Many of you who read this blog know me IRL (in real life). You are old friends and new ones, Facebook pals, or people I work with. Others of you have no idea who I am but you come back to read my words nonetheless. Nowhere on this blog will you find my name or my face.
It's not because I am ashamed of what I write because I'm not.
It's for my own protection, if you will. I keep this blog anonymous to keep myself safe. It's a place I can go where I can write about anything and I do tend to write about whatever crosses my mind, whether it be fabulous, painful, honest or somewhere in between. Sometimes it's nothing at all and sometimes I feel like I've poured myself out for your reading pleasure, like pancake batter on a hot griddle.
I'm not famous or any more special than any of you. I just have the desire and need to write these things down. I like your comments when I've struck a chord. I fear your silence when I hear nothing. Sometimes it's as if I'm holding my breath, waiting to see how you will respond. It's not easy writing about some of the topics that I do, it is scary and worrisome. Yet I cannot stop myself.
Being anonymous in a sense is what allows me the freedom to be so spontaneous and open. Some of my friends have learned things about me through this blog that they did not already know. I share things here that I do not talk about with others.
For example, many of you do not know that I repeated the ninth grade. That particular year was a tough one for me. I spent part of that year in a mental hospital due to severe depression and a suicide attempt. When I was released from the hospital I went to a special school for students with severe emotional issues. I did no work there and at the beginning of the new school year I was back at the regular high school.
I basically was a smart girl all wrapped up in the midst of some pretty messy stuff. I repeated the ninth grade and redid the year that I had messed up. It was tough being a teenager with a past that everyone knew about. I had spent years being with certain classmates and now I had to start to make friends all over again. I was a freak of sorts and some people unkindly went out of their way to make sure I didn't forget that. But I survived and eventually thrived despite suffering with depression, battling an eating disorder, and trying to start over.
Here's something else a lot of people don't know: I graduated seventh in my high school class out of about 185 kids or so. Not too bad for a girl with a lot of messy stuff, huh?
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Into the light
In college, several states away from home, I was very sick with bulimia. There I started real therapy for the first time in my life. I was slightly hopeful. Maybe then someone could see the good in me.
At one time I was so ill I had to go to the college infirmary every day for vitals. Every morning I dutifully showed up. I was a good girl underneath all the "badness". I did as I was told.
Eventually the therapy helped me to realize I wasn't worthless. I never took meds there for depression but that improved also. I got better with someone believing in me.
When I was doing better, years later, the bulimia came under control. Eventually I stopped all the pills and the purging. I went from throwing up every night to nights where I could eat and retain the food like a normal person. I didn't have to excuse myself to go purge any more. I put on some weight once I stopped the bulimia, not much, but I remember my mother saying I looked pregnant. I was so hurt because my family knew of my bulimia but ignored it. They were good at ignoring big problems and making me feel bad about myself.
Now I see a new life, a better one. One not filled with so much anger. One where I can let lots of the past go.
This new life is a strange one. Part of it is better living through pharmaceuticals, part of it is better living through ten years of intense therapy, part of it is self-acceptance, wisdom, and self-love. A lot of it is personal growth.
If I can overcome depression and bulimia, I can overcome anything. If I can adjust to life with multiple sclerosis, I can learn to deal with diabetes. I can learn to control my weight instead of letting it control me.
It's time for the real me to shed the extra weight and let my light shine.
At one time I was so ill I had to go to the college infirmary every day for vitals. Every morning I dutifully showed up. I was a good girl underneath all the "badness". I did as I was told.
Eventually the therapy helped me to realize I wasn't worthless. I never took meds there for depression but that improved also. I got better with someone believing in me.
When I was doing better, years later, the bulimia came under control. Eventually I stopped all the pills and the purging. I went from throwing up every night to nights where I could eat and retain the food like a normal person. I didn't have to excuse myself to go purge any more. I put on some weight once I stopped the bulimia, not much, but I remember my mother saying I looked pregnant. I was so hurt because my family knew of my bulimia but ignored it. They were good at ignoring big problems and making me feel bad about myself.
Now I see a new life, a better one. One not filled with so much anger. One where I can let lots of the past go.
This new life is a strange one. Part of it is better living through pharmaceuticals, part of it is better living through ten years of intense therapy, part of it is self-acceptance, wisdom, and self-love. A lot of it is personal growth.
If I can overcome depression and bulimia, I can overcome anything. If I can adjust to life with multiple sclerosis, I can learn to deal with diabetes. I can learn to control my weight instead of letting it control me.
It's time for the real me to shed the extra weight and let my light shine.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Self abuse
I spent years trying to destroy myself, both overtly and subconsciously. I recall severe depression and self-injury starting in the fifth grade. It escalated from there to hallucinations, overdoses and slit wrists. I was desperate as a young girl to make my pain go away. Suicide seemed like the only viable option.
The first time I was seriously hospitalized I was in the ninth grade. It was like a saving grace, to be away from my family who refused to help me in the midst of all my turmoil. I remember feeling safer but that was not a place where you'd want your child to spend a month.
I was hospitalized again in tenth grade for another suicide attempt and for bulimia. By then I was learning that I was too timid to actually pull off suicide, so I started to kill myself slowly. Bulimia was a way of saying, "F--- you," to my family. It allowed me to scrape my insides raw while looking normal on the outside. I could starve, then binge, then puke it all out. Anger within, exited with food.
It felt good to be in control of one thing in my life. I ran, I starved, I was sick with sores around my mouth. I was anemic. I thought I was fat when I was not. I bought in to what I was told: I was selfish, unlovable, stupid, BIG.
