Don't Vilify The Abilify

I have a great psychiatrist. I mean she's everything you would want in a shrink. Knowledgeable, caring, smart, the whole package. Being a people pleaser, it's really tough for me to reject her suggestions. However, when it comes to psychotropic drugs, I am very resistant. I have tried many different medications for my disorder. Some worked, some didn't, some caused my fragile little world to collapse. When my world collapses, it is hellish! I have to then struggle to rebuild my psyche. Many times, I felt like it was "the end." I don't know if I could take another breakdown. I saw my doctor a couple of days ago. She knows things have been very difficult lately, and wanted me to supplement my paxil with abilify. It's a very small dose. The data says that it helps stabilize moods when taken with other antidepressants. I guess there have been some good results. This is all doctors have to go on, I understand this. Even if they tried each medication themselves, how would they know how each individual would react? Go to any medication website. You will hear the good with the bad. It doesn't help much. You can only know by trying the pills. The last time I had extreme anxiety, I took a pill that had worked in the past. For whatever reason, it did not work that night. Not only didn't it work, but I had a surreal, frightening feeling for the next two days. That was a small dose too. So, the abilify sits on my nightstand. When I'm in the midst of a panic (quite frequently this week) the pills start calling me (figuratively, of course). "Take one of us, we're only 2 mg, what can it hurt?" When the anxiety subsides, the little pills change their tune. "Take just one of us, and we'll push you the rest of the way off of your cliff; all the way down to insanity valley,where you'll never leave..ha,ha,haaaa." So this is my current dilemma. What to do. Well, I must decide....or not. Later this evening, if you hear a tiny explosion coming from a far corner of the universe, it may just be the sound of my soul shattering. Please, don't blame the abilify, it cannot perform miracles. If you see an ad, or hear another success story about the medication, please offer a moment of silence for those who were not "abilifiable".

Scary Circle

The old expression, "We've come full circle." I guess it's kind of a neutral statement. As I sit here tonight, I'm wondering if I have indeed come "full circle" in not such a great way. Years ago, when I was in the music profession, I relied on valium and alcohol keep my anxiety at a tolerable level. Eventually I felt enough was enough and decided that I'd rather leave the profession than take this dangerous cocktail. Well, after I opened up the pinata that is my mind, I wondered if I had made the right decision. That was twenty-five years ago. I still wonder. I never went back to the heavy drinking and valium. I also never went back to music. No great loss to the music profession or myself. It's the daily struggles with life itself. I know I've said that it's worth it to be able to feel the good things too. Lately, the good feelings have been scarce. The scary, anxious feelings have been plentiful. Not fun. Tonight, I sit here with a glass of wine on my nightstand
(after having taken my paxil). The paxil is a daily thing, the wine is new for tonight. The fear and panic were a bit overwhelming today. I guess it's not quite full circle from the valium and alcohol days. I think I know too much at this point. It's hard to block out what you already know. Too late. I just need a little extra help to ride tonight's wave. I'm not very good at surfing. Panic beach has some huge, nasty, waves. Better to lie on the paxil/merlot blanket.

Today

I'm depleted. It happens sometimes. Some say depressed, I say depleted. The depletion is mixed with anxiety, skin burning anxiety.
Extreme fatigue is also in the mix. Chemical?? Maybe, maybe not. I don't have much of a core,ego,whatever. It disappears easily. I'm writing now to preserve whatever little I have left. I could be physically sick, but I really couldn't say right now. Who knows? Not me. I've had a few jolts to my nervous system lately, I know they contributed to my depleted state. It doesn't take much. I have to try and rebuild. I can't afford to lose much more of me. There will be nothing left. Need to feed that soul. It starves sometimes.
Fat body, skinny soul. I could go on and on, but I'm boring me.

Would I Trade?

