Week in Review 20 February 2010

I apologise for the delay in posting my weekly reviews. I have been so busy at work that time has just flown by. So let me catch you up since my last entry of Week Ending 30 January 2010 (see post below).

Work: My job is slowly piecing itself together. My confidence has risen a little bit and I finally got ahead of my emails. For the past three weeks, I have ended the day with as many as 90-100 unread emails. By Wednesday of this week, I finally tackled them all and now I may only have 6-12 emails I have not gotten to. What an improvement.

I feel as though I am actually accomplishing tasks at work and being able to scratch off items on my to do list. I still have about 20 requests I have not handled—some more complex than others.

My circadian rhythm has settled now. I am going to bed around 1930-2000 each evening because I am awakening on my own around 0345. My job requirements changed while I was out on medical leave. Before, if I was in the middle of something crucial and it went past my eight-hour workday, being salaried but non-exempt, I would be paid overtime. I ended up working 10-hour days frequently, which very easily made me feel burned out. When I came back to work 04 January I was told no more OT would be approved which really lightened my burden. Oh, sure, that always left me with not enough time to get my daily job done, but I was freed from the expectation that I would work the OT if I had to. So, I clock in at 0700 and clock out promptly at 1530. Because I am getting up so early, it gives me a chance to drink my hot tea, eat breakfast and stay on my strict medicine schedule.

Now, here is the bad news. Now they have decided to make us salaried exempt meaning if I have to, I am expected to work additional hours without being paid for it. In my book, I think that is a punch in the gut. That is management trying to cut the bottom line while still expecting superior work effort. Not sure when it goes into effect, but this had the potential to increase my anxiety levels.

My Psychiatrist: I had my appointment back on 03 February. He seems pleased with my progression, but concerned that I am still battling the depression. Overall, since the mood swings have stabilised I can see some improvement. He did not make any changes to the cocktail and now I have graduated to only having to see him once a month for the time being. I am looking forward to reaching the point when I only have to see him once every three months.

We talked about my residual symptoms of incurring Wernicke’s Encephalopathy which is still lingering. I am still having problems with my eyes as I am still experiencing saccadic movement  which slows me down at work. It is very frustrating. Also, I still experience short-term memory loss which is equally as frustrating. I have to take copious notes during integrated phone/data conferences so I do not forget anything. I cannot tell you the number of tablets I go through just collecting facts and action items on my part. My psychiatrist believes that my brain will heal slowly over time.

Individual Therapist: My last appointment with P was 03 February 2010. It was a non-event because I told her I was going to have to switch to a different therapist. P’s last appointment of the day is 1300, right smack in the middle of my workday. I need someone who can meet with me at 1600 or later. She highly recommended one of her peers equally qualified, but when I tried to make an appointment with S for two weeks, she was booked. I now have to wait until 09 March—one month out. I will try her on for size in hopes that we can make a connection. It is going to be a bummer having to start from scratch even though she has P’s notes in my record. I just hope she takes the time to read it before our first appointment.

My Car: Well, I am now the owner of a 2010 Honda Fit Sport. I have had it since 06 January and have only put 78 miles on it! I just do not have any long rides to takes around the city. Almost everything I do is right in my own neighbourhood. There is a small part of me that is excited by the fact that I have a new car. However, what is first and foremost in my mind daily is wondering if I can really afford this car. I did well in negotiating it down from the MSRP, but a car payment is still a car payment. It still has that new car smell. Also, I have made the decision that I will not smoke in this car. Hasn’t been too difficult. I just make sure I do not bring my cigarettes with me.

I will try to be better at really trying to nail down a weekly review on time. It’s hard to remember the small, but important details two and three weeks out.©2009

Week in Review 30 January 2010

Not much to report this week. I had no therapist, psychiatrist or GP appointments for a change

Work: This full-time work week hit me like a ton of bricks. It is as if all my clients all knew I was back in the office all on the same day. I simply cannot keep up with the email, nor respond as quickly as I used to with some of my more high-profile clients. I still have emails unread dating back to this past Monday 25 January.

I had one major escalation that was a forefront priority for me that I had to stay on top of from the start. The problem was presented to me last Friday afternoon and it resulted in a client wanting a particular service on a product we offer. I let the client know that I understood the importance of a speedy reply to see if we could accommodate his request. No one on my team could give me a firm answer, so I was directed to Technical Operations.

Well, that group did not respond back as quickly as I hoped, but I dropped the ball by not keeping the client completely in the loop in just continuing to communicate that we were still looking into it, but so far, we had not heard back from Tech Ops. The client decided to escalate the issue above me that did not put me in the fairest of light (sometimes you learn your lessons best the hard way).

When all was said and done and Tech Ops told me that we could not accommodate the client’s request, my main concern was regarding who should be the one to tell him: someone from Tech Ops or me (I figured Tech Ops could explain better the technical details of why we could not provide the requested service).

After getting a few other emails from the account team who was also working with this issue, including my manager, and realized that no one had STILL not communicated anything to the client—now a week later—I decided to be proactive.

I called him and reiterated just how important this issue was for them; I told him I that I was remiss in not keeping the lines of communication more fluid in the intervening time, and offered my apologies for the duration of time it took for me to give him a final answer that we could not technically provide the requested service. He was very understanding. He said that he knew I was working hard behind the scenes. I still took responsibility for my lack of communication, and we parted amicably. He said he would contact me next week about some other information he would be requesting, more notably the specifics of the services offered by the products we were supporting for them.

This whole ordeal probably put a smear in my column in my manager’s eye, but I just have to chalk it up to an experience learned. I have always felt very strongly about providing excellent customer service to my clients; I do not know why I dropped the ball on this.

My other problem, which might have leant itself to the aforementioned issue, was the enormous amounts of email that kept streaming in. At the end of every day, there have been approximately 80-90 emails I still have not read, some stemming back, as I said, from Monday the 25th. I only have eight hours in a day (no overtime allowed) and can only process so much. I quickly scan throughout the day the subject headers to ferret out what might be higher priority items. I catch what I can, but I know there are clients who are still awaiting a response from me. In some cases, the questions I am being asked require me to run reports which take 24 hours to run, so that already puts me behind a day. Then I get emails where I simply do not know how to take care of the problem (my memory is still wreaking havoc). Thankfully I have a 12-member team who I can reach out to, but I fear they will get tired of my questions soon enough. What I fear is that they will not remember that I was only on this new job for two-and-a-half months before being out on a three-month medical leave. Essentially, I am still on my learning curve. There are parts of this job I just have not been exposed to yet which is resulting in me being slow on the uptake.

The bright side of this week was my performance review that my manager held with me on Tuesday. He said he was remarkably pleased at just how far I have come in gaining experience in the position and how fast I was learning everything. He pointed to my desire to provide superior customer service as one of my strengths, and the one thing I needed to develop was my sense of self-confidence in performing my job. If he only knew! I did discover that the company approved raises for everyone and I merited a 3.5% increase. Well, it is better than nothing! I also found out that the company has approved a performance bonus this year payable in early March. I am not sure what mine will be, but I will be happy to receive whatever I get. (business has been good, thankfully).

My Car: Well, ole Betsy (never her real name, just seemed fitting at the moment) has retired. I have been spending the last two weeks searching for another car. I want to stay with a Honda as mine lasted for 16 years with mega-mileage. I looked at several dealerships thinking I would examine their certified used cars that came with a warranty. In each case, all they had were Civics comparable to mine —somewhat new, but with massive mileage. Sure, affordable, but I would be right back where I was in a short time. The other choices were the high-end Accords that were not affordable. I had already examined a new 2010 Honda Fit Sport that, when we got down to negotiating, was a far cry lower than the Accords. At this point, why should I pay more money for a used Accord when I can have a brand new Fit for a few thousand less? Moreover, this one comes with a lifetime power train warranty (the very thing that went out on my old car that never had more that the standard bumper-to-bumper three years or 36,000 miles). I did negotiate a good deal and got rid of the sales person and dealt directly with the manager who ultimately had the final say so. We must have pushed the proverbially piece of paper back and forth about five times. Nuts and bolts, I will be getting the car at $3500 less MSRP plus some of the options I wanted. I have never been afraid to negotiate and walk out the door, and this particular dealership (the last of the three locally, two of which I had already walked out when they didn’t meet my price) started hedging when I said that I was prepared to drive 90 miles or so across the state line to get a better deal. Then they started singing my song. I will be picking up the car next Saturday.


