High Blood Pressure

It appears that my high blood pressure has resurfaced.  In the past two weeks, I have been to three doctors: the surgeon, the clinic, and the workers comp doctor. Two out of those three visits, my blood pressure was at stroke level.  Seriously.  Yesterday it was 136/111.  This morning, it was 146/96.  I have an appointment to see my primary care doctor tomorrow morning.  In the meantime, I am taking some leftover blood pressure medication, and the pharmacy is faxing a request for a new prescription.

I don’t know if I can handle the neuropathy medication.  It makes me too dizzy.  It may even be contributing to my depression.  I don’t know.  It could be that the Klonipin is contributing to my depression.  Or it could just be my bipolar.  Regardless, I’m falling down.

I seem to be continually beating myself up.  It is one of those things we all seem to do to a various extent.  Even some of the “normals” do it.  But for some reason we bipolars seem to be worse.  Or rather, better at it. It’s like I intentionally put a chain with a weight on it around my neck and allow myself to drown.

The neuropathy has been the worse lately.  So I tried to increase it this morning (as I should be by now) and of course I’m dizzy. It feels like I can’t win.

It is getting more difficult to write this blog because of the depression.  I am using the speech recognition, but I still need a a better microphone.  I am going to order one.  I’ve been planning to do so the entire week.  Yet I have not done it.  Do you see where this is going?  I never seem to be able to accomplish anything.  Depression is taking over me.

 

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15 Minutes of Fury

I know it’s supposed to be 15 minutes of fame, but that isn’t my life.  Also, I’m sure that my fury will last longer than 15 minutes.  However, it apparently takes less than 15 minutes of access to my work email to set me off.

It’s like this… my former boss (now colleague) is a narcissist. We will call him Dr. B.  Dr. B and I have a bit of a history.  We worked really well together for the 1-1.5yrs because I was new and still learning. Once I started to get good at my job, and didn’t run to him every second of the day (consequently, not listening for hours on end to his repetitive stories about how he’s been wronged over the past 20 years), he started to be less supportive of me.  I wrote a report and originally had him as a co-author.  However, the other co-author told me to take both names off the report.  So I did that.  BIG MISTAKE.  Dr. B hasn’t been the same to me since. He refused to even look at the report for over a year.  He told upper management that he intentionally set it aside because his name wasn’t on it.  He never once asked me why (although I did tell him why) his name wasn’t on it, and I offered to add it back if he thought it was appropriate.  The other co-author, who is much higher ranked and respected in the company than Dr. B, called him and apologized profusely for 20 minutes saying that it was his fault that Dr. B’s name was left off because of bad advice he gave me.  Once I had the second co-author’s approval, I put both names on the report. It took Dr. B two more months to review it, and he added two more people to it (because they did some work on the same materials at some point in time that had no impact on this work) and made revisions that don’t even make sense.  Then he has the nerve to ask me why the report hasn’t been published.

Fast forward to the 15 minutes I spent checking my email today. I found out via a circuitous route that in my absence, Dr. B and the new girl have written a report on a project that Dr. B and I started a year and a half ago. We did the ground work and I have the dated notes in my research notebook.  (Unfortunately not witnessed because I didn’t know that sort of thing needed to be done, and at that time I still trusted Dr. B to have scientific integrity.)  I set up the instrument to collect the data for the method – until Dr. B stepped in and changed it because I am so obviously incompetent. Since I was never on the distribution list for this report, I can only conclude that my name is not on it and my input is not wanted.  One could argue that since I am not in the office due to my short term disability (STD) they didn’t want to trouble me or wait for my return.  But Dr. B has no problem sending me emails when he wants something.  You also might say, well, perhaps your name is on it and you just don’t know it, but I rather doubt it.  This is the same man who has taken every opportunity to publicly discredit me in the past year.

Backstabbing, lying, hypocrite.

 

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Mixed Up

I guess I’m rather mixed today… I was a tad bit manic earlier, thinking about a myriad of things to write, but now I am on the edge of tears. I would cry but something seems to be holding me back, like an invisible hand, but I can’t put my finger on it. I’m in pain today – physical and emotional. It’s too quiet here. My husband hurt his back and can’t do much more than sleep. I’m alone, alone, alone. Quiet, quiet, quiet. TOO QUIET!

I need to go now. It hurts too much to type and using the headset is too frustrating. I should throw the damn thing away.

Frustration!