In fact, I was none of those things.
I abused myself because I knew of no other way to survive. There was no help for me, no therapy, only people telling me I was wrong. I was the weird one, the freak, the black sheep. No matter how small I physically got, I could not escape my parents' prying eyes and harsh words. They said I wanted too much when all I wanted was love and acceptance.
Bulimia overtook my life. I lived on diet pills, diuretics, and laxatives. I exercised like crazy, sometimes twice a day. At one time I was doing five thousand sit-ups a night. It took me hours to accomplish this.
It took me years to beat bulimia.
The first time I was seriously hospitalized I was in the ninth grade. It was like a saving grace, to be away from my family who refused to help me in the midst of all my turmoil. I remember feeling safer but that was not a place where you'd want your child to spend a month.
I was hospitalized again in tenth grade for another suicide attempt and for bulimia. By then I was learning that I was too timid to actually pull off suicide, so I started to kill myself slowly. Bulimia was a way of saying, "F--- you," to my family. It allowed me to scrape my insides raw while looking normal on the outside. I could starve, then binge, then puke it all out. Anger within, exited with food.
It felt good to be in control of one thing in my life. I ran, I starved, I was sick with sores around my mouth. I was anemic. I thought I was fat when I was not. I bought in to what I was told: I was selfish, unlovable, stupid, BIG.
In fact, I was none of those things.
I abused myself because I knew of no other way to survive. There was no help for me, no therapy, only people telling me I was wrong. I was the weird one, the freak, the black sheep. No matter how small I physically got, I could not escape my parents' prying eyes and harsh words. They said I wanted too much when all I wanted was love and acceptance.
Bulimia overtook my life. I lived on diet pills, diuretics, and laxatives. I exercised like crazy, sometimes twice a day. At one time I was doing five thousand sit-ups a night. It took me hours to accomplish this.
It took me years to beat bulimia.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Depression
I have definitely been in a depression lately. Probably because I have been non-compliant with my antidepressants almost all summer. Doh!
I will be taking all of my meds starting tomorrow. My ADs need to build back up in my bloodstream and work is starting soon. I can no longer spend my days in bed until 3 or 5 p.m.
That's all I have for now...
I will be taking all of my meds starting tomorrow. My ADs need to build back up in my bloodstream and work is starting soon. I can no longer spend my days in bed until 3 or 5 p.m.
That's all I have for now...
Friday, July 10, 2009
Who's got a clean house? Not me!
I have been so excited about the cleaning person coming. For days I have been waiting for the goddess of clean to come and work her magic on my apartment. I set my alarm so I had time to take my shower and pick up the stuff off the living room floor and swept the kitchen thoroughly.
I then waited for the agreed upon time. And waited. And waited some more.
First, she was a little late. Then thirty minutes late, then an hour, then two hours.
I called her cell phone and (surprise!) no answer. I left a message asking her to call me back so I knew what was going on.
She hasn't called back since.
Who has a clean house?
Unfortunately, not me.
And I am majorly bummed about it.
I then waited for the agreed upon time. And waited. And waited some more.
First, she was a little late. Then thirty minutes late, then an hour, then two hours.
I called her cell phone and (surprise!) no answer. I left a message asking her to call me back so I knew what was going on.
She hasn't called back since.
Who has a clean house?
Unfortunately, not me.
And I am majorly bummed about it.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Something different: depression
Picture, if you will,
an image of a gypsy woman
dancing wildly
cloths flying through air
jewels clanging against another.
"Will you join me?"
I ask.
You reply,
"This dance is no good for us."
I continue on
because another dance -
a new dance
brings forth
more intimacy,
more fear
less contentment of knowing
what I know
and
always doing what I do.
Was it Sisyphus who pushed the rock?
What am I going to choose now?
**** (Original poetry)
That's a poem I fashioned after my therapy appointment on Thursday. I have a great therapist who I have worked with since 2000 after yet another bad depression spell. Depression has been a major part of my life going back as far as fifth grade.
The metaphor of the dance has to do with me allowing new opportunities in my life and the ability to change things up. I'm not good with that. I only want to dance the one dance I know how. If I change this, then I have to get comfortable with a partner who must hold me, lead me, guide me. I'm not used to that.
I am incredibly lonely. It's worse now because I am out of work. I see no other people some days out of the week if I don't leave my apartment. Thank goodness I have a wonder feline to at least offer up some companionship.
To change this I need to change the dance. I say I want to but do I really? I'm frightened of people getting close to me, growing intimate not in a sexual way, because I am so used to being hurt, being left behind, feeling unloved.
This comes from my own background of growing up feeling abandoned by my bio-dad because he gave me up, feeling abandoned by my own mother, feeling less than because of my adoptive father. Feeling alone and tortured starting in childhood and continuing as I grew older.
My depression started in fifth grade with a vengeance. I used to cut at my wrists and find ways to hurt myself. I didn't know why I was doing it; I just knew I had to do it. I remember sitting in the back seat of the car as my family drove around sobbing silently and wiping tears away with my coat sleeves. I felt such a deep sadness all the time and it only grew worse over the years.
Depression is like a bad friend you can't get rid of, no matter what you try. There is nothing like being in the throes of deep depression. I get so deeply enmeshed in the sadness, the pain, the hurt and the personal demons that there seems to be no way out. I was there not so long ago.