General Info: Aside from the constant anxiety at work, my bipolar appears still to be in balance. In addition, my sleep patterns are almost back to normal. It has been such a long time since I have been able to say that. Currently, I am not depressed or manic. Is this what “normal” is supposed to feel like? I would not know; I have never been here before.

Next week I have my appointment with my therapist and psychiatrist. I did have quite an unexpected expense this week. I had to get my bipolar meds refilled. I already know that I have to stay on them, so I bit the bullet and called my insurance’s 90-day prescription by mail program. I had to fill my Geodon and Provigil (not generic) and my Lamictal. Because I still had $1150 of my $1200 deductible, one or some of those meds were going to have to be a full retail price. I almost fell off my chair when they quoted me the Geodon at roughly $1172 for a 90-day supply. So, that drug alone covered my deductible and I got the other two dugs with the insurance cap. Now, how many people can say that they’ve met their medical insurance deductible by the third week in January…LOL.©2009

Week in Review 23 January 2010

There are subjects that I have not caught you up on since returning to work full-time. I am going to use this week in review to address the various issues that actually encompass more than just this past week.

Iron Infusions: The study included receiving 1000mg of IV iron infusions. I received 200mg Mondays and Wednesdays for 5 days. Throughout the process, the clinical specialist drew blood to check my haemoglobin and ferritin levels. This study will go on for a year although no more iron infusions are to be given. All subsequent visits are geared towards monitoring my blood levels to see how I fare over the course of the year. On day 35, after the final infusion, my haemoglobin only rose to 12.1 (normal is around 12.3-16). However, my ferritin level (one of the key indicators in my case) rose from 5 before the study to 96. While I am pleased with the ferritin level, I still have borderline iron deficient anaemia. I am disappointed that my haemoglobin did not rise any higher. I am curious to see how the blood level results will be over the rest of the year. My savings grace is that I have not had to pay for any of this as being part of this clinical trial, and the added bonus is, once I have completed the yearlong study, I will be compensated for my travelling costs.

Vitamin and Mineral Deficiencies: If you recall, I began having symptoms of ataxia on 13 November 2009. It began with being unable to keep my balance then progressing to ocular involvement called nystagmus then to short-term memory loss. I failed certain neurological tests (most notable the Romberg test. The combination of all three symptoms indicated that I had Wernicke’s encephalopathy that does, in effect, eventually causes organic problems with my brain. If left untreated, the transient symptoms will become permanent. It was suspected that mine was caused by a vitamin B1-Thiamine deficiency. As a result, my GP decided to run a huge panel of vitamin and mineral blood work. The results showed that my B1 levels were undetectable as well as my Selenium levels (essential for the proper functioning of the immune system). I was ordered to start taking 100mg of B1 twice a day and 200mg of Selenium once a day. After six weeks, the repeat blood tests showed marked improvement and my balance had almost come full circle, although I still have some ocular involvement and short-term memory loss (my brain is healing slowly). Another level that was far below normal was vitamin D. Instead of taking an OTC version of vitamin D, my GP wrote a prescription that I am to take once a week for eight weeks, then once a month forever. This does not even include the fact that I have to give myself 1000mcg vitamin B12 shots monthly forever. My doctor essentially told me that I would be taking these vitamins and minerals forever, along with a multi-vitamin that I am supposed to start taking. Coupled with all of my bipolar medications and the ones for my continued high blood pressure, I am swallowing a horde of pills a day.

Individual Therapy: Now that I am no longer in group therapy, I have starting seeing an individual therapist. 20 January was actually my third visit with her following the intake assessment and one follow-up appointment a couple of months ago (my group therapy took precedence). This visit I determined that one of the first factors I had to deal with was my borderline personality disorder.  You’ll note further down in the link what the causes are—I meet all of them. In examining the causes, I decided to deal with my disruptive family history first. I have discussed at length in previous entries how I have been treated as a pariah at holiday gatherings these past seven or eight years always celebrated at my niece’s home. She patently exclaimed that I was not welcome the first time she hosted these events. I ended up attending, even though I had not received an individual invitation, as a result of my nephew’s insistence. He said, “Alix, family is family. You belong there.” When I showed up at the front door with my nephew, my niece clearly displayed her anger and let me know I was not welcome, but she could not refuse my entry because other people had already noticed me, so she was stuck. The entire time, even my mother showed her displeasure, I was uncomfortable. Always the queen of protocol, she said I should not have come because I did not receive an invitation. To this day, I have no idea why my niece hates me—my mother will not volunteer any information and my sister even told me not to confront her daughter. So much for my supportive family.

Getting back to my early years, I was sexually abused at age five. Upon my mother and older sister finding out, my mother shook my shoulders and told me I was never to ever speak of this to anyone. This was during a generation when it was not understood nor dealt with. I was made to feel as though it was my fault. The family dynamic changed forever after that. I felt abandoned by everyone because no one would help me with all of the shame and guilt I felt. Years later, those memories were buried during the haze of my years-long addiction to smack and coke (I used to shoot speedballs). I eventually cleaned up and have been clean for 23 years. However, during my detox period, all those memories came flooding back. I worked up the courage to confront my mother about the sexual abuse and at first, she denied it ever happened. Then, with further insistence, she simply said it was in the past and refused to discuss it with me ever.

A few years later, my parents had a huge celebration for their 50th wedding anniversary. I was living out of town, but my mother wanted my son and me to attend. I simply asked if that particular family member who abused me would be there and she replied yes. Then she told me that I was only welcome if I did not create a scene. I promised I would not (always being the dutiful little girl trying to find that ever so elusive but never found approval). However, I was very anxious about seeing this family member (whom I shall refer here as L). I had not seen L since the memories surfaced. I was not sure how I would react. When I saw him I felt a flood of emotions wash over me and I was not sure I would be able to control myself, but I remembered the promise I had made to my mother. He acted as if nothing had ever happened. I kept my limited contact to perfunctory responses and immediately found someone else with whom to interact.

The next two obligatory times I had to be around L was my father’s funeral and my nephew’s first wedding. I could not keep my distance as far as I wanted because these events were small family gatherings, but I was determined never to attend any events where he would be present with the exception of my mother’s eventual funeral.

Or so I thought. My sister called me this week and told me she wanted to do something special for my mother’s 90th birthday in September. She wanted everyone to be there. Not only will I have to deal with my niece (a favoured one as she has produced my mother’s only great grandchildren), but there is an outside chance that L will be there. My sister did mention that L had declined because he had already booked a hike in Italy and that was his priority. To tell you the truth, that pissed me off. Isn’t my mother’s 90th birthday, an occasion that will never come again, something that should take precedence above all else? Tell me that he did not know that the week he booked his hike was during my mother’s birthday and that it was her 90th. How callous can someone be? Of course I already had a very poor opinion of him (to say the very least), but this was the last straw. As oxymoronic as this sounds, I hope he changes his mind, if only for my mother’s sake.

So, getting back to my therapy session…I made it a special point to tell P that this celebration would be coming up in September, one that is creating enormous anxiety for me, even now. I need to process all that has happened since childhood. Since the event is not until September, this will give me quite a while to try to come to terms with everything. I wonder what the process will be concerning trying to deal with everything. I can only afford to see her every two weeks, so I hope we can accomplish a lot.