“Do you feel like you’ve forgotten something really important?  Do you feel like there’s a great big thing in your head and you feel like you should remember it but you can’t?” (Doctor Who)

Do you ever feel like there is something bugging you, taunting you, haunting you? Do you ever feel like you are missing something?

I do.  All the time.  Well, OK, maybe not all the time.  ARGH!  The frustration!  And now I am frustrated because I am trying to use speech recognition to write this, but it sucks.   The computer can barely understand me, although it did well during our “training sessions”.  This is what it came up with for the sentence Why can’t this damn machine identify the word like?:  The light can’t this day AM machine identify the word light the?  ARGH!  I feel like I could scream!  I need a new microphone, at the very least. This one sucks.  Maybe just everything sucks.

Why am I trying to use speech recognition?  Because my right elbow hurts and my left wrist hurts – in fact, my entire left arm hurts.  I had a tetanus shot yesterday.  (It doesn’t recognize tetanus either, but it does know neuropathy.  Go figure.) It had been 14 years since my last one.  Since I stepped on a tack yesterday, I thought it would be a good idea to get a new one. (Shot, not tack, that is.)  I hear lockjaw sucks.

I am so tired.  I stayed up late last night – well, this morning.  It was 3:00 AM.  I woke up at nine.  I had wanted to go to the farmers market, but DH (Dear Husband) can barely move with his back.  (He hurt it working in the front yard.) I can’t drive at the moment, so that means I didn’t get to go to the farmer’s market today.  No fresh bread for us for another week.  Damn, I was so looking forward to this.

Anyway, I’ve gotten off topic – again.  I feel like there are things I should be doing but I’m not.  I constantly feel like I want to scream, pull my hair, slam a door, kick something, anything to get the frustration out.  This program is not helping.  I can’t even type sense.  Maybe my fingers aren’t working properly either. I don’t know.  I think it’s going to be a Klonipin day.

PS: Has anyone found an underline key?  I have to bold everything.  Or else, I have to go and look up the HTML code for underline.  ARGH!

Update: I found the underline key.

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God, Therapy, and Depression

I’m crashing.  It’s not a long fall but I am falling.  It started when the neuro said my problem was that I was manic.  How dare he?  He’s not a <bleep> shrink.  Was that only last week?  No, two weeks, I think.  I can’t remember.  Time is blurred for me.  I met my new therapist on Tuesday.  Nice girl.  She asked me a bunch of questions, and raised her eyebrows with shock at some of my answers.  I think she believes me. (I don’t make up crap about my life, there’s too much of it that is real.)  But I kept saying, “Wait, there’s more,” because there is.  I told her about how my father said he caught my mother trying to abort me with a coat hanger and when I confronted Mom, she didn’t deny it.  But I didn’t tell her that my mother took me to church to meet her lover and made me swear not to tell my father.  (They were still married at the time.)  Yes, this is true.  Trust me, I’m not creative enough to make this <bleep> up.

Ah well, she seems like a nice girl, we’ll see if she can help me.  Lord knows, I can’t.

She asked if I was spiritual; if I went to church.  I told her that God and I aren’t on speaking terms.  He gave up on me so I gave up on him.  I’m not sure that is entirely true, because I do sometimes think of God.  Anyway, I said we haven’t been talking since 2003.  She asked why 2003?  That’s the year that I went totally, completely, jumping on the bed, painting at 3am, manic (thank you Paxil!)  I scared my husband, my friends, even my cats.  I was diagnosed with bipolar, (probable) MS, and I lost my job that year.  I wracked up so much debt in 2003 & 2004 that I am just now coming out of it, but I’m looking at losing another job.  What the hell is wrong with me?  Is it because I don’t talk to God?  If I need something, I ask my friends to pray.  I figure they have a better chance at getting a good reply than I do.

Why do I say that I am crashing?  Because I feel like I am falling.  Like in the movies or something where you watch someone topple off the end of a diving board backwards in slow motion.  That’s me.  I am feeling sad & alone.  I am alone.  I don’t even know if anyone reads this blog.  I am really lucky to have a wonderful husband, but he is my sole support network.  I have a few friends scattered here & there who know I am bipolar, but they don’t seem to have time for me.  Most my closest friends don’t know.  It’s like my bipolar is a dirty secret that I must keep to myself.  If these friends are so close, why don’t I tell them?  Because I fear they won’t like me or trust me anymore.  Who would let a crazy lady watch their kids?  I couldn’t handle another lost friendship.  I really can’t risk anyone at work knowing about my condition, and my closest friends here are those I made at work.