If I were to tell the story of my life some people might say, "What a shame."I would talk about a stressful childhood, nervous breakdowns, heavy drinking, alienation...on and on. I would tell about wasted talent (so I've been told), underachievment, terrible money management. So many negatives, or perceived negatives. Here's the catch though..I think I'm for real. I'm not saying I'm terrific, or wonderful, just for real. There is no pretense. I know this. I started looking inward at a very early age, thus the heavy drinking started. It was too painful at the time. Years later I started from the beginning, like an infant. Chronologically I was in my thirties, but emotionally I was an infant. Now in my fifties (late fifties at that), I'm still somewhat infantile, but I'm trying to grow. The growth is tough. I'd say more bad moments than good. I'm on medication, and probably couldn't function without it, but that's ok. I feel the emotional pain deeply, but on the other hand, I feel the joy and love deeply. There are just some things that touch the soul in a profound, beautiful, way. Children, friendship, beautiful music, animals, nature, all that "corny" stuff. Those wonderful moments I wouldn't trade for anything. I have those. Hours of misery for moments of joy. I guess there are some people that have the opposite, they are very fortunate. There are also people that seem to stay on the same, superficial level. They blot out the bad however they can, but they also give up the good. Now that's a shame! Personally, I'd rather have the trade-off. Most of the great works of art and literature were born of extreme angst. If you close the door, you close it to everything. Well, my door is wide open, who knows what may wander in next? I'll let you know.

The Truth About Salsa Revealed!!

I feel that the time is right to discuss this very serious issue. I believe that the various companies that produce salsa have grossly misrepresented their products. I, for one, am incensed and outraged. This evening I decided to make one of my gourmet meals which involved blue corn chips, shredded cheddar cheese and "medium" salsa. Now, what medium means to me is a little spicy. Mild means almost no spice, and hot would mean really spicy.
Well, after I slaved under a hot microwave for 45 seconds, my masterpiece turned out to be inedible. That's right...inedible. My tongue burned with every bite. I had to toss out my beautifully presented dish. All gone, ruined by the evil salsa. In the aftermath of the incident a painful memory surfaced. Oh yes....it was the great salsa disaster of 1997. How could I have forgotton the searing pain, and the seemingly endless supply of water needed to control the situation. They must be stopped. The Ortega's, Pace's, Chi-chi's, and other salsa empires. Innocent tongues are being burned! I implore all of you...or you, or maybe just me, to put a stop to this madness. Anyhow, it's time for my meds. Have a nice day :).

Floodgates

Please,please, don't let them open. One trauma after another lately. It's a shaky night for me tonight. I feel exhaustion, depression, apprehension, lots of bad stuff. Sad things are happening all around me. I absorb the sadness, it's just how I'm wired. I sit here grasping the edges of my little figurative raft just waiting for the storm to pass. Just hold on and wait. That's all I can do. I wish for healing for all concerned, myself as well. Hold on..and hope.

Listen to me.....just listen!

I call myself (and have been called) a chaos magnet. It sounds like a bad thing, but it's all in your perspective. I have this "aura" about me that seems to welcome other people's misery. I'm not trying to say that I'm some kind of martyr or anything. It's just that I've often had total strangers start talking to me about their problems. I once said "How are you?" to a toll booth guy. His answer was, "To tell you the truth, I'd be better off dead." I told him that I was sorry, then took off (as there was an entire line of cars behind me). One time I was looking at shoes in Penney's and a woman came up to me and said that she had a brain tumor and had about three weeks to live. We stood and talked for about an hour. She gave me her number, but I never called her. I probably should have, but I just couldn't. I used to think that people could sense my eagerness to please everyone, a trait that I consider self-serving. Maybe it's true, but it's ok. The bottom line is that people just want to be heard. They want to be valued. I guess people just sense that I will listen. The reasons why I listen don't matter to them, just that I'm listening. It's what we all want. Hey...did anybody hear me?

Saturday Night With Sophie

Thirty years ago Saturday night would be a party night. Now, it's just another night. It does, however, have a "feel"...like I should be doing something. Well, I am. Sophie (my dog) and I are having our little party right here at home. Sophie's even older than I am. She could be the equivalent of maybe 80 or 90 in people years. I read somewhere that it's not a straight 7 to 1 like previously thought. Sophie has just awakened from one of her many naps, and seems to be slightly bored. I say this because she just yawned (and couldn't possibly be tired). I was watching yet another UFO investigation on TV. Out of consideration for Sophie I switched to the AKC/Eukanuba National Championship. Sophie did seem to perk up at this, and looked particularly interested in a Newfoundland named "Cooper." Now, I can't be positive about this, but she did give me those vibes. Also, I think it's no coincidence that she waited until the commercial to go outside. All in all, it's been a successful Saturday night. It so beats the bar/party scene. Yup, two bitches on the sofa watching a bunch of bitches on TV. What could be better?