRI tube.

Nonetheless, onto more “filthy-disgusting-ratness.”  I had to return to my former workplace to do some banking.  In case you want to track PA and she is “Anonymous,” her former workplace was not a bank.  So, screw you if you try and find me.  Therefore…  Yes, I have an account at my former establishment of employment–sounds-weird–don’t ask.  TRIGGER! Also, extremely WRONG music while walking there on my iPod.



Walk.Out.Head.Down.Avoid.All.Eye.Contact. (…while also trying not to think about your bank balance, or lack thereof…)

I then returned to transit where I got on and “waited” to fall apart.


I am now home and have swallowed my handful of “Happy Pills,” and made myself a Pint Cuppa! Maybe that will bring my sorry, filthy, disgusting, sewer rat, ass around! I also have an appt. for my haircut at 1300hrs.  Maybe that will “pretty” PA up, and also make her look and feel like less of a sorry, filthy, disgusting, sewer rat!

True, they day is hardly over.  Perchance, there is some improvement yet to come?

NO! I DID NOT DRINK! But oh, did I want to! I was so anxious leaving J.’s that I had to take a Valium/Diazepam as I thought I was going to throw up all over the place! After being so sick before, with the tonic-clonic in early September and staying there for a week, I subsequently came home and ended up sick for a month.  That spiralled me down into a terrible depression that kicked off a lovely Bipolar Cycling spree.  Then, I had the two “Migraines From Hell,” that sent me right back to “The Hospital of J.”  Which really were just the beginning, though.  What actually did me in, was all of my diagnoses exploding out of my head in one night.  I kid thee not.


OMG.  I didn’t know whether to cry or start banging my head against the closest hard surface (well not really…?) More the former–I was fighting back tears.  By the time I was getting closer and closer to my neighbourhood, I became a walking (or sitting), depending upon your perspective and my transportation situation, a complete and massive Stim-Fest! Bugger me all to hell!

I’ve been off the booze for a week now, so surely… *shakes head* This is purely anxiety driven.  So, refocus.  Hard.  There really are things you need to do.  Such as…

Go home and see if the city has condemned your flat, since you have been gone for a week! But first, stop by and see your Hair Guru, and try to keep your hands from flapping so much, you Aspie, Stimmy Spaz! *laughing* You need a haircut! NOW! Looks like a booking for Thursday? He’s not there today, so you must call him tomorrow!

Before entering flat, look at mail.  OMG! Bills! Pay.Them.Now.  Fuck! Something from the hospital where your upcoming VEEG is to be done? Wot? They’re supposed to call.  It’s in some puffy package but not a Jiffy.  Oh, it’s for a donation and they’ve given you a “Tote Bag” as a…bribe? Sorry, hospital.  Thank you for giving me a VEEG in your Specialized Epilepsy Clinic, and the other procedures you have given me as well, but I don’t have any spare change.

Once inside, realize city probably should have condemned your flat.  It is in need of some serious fumigation assistance.  Nonetheless, walk over all detritus, strip off your clothes, and take a shower! After being Ms. Sicky Pants at “The Hospital of J.,” you need to get cleaned up! Plus, a nice hot shower to relax you…? Wot? HOT SHOWER??? Where did all the frickin’ hot water go (again…I hate my flat…I hate my flat…) Mental note: buy new razor blades…barely had enough time to get everything taken care of! *laughing*

Get dressed.  Put on a pair of your scrubs! Ah…your lust for scrubs! “…Scrubs Slut…Scrubs Slut…”  Your scrubs make you happy.  Mental note: find someone to procure you more scrubs (apart from yourself when you stole your second pair…ssshhhh!) *grin*

After whipping off clothes for shower, sort for laundry! One household chore you really don’t mind doing as it basically does itself.  Oh bugger, again! Mental note: buy more stain remover! OMG! Buy more everything! You have nothing in your flat! You are going to revert to never eating again after leaving “The Hospital of J.,” because you suck!