I fell asleep last night ~8pm.  Woke up for a few hours around 1 or 2am, then went back to sleep at 4am and slept until 11.  By my estimation, that’s about 12 hours of (interrupted) sleep.  I normally go around 6-7hrs.  So I think I’m falling into a depression.

 

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Travel on the fly…

DON’T DO IT! My greatest words of wisdom: just don’t do it. At least, I can’t do it. Too much stress, too much disorganization, too much frustration – I can’t keep the mania under control in this situation. My husband swears I always have one “meltdown” while getting ready to travel, and after it’s over, I am able to calmly pack and get ready. It was more than one this time. And the packing was still a disaster. “We can do it in the morning, we need sleep tonight.” Not only did we not get sleep, but it took us 4 hours to pack for a 3 day trip. Even then, when I got to the hotel, I discovered that I had forgotten to pack underwear. The rest of the weekend didn’t go much better. The air conditioning in the car went out so we were both hot, tired, and cranky the entire trip. I’m even feeling anxious just remembering it. Oh, and I forgot to pack my Klonopin. If I had packed it, everything probably would have gone much smoother.

I’m too tired to go into any more detail tonight. I meant to write this over the weekend, but I got distracted watching television. Isn’t that always the case when we don’t want to deal with something? We allow ourselves to be distracted. Of course, a little mania helps too… oh, look at the shiny thing…

 

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I’m waiting…

I feel like I am waiting for so many things… right now I am waiting for my medication to kick in so I won’t be in so much (neuropathic) pain. I am waiting to see the counselor, I am waiting for (and in some cases dreading) doctor appointments. I am waiting for the weekend to be over and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting to heal, I am waiting to go back to work. I am waiting for my friends to have time for me.

I have so much going on, and yet at the same time, I have nothing going on. I am on short term disability (STD) until my arms heal. I did not choose this – management chose this.  One arm was already injured then I hurt my other arm at work.  So they decided I was too fragile to work at all because I can’t work in the lab.  (Of course there is more than enough desk work to keep me occupied for the next year but they are unwilling to accept that – unwilling to make and support accommodations for temporary work restrictions.  Mind you, there are other groups where the PhDs never work in the lab, but that’s another story.) So now I am waiting for workers comp so the doctors/therapists can work on my new injury. (Worker’s comp is another nightmare to be addressed at another time.)

I am waiting to get fired. Why would I get fired? Because the new management can not see my value. I work with a manipulative narcissist who has most people fooled – and he has been trying to convince everyone of my incompetence. Those who he does not have fooled, for the most part, have befriended me – or at least feel sorry for me. I have proof of this individual’s duplicity: I’m keeping records, saving emails, collecting evidence. You could say that I am being paranoid, that my illness is taking over, but there are others (outside my situation) who see it too. Those who recommended that I keep records in the first place. Even our new supervisor is starting to see through my co-worker’s games.

Why do I feel the need to have outsiders justify my concerns? Because otherwise I might think they are all in my head. It’s too easy to dismiss my own thoughts and feelings as related to my illness. Or to dismiss them based on a lack of self confidence.  It’s bad enough that others are so willing to dismiss me.

Why do I have to constantly prove everything? I feel like I have to prove that I am good at my job, prove that I can work with others (even the crazy people), prove that I am sick, prove that I am sane, prove that I am worthy. And maybe it’s the last one that summarizes all of the others. I have to prove my worth. Prove my value. Justify my existence.

Existence is not such a simple thing. My father once told me that he caught my mother trying to abort me. When I confronted my mother, she said, “well, I wanted you after I had you.” I was in a car accident once that nearly killed me. It should have killed me. Odds were well against my survival. And yet I did survive. Was my survival a mistake? Was the failed abortion a mistake? Am I a mistake?

Are all of these rambling thoughts and feelings solely a product of my illness?  Or are they just accentuated by my illness?  Sometimes I just want to pull out my hair from frustration and desperation.  These things spin around in my head and attack me – torture me – questioning my worth, my abilities, my sanity.  Is the world attacking me or is it only me?  Or is it both?

Sometimes I think the only ones who believe in me are my husband and my dog.  It sure as hell isn’t me most of the time.  And I know it isn’t the rest of the world.  They are busy asking me to prove myself.

 

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