My Psychiatrist: I am now seeing him every three weeks—a far cry from weekly appointments along with daily phone check-ins. R seems pleased with the state of my bipolar disorder, and so am I. The cocktail he has me on (Lamictal 200mg 2/day, Geodon 80mg in the morning and 240mg at bedtime, Provigil 200mg 2x/day, Lexapro 40mg daily, Ativan 2mg 4x/day, and Ambien 20mg at bedtime) has been very productive. I am being cautious about the Lexapro since it is an anti-depressant. In bipolar patients, while these types of drugs can battle the profound depression I found myself in, I have to be aware if I progress to any mania since these drugs can produce this side effect. I am monitoring this very carefully. I do not want to mess with this cocktail as it is servicing a precious need of keeping everything in balance right now. However, R has discussed getting me down to a maintenance cocktail that would probably result in taking me off some of this medication. I do not think I am ready for this yet. It been too soon since I tried to commit suicide. While I have made great strides, I still feel as though, at times, I am teetering on the edge. Even though my next appointment is not until 04 February, I know I can call him at any time. He always calls me back and spends however much time I need without the cost of an office visit. I am very blessed to have such a wonderful psychiatrist.

My return to work: The days leading up to my first day back to work on 04 January was met with much trepidation. I was full of fear and anxiety as much as I tried to stay in the moment. As part of my medical disability status, R sent a letter to the group managing my FMLA program indicating that I should only work four-hour days the first week and six-hour days the second week. My manager was very supportive about that suggestion. I also asked my manager if I could adjust my schedule to work 0700-1530 opposed to 0800-1630 which he agreed to. This serves a two-fold purpose. First, it frees up the afternoon to make available opportunities to have my continued appointments without missing work. Second, I am finished working while the sun is still shining—something that is important to me. I used to hate waking up in the dark and finishing my day in the dark, especially during the Standard Time Zone in winter.

The first two weeks my manager wanted me to concentrate on taking some mandatory computer-based training that was indicated during my absence. Then he wanted me to cull through the 1000+ emails that had collected during the three months I had been away. Just as an aside, no one from work ever knew why I had been on medical leave. Nevertheless, I had to explain to my manager that one of the side effects of my “treatments” was a vitamin B1 deficiency which resulted in a transient short-term memory loss. He seemed to take that OK. But that factor gives me a lot of anxiety as I don’t remember how to do a lot of my job. I was only in this new job for two-and-a-half months before being gone for three. So, I am still on my learning curve. My team may not appreciate the fact that I still have to ask questions, especially on some things of which I had already displayed knowledge.

After the first two weeks, then all of my clients were informed that I was back to supporting their accounts. Just when I had cleaned up my email box, as of the 19th they started flooding in again, yet another source of anxiety. I made it clear that I was not capable of working any overtime, so I am always left with emails that I have not read by the end of the day only to snowball into the next day. Too many critical projects are all happening at the same time. Meanwhile, my day-to-day responsibilities go on.

I try to stay in the moment each day and that, along with relaxation techniques such as being mindful and deep breathing, are helping somewhat. I have to admit, my Ativan plays a roll here as well. My goal is to do the best I can for my clients during my eight-hour day, and when that is over, to simply walk away from the laptop and let my business line go to voicemail (I work from home). I am giving myself room to acknowledge that I am going to be slow on the uptake for a while, but I have to believe that, at some point, I will be back up to speed.

Overall, I am now in a much better space than three months ago. I am quite surprised at the insight I have discovered about myself along the way. I know I will never “recover” from my bipolar disorder and will be on my meds for the rest of my life. That is a sobering thought (and an expensive one—the Geodon alone costs about $1200 before my $1200 yearly deductible is met). It hurt to pay that much a week ago for my refill, but how many people can say that they have met their deductible during the second week of January! At least now, my coverage for everything is at 90%.

I know this was a long entry, but I had so much to review. It is my intention to do a week in review each Saturday since I am back to work full-time. I have to admit, after being on the computer all day at work, sometimes the last thing I want to do is to get back onto my own computer after work.©2009

Anxious About Returning to Work

Well, tomorrow is my first day back to work after almost 12 weeks of short-term medical disability. I had only been working in my new job for approximately two-and-a-half months. I am afraid that I will not remember how to do my job. This is a high-stress work environment and I have a lot of high-profile clients that I serve. I am not sure I am ready for this.

Last week my psychiatrist faxed in a request so that my first two weeks back be half-days only. The disability group is scheduled to review that and decide today. I sure hope they approve this request. I have also left a voicemail with my manager requesting that my work schedule be shifted a tad earlier in the day so that I will be working 0700-1530 (not that I have ever only worked eight-hour days). In reality, this time around I am not planning to work any overtime. Working all those extra hours before set me up for my eventual downfall (aside from the very important fact that I went off my meds). I have not heard back from him yet; I hope he agrees to my request. Being able to be off the clock by 1530 will give me the chance to accommodate any doctors’ appointments I may have.

I am looking over at my corporate laptop which has been turned off for all of this time. I am even anxious about booting it up. Not that the laptop will not boot, but I wonder if all my access passwords into the network have been changed since I have been out all this time. I have to have access in order to be able to work from home so I can VPN into the network. I remember what all my passwords are, but they all have time limits on them. Some are only good for 90 days.

I am not even sure how to begin my workday. I ordinarily receive anywhere from 150-300 emails a day. I cannot even fathom how many unread emails are in my account. That thought alone has my hands shaking. Just as I was starting my disability time off, my department was being reorganised and eventually was slotted to be under a new management chain. My manager is still my manager, but the food chain on up from there changed above his level. I hope I am not in for any nasty surprises when I return (meaning I hope I still have a job). I know that my job has been protected while out on FMLA, but that doesn’t mean they can’t come back to me as soon as I get back and say to me, “Oh yeah, Alix, while you were gone we eliminated your position. Thanks and have a nice day.”

I have left another voicemail this morning for my manager to call me back at some point today. I hope he is in. Chances are, he may have taken a few vacation days before the New Year during the time I left my previous voicemail; I need to talk to him today before I report back tomorrow. That is the downside to working remotely from home. My team is located all over the country. The only communication we have is via phone calls and email.

Well, I have planned out my day today to reorganise my office space back to the way it was before I took all this time off. I am also planning on reviewing all of my training notes to have everything fresh in my mind before tomorrow. I woke up this morning at 0430 and am already feeling tired. This does not bode well for my sleep patterns the rest of the week. I hope I can sleep a more work amenable schedule tonight.©2009

Outpatient Therapy-Final Session

Yesterday was the last session of my group therapy program. I began this intensive program 21 October and we have met three hours/day on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Yesterday marked my 30th session.

Initially, I was very phobic to these sessions. Similar to my attitude when I was involuntarily committed , and knowing I was only obligated to attend for two weeks, my original intention was to skate through those six sessions with no effort on my part. I was still pissed off at the world for how I had been treated to date; I did not want to be in therapy and I certainly did not want to get better.

You just cannot imagine the amount of rage that pulsed through my veins—think Incredible Hulk. However, as the mandatory two weeks came to a close, something was triggered inside of me. Somehow, I came up with the idea that I no longer wanted to go on feeling the way that I did. That level of rage and profound depression was eating away at me and I simply had no more energy left. I voluntarily agreed to stay in the program having no idea that it would take this long.

There was a very detailed daily check-in sheet we each had to fill out. It was basically a way for the therapist to determine and track our progress. The dynamics of the group evolved over time with old patients being discharged and new ones being admitted during my stay. While the overall group was large (in my eyes), averaging around 18-20 folks, once everyone took the 10-15 minutes to fill out the check-in sheet, we always split into two smaller groups. The groups remained split while everyone reviewed their sheets, and we all came back together as one group after the break to start the second half.

I could handle the smaller group in which we each shared what was on our sheets. Based on our input, the therapist would probe further with each of us and ask penetrating questions. The sharing half had a tendency to be somewhat tedious at times. Every so often, there would be patients that liked to hear themselves talk. Repetition is the key word here. They would go on and on about one particular issue and even talk over the therapist as if they had no interest in listening to her feedback. I could see the frustration on the therapist’s face every once and a while. As a result, sometimes the first half of the session would take a long time.