Thankfully, I am not there today. I know enough now and some of my friends know enough to mention when I am floundering in the deep sea of depression. I go to my therapists and doctors and tell them how my mind is no longer thinking clearly. I beg them to help me because I know toughing it out is not an option for me. Regardless of what Tom Cruise thinks, depression sometimes must be treated with medication, or a variety of medications which is what I deal with, or hospitalization which I have dealt with in the past. It's not pretty and it is what it is.
Depression is partially the reason I wasn't able to leave my abusive marriage. It was also a part of why I couldn't say no to marriage even when I could see there were issues. Depression has affected my work, my play, my relationships, my friends, everything in my life.
So what about the dance? It's scary to commit to something new but I am open to trying. I'm not saying I'm fully embracing it but I am slowly forcing myself to consider something different, a new dance, a new life for me.
As much as I am lonely, I am not totally alone. I have friends who listen and encourage me. I have therapists who encourage me. I'm slowly breaking through the cocoon and emerging. I'm not ready to fly yet but I am fluttering my wings slowly and getting used to a life with winds on which I can soar.
an image of a gypsy woman
dancing wildly
cloths flying through air
jewels clanging against another.
"Will you join me?"
I ask.
You reply,
"This dance is no good for us."
I continue on
because another dance -
a new dance
brings forth
more intimacy,
more fear
less contentment of knowing
what I know
and
always doing what I do.
Was it Sisyphus who pushed the rock?
What am I going to choose now?
**** (Original poetry)
That's a poem I fashioned after my therapy appointment on Thursday. I have a great therapist who I have worked with since 2000 after yet another bad depression spell. Depression has been a major part of my life going back as far as fifth grade.
The metaphor of the dance has to do with me allowing new opportunities in my life and the ability to change things up. I'm not good with that. I only want to dance the one dance I know how. If I change this, then I have to get comfortable with a partner who must hold me, lead me, guide me. I'm not used to that.
I am incredibly lonely. It's worse now because I am out of work. I see no other people some days out of the week if I don't leave my apartment. Thank goodness I have a wonder feline to at least offer up some companionship.
To change this I need to change the dance. I say I want to but do I really? I'm frightened of people getting close to me, growing intimate not in a sexual way, because I am so used to being hurt, being left behind, feeling unloved.
This comes from my own background of growing up feeling abandoned by my bio-dad because he gave me up, feeling abandoned by my own mother, feeling less than because of my adoptive father. Feeling alone and tortured starting in childhood and continuing as I grew older.
My depression started in fifth grade with a vengeance. I used to cut at my wrists and find ways to hurt myself. I didn't know why I was doing it; I just knew I had to do it. I remember sitting in the back seat of the car as my family drove around sobbing silently and wiping tears away with my coat sleeves. I felt such a deep sadness all the time and it only grew worse over the years.
Depression is like a bad friend you can't get rid of, no matter what you try. There is nothing like being in the throes of deep depression. I get so deeply enmeshed in the sadness, the pain, the hurt and the personal demons that there seems to be no way out. I was there not so long ago.
Thankfully, I am not there today. I know enough now and some of my friends know enough to mention when I am floundering in the deep sea of depression. I go to my therapists and doctors and tell them how my mind is no longer thinking clearly. I beg them to help me because I know toughing it out is not an option for me. Regardless of what Tom Cruise thinks, depression sometimes must be treated with medication, or a variety of medications which is what I deal with, or hospitalization which I have dealt with in the past. It's not pretty and it is what it is.
Depression is partially the reason I wasn't able to leave my abusive marriage. It was also a part of why I couldn't say no to marriage even when I could see there were issues. Depression has affected my work, my play, my relationships, my friends, everything in my life.
So what about the dance? It's scary to commit to something new but I am open to trying. I'm not saying I'm fully embracing it but I am slowly forcing myself to consider something different, a new dance, a new life for me.
As much as I am lonely, I am not totally alone. I have friends who listen and encourage me. I have therapists who encourage me. I'm slowly breaking through the cocoon and emerging. I'm not ready to fly yet but I am fluttering my wings slowly and getting used to a life with winds on which I can soar.
Monday, December 8, 2008
MS and One's Feelings
I'm taking today's post from a response that I gave to another teacher with MS who's also a blogger. It's all about emotions and feelings and how they can change and do change through the course of this disease. Just like this disease can change from one day to the next so can the way you view it and describe it. The picture at the top will make more sense in a few paragraphs.
Vulnerable is a good word to use when describing MS and my feelings. I never know when or if something will get better, or if something new will act up, or if something else will just get worse. I'm at the mercy of MS and I'm not all that jazzed about it.
I felt like my blogger friend did after our most recent MRIs which showed positive results. I felt happy but then divided. Why didn't I feel better if some of my brain lesions had disappeared? I know others without a lot of MS knowledge would just assume that I must be better if the MRI was better but I know that's not the truth. It's not the same as a cut that gets a band aid and then a few days later it's all healed. MS doesn't work that way. MS does what it wants when it wants and you're at its beck and call.
MS sure has my brain wrapped up like a See-N-Say, remember those toys from childhood? You pulled the handle and it stopped on a picture and made a noise. Except someone else is pulling the handle and a random emotion comes up. That's how I often feel. What will it be today? Depression, elation, boredom, loneliness, anger, happiness...
That's why the picture is at the top. I know I can control my emotions to an extent but there are some things that are out of my control. I do the best I can and I know my medicines help me. Some people don't believe in antidepressants but I cannot live without them. They keep me from living on a constant pull-and-twirl cycle of sadness and self-loathing. Boy, are those meds worth it.
