(Wherein the first sentence explains all, the author apologizes profusely in advance, you are glad she is not Manic manic, and the conclusion is terribly written, as usual. (I admit, I could have refrained from posting it but then what would I have to show for my day?)) Having a hypomanic episode today. Perhaps it will help you understand my level of ability and my mood to explain to you that hypomania, for me, includes insomnia and a drive to clean all the things. I have tidied a bit here and there but the things have not been cleaned since i moved in in November. Generally, unless a thing is needed, it does not get cleaned otherwise. Another issue is that i get very (even more than usual) scattered. I have to do all the things simultaneously and cannot assign priorities. I am nearly incapable of doing so. Logically, i know thing a is more urgent than thing b but i feel very panicky if i try to do it first but also panicky if I try to do thing b. This is why they need to invent a hybrid washing machine/dishwasher and this is why Cleaning All The Things boiled down to putting away clothes and sorting laundry, taking out trash/recycling, and dismantling the pile of various grocery items and mostly-empty canvas bags that keeps sprouting in the middle of the floor. THREE THINGS. The Great Cleaning Spree of 15 was THREE.THINGS. (With dishes and laundry to follow because I am out of the former and only wear, like, three different things these days because Ive outfatted half my wardrobe and the rest is too summery. I own exactly one pair of pants that fits and does not begin with yoga or sweat and that pair is made from slinky rayon, the next thing to being naked from this waist down.) So, this is a day in my non-manic life: 1000: alarm for meds 1030 to 1100: wake up enough to disable alarm (this requires maths and/or memory games), eat granola/meal bar Go back to sleep. 1530-1600: wake up in time for second meds alarm (maybe); eat granola/meal bar Watch TV/read/mess about with phone 1800ish: errands (if desperately necessary), check mail, think about making food 1800-2200: I dont even know. TV? Words With Friends? Obsessively checking FB? Pirated HOGs? All of the above? 2200-0100: remember evening meds and injection sometime in here even if my alarm goes off at 2200, I still forget most of the time; finally get around to making a meal or at least heating up soup ?-?: more random stuff until I get sleepy again Trash and recycling go out every week or so. Laundry gets done on weekends I go to the House of RAD. Showering gets done on days I actually have to leave the premises or on the day of the week I see my case manager, whichever comes first... And thats it. My goal is to sleep from 6AM-ish to 4PM-ish which makes my meds schedule kind of dumb because that means Im awake for most of the longest stretch between doses but my sleep schedule is so inconsistent and Im so often required to be up and functional during the day that flipping it isnt optimal, either. Sometimes I *do* get out. I go to WisCon meetings, I spend a lot of weekends at the House of RAD, sometimes I even have dates(!), but I pay for each and every one in pain and exhaustion. When I came home from the HoRAD at Christmas, I slept 20 hours, waking only for meds. Some days Im lucky to be awake 8 hours, other days I cant sleep for a day or two. I take five different medications for various types of headache. Lisinopril and verapamil treat both migraine and blood pressure. Lyrica (450mg/day), Tegretol (1000mg/day), and indomethacin (75mg/day) are specifically for the hemicrania continua. Together, they generally keep my pain at a 6 or 7 out of 10. If I miss two doses in a row, that skyrockets to 9+. Should I go to the ER for pain, they will most likely turn me away because I am a pharmaceutical house of cards. (I have not bothered to do so for exactly this reason.) I also take twice the maximum recommended dose of zantac every day so that the indomethacin doesnt rip my stomach to shreds. Luckily, I now get injections at the base of my skull that take the edge off the pain for for a while. My pain is right now, generally, a 4 or 5. On the bright side, Ive had exactly 2 migraines in the past two years. And, yes, I can tell. And this is why Im so boggled when I see some of you posting about all the things you do in a day. You work, cook, run errands, do yoga, hang with friends, raise kids with all that that entails... I cant even imagine having kids. Literally cannot conceive of what I would do if I did have them. I couldnt manage to keep my CATS. If I manage to walk a block to Walgreens its an epic victory. Hell, some days if I manage to walk down the hall, wait for the glacial elevator, and meet the food delivery guy then trek back around the corner and down 5 doors, I consider that a win. Not only that, Im not even the least-functional, most-medicated person I know. And this level of functionality? This is when Im *NOT* particularly depressed. I know most of you think sicky talk is boring and probably weird and awkward. Nobody wants to hear it. It breaks the social contract where the only acceptable answers for How are you? range from fine to grrrrreat! but adhering to that social contract means contributing to the erasure of people like me. People who live with pain every day, who function at some fraction of normal. Just like when one reads a book and assumes all characters are white unless otherwise specified, its all too easy to read Facebook and assume that everyone is fine and normal unless otherwise specified. But this is my life. My weird, fractional existence where guilt and shame constantly niggle and eat away at my edges and i feel like everyone is watching to make sure I act sick enough. Having a good day? Get back to work, you slacker, snarls Guilt. Did I laugh or smile while talking about my health issues? Hypochondriac! Munchausens! Shame points and screams. Go out on a date? Oh oh oh, tsks Mrs. Grundy. You cant be THAT sick then. Youre abusing the system! And, oh, the system. Receiving $866/month in Social Security Disability and $16/month in food stamps makes me feel like I am constantly on trial. Like I deserve to have every non-essential purchase scrutinized. You cant have that! Youre on public assistance! There is a pervasive mentality that the poor can only subsist. That they only deserve and should only be buying the most basic of necessities. Except that subsistence foods make you fat and so poor people are supposed to somehow acquire fresh fruits and vegetables and lean meats. Except lean meats are *expensive* and something never found at food pantries and, hey, why are you buying those steaks with that food stamp card!? Rebelliously, i have begun substituting almond M&Ms for lean meats and are you really going to blame me? Food is one of the few pleasures I get these days. At least theyre full of protein. And thats a day in my life. Living from dose to dose (which is never enough but its all that there is). Filling the in-betweens with drug-induced exhaustion, mindless media consumption and, once in awhile, genuine human interaction. Once in a very great while there is mania and then I clean all the things (except for the things I havent cleaned yet). And write things. Generally, not any of the things I should be writing. Generally things that go all over the place. This is one of those things. So. Point, point, point, um...My life is pretty damned limited and sucky. Being sick sucks. It sucks a lot. I wont be getting well soon. If I feel better, I know it wont last for long. I know you wish these things for me. I know you wish you could fix me. You probably dont know WHAT to say when I talk about this stuff, when I Debbie Downer all over your wall. You can say, That really sucks. You can show me pictures of kittens. Or goats. Goats always cheer me up. Sparkle ponies. Charlie (the biting one or the unwilling organ donor, either one). Just, whatever you do, please remember that when I say Im fine that that just means Im maintaining. That I am managing to breathe. That I may be laughing and smiling and having a grand old time while still in pretty bad pain. That I am absolutely not faking or exaggerating. That I am not the only one. Help me remember that there is no shame in happiness, no guilt in enjoying the upswings, and that my friends will never judge me for being who and what I am and for finding joy, and making joy, wherever I can throughout the day. Even if that joy is candy-coated.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 21:42:47 +0000
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