After the break, when we all gathered back together, I had a major problem. I had a rough time being around large groups of people. The noise level would always increase and sometimes everyone would talk at once. That started freaking me out. Therefore, I retreated from the large table in the room (it was actually five conference room-sized tables arranged in a large square) and sat in the chair against the door right by the back emergency exit—it was as far as I could get from the group. The emergency exit was not wired to an alarm, and when it got to be too much for me, I’d walk out the door and take a breather. Being that it was the end of autumn as winter approached, the cool, brisk breezes usually refreshed me.

The second half of the session was psycho-education [I’m sure that Alfred Hitchcock could have had valuable input here :)]. This outpatient therapy program was based on dialectical behaviour therapy (DBT).  When I tried to commit suicide back in 2005, I went through a DBT program after I got out of the hospital. At that time, I thought that DBT was pure bullshit. It all centres on learning tools or coping skills to manage various stressors (depression, anger, rage, anxiety, etc). Being that I had been diagnosed with Bipolar I Disorder (BP) and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), everyone thought that this type of therapy would be one from which I would benefit. Back then, I thought all these coping skills were stupid. Sure, it might work for some, but I just could not imagine me taking the time to think through whatever emotion I was feeling at the time and remembering which tool would help me through that situation most effectively.

When I realised that this time around would be centred on DBT, I was quite cynical. However, after about four weeks into it, I discovered some tools that could actually serve me well (see this for a list of tools). Without a doubt, using these skills effectively requires constant practise. You cannot expect to utilise a skill and then have it at your fingertips until you practise it. Once practised, when you face an emotional obstacle, you can more readily adapt effectively.

I also realise that there is a lot of controversy around DBT. Some who have been through the training think that it is bunk as I did. I can say that I do not agree with the entire skill set. I learned what tools I knew I could use and left the others behind (there are some I still think are bullshit). All I can say is that it is up to each individual to determine what works in his or her best interests.

That being said, the first half of my last session was great. Our small group only consisted of seven patients and our small group never had the loud mouths (I am grateful that Mr. Noisy was in the other group!). I knew three of them; the rest were new patients. When I finished sharing my check-in sheet, I received wonderful feedback from the therapist. She basically said that I had done a 180˚ from the time I started the program and was extremely pleased to see the progress I had made. It had taken me all this time to see the huge steps I had made. Don’t get me wrong; I am far from being all fixed up. That is why I am going to continue with an individual therapist. BP and especially BPD can take quite some time to manage. While some professionals banter about the word recovery, I think the best I will be able to muster is to manage my BP and BPD to a tolerable level. Only time will tell.

The second half of my last session was surprisingly smooth. While Mr. Noisy was present and accounted for (as well as the other few loud mouths), the group discussion on the continuing module of assertiveness was quite ordered. It was quite appropriate that my last module would be on this topic. As I have mentioned previously, despite my butch bravado, I really could bolster this skill.

Saying goodbye was harder than I thought. All of the patients who had been around for a while (with the exception of one other patient, I had been there for the longest duration) took their time saying goodbye to me and wishing me luck for my future. As someone laughingly said, “Hope to see you at Wal-Mart should our paths ever cross again.”

Overall, I have to agree with the therapist. I have come a long way since I tried to commit suicide on 10 October. It has been a long road for me, some of it fought tooth and nail against any type of recovery. I know I still have a long way to go, but for now I will just accept the fact that I am in a better space than I was almost 12 weeks ago.©2009

Outpatient Therapy-Day 25 (Wednesday 16 December AM)

My group therapy session today did not go as well as I had hoped. I am feeling more depressed these last few days, since Saturday, but I did not realize how much until it was my turn to share. As I was going through my daily check-in sheet, when I got down to the section marked “current stressors,” I had written that I was facing huge financial burdens due to all the medical bills coming in and that I still had to find the extra money to support buying another car. As I was talking about this, the tears just started rolling down my face. I hate crying, especially in front of other people, but I could not keep up my façade. I was not even sure what the catalyst was of my recent downturn of my mental status, but as I was sharing this, it became apparent to me that my money issues must have been playing a good part of my increased depression. Of course, there was no real tool to deal with these emotions—anything I tried was fruitless. My bills were not going away and there was nothing I could do about it. The latter concept should have given me a clue as how to handle this situation—to accept it at face value and deal with it. But, how can you deal with knowing you have much more outgo that income?

Just to add to my worry and anxiety, today is the last day of my short-term disability. Both my group therapist and my psychiatrist have submitted extension requests, but when I called the third-party vendor that administers disability claims, I was told that the decision would be rendered tomorrow, my first day back to work. I am definitely not ready to face that stress. I left a voicemail for my manager indicating that, while tomorrow is supposed to be my first day back, I was unable to return and that the claim decision would be made tomorrow. I indicated that if the extension is denied, I would like to take my remaining vacation days through the end of the year (I had 14 days still coming to me, and while I was going to be using up 10 of those days, I would end up losing the other four as my company does not allow someone to carry over any vacation days). Then I sent him an email saying the same thing. If they do deny the extension and my manager does not go along with my vacation request I will risk losing my job according to the FMLA rules—I would no longer be protected by the federal guidelines imposed by FMLA. Why can’t the disability group make their decision by the end of today to give me a heads up as to what I should do about tomorrow in case I do not get a reply from my manager? My psychiatrist submitted his request along with the supporting documents on Monday, two days ago. They have previously decided with paperwork only submitted 24 hours ahead of time. Why did they need 72 hours this time?

I also have to go by my GP’s office right after group to get my third round of those iron infusions. I am not looking forward to that considering how many times they had to stick me Monday just to find a vein. I also had that weird reaction when I got home, but when I reported that to the clinical specialist yesterday, she looked up the reported side effects. While feeling tired was one, feeling that extremely tired along with the muscle fatigue and feeling bone-chilled made me think that something did not add up. I do not want to get the same reaction again this afternoon. I am worried in case these side effects start appearing while I am driving home. To be on the safe side, I put a tablet of Provigil in the pill container that I always carry with me. I just hope they can find a vein much easier today. I still have bruises from Monday’s attempts.©2009

Outpatient Therapy-Day 24 (Monday 14 December-AM)

I have been somewhat disappointed these last couple of days. I was doing so well last week. Since my short-term medical disability is only approved through December 16th, so I thought I would be ready for discharge from this group therapy program. The therapist recommended that I return today to wrap everything up, but after this weekend, I could tell that I was more depressed than last week. I do not know what the catalyst was, but I am glad I had the chance to return. My daily check-in sheet showed a marked decrease in my level to function since last week.

One thing that I am disappointed in is that there have been a lot of new admission over the last couple of sessions. I still cannot handle being around many people. When the entire group gathered this morning to fill in the daily sheet I sorta freaked out. I moved from my spot at the table to a chair against the wall in the far corner until everyone finished and the big group split. Unfortunately, that still left a lot of people in my own group. I miss the folks that were part of my original core group when I started, but with the exception of two other people, everyone is fairly new. I have no rapport with them. They do not know my history. When it comes to my turn to share what is on my daily check-in sheet, how can they determine my level of progress (or in this case, the steps I have taken backwards)?

Even though there were still a lot of people, once the group split, I assumed my seat at the table (I always sit in the same chair—the one closest to the back door leading outside if I have to escape for a short period of time). Luckily, the person already sitting there was part of the other group. The therapist asked who wanted to go first and I groaned because we go around the table and it was going to take forever to get to me. As much as I put forth when it is my turn to share, with all these new people I had no idea how long it would take them to get through their sheets. Some people have been known to go on and on about not much at all. Not that I am trivializing their plight, but to repeat the same scenario over and over again from one person can get to be a bit much.

