Seroquel Side Effects

So tired

I so tired of having the same damn fight with him. When I'm High, I can't put one foot I front of the other without concentrating on balance, equilibrium, pace, timing, weight, etc. I can't pick out am outfit- it takes me forty stages of preparation to get out the front door-- with the KID. And he says he feels like he gets the short end of the stick when I'm like that. No shit. You do. Trying to remember which pedal is gas and brake, which side is hot and cold, how does the door lock again? And you want me to what? What? What do you want from me? I asked you, I asked YOU specifically "I need you to tell me I'm going to be okay and I can make it though this day because it's really been a rough morning" and you say I need to get my shit together and toughen up bc we need to have a good year. I need to wha? Seriously. I'm not like you. I can't fight like you do. I don't have that in me. When the wave sweeps over me I can't control it, I wash out to sea with it, ride the tide until it brings me back again. I don't know how to swim, in that moment, I'm keeping my head above water. When I'm not High, I swim. I'm a goddam lifeguard rescuing other people, running down the waters edge yelling "I can help you- hold on!" When I'm High... I can't yell. I can't even cry out, or cry. I just can't do anything other than what is right effing in front of me. This. Boot. Here. Goes. In. This. Basket. This. Plate. Goes. Beside. The. Sink. Because I can't actually process opening up the dishwasher and organizing all the dirty dishes already IN the sink. You don't get it. You do get the short end of the stick, because I have NO stick. I have nothing tangible to hang on to. I breathe. That's what I have. Air. You are lucky to have a stick. You are a goddam adult, take your short stick, understand my meds take four to SIX WEEKS to kick in, and just ... I could be angry here... But all I want is patience. I went two months, sixty three days exactly, without my meds. They titrated me back up, 25mg a week, 50 mg the next week, and only then was I at my full 100 mg. One week ago, eight days. And tonite you say this past week has been a lot easier for you since I've been on my meds. For you. For me? ... Not so much. I'm not even halfway back. My head buzzes like bees. Thoughts scramble. Important things need written down. Remembering doesn't happen. I fight for each hour to keep my mouth shut and not say something stupid bc I don't have a filter. I drive and daydream about not stopping- just driving away... No idea where, just away. I forget the left turn. I forget to urn off the toaster oven so it smells of hot coils and toast when I wake up. I forget to ask if her homework was done and a meltdown ensues. But it's easier for you. So that's nice. I'm still out here in the waves. Waiting for a stick.

So... My pm won't work since I haven't know you long enough yet- or my fan mail won't... Can you PM me? I'm horrible at blog stuff... Ugh!

Did ya find one? ...

Anyone wanna be my penpal? I’ll send you a ton of letters and shit.

He spoke for me. I speak for him. A quote I live by now.

this view is within walking distance of my house. ...also behind me is a four lane highway, but, whtevs.

new to me - love this.

Old now

For my friend Cinnamon... Almost, there...almost! If you can make this you are alllllllllllright.

Too long

It's been too long since I've been here. I have so many journal entries I want to put on here- things that made so much sense. I want to revisit, relearn, revive the words. Maybe my time off will be good for me. This is the first time in what seems like years that I have looked forward to time with my daughter... It doesn't scare me. Maybe we are becoming less intertwined, less co-dependent, more understanding of each other's need for space and closeness, distance, separation, fusion and fission. I want to come back and fill in the blank spaces. I always promise this, but be back soon...

So I never told you

Long ago and far away, in a blog about an eon ago, I said someday I’d write about the evil things my mother in law has said to me that certainly we not warranted nor appreciated, rather encapsulated exactly the kind of self righteous person she is.

…About five days into my ordered detachment from my three month old daughter after having delusions of grandeur within my postpartum depression, I asked said MIL if she could bring my daughter to come see me. With the load of Zoloft I was on I was neither able nor legally allowed to operate any machinery. In my case, the microwave was difficult enough.

phone Can you bring her over please? Maybe a little later, just so I can see her today.

*Heavy SIGHhhhhhh*… I just do not understand whyyyy you. are. not. capable of caring for your. only. child. I *indignant as all hell IIiIiIiIiiIiIii I* had no. problems. raising threeeee boys, practically on my own. And you can’t handle this sweet child? She’s not difficult, you know. It’s you that’s being difficult.

*inhale- realize painfully that she HAS MY DAUGHTER.* Never (fucking) mind. …I’ll have my mom bring her tomorrow. Thanks for your help. *CLICK*

Good stuff right?

Then there was that time, four years later, when I was leaving Inpatient… 1- My loving (read: what the hell was he thinking) husband sends HER to come get me. I don't think that "misunderstanding" will ever come to a close there. 2- she is told I need two hours notice, I’ll be ready at 3/330. She shows up at noon. Goddam NOON. I’m not even processed to leave yet, nor packed, nor did I finish my exit interview, nor say goodbye to my now Insiders… nor was I in any way psychologically sound enough to handle HER let alone HER EARLY. Then 3- she brought my daughter. She. Brought. My. Daughter. To my Inpatient Psych Discharge. Because, well, *heavy sighhhhhhhh*. Traffic will be so much worse at three, NOW is BETTER. … … …

And so with hot tears brimming, I say my hasty goodbyes, and spin around to my sweet, adorable, innocent baby girl rushing through three inch thick triple locked rebar enforced metal threaded glass paned doors to my arms… Her energy and force and love knock me to the ground. I never wanted her here, in this place, part of this memory. But now she forever is, in this place.