I may get sadness now and then on my emotional See-N-Say but not every day and that is a step in the right direction.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Early poetry is painful
I've written here before about my issues with weight and my family while growing up. Here's a poem from half a lifetime ago, literally (age 19 from my current age of 38). As I read it now I see the pain that I felt then.
______________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________
Love Me
I starve myself
because Mommy and Daddy
don't love fat, ugly, stupid girls.
I play the game with my life
but no one can win.
Twice
they've put me in the hospital
and filled me up with medications
to make me feel less anxious.
Nothing works.
Not their pills,
not my mind.
I only want
to please my Mommy and Daddy
even if it means
that I lose myself,
fade away,
and become nothing.
I don't care if I die
if only
someone would love me.
____________________________________________________________________
I used to be really good at self destruction. Self harm was what I was all about starting in about fifth grade. I had one of those families where everything had to look good, but I never looked good. I was fat and had glasses and I could never keep my hair looking nice. I was shy and hoped that if I was quiet then no one would notice all my imperfections. Fat chance.
I was scared of trying anything new because I felt so inferior all the time. I wouldn't try out for chorus and I was never a Girl Scout. I just read and played by myself because we lived mostly in the country. I would get lost in books because books didn't require that you look or act a certain way. Words that I read never hurt me in the same way that spoken words did.
I recall sitting in the back seat of the family car in sixth grade sobbing to myself as my parents drove around. I couldn't explain why I was so unhappy except that I knew I was a square peg in my family's group of round holes. I could cry without making noise and the tears would just flow into my jacket or shirt sleeve.
I know all this cr@p makes you stronger but I still haven't learned the lesson from it all. What was I supposed to learn?
Being fat doesn't make me happy, sticking my fingers down my throat doesn't make me happy, killing myself to be thin through starvation and pills doesn't make me happy. I've chosen all the wrong men to be in my life so that isn't the lesson. MS is a pain in the rear which just makes living harder. Depression has been my longest companion along with not being thin.
Maybe the lesson is that life is about riding the waves. Sometimes you're on top waiting for the wave to break and sometimes you've just run into the shore. Life is cyclical. Feel good, then bad, then pain, then a glimmer of hope, and sometimes sunshine and repeat?
because Mommy and Daddy
don't love fat, ugly, stupid girls.
I play the game with my life
but no one can win.
Twice
they've put me in the hospital
and filled me up with medications
to make me feel less anxious.
Nothing works.
Not their pills,
not my mind.
I only want
to please my Mommy and Daddy
even if it means
that I lose myself,
fade away,
and become nothing.
I don't care if I die
if only
someone would love me.
____________________________________________________________________
I used to be really good at self destruction. Self harm was what I was all about starting in about fifth grade. I had one of those families where everything had to look good, but I never looked good. I was fat and had glasses and I could never keep my hair looking nice. I was shy and hoped that if I was quiet then no one would notice all my imperfections. Fat chance.
I was scared of trying anything new because I felt so inferior all the time. I wouldn't try out for chorus and I was never a Girl Scout. I just read and played by myself because we lived mostly in the country. I would get lost in books because books didn't require that you look or act a certain way. Words that I read never hurt me in the same way that spoken words did.
I recall sitting in the back seat of the family car in sixth grade sobbing to myself as my parents drove around. I couldn't explain why I was so unhappy except that I knew I was a square peg in my family's group of round holes. I could cry without making noise and the tears would just flow into my jacket or shirt sleeve.
I know all this cr@p makes you stronger but I still haven't learned the lesson from it all. What was I supposed to learn?
Being fat doesn't make me happy, sticking my fingers down my throat doesn't make me happy, killing myself to be thin through starvation and pills doesn't make me happy. I've chosen all the wrong men to be in my life so that isn't the lesson. MS is a pain in the rear which just makes living harder. Depression has been my longest companion along with not being thin.
Maybe the lesson is that life is about riding the waves. Sometimes you're on top waiting for the wave to break and sometimes you've just run into the shore. Life is cyclical. Feel good, then bad, then pain, then a glimmer of hope, and sometimes sunshine and repeat?
Monday, November 17, 2008
It's snowing
I awoke this morning and there is actual snow on the ground. I watched the drifting, haphazard flakes falling and it felt very peaceful. I need that peaceful sensation so I enjoyed it from inside my living room.I am supposed to be putting up the tree on Thursday, er my friend BJM is probably going to be doing most of it as she is a fake tree expert extraordinaire. That will come in handy because I'm like a no thumb kinda gal so me doing it might make for a funniest home video for someone else.
I took an actual shower and changed my clothes and did my hair today. That was a giant success over the last two days. My right arm is all about painful movement and my low back and legs are trying to drag me around when it's time to move. I'm not sure if it's from the Tysabri, the MS, or the fact that I "worked out" for 6 out of 7 days this past week.
My working out is a snortaminute workout for most regular people on this Earth, including the geriatric crew. I do about a one mile walk and once in a blue moon a 2 mile walk with one of those Walk Away the Pounds DVD in the comfort of my living room. The people on the DVD use weighted balls and I just try to throw my arms around in the same half movement. I am sure that 2 year-olds get more exercise than I do. But right now this is my marathon.
I usually follow it up with a relaxing yoga pose where my feet are up on the sofa and my body is on the floor. This is supposed to get the lymph in your body to move around more efficiently. I have no idea if it works but it can feel nice.
I have decided that I need my SAD light from work. It's one of those bright lights that help with wintery/autumnal depression. I know I need it so it's just a matter of someone finding it there and I think I know where it is. Then it needs to find its way back to my home, slovenly home.