Actually today, it was interesting to hear the new folks share. So many of them were in exactly the same mental space I was in when I first started. It gave me a new appreciation for the strides I have made even though I feel like I have taken a few steps backward these past few days. Then, finally, it got to be my turn. One of the things I processed was my interesting reaction to my first visit back to my church after a nine-week absence since I tried to commit suicide. Here I was anxiety-filled at facing all these people for fear of what they would all ask me about my absence. Sure, some of the folks knew the truth, but there were a bunch that did not. I can still remember how stricken I was standing outside at the front door for fear of what would happen once I went inside (see post below).

Once I described how lonely I ended up feeling after the service was over since no one approached me (I had to keep telling myself it was because they were respecting my privacy), the therapist thought it was quite oxymoronic.©2009

Outpatient Therapy, Day 22

Yesterday was the first day that I have driven anywhere outside of my own neighbourhood area for a couple of weeks, since I sideswiped the 18-wheeler on the interstate. I have not had one of those dissociative episodes when driving in a while, so I thought I would take a chance yesterday and drive myself. The weather was just awful. It was pouring and visibility was cut to almost 500 yards/457 metres. I left an hour early just in case and was quite anxious about driving on the interstate the whole way, but I got there OK.

Had the weather been fine, having arrived so early, I could have sat outside and smoked until group started, but I was relegated to sitting in our room for a while before some of the others started to file in. I had my daily check in sheet already filled out since I do it from home before I get there (gives me more time to think and try to remember the details).

After the huge group split we started out “sharing” routine. I volunteered to go first as I had to leave early since I had an early appt with my GP yesterday as well. I had a good report to share and even had a smile on my face that everyone made a big deal about. Afterwards, the therapist commented that I was showing marked improvements exponentially. I think it has a lot to do with my psychiatrist putting me on the Lexapro a couple of weeks ago. I asked the therapist if she could mark some time for me after one of our sessions as I want to talk with her about my discharge from the program. While I have made huge strides over the last eight weeks (it was eight weeks ago today that I tried to commit suicide), I knew it was getting to the point that I could no longer afford to be in this program. Yes, my insurance is helping, but 10% of this, that, and the other adds up with all of the appts I have been having. I feel that my seeing my individual therapist now, along with my psychiatrist should be enough to continue with my recovery. I do not necessarily want to leave the group, but I have to make some decisions financially.

I cannot believe it has been eight weeks since I tried to commit suicide. The whole memory seems like such a hazy nightmare to me. On the one hand, I want to forget about everything. Yet, I have to remember it all to keep where I am at now in proper perspective. I have made some huge strides since then and I cannot forget this. So much has changed for me. There are more evenings than not where I can be in my house all alone at night and be safe. I am not sure what “normal” is supposed to feel like, but I do know that I am not as profoundly depressed as I have been. It seems that my bipolar is slowly being reigned in. The positive aspect is that I haven’t swung onto the manic side since starting the Lexapro, a valid concern my psychiatrist has as giving anti-depressants to bipolar patients in a profound depression can kick off a manic episode since the anti-depressant can kick you over to the other side. I have been carefully watching for that. I am getting more sleep now than I have been, and my talking does not seem to be any more excitable than normal. When I am manic, that is the first sign I can spot. I will get on the phone with someone and not shut up the entire time and I talk fast and excitedly. So far, I do not see any evidence to that.

Could it be that my bipolar is finally coming into balance? I am almost afraid to think that one aloud. Once my bipolar is in check, then I can start looking at my borderline personality disorder issues that, for obvious reasons, have been put on the back burner. I can continue that work with my psychiatrist and individual therapist, although I am not sure how to begin that whole scenario. There are some deep-seated issues that I have to work out, and this is going to take some time.

Meanwhile I am socialising more. My friend A called me as she was leaving work last night to check in with me and I asked her if she wanted to stop by my house on her way home. She enthusiastically said yes and I thoroughly enjoyed having her visit for almost 90 minutes. It is so nice to have people with whom I can talk about every day things. This is one area that I have seen positive changes in me. I am not isolating nearly as much. Right now, all my socialising is one-on-one; I have not tried to be in a group of people yet outside of my group therapy sessions, so I am not sure how I am going to handle that. I am going to try to start attending the NAMI meetings (National Alliance on Mental Illness) that take place Monday evenings right around the corner from my house. It is going to be similar to group with a different twist. According to the facilitator I spoke with the other day, there are only about 10-12 people that attend regularly and I will not have to say anything if I do not want to. I imagine I will just sit quietly for the first couple of meetings until I can get the lay of the land.

I am still on full-time short-term FMLA disability, but that runs out January 18th. Right now I am approved through December 16th, but I am now going to have my psychiatrist (instead of the group therapist) put in for the remainder of the time to see if they will approve the extension. My psychiatrist does not think I am ready to return to work anyway, and he wants me to start back only working half-days. I’m thinking, with the deadline coming up (yes, I could always convert to long-term disability, but that’s only at 70% of my pay which I cannot afford) I could put a return to work start date for the 4th of January to work half-days until the 18th. I personally think I need more time than that, but I am financially constrained. To tell you the truth, what I dearly wish I could afford is to go on full time SS disability, but I cannot afford what they would pay out, and Medicaid will not kick in until you’ve been on disability for one full year. I cannot afford to be without insurance. Sure, I could get COBRA from my employer, but since I cannot already afford what disability would pay, there is no way I could also afford the COBRA coverage. Caught between a rock and a hard place.©2009

Outpatient Therapy, Day 19 & My Early Christmas Present

Since I am not allowed to drive myself to group (at some point that will have to come to end and I cannot rely on the good wishes of friends who want to help; I just feel I am being intrusive.) I have to get over my fear of driving and side swiping an 18-wheeler did not add enough to my plate already! Therefore, on Friday I sat and waited for my “limousine.” K called saying she was on her way, so that should take about 20 minutes. Man, I hate winter. You bundle up like crazy for the early morning only to have to strip down by mid-afternoon when the temp gets up to 67˚F/19.45˚C. On those days when the sky is full of sun, I just sit in my comfy camp chair and put on my iPod and bask in the sun. I actually got a sunburn on my face last weekend!

I have made a template in Word to emulate the daily check-in sheet we must spend 15 minutes filling out. This way, the morning before I leave, I can just plug in the answers and be done with it. It buys me time to smoke a cigarette. I have even colour-coded my answers to indicate where my responses are.

I counted the number of pills I take every morning. There are 11: three for blood pressure, plus one for Selenium (those results finally came it and it was abnormally low) and one for the Thiamine. Moreover, I am back to giving myself my B12 injections once a month. That leaves me six daily for my bipolar disorder, not that they are working yet. That does not even count the five I take at night.

(later) There were a lot of fresh faces Friday morning, but I did well; I continued to sit at the table despite the full room. Then, after everyone finished filling out their daily check in sheet, we split back into our two smaller groups. However, out small little group was getting bigger. We did out “sharing” part and I was pleased that the therapist said I was showing marked improvement in certain areas. In the second session, where I usually resign myself to the corner away from the table, I decided to sit at the table and interact with my peers, clearly an improvement for me. We are still working on anger management issues which has been a good one for to listen to.

Well, high noon came and K was out there waiting for me. When we got home, she said she had some food she wanted to put in the fridge. Then, she put her hands on her hips and said, “Why don’t I help you clean up?” My dear friend spent three hours scouring my kitchen and cleaning my living room. In the pit of my depression, I just stopped caring for how the house looked and let it go to seed. I couldn’t believe the amount of work she did while she basically told me to go and sit down. What a caring gift that was to me. It was so nice to walk into a clean kitchen and sit in a clean living room.©2009 

Appt with Psychiatrist #8

We’re still doing psychotherapy for 50 minutes weekly with phone calls interspersed. He’s concerned over my profound depression. I made a half-hearted attempt to commit suicide Sunday night. I say half-hearted because I didn’t drink any alcohol which I know would seal the deal. I think halfway through, once I swallowed the pills, I realized I didn’t want to go through with it. My consequence: well, I did sleep for 4 hours, but felt very groggy. That morning tried to drive my self to group and got sideswiped by an 18-wheeler—my fault, I veered into his lane. Luckily, I self-corrected and stayed in my lane. Unfortunately, my car has the scars to prove it. Moreover, I fell asleep during the whole first session of group (no I didn’t snore, but no one woke me up either). At the break, I guess all of the noise woke me up, but my therapist wouldn’t let me drive home, so I called a friend to pick me up. I guess some of the drugs I had only taken a few hours earlier had not fully metabolized.

