First Memories

My earliest memories date back to living in the city of L.  I can so clearly see the red carpet in my room and the flowered wallpaper.  The color of the carpet places my age at about 3-4.  We moved to MH when I was four.

The thing I remember the most is my father undressing me.  And as he was doing it, rubbing my chest and vaginal area.  I felt so scared.  It didn’t feel good.  It didn’t feel right.  I remember crying.  He would try to get me to stop crying by offering me candy.  And it worked.  I was a kid and bribery obviously worked on me.  I remember being cold and shivering.  It was an old house and my room was drafty.

It was a nightly thing.  I get a feeling in the pit of my stomach just thinking about it right now.

Living With Haldol

It’s definitely not an easy drug to live with.  I’m tired all the time.  I’m lucky if I make it 20 minutes on my walk because I just want to climb back in bed.  Therapy is draining enough as it is without adding bone numbing tiredness into the mix.

Unfortunately, based on what I said today in Dr. D’s office, I won’t be coming off it any time soon.  If I try to go down a bit the voices come roaring back.  On the dosage I’m on now, they’re simply a dull roar.

On top of the fatigue, I grind my teeth and clench my jaw.  That’s resulted in some TMJ type stuff going on.  Next Monday I have an appointment at the local dental school to evaluate one tooth for another root canal and the TMJ.  I’m taking Cogentin for this, but it only really works well up to my previous dosage of Haldol.  It doesn’t do so well on this higher one.

Thankfully I see Dr. W about all this on Wednesday.  I don’t know what she’ll change.  I know the one thing I want changed in antidepressants.  I take Cymbalta for pain.  That’s nonnegotiable.  But the Celexa has to go.  It’s doing nothing as far as I can tell.

As usual, the med go round goes round and round and round and…  well, you get the point.

The Med-Go-Round Goes Round and Round

Reptiles Merry go round Worksheet

This is what life feels like right now.

I talked to Dr. W yesterday.  The voices are pretty bad right now.  She tried to increase the Haldol once before and that led to such horrible jaw clenching that I had to go down plus start taking Cogentin with it regularly.  Now, given my symptoms, she feels I should go back up and she increased the Cogentin too.

I feel like I’ve been on this ride for so many years.  And I’m going round and round.  I’m actually dizzy when I sit down and look at my med list.  I doesn’t help my list when you factor in the fibromyalgia diagnosis.

I see Dr. W next week.  We’ll see where the med-go-round stops then.

Made It

I went to the dentist today because I’ve been having jaw pain.  It’s most likely TMJ from clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth.  Yay.  Just add it to the list of crap in my life.

The reason for the title is that I’m a huge wuss.  I hate going to the dentist.  I’m down right phobic, actually.  I ended up getting a referral to the local dental school to check out a root canal I had a while back.  She also filled a small cavity.  I hate the balloon lip feeling I get from the Novocaine.  I’ll eat some mac and cheese for dinner because mac and cheese always makes me feel better.

So, next week I go in for a cleaning.  In theory, that is.  I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep the appointment.  Phobias are irrational things.  And even through I know it’s only a cleaning, that doesn’t always help.  Maybe I’ll talk to Dr. D about it tomorrow.  Sigh.

Creating a Dialogue With Your Inner Young Child

Creating a Dialogue With Your Inner Young Child

From: Cathryn L. Taylor M.A. The Inner Child Workbook

 

1. What is her favorite food?

Fried chicken.  But only her grandmother’s chicken.

2. What is the activity she would most like to do?

Read.  She could read all day and all night.

3. Has she done this before? Is so , what happened? If not, ask why.

She reads all the time.  Her favorite book is still Green Eggs and Ham.  But now she can read it on her own.

4. Ask her to tell you about her fear of being blamed and criticized or of doing or saying something wrong.

She is always afraid of doing something wrong.  She’s terrified she’ll bring home a bad mark on a school paper even though she’s only in Kindergarten.  She’s terrified that she’ll be taken to the orphanage for real this time.  She’s afraid of messing up her dances.  She doesn’t want to disappoint Miss R.

5. Does she feel overly responsible? Why?

Always.  B was just born.  She’s supposed to take care of him when mom is drunk.

6. What does she need most from you?

She needs me to understand that she wasn’t a bad kid.  She was a good kid in a bad situation.

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I’m exhausted now.  I’ll try to finish the remaining questions in the near future.

 

 

 

Horrible Dream

I had a horrible dream this morning.  I was dreaming that I had had a baby.  It was the most independent and easy going baby.  She basically came out of the womb self sufficient.  I was a horrible mother.  I neglected the baby.  I didn’t want anything to do with her.

Not too hard to see where this comes from.