And all I want is to not be in this place.

At the car, the fresh air is beautiful- the view truly is pretty. An open pasture to the north, a steep upgrade of rock ledge to the south. Baby girl says Someday Mommy, when we come back here *my throat catches* can we climb these wrocks? The words tumble out, wanting to make her happy now no matter the cost Yes, Love, of course we can. Enter stage left *heavy sighhhhhhhhhhhhh* NUH UH, NOooooOoo. We are NOT coming back to THIS place ever again. Get in the car, I am taking you home.

My daughter, my saving grace in this moment, refuses to allow me to sit upfront- no mommy- wif me heeeeeerrrrre. In the back. I remember holding her tiny hand the entire fourth minute ride home... Just don't let her go... Don't let her go... Don't let go...

I just wanted to be invisible, at that moment more than any, I wanted to disappear. Somewhere in my heart, I knew I’d be back again.

First line:

"It was a time of guilty pleasures, and I have no regrets. Our child, however will need therapy after reading this."

- my autobiography...

12.1.2020

It’s now been another two years since I was on here. (Helloooooo hypomania.) Before I go back and fill in all the pieces, how about a rant from today?

I started a coach to 5k -ish type thing today. Because my new psych doc told me to. And I kinda feel like he’s right, and I also kinda hate him for it. Apparently running is good for overall brain health... I’m sure there’s research somewhere (feel free to share what you got). He changed some of my meds (increased and added) - which I totally agree with, no beef there. He seems like a good fit - and after a year of being without a psych, that is no small feat. 

And now, here I am, eating my peanut butter toast, and dark chocolate covered bananas, sipping a (homemade) iced vanilla latte, deciding I want to get back to journaling. Writing. Whatever you wanna call it.  Basically, I just want to have a place to vent about how much I super duper HATE running. 

There. I said it. I hate running. I hate putting on the Costume of running - too tight pants that cut in to my stomach. Do I wear underwear? Sports bras constricting my chest, too thin straps digging in at my shoulders. Who knows what top layer to wear - more too tight long sleeves, or just a racer back tee, under a puffy coat (that apparently No, I’m NOT supposed to wear that... whatever).

This won’t be ALLLLL complaining. Mostly, but not all. 

I like the bright florescent colors of my pants, that I have cool socks to wear, and my shoes are almost new. I like knowing I did it - as little as I feel I actually accomplished today - I did SOMETHING today. I liked the shower. I liked that I took time to put on face cream - oh shit, I forgot to put on deodorant. I like that for now this is my little secret - only two other adults know about this, and one I live with so hiding it would be difficult ;) The other one, Scoop - you know who you are - has been a solid supporter of this next endeavor. We’ve decided in a weird way that he will live his lost running life vicariously through me. Oh - and, I mean, this could be a thing - I like that my wedding dress will fit better if I keep this running thing up (and the aforementioned man in my life is super excited to see how it affects, um, my wardrobe... we’ll say wardrobe. 

More negatives, for funsies: 

I hate that I clench my jaw when I run. Since I started running back in 2009 I used to say “running is bad for my teeth” because I would clamp them down so hard I was afraid I would crack them.. I cannot tell you how many times I have bitten my tongue whilst running. The taste of metal and "working out” go hand in hand in my brain. 

I hate that I forget to bring things. By that I mean I am always surprised at how woefully underprepared I am when I head out the door. Tissues- forgot. Earbuds that fit in my coat - nope. Charge the phone - totally did but then forgot to put it on low battery mode and it died only ten minutes in. Headband ear warmer - again, nope. Left that in my car, that I walked past on the way. Ah- deodorant. Yep. Forgot that too. Not that I need it, I have that weird gene that my sweat doesn’t smell bad - look it up, it’s a thing. Warm up stretch - shit. I mean, I stretched in bed before I got up, and had to bend over to put on my shoes - that counts for half, right?

I hate the headache I get after. I don’t drink enough water, that’s on me. But for as long as I can remember I’ve always had headaches after exercising - whatever form it may be: swimming, yoga, sex, hiking, roller skating, dancing... always a headache after strenuous physical activity. Water. I’m sure water is the answer. Also 

I hate water. And I know I need it. blahhhhhhhhhhh. This has nothing really to do with starting running, but I thought I’d throw it in there.

I’m having a hard time understanding the “runners high” concept. I don’t ever remember having that. Even with two 5ks behind me, and all the practice runs leading up to them.... I was proud of us for DOing them (me and the kiddo), I was blissfully happy to have them BEHIND me. The endorphin rush I’ve heard about and read about doesn’t ever seem to come my way. I wonder if that’s related to my botched biochemistry, my headaches, my bipolar.... or am I just not doing it right?

For now, one day down. I sure as hell hope my Fitbit tracked today. Shit. Imma go check.

Later peeps.

-Me