Well, back to my shrink, he has increased my Lexapro to 30mg. I found out that the normal dose is 10-20mg. I sure hope this helps me. I am on so many medications. Maybe once my Thiamine levels get within appropriate range things will start to change.©2009

More Baby Steps

I have to start by saying that Friday afternoon, when I got home from going to Starbucks with K, I had an uneventful evening at home. I was not anywhere close to being suicidal as I sat in my house at home all alone and my depression did not seem to be as severe. I actually felt somewhat content. I am sure it all had to do with the fact that I got out of my house and went somewhere with an understanding friend where we just talked about normal stuff for two hours—what a difference 24 hours can make.

Well, I must be on the good vibrations roll this weekend. Friday, when I got home from coffee with K, I called my other friend A (who provided me with all those safety gadgets for walking late at night). Due to my limited mobility right now, I asked her if I could go grocery shopping with her the next time she went. She mentioned that she was planning to go Saturday around 1100 and she said she would be happy to take me along.

As it approached 1100, I began to feel the anxiety rising. I had not been inside a grocery store since I egged those patrol cars three weeks ago. I was not sure how I was going to deal with all of the people and noise. When A came to pick me up, I was somewhat calmer because I knew I could step outside the store if need be. It was good to see her again. I have never gone grocery shopping with a friend before. In addition, pushing the cart gave me more stability than my cane since I could hold onto it with both hands (no, and that is an emphatic no, I am not got to get a walker!). I was doing pretty well as we traipsed through the aisles until I forgot something and had to go all the way back to the beginning and retrieve it. I was alone, faced a slew of oncoming people, and had a mini-freak out session, sorta like a “deer-in-the-headlamps” experience. I just grabbed the cart, stood still and closed my eyes and took some deep breathes and just concentrating on standing outside in the sunshine. Well, it worked and I did not have to actually leave the store.

I found A and we were ready to check out. I was in a single file at the checkout lane, but I went first and gave some distance to the woman in front of me—talking with A helped keep my mind in the moment. The next thing I knew, we were back in her car riding home where she helped me carry in my groceries. I really enjoyed myself.

Between getting coffee with K on Friday, and spending time with A at the grocery store on Saturday, it represented the first two occasions when I got out of my house to do something with other people that also involved going to places where other people would be. It was not as bad as I thought it could be. Yesterday, after getting home from the grocery store, I felt content yet again. I had set a goal and followed through on it. The rest of the day went smoothly, and when nightfall came, the most fragile time for me when I am in my house all alone, it was not so daunting.

My severe depression seems to be abating somewhat. I don't think it's solely attributable to the Lexapro I just started taking; in fact, I think it has more to do with the decrease in my isolation.  I got 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep last night. I went to sleep at 2300 and rose at 0300, so it still makes for a long day ahead of me, but I felt rested when I awoke. So, today is Sunday, the day I used to go to church. Nevertheless, that is not going to happen today. I am still not ready to go, and I am not sure I want to anymore ever since I got that comment from Sharon on one of my previous posts. I have to ask myself, does everyone there judge me the same way? Do they all think that I am a fraud? I have to keep reminding myself that her comment only represents one opinion from one person and I do not have to accept it, but I cannot help but wonder if others feel the same way. No, I am not ready to face them and all their questions, aside from the fact that it will be a room filled with people (albeit a small number, but people nonetheless). Right now, I’m just please with my baby steps forward.©2009

Appt with Psychiatrist Week 5

On Tuesday, after posting this entry I called my group therapist out of politeness (yet another quirk—I can be completely suicidal and yet stop to be polite…go figure!) to let her know I would not be attending yesterday’s session. This was after canceling my psychiatrist’s appt for today and my appt with my GP tomorrow. In that state of mind, I did not want to be around anyone who was going to parse my emotions. When she asked me why I wouldn’t be attending, I simply replied that I couldn’t deal with being around anyone. Then I sorta lost it on the phone despite my keen attempts to be stable. I ended up telling her what had been going through my mind on Monday night when I was quite suicidal and how reading a comment yesterday morning on this post before calling her upset me so greatly. She asked if I could read to her the comment and then my response to that comment. She tried to remind me that this comment only represented one person’s opinion—an opinion that she was allowed to have, but one I did not have to agree with, nor let it have power over me. We talked on the phone for about an hour (unheard of with most in this community). I also told her that I had canceled the other two appts as well. She asked me if I was still feeling suicidal and I had to tell her that I did not know. Then she asked me if I could make a commitment to her to remain safe. If I didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, I knew she would call 911 because she said as much. Not wanting to go there, I told her what she wanted to hear. Then she asked me if I would be able to call her before she left the office later that afternoon and I said I would.

When I get in this state, I always sabotage myself. That’s why I canceled the other two appts. I simply no longer cared about wanting to get better. However, after talking with her, I rescheduled both appts.

Well, the rescheduled appt with my psychiatrist gave me a valid reason for missing Wednesday’s group that I wanted to do in the first place. When I went in to see him yesterday morning, I could not make eye contact with him. His primary concern is that the meds cocktail he has me on is not working to get me out of this severe depression. He decided to finally add an antidepressant to the mix and gave me a sample of Lexapro. Not wanting to trigger a manic phase, he only wants me to take 5mg once a day. I also told him of my financial problems since I incurred all these medical bills. I also found out Monday afternoon that my 16-year-old Honda with 250,000+ miles on it was not long for this world (power train and transmission—the same quote I got from three different auto shops). I simply cannot afford to buy another car, and the cost to repair my car was going to be four to five times the blue book value of the car, an amount I couldn’t afford anyway. He told me not to worry about the cost of the Lexapro, as he would keep me in samples for the time that I felt I needed it. That doesn’t even touch the $175 I just had to shell out on my other bipolar 90-day scripts.

I also convinced him that my balance was much better and that I thought he and Wallace had just been alarmists. I said that because I don’t them to make such a big deal of my continued imbalance. I received some of the results from that blood work that Dr Wallace had ordered.  The Magnesium, Phosphorus and Zinc were all within normal limits (albeit on the low side). Now we are just waiting on the Selenium and the most important one of all, the B1 which, in part, may be causing my ataxia (we already know that my B12 is on the low side of normal, so I’m back to giving myself the shots again once I mail off Dr Wallace’s scripts—and I don’t even know if I have the money for all of those). I am sure my B1 should come back too low to account for the ataxia; I just don’t want to think that it may be because of an organic process in my cerebellum. If my B1 is too low, I wonder if they make an IM version I can use to shoot myself in my thigh, or if it only comes in IV form (we already know that I can’t absorb it orally because of my bypass surgery). Dr Wallace also wants me to schedule a time when I can get the Infed, the iron infusion by IV, but when I did that before, it was approximately $1600 a pop. The doc said I might be able to participate in a clinical trial currently being offered so I could receive the Infed for free, but I’ve yet to hear a reply on that one. If I can’t qualify, I won’t be able to raise my Ferritin levels, already abnormally low, even though my hemoglobin is only just slightly lower that normal in comparison.

So here I sit Thursday morning with nothing to do. I don’t know what I am going to do with my car. At some point very soon, it will die on me. I just hope I’m not on some interstate when it does. When it does crap out on me I will truly be up a creek.©2009

Utter Contempt

This post was never meant to be. Late last night, with full resolve, I put into place my deeply rooted desire to carry out my intended plan so foolishly done with exacting ineptitude only five  weeks earlier. However, quite obviously, this did not transpire.