No Rest For the Weary

Sleep is not coming tonight.  I slept for about 45 minutes and woke up out of a nightmare.  I have extra Trazodone I could use.  But honestly, I don’t really want to sleep.  It brings nothing but pain lately.

Add muscle spasms from hell into the mix.  Can we say fun?

I’m sitting here in the living room and the tears just keep rolling down my face.  This is the first time in a long time that I’ve cried.  Really cried.

I’ve been up for a good two hours.  I think I’ll go downstairs and try to sleep on the couch.  Beds are triggering me like they used to.  I’ll probably bring it up with my psychiatrist when I see her in a week and a half.  I’m sure she’ll basically say therapy (which I’m working on).

I’m half tempted to call mobile crisis because I’m having serious SI urges.  I don’t know if talking to someone will make any difference though.

Okay.  Signing off for the night morning.

Itty Bitty Baby Steps

After working on it for like a month, I’ve finally called a psychologist.  I tried doing the Psychology Today route.  Too confusing since my insurance is administered by X company, but because it’s Medicaid, people who take X don’t necessarily take my form of X.  Today I worked up the courage to call X company directly and get some names.  I took those names and Googled.  Luckily one of the people specializes in trauma.  I left a message on voice mail.  Thankfully, she’s out of the office until Monday and I can quit stressing over it until then.

Earlier, I saw useless GP.  Remarkably, he wasn’t all that useless today.  I guess it helps if you go in focused and only asking for one med change.  A few weeks ago, I started Couch to 5K.  I messed up my previously messed up ankle.  So after resting for almost a week didn’t do anything I made the appointment.  Now, all of this could have been taken care of last week, but drunk family member fell down in her driveway and I had to take her to the ER and wait around while they scanned her head.  I barely know this person, but nobody else who could do it was around.  I swear, I think I’m going to start using the phrase “Not my monkey.  Not my circus.” around my family.

So I see GP.  He orders an x-ray basically to cover his butt should the 6 weeks of PT he prescribed not work and he wants an MRI.  I guess having a GP who also does sports medicine is handy.  He says I can continue walking, but no more than a half mile or so and no C25K period.

He also gave me a referral to a different rheumatologist to evaluate for seronegative arthritis.  Despite lab results and symptoms and joint pain responding to steroids, current rheumatologist doesn’t think there’s anything else going on aside from fibromyalgia.

Oh, and I get to increase the Vitamin D I’ve been taking because I’m still deficient despite taking a standard 2000 IU a day.

Only other thing is I had a sleep study done.  I wish they’d hurry up and send the results.  I had a split study, where they monitored the first part and then put me on a CPAP machine the second part.  I’m guessing the fact they did the CPAP means I had a significant number of apnea events.

Psychiatrist is being a bit pushy, but I don’t expect less.  She’s ready to call up Company X and go off on them because they want to do her job.  She’s the one pushing therapy.  I think things have lifted a bit because as I said above, I’ve been able to deal with looking into it.  She also wants me to go back to the NAMI group I used to attend.  But I haven’t been there for like 10 years.  There’s a meeting tomorrow night.  But I don’t know.  I guess I’m minimizing things again.  I get all “But it isn’t that bad” all the time, despite evidence to the contrary.

And no, dear psychiatrist, my mother’s voice isn’t going away.  It’s been in my head my entire life.  And no, I’m not psychotic.  I think we’ll have to agree to disagree.

Coping Skills

I’m learning to live with the side effects of the Cymbalta.  Yogurt is my new best friend.  It’s easy on my tummy and I found a flavor I like (Yoplait’s Whips in Chocolate).  They’re 100 calories a pop and I can usually get two down.  I’ve been eating those for breakfast and lunch and trying to choke down whatever we’re having for dinner.

I actually started adding Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner in my to-do app.  It’s definitely got a game type vibe to it, and that helps motivate me to actually open it up.

I’ve given myself permission to take a Klonopin during the day if things get really rough.  Yes, I get the doctor’s point that she doesn’t want to change too many variables at once.  But there’s no use in torturing myself.  All that accomplishes is making me want to eat even less, which feeds back into the anxiety.

Thankfully, I seem to be sleeping better.  The increase in the Trazodone has helped on that front.  I was hoping the sleep would help with my pain, but alas, that doesn’t seem to be the case.  In fact, it seems to be worse than before, with a lot more muscle tension and spasms.  I’m going to start back up on the magnesium supplement I was taking since the Cymbalta (or lack of food) is screwing with my lower GI tract.

Finally, I’m taking it one day at a time.  That’s the only way I’m going to get through my life.  I’ve quit looking toward the future because I don’t see it dramatically changing any time soon.