Unpack bag.  Look at all of your meds, and toss them into the bathroom carelessly while swearing at them.  Look at baby MacBook and smile.  baby MacBook makes you happy. *grin*

Realize you left bills in kitchen that you need to pay! *gasp* Run to kitchen and grab bills.  Realize you have grabbed wrong envelopes.  Run back to kitchen.  While there, remember you have an outstanding order for a full blood panel that was due in March. *rolls eyes* Think that maybe it can be done along with MRI tomorrow.  Start digging to find paperwork.  Found it! W00t! Mental note: make “mental note” of other errands to do tomorrow. *huge eyeroll*

Ugh.  Even after brushing your teeth your mouth feels like you’ve been in the Sahara Desert for roughly five years.  Run back to bedroom to grab water bottle.  Fill it up and drink nearly the entire thing in kitchen in one gulp.  Go back to set up baby MacBook.  Realize bills are still in kitchen.  Run back to kitchen to grab them.

Power up baby MacBook and just sit and stare at it for a while.  Check your email and see you have another, odd missive from a “Large Medical Site,” and wonder about its “reputation,” and if they are trying to merely “pimp you out.”  Check Twitter, start writing blog Post and forget about your bills…ACK! PAY BILLS!!!

Pause and look with great shame and distress at your bed/office/closet/pharmacy. Must Fix! Top Priority! *laughing*

Suddenly hear odd sound out of nowhere that sets your startle response into overdrive! (Yes, this is real time blogging now, folks…)  Think a bit and start to get a little worried and stressed about… *sigh* Ponders… *sigh*

Consider wrapping up this Post now, as it’s getting long, maybe should take care of the “pondering,” and there’s still more laundry to do!

I’m kinda baked so I’m putting this here.  Well, I think they’re all here anyway but I’ll add it to my big document later.

Epigastric rising, unsure of rapid eye blinking but did not seem to occur. *shakes head* Epigastric rising lasted several (app. five?) minutes.  During said time period, minor motor spasms in right leg resembling actually Myoclonic activity.  After app. three more minutes, full motor spasms began in right leg and then began in left leg, also.

Entire motor period in both legs lasted less than one minute.

Immediately in post-“ick”tal© state, patient shed 1-2 tears.  Also experienced state of DP/DR that lasted for an indeterminate period.

Patient has been off Clobazam/Frisium for app. three days, due to illness and being away from home with no access to it.

Post-seizure benzo push.

I seem to be in a bit of a blogging funk, which is fine.  It happens.  I’ve been trying to do a bit more personal writing, but I’m not so sure I’m producing much there, either! At least I’m thinking about it, though.  However, I still don’t want my blog to go “stale.”  Things just might be a little bit “slow” around here? I’m not sure.  Writing anything is kind of funny that way.  You never know when something might happen, and you will become “inspired.” *rolls eyes*

This week I do have some health related things coming up, so there may be some of that posted. *nods*

Anyway, this song is dedicated to someone who may need a bit of cheering up and some support.  It is not a strange thing for me to make “dedications” regarding songs to people.  I even take requests from people! It is also not a strange thing for me to dedicate entire Posts to people! I’ve done that before and it’s been fun.

This song is by a Canadian singer and a bit old, actually.  Chantal Kreviazuk.  Oddly enough, she is married to Raine Maida, who is the vocalist for Our Lady Peace.  They’re still sitting on MP3 of the Moment for now. *laughing* Well, I guess we’ll have them reside as a couple on MP3oftM, until I end up streaming something else!

I give you: “Before You” by Chantal Kreviazuk.

EDIT: I forgot to mention as well, that Kreviazuk wrote, produced and starred in a very, brief, film piece about a woman dealing with a Mood Disorder.  She is a strong, mental health advocate.  I’ve never seen it unfortunately, but always wanted to get around to doing so.  It’s called “Pretty Broken.”  I should try and locate it.  Another thing to add to my, never ending “To Do List.” *shakes head*