Instead, I have been up all night, in my castle without a drawbridge, inspecting and taking inventory of how fucking miserable my life really is. I am fuming, livid if you will that, I have been unable to carry forth my intent. I sat there looking at everything and just wailed at my utter, incompetent nature to go through this and curled up in fetal position and cried all this whole time, getting even more enraged at the stupid lack of action (spinelessness, my Achilles' heel) which only proliferated my feeling of being a total failure. Despite the fact that I actually carried out my intent 5 weeks ago, I am fuming that I was unable to go through this in view of the knowledge of the abject uselessness of my desolate life. I am quite numb at the moment, steeling myself from all other emotion. I cannot understand why the fuck I cannot go through with my actions now—so easily attainable such a short time before. I take back the feeling of being numb—I am enraged beyond all comparison. All I heard was this loud voice that kept yelling over, “Go ahead, kill yourself, I dare you to have the balls to do this, you inept asshole,” over and over, covering my ears and yelling at it to shut the fuck up as if covering my ears would make such a difference. I cannot believe, nor do I have the words, to describe the contempt in which I hold myself. My utter failure at my most piercing desire only proves to myself how stupid, miserable and useless I am.©2009

Appt with Psychiatrist Week 4

The first thing we discussed was my weird reaction I had yesterday with Outpatient Therapy Day 9 (didn’t blog about it, as there was nothing new to report). When I woke up at 0200 I felt weak, my legs felt rubbery, and I was shaking all over. It was worse when I was standing, but even after sitting for a while, those effects returned when I’d stand again. At first, I thought my blood pressure was low, but it was normal. I was hoping it would pass by the time I had to drive for my group session, but it didn’t. I chose to drive anyway, but by the time I got to the location, it was worse. I couldn’t walk in a straight line and I stumbled a few times. I went right in and sat down and that helped a lot. The therapist thought it might be a reaction to my medication as I upped the Zyprexa to 40mg to aid my insomnia before going to sleep at midnight. I had my daily call to my psychiatrist later that day, so he dropped the Zyprexa back down to 20mg. This morning I did not have those same side effects.

Later, when I saw him, He had me go through a series of neurological exercises. The only one I didn’t do well on was the Romberg test where, while standing, you hold your hands out to your side, put your feet together and close your eyes. I couldn’t keep my balance. He is still wondering about my low B-12 values and a possibility that I may be low on Thiamine. I also see my regular doc this afternoon (God, I am so sick of having all these various appointments). We’ll be discussing the results of those lab tests I had drawn last week. I’m sure I’ll be told I have to go back to injecting myself with the B-12 shots monthly (cheaper to do it myself instead of paying for an office visit for the same thing). I wonder if you can test for Thiamine. If that’s low, I may be giving myself two shots for a while. My thighs will look like pincushions!

The only other change he made was to reduce my Geodon from 240mg at bedtime to 160mg.©2009

Individual Therapy #2

I met with my individual therapist yesterday right after group. My head is certainly having the time of its life! I didn’t think I would return after my first visit. However, this session went well. I’ve never done this before as far as dealing with a therapist one-on-one. Still not sure what to expect, but I liked the fact that I seem to get along with her fairly well. She’s upfront and direct—no bullshit. I’m not sure if I am going to chronicle these appointments as it appears that we are going to delve quite heavily into my personal life—more in detail than I want to publish. Suffice it to say that I think I can derive some benefit from this. At first I thought she was sold on DBT therapy (very similar to my group therapy sessions), but it appears not so much. I can’t take any more coping skills sessions than I am already exposed to through my group therapy. I like her (not so sure I can trust her yet; time will have to be the measuring stick on that one) and I feel I’ll be able to open up to her especially where my dysfunctional upbringing comes into play.

Oh, I did find out this morning that my medical disability has been extended through 30 November due to the paperwork my group therapist submitted. Evidently she doesn’t think I’m prepared to face going back to work tomorrow. I’m not being a deadbeat when I say this, but I don’t think I am ready yet to handle that additional stress right now.

Well, my plans for my midnight walks are quashed tonight. It has been raining like cats and dogs all day today. It’s absolutely miserably outside—chilly, dreary and wet.©2009

Outpatient Therapy, Day 8 and my Phone Check-in With My Psychiatrist

This group therapy is getting old. It’s the same thing everyday—too emotional for me, at least as far as some of the others in my small group. I know this sounds callous, but from the moment I sit down, I am just counting down those two hours of “sharing” before we have our break. Yesterday was no exception. There is one woman who, they decided a week or so ago, that she needed to be hospitalized again. It wasn’t an involuntary commitment—evidently she agreed to it. Well, her first day back into the outpatient program, all she did was cry while she was sharing but refused to go into any details. She said she was afraid they would put her back inside if she told the therapist what was really evoking this emotion. I have a handle on that one—I’m certainly not going to voice that I am intentionally suicidal (they gauge how “safe” you are as to how forward thinking you are regarding your actual plans to commit suicide). I can say that I was feeling suicidal the previous evening, but I have to show a coping skill I successfully used to avert that situation. I can say without a doubt that there are nights when I am suicidal and I go through the motions of preparing everything. If I were to say that I have the intent to follow through, that would land me right back inside the Big House. I don’t follow through, not yet, but at one point when will the intent be stronger than the want not to do it?

I can feel my depression getting worse even with my doc tweaking the cocktail. So far, nothing he has done has yielded any progress as far as my depression and insomnia go. I am living one day to the next with, at best, two hours of sleep. Oh, and get this, the results of my fasting blood work has come in. My psychiatrist always gets a copy from my regular doctor. He looked at the results while we were on our phone call check-in today (I’ve been on the phone everyday between my weekly appointments even over the weekends so he can adjust the meds, if needed, on the fly and spare me the expense of an office visit). Evidently, while my haemoglobin is 11 (low side of normal), my iron stores are pretty low. My ferritin level is only 5 (normal is 15-200 ng/mL for females). Ferritin is a protein that stores iron and releases it in a controlled fashion, in single cells and multi-celled animals. It is a buffer against iron deficiency and iron overload. The last time, approximately 6 years ago, my ferritin level was only 2. I tried taking vitamins high in iron, then iron pills to no avail. My body wasn’t absorbing the iron. I ended up having to take Infed (used to treat iron deficient anemia) administered IV. I had to have three separate infusions over a few weeks. That cost me one hell of a bundle. I can’t afford that now in view of all of my other medical bills recently incurred. In addition, ketones and protein are spilling into my urine. Ketones are produced in the body when fats, rather than glucose are used to produce energy, but my glucose is 94. Protein in the urine is a warning sign. It may indicate kidney damage or disease or it may be a transient elevation due to an infection, medication, vigorous exercise, or emotional or physical stress. Well, yeah, I am under a considerable amount of emotional stress. I don’t know the other results yet, but I see my regular doctor on the 12th. I am sick of doctors; I am sick of medical tests. I just want to be left alone.©2009

Outpatient Therapy, Day 7, the Gift Bag at My Door, & My Attempt at “Radical Acceptance”

I do not have much to say about today’s session. The therapist is concerned that I am not eating except a small snack to take with my Geodon. She is also concerned about my insomnia. I did not have much to share. Not much had changed from Wednesday, but I was able to report that I was not having any suicidal ideation Thursday night. Very depressed, yes, but I was able to leave it at that. She pointedly asked me if I could remain safe through the weekend and I could only tell her that I have demonstrated successfully one tool, and that was all I could promise her. I also told her that my psychiatrist has requested me to call him for a check-in call on Saturday and Sunday. She seemed rather pleased with that.

In actuality, my blogging has actually helped me with the ideation Thursday night. I spent a good deal of time writing, reading others’ blogs, and keeping up with my LGBTQ-oriented Facebook account (OK, a translation for you straight folks: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgendered, Queer/Questioning), along with my Twitter feeds.