Actually, I do not live in a total sty but I have lots of papers run off for work that need to go somewhere other than my kitchen table (also a gift from BJM) where they have been living for a month or so. Then I also have my single copies of papers from September. I must put all this stuff somewhere neatly so on the off chance I invite the UPS man in and he accepts, he will be pleasantly surprised to see that I have cleaned the place up.
I'm having some shiny crow moments so this is it for now. Hope all is well with you, especially if you're out in CA by the wildfires.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
In a funk, not a good one
In case you're uncertain, that's a hole, a deeeeeeeeep one. I feel like I am in it. I'm not sure why. Okay, I know a little bit why and then there are some other things that I just don't know about that are thudding around in my brain.No showering today as I just don't feel like I can do it. Not going anywhere or seeing anyone. I'm just wondering where this sense of self punishment comes from. I see the daylight for a while and then it's all jerked away and I'm back in a place like what you see above.
Small, deep, dark, suffocating, stifling depressive hole that engulfs me when I start to turn the corner. Why?
Monday, November 10, 2008
It's beginning to look a lot like I may assemble this
Okay, I know it's early and that we haven't had Thanksgiving yet. But, my readers, you need to know that I am an extreme procrastinator and not too bright with do-it-yourself assembly type products. I'm the kind of person who reads the directions and still can't put things together.I am unofficially officially on my leave but I still have comments to put in for report cards for three subjects. I have all the averages figured, all the grades in and one set of comments done. I was at work today from about 9 through 12:40ish showing the special ed teacher/super helper where things are, going over my outline for the next few months, and finishing grades for Wednesday. So I am almost officially finished and I will be done when comments are finished.
I see myself slowly coming out of the depression. I don't think constantly about offing myself which is a real help as I go through the day. I still have some food issues with "some" binging and purging. There are minor thoughts of self harm but I can push them away. I'm taking Provigil because although it can act as a stimulant in the sense that it tries to keep me awake whilst driving and living daily life, it also seems to keep me calmer.
I feel that when I do not take the Provigil I am so antsy and irritable that I may rip my skin off and crawl out of it. Not a pleasant feeling.
I sometimes smile and even laugh. My Psych R.N. this morning even commented on me looking better in a mental health sort of way, not a lawsuit sort of way, and remarked that he's been very worried about me. Nice to hear on both fronts.
I think being on a break from work will be helpful. I look forward to the extra sleep and to bringing back my slow moving exercise program. I was exhausted about an hour after being at work today and sleeping in until 7 instead of my regular 5:30 a.m. so I know more rest will be beneficial. Not having something hanging over my head every moment in the form of school and papers and grades and plans will be a welcome respite. I love my job, I swear I do, but this year I haven't been able to love it or enjoy it very much. There comes a point where you need to ask yourself, "My job or my (pathetic as it is) life?"
Regardless, last year I bought a six foot artificial tree on sale after Christmas. I have never had to put a fake tree together. I've either had a real tree or no tree at all. I adore Christmas and love to decorate but the past few years I haven't. No one comes here at all, ever, so it's no huge loss to not do it but I miss it. So I'm considering starting to try to put the tree together and decorating.
When I was married, I'd drag my "wasband" out the day after Thanksgiving and force him to cut down a tree. Then we'd slap her in the car and I'd decorate it that same day. I'm a freak and I know it but I love those moments between Turkey Time and Gifts and the Holy Day. I felt more serene and peaceful and loving between Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Maybe if I start now I'll find some of those positive feelings again. Plus, it helps to fill up part of my day. You'd be surprised how long the day is when it's more open when there's nothing hanging over your head to be done. "A blessing and a curse," as Adrian Monk would say.
I have new brain MRIs scheduled for tomorrow afternoon but I'll let you know what I decide about the tree, although I'm leaning a lot toward trying it out.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
November's nightmare
Okay, I thought spending hours looking for EOBs, typing up stuff, calling people, seeing doctors, and making copies was enough for the sick bank leave but it's not apparently.
I'm frustrated, my fingers feel like they are effing useless, my depression is hitting a new high/low, and I'm angry at myself.
Big sigh....................
I know this isn't a giant problem but my PCP hasn't returned my three calls from last week. Now I will try to schedule an appointment for Monday or Tuesday to see him and get the d@mn letter from him.
I wanted everything turned in on Monday so the process could start but now that's a pipe dream. My notes aren't specific enough from my Psych R.N. and my neuro's PA. I am missing the letter that most likely would be the most specific one.
BIGGER sigh...................
I called Psych R.N.'s number this morning and asked his voicemail for a more specific letter. I'm sure he'll write whatever I want just to stop me from calling him at this point. I'll get in to see the PCP and remedy that part of the issue. This just moves everything farther back in the process.
I just wanted everything done for Monday so I can turn it all in and have the d@mn process started.
(I just went for an early morning super sloooooooooow walk to just get out of here with my frustration and anxiety. My walking is way off and I'm tight in my lower back. I had to keep stopping and resting on my 20-minute mini-marathon. I only saw one pumpkin squashed, so that was good at least.)
You see, the process goes from my paperwork to the Superintendent's hands to a committee that is yet to be determined from people who work at the different schools in my district. Then the magic people decide yeah or nay for the leave.
I just feel like I'm starting to doubt myself here and I also think I am truly in a flare with the fevers, the fingers, the cognitive dysfunction, and the depression. It's just a different type of flare for me.
Wish me luck and continued strength and perseverance to see this through.