Something weird happened at break. One of the folks in my small group came up to me and wanted to know why I ignored her after trying to say hi two times. I had to honestly tell her that I really had not noticed her (remember me; I am all about blinders around other people). She started crying and I did not what the hell to do as she did this in front of everyone. Then everyone stared at me. Well, I am sorry that I must have hurt her feelings (I can recognize that from classic BPD symptoms), but I am not responsible for her feelings, only my own. I felt, with everyone staring at me, that I at least had to apologize. I really didn’t want to have to interact with her at all, but what was I to do? It is not as if I go around intentionally trying to hurt someone, or be rude or uncaring. I just simply want to be left alone. Soon enough, break was over so I went inside where both groups join and found my seat on the far wall. I also asked the therapist if I could crack open the emergency door right beside me in case I had to leave the room (I do not want to make a spectacle of getting up and walking by everyone to leave through the normal door). She said that was fine (no alarm attached to the door)

I came home and found this gift bag by my front door inside my porch. Curiously, I picked it up and brought it inside. The attached note said, “For your walks around the neighbourhood…a few things I thought would come in handy.” It was signed from the only church member (outside of my pastor and his wife) that I had been relatively honest with about some things. Evidently she has been reading my blog and noticed my entries concerning with my dissociative states while walking or driving. Inside the bag was some pretty neat stuff. It contained an atlas with very detailed set of maps of my city along with a street index finder. I found my house (conveniently already marked with an icon as there is a large city fire department up at the corner. Nevertheless, I am going to put an X right where my house is anyway because with a past dissociation, the fire department’s presence did not mean anything to me. I’ve even post-noted my relevant pages). It also marks subdivisions and schools—things I pass by on a regular basis. In addition, there was a device with a red blinking LED visible to one km with a range of 180˚. It came with a strap and three batteries. I can attach this to myself to make me visible when I take my late-night walks. There was also an LED pen light with a magnifier lens that only weighs 38g and has a metal clip attachment. The last thing in the bag thrilled me to no end—a new tool. This seven-in-one tool is only 12cm long. Get this—it contains an LED light, compass, thermometer, clock, safety whistle, safety mirror and a 2X magnifier. It comes with a lanyard I can wear around my neck. Now I can be all decked out in LED!

OK, time for an honest reality check here—my perception vs. my reality. This person does want to be close to me—not because of the gifts, but because of the intentions behind them. I wrote her a long email thanking her (I did not feel prepared enough to actually talk with her at that point). In the same email, I told her everything. I even attached two documents on bipolar and borderline personality disorders to help her understand the effects these have on me. She responded with such a kind email; it gave me some contact with another person who now knew me the way I wanted her to know me—no pretence about anything. She let me know that she clearly knew what my boundaries were and that she was not going to be in my face, but essentially would let me make any contact. Fearing that I would lapse into my normative state of isolation, I told her that it was OK to call me, but if I felt I was not capable to talk, she could leave me a vm. I was OK with that, so after reading the email, I actually felt better prepared to call her. I am trying so very hard to reach out, but I can only take baby steps. I fear rejection; I fear abandonment.

Now, onto my next hurdle—trying to use “radical acceptance.” The principles are 1) solve the problem, or, 2) change how you feel about the problem, or 3) stay miserable, or 4) accept the problem. It takes away the “judgements” and removes the “shoulds.”

The hurdle—all of the anger and resentment I have felt toward my pastor for placing the 911 call and coming by the house to show the police my text message. My perception? That he was disappointed with me, angry because I did not call first and ask for prayer before I got in that state, and that he would think less of me. Therefore, I took a very deep breath and wrote down everything I wanted to say before I called him so I could focus and concentrate on what I really wanted to say.

I called his house and thankfully, he answered. I am not really sure what I would have said if his wife had picked up instead…I wasn’t prepared for that scenario. I told him who I was not knowing if he would recognize my voice. Then I told him I had something to say and would he listen to me without interrupting me until I was done. I asked him if he would meet me because there were some things that I needed to say to him alone, that we could meet in a public venue of his choosing as long as I would not be seen as making a spectacle of myself if I got emotional, and it had to be a place where I could smoke (damn these city ordinances banning smoking to even include many outside venues). We settled on standing in the church parking lot (right across the street from me) for this Tuesday at 1630. When I finished what I said, he asked if he could say a few things. I hesitated momentarily—this wasn’t a planned two-way conversation. I wanted to say what I had to say, set the time and place and get off the phone, but I ended up saying OK. He helped fill in some more of the blanks. Evidently there were already three or four police cruisers and the EMS there across the street in the church parking lot before he arrived (I had been told earlier by one of the first responder cops that they parked there with no lights flashing on purpose so as not to alert me in case it was a situation of “suicide by cop”). The cops asked him who he was and he explained that he had placed the 911 call as a result of my text message. They asked to see the text message, but they would not let him cross the street to my house at any point. He told me that the only reason why he came over was that he was very concerned and worried about me. He said he had tried to call me after receiving the text message and I did not answer. Again, the problem with my perception vs. reality.

Am I ready for this conversation? I do not know. I have to find a way to let this anger and resentment go. While it is by no means my only trigger, I have obsessed over this a lot—primarily because I have always respected him. He is a WYSIWYG (what you see is what you get for you non-computer geeks) kind of guy—shoots straight from the hip with no guile. From the very beginning, he has accepted the fact that I am a lesbian and never has judged me. I owe him the same respect.

Well, I still have two days to process this. I am also going to discuss during my group therapy session on Monday. I also have my second appointment with my individual therapist on Monday afternoon as well. My question is am I sufficiently prepared to handle this type of conversation at this point so soon after everything has happened? I need to protect myself and not set myself up for failure. I am trying so hard to reach a point in my life where everything is in balance, but I have to put my needs first—a concept that never existed in my “I don’t give a damn” mode.©2009

Appt with Psychiatrist Week 3

My calendar said that we had our second appointment on the 29th, but I don’t remember that one. I can tell my meds have changed because I found his instruction sheet. He always writes everything out because he knows I may not remember. This visit was on 05 November.

My meds have changed again. Now my Geodon has changed from 240mg at bedtime to also include taking an 80mg dose in the morning along with a new drug called Provigil @ 200mg in the morning to help sharpen my focus and concentration. Its primary use is for the treatment of narcolepsy, shift work sleep disorder and excessive daytime sleepiness associated with obstructive sleep apnea. Other potentially effective, but similarly unapproved targets include the treatment of depression, schizophrenia, and disease-related fatigue. I guess my disease-related fatigue is the insomnia due to the depression

His primary concern is that I can keep myself safe. He has always been the only one with whom I’ve been able to be completely honest. I have been seeing him since June, 2000 when I was first diagnosed with BP (BPD didn’t become diagnosed until 2005 after my previous attempt at suicide). Aside from wanting to keep me safe, he is very concerned over my lack of sleep. He told me that I couldn’t expect to see measurable progress until I can overcome the insomnia. He’s also concerned about my weight loss. I’ve lost eight pounds since 28 October because I’m not eating. The only thing I eat is a small snack when I take my two doses of Geodon because it has to be absorbed with food.

Today he increased my Lamictal to 200mg QD. My short-term goals are 1) work on severe depression with medication changes as needed, 2) directly deal with my persistent suicide ideation as depression lessens and while my coping skills are still effective, 3) work on my rage issues as my depression lessens, and 4) work on my isolation as the depression lessens. He knows I am in the OP Therapy program Mon-Wed-Fri, so I am to call his office on Tuesdays and Thursdays and request a call back so he can check in with me. He also wants me to call his service on Saturdays and Sundays for the same purpose. He wants to keep me safe, and feels with this constant monitoring, if needed, he can make a med change on the fly. I couldn’t ask for a better psychiatrist. He gets me. And he said that once my bipolar balances out, he wants to work on my borderline personality disorder. He is more than just a psychiatrist. The time he spends with me and what we talk about is better than any individual therapist I’ve ever seen. I’m very grateful that the circumstances back in 2000 brought us together.©2009