Thanks,
Weebs
I'm frustrated, my fingers feel like they are effing useless, my depression is hitting a new high/low, and I'm angry at myself.
Big sigh....................
I know this isn't a giant problem but my PCP hasn't returned my three calls from last week. Now I will try to schedule an appointment for Monday or Tuesday to see him and get the d@mn letter from him.
I wanted everything turned in on Monday so the process could start but now that's a pipe dream. My notes aren't specific enough from my Psych R.N. and my neuro's PA. I am missing the letter that most likely would be the most specific one.
BIGGER sigh...................
I called Psych R.N.'s number this morning and asked his voicemail for a more specific letter. I'm sure he'll write whatever I want just to stop me from calling him at this point. I'll get in to see the PCP and remedy that part of the issue. This just moves everything farther back in the process.
I just wanted everything done for Monday so I can turn it all in and have the d@mn process started.
(I just went for an early morning super sloooooooooow walk to just get out of here with my frustration and anxiety. My walking is way off and I'm tight in my lower back. I had to keep stopping and resting on my 20-minute mini-marathon. I only saw one pumpkin squashed, so that was good at least.)
You see, the process goes from my paperwork to the Superintendent's hands to a committee that is yet to be determined from people who work at the different schools in my district. Then the magic people decide yeah or nay for the leave.
I just feel like I'm starting to doubt myself here and I also think I am truly in a flare with the fevers, the fingers, the cognitive dysfunction, and the depression. It's just a different type of flare for me.
Wish me luck and continued strength and perseverance to see this through.
Thanks,
Weebs
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Stuff and Facebook ?
Anyone else here on Facebook? When I signed in today it was all different and I mean totally different. I know there is a new Facebook and I've been looking at it since I switched to Foxfire Mozilla a few months back. I have no idea what I'm looking at now and clicking on any of the apps doesn't do anything.
If anyone can shed light on that please do!
Hands are still off but not burning so that is a plus. I have started the paper work for the sick bank leave. I have one doctor note and a call into my PCP asking for that one. Today I will call the neurologist's office. Perhaps I will try explaining the claw hands and the depression, not that I think I will get anywhere.
My gyn called regarding my vitamin D levels which were low again. Back to the 50,000 IU weekly and then retest to see if it goes back up. I have recently started taking 2,000 IU of D3 daily along with my multivitamin since my 1st Tysabri infusion.
Also super news: My Tysabri is all paid for with my insurance for the rest of the year. I know how lucky I am with that but I will be looking to see what the next EOB's show as being charged to the insurance. Come January I will have to pay my $100 deductible and $400 out of pocket money and then Tysabri will be paid for for the remainder of the year.
I saw my students today which felt good. Many of them hugged me and have made me wonderful cards. Today they will be reading about exacerbations in science from the Keep S'myelin magazine and doing some pseudo-symptom experiments. If nothing else, they will learn a lot about MS this year.
My claw/hands are tired now so I'll call it quits. I hope everyone out there in blogland is doing okay. My depression is still off the charts in a bad way but I am hanging in there the best I can.
Namaste,
Weebs
If anyone can shed light on that please do!
Hands are still off but not burning so that is a plus. I have started the paper work for the sick bank leave. I have one doctor note and a call into my PCP asking for that one. Today I will call the neurologist's office. Perhaps I will try explaining the claw hands and the depression, not that I think I will get anywhere.
My gyn called regarding my vitamin D levels which were low again. Back to the 50,000 IU weekly and then retest to see if it goes back up. I have recently started taking 2,000 IU of D3 daily along with my multivitamin since my 1st Tysabri infusion.
Also super news: My Tysabri is all paid for with my insurance for the rest of the year. I know how lucky I am with that but I will be looking to see what the next EOB's show as being charged to the insurance. Come January I will have to pay my $100 deductible and $400 out of pocket money and then Tysabri will be paid for for the remainder of the year.
I saw my students today which felt good. Many of them hugged me and have made me wonderful cards. Today they will be reading about exacerbations in science from the Keep S'myelin magazine and doing some pseudo-symptom experiments. If nothing else, they will learn a lot about MS this year.
My claw/hands are tired now so I'll call it quits. I hope everyone out there in blogland is doing okay. My depression is still off the charts in a bad way but I am hanging in there the best I can.
Namaste,
Weebs
Friday, October 24, 2008
My wacky little world
I told my grade level team this morning about my plan to take a sick bank leave and they were all very supportive. I do work with some awesome people and I take great pity on the special ed teacher that works in my room. First off, she had to work with me and she still does as I call her daily to see what was and wasn't accomplished so I know where to direct my plans for the next school day.
My poor brother was supposed to come home from Iraq in three weeks to get married. His devoted fiancee has called off the wedding as of Monday. The problem apparently is that my brother is in the military and his fiancee doesn't like that. She also doesn't want to move to Germany when his time in Iraq is up.
This reminds me of Adam Sandler in "The Wedding Singer" when his fiancee leaves him at the altar and later tells him why and he responds with something akin to the phrase, "Something that could have been brought to my attention yesterday!" Of course, my brother's been in the military since she met him in February so maybe she should have considered that a few months back.....? Just a thought.
I'm tired and not all at the same time. I want to sleep with this depression but my body isn't allowing excessive sleep even without the Provigil. I explained the depression today to my shrink as sitting in a bathtub filled with joy and happiness and someone else pulling the plug while my nekked and distorted flabbo body remains in the tub exposed to all that is wrong with the world.
There's so much that is wacky in my world but I'm too tired to type it all, especially after getting caught up with the whole award thing. Two posts in a night is probably as exhausting as good sex used to be in my life.
My poor brother was supposed to come home from Iraq in three weeks to get married. His devoted fiancee has called off the wedding as of Monday. The problem apparently is that my brother is in the military and his fiancee doesn't like that. She also doesn't want to move to Germany when his time in Iraq is up.
This reminds me of Adam Sandler in "The Wedding Singer" when his fiancee leaves him at the altar and later tells him why and he responds with something akin to the phrase, "Something that could have been brought to my attention yesterday!" Of course, my brother's been in the military since she met him in February so maybe she should have considered that a few months back.....? Just a thought.
I'm tired and not all at the same time. I want to sleep with this depression but my body isn't allowing excessive sleep even without the Provigil. I explained the depression today to my shrink as sitting in a bathtub filled with joy and happiness and someone else pulling the plug while my nekked and distorted flabbo body remains in the tub exposed to all that is wrong with the world.
There's so much that is wacky in my world but I'm too tired to type it all, especially after getting caught up with the whole award thing. Two posts in a night is probably as exhausting as good sex used to be in my life.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Thoughts for my Thursday
Today (which is really Wednesday) was exhausting. I mean wiped out before we even made it to lunch. I am guessing it's the new meds (the Abilify and Lexapro). I was tired yesterday too but this was different, trying to be on my feet and playing my role as happy teacher. I could barely do it. I'm toying with that idea of taking some time off now but I really can't afford it.
I keep thinking that if I take some time off now to readjust and feel better, feel well, feel something other than crappy then maybe that's what I need to do.
I'm not sure if I need more Ritalin or if I should switch back to my Provigil to get my morning dose of wake-up juice. My Ritalin is almost out and the Psych R.N. doesn't remember that he was the last one who wrote the script. I have so many scripts and different script writers, that I have a hard time remembering who prescribed what and when. Today I crossed the line a few times and then almost went off the side of the road because I was so tired on my way to school.
Then I came home and binged and purged on purpose and it so wasn't worth it. I rested a bit while reading and then took out the air conditioner from my bedroom window, a somewhat monumental task. I did some exercising while making copies for math on my copier. Then it was time for my nightly med parade. Now I am hoping for deep slumber soon to get me through to the next day.
Thursday really is my sister's birthday, a quarter of a century on this third rock from the sun. I need to mail out her package after work. She's still serving in Iraq and it's been a year since she's been home. I miss her a lot and wish I could see her face when she opens up her random goodies. I suspect that anything is a treat over there and it has to be better than a horrible sandstorm kicking up dust in your eye.
I keep thinking that if I take some time off now to readjust and feel better, feel well, feel something other than crappy then maybe that's what I need to do.
I'm not sure if I need more Ritalin or if I should switch back to my Provigil to get my morning dose of wake-up juice. My Ritalin is almost out and the Psych R.N. doesn't remember that he was the last one who wrote the script. I have so many scripts and different script writers, that I have a hard time remembering who prescribed what and when. Today I crossed the line a few times and then almost went off the side of the road because I was so tired on my way to school.
Then I came home and binged and purged on purpose and it so wasn't worth it. I rested a bit while reading and then took out the air conditioner from my bedroom window, a somewhat monumental task. I did some exercising while making copies for math on my copier. Then it was time for my nightly med parade. Now I am hoping for deep slumber soon to get me through to the next day.
Thursday really is my sister's birthday, a quarter of a century on this third rock from the sun. I need to mail out her package after work. She's still serving in Iraq and it's been a year since she's been home. I miss her a lot and wish I could see her face when she opens up her random goodies. I suspect that anything is a treat over there and it has to be better than a horrible sandstorm kicking up dust in your eye.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
One for Wednesday
I made it through another day. It was rather uninspiring, especially when the technology didn't work half the time. All I could think about was the mountain of things I could be doing in my room. We had an hour for lunch and I closed my door and went to work. Which means I was quiet, I ate a little, and I moved a lot of stuff around trying to get organized.
I made it to the gyn appointment and he is going to run some more bloodwork on me, Vitamin D and my hormone levels. Maybe that will explain my almost constant fevers and fatigue. I have recently started to take 2000 IU of D3 daily along with the multivitamin daily, since the Tysabri infusion, per that doctor's orders.
I also found out that although I am still the fattest person I know, I have lost about eight pounds. I guess that comes with not eating much. I finally threw out the cheesecake, almost a crime, I know. My goal is for my fridge to be almost empty except for milk, lots of water, condiments, and maybe just a few actual pieces of food.
I am trying to not purchase much new food and I have some things in the freezer and soups and such that I can eat. I am usually eating cereal at lunch and then something small at dinner time. I am trying to not do the purge thing and just restrict the rest of this.
I only took out real garbage and recyclables to to the dumpster area tonight, no time for cleaning and bagging up the mess that seems to be smothering me. I also took a nap when I came home from the doctor's office and I have just finished typing up a new worksheet for ELA and making a new decimals unit test that is still printing out on my copier.
I am eager to speak with my psychologist on Friday to discuss all these new aspects to this depression. I still only allow myself music in the car or TV on at home at certain times. I used to like the sound but now it bothers and distracts me, it's like I have to earn the privilege. I have all these rules I made up that make no sense, maybe to try to control some part of me when I feel as if everything else is whirling away from me.
I reach out for it but it's just beyond my grasp.
I look and act happy around others but I don't feel it inside at all. I prefer to be quiet, solemn, asleep if at all possible. Three more days, three more days and then I can talk and see if I can find some answers.
I made it to the gyn appointment and he is going to run some more bloodwork on me, Vitamin D and my hormone levels. Maybe that will explain my almost constant fevers and fatigue. I have recently started to take 2000 IU of D3 daily along with the multivitamin daily, since the Tysabri infusion, per that doctor's orders.
I also found out that although I am still the fattest person I know, I have lost about eight pounds. I guess that comes with not eating much. I finally threw out the cheesecake, almost a crime, I know. My goal is for my fridge to be almost empty except for milk, lots of water, condiments, and maybe just a few actual pieces of food.
I am trying to not purchase much new food and I have some things in the freezer and soups and such that I can eat. I am usually eating cereal at lunch and then something small at dinner time. I am trying to not do the purge thing and just restrict the rest of this.
I only took out real garbage and recyclables to to the dumpster area tonight, no time for cleaning and bagging up the mess that seems to be smothering me. I also took a nap when I came home from the doctor's office and I have just finished typing up a new worksheet for ELA and making a new decimals unit test that is still printing out on my copier.
I am eager to speak with my psychologist on Friday to discuss all these new aspects to this depression. I still only allow myself music in the car or TV on at home at certain times. I used to like the sound but now it bothers and distracts me, it's like I have to earn the privilege. I have all these rules I made up that make no sense, maybe to try to control some part of me when I feel as if everything else is whirling away from me.
I reach out for it but it's just beyond my grasp.
I look and act happy around others but I don't feel it inside at all. I prefer to be quiet, solemn, asleep if at all possible. Three more days, three more days and then I can talk and see if I can find some answers.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
How's it going?
I talked to my best friend from college last night and she asked how it was going. I started out by saying the same, but probably worse.
Hell, I know I am worse. My sleeping is effected by all of this. My eating is effected by all of this. I am crying again. There are times when I am filled with such incredible rage for no real reason at all. My face is a complete mess from the broken blood vessels of purging up what I have eaten.
I've taken two 1 mg Xanax pills today plus 450mg of Wellbutrin XL and it feels like the second Xanax is calming me down a bit. I just dyed my hair to rid the grey and made a big mess while doing so. I cleaned it up but everywhere I look in this apartment is another mess. Papers and books and crap piled around for work and bill paying and stuff that needs to be sent out.
I threw out a bag of stuff last night for the man who goes dumpster diving in our apartments' dumpster. He literally climbs in and opens up bags. That is so disgusting and a clear message that you should shred anything with your name, address and any other pertinent information on it.
I am going to start bagging up crap in my bedroom because I cannot wear most of my shoes anymore. I can easily throw out purses and shoes so this guy can take them and do what ever it is he does with the stuff he claims.
Last night I cleaned out another area and shredded lots of medical things that needed to be shredded. I feel caged in my apartment and the walls are closing in. I want stuff out of my apartment. All these stupid cutesy knickknacks and crap must go. No one ever comes here, except delivery people and maybe two or three other people a year.
My apartment is not a "let's hang out and do something fun" place. I used to feel safe here but I don't anymore. The agitation continues to build and my anger (at what?) is growing. I keep punishing myself, maybe because I can't be the good teacher I used to be. I can't hold a thought like I used to be able to do. I can't generate any more fake happiness until it's time to go to work on Tuesday.
I think Denver Refashionista (a reader and great blogger in her own right) is correct in saying that controlling one's breath can be helpful in trying to stay calm. I will try to focus on the breaths I take and hope that there is some way through this mess. I do not know why it is here now, why this depression is so deep, why it involves such deep anger and self-punishment.
I feel like a freak compared to others. I remember the last two times I clearly felt this dead inside: the first was in 2000 when I was starting a new job after having left my husband, moved, and started divorce proceedings, and the second was in December of 1999 before I left him for good. I moved out and stayed in a hotel for a while without telling other people. When I returned home I was doing so only out of financial necessity. That Christmas I recall seeing my parents shopping at the mall. I looked and felt like this, not knowing what to buy, not caring.
I recall that dead feeling. That heavy load of shame on my shoulders all the time. The desperate need for help but not knowing how to fix things. Those were times with specific plans and an almost guaranteed ticket to the psych ward. That's something I can't have, that chance to be away and try to just focus on me. I have to work and will work and I will pretend that I love it. Then I will come home and continue to find ways to punish myself because I cannot snap out of this depression.
I hope things are much better in your world.
Hell, I know I am worse. My sleeping is effected by all of this. My eating is effected by all of this. I am crying again. There are times when I am filled with such incredible rage for no real reason at all. My face is a complete mess from the broken blood vessels of purging up what I have eaten.
I've taken two 1 mg Xanax pills today plus 450mg of Wellbutrin XL and it feels like the second Xanax is calming me down a bit. I just dyed my hair to rid the grey and made a big mess while doing so. I cleaned it up but everywhere I look in this apartment is another mess. Papers and books and crap piled around for work and bill paying and stuff that needs to be sent out.
I threw out a bag of stuff last night for the man who goes dumpster diving in our apartments' dumpster. He literally climbs in and opens up bags. That is so disgusting and a clear message that you should shred anything with your name, address and any other pertinent information on it.
I am going to start bagging up crap in my bedroom because I cannot wear most of my shoes anymore. I can easily throw out purses and shoes so this guy can take them and do what ever it is he does with the stuff he claims.
Last night I cleaned out another area and shredded lots of medical things that needed to be shredded. I feel caged in my apartment and the walls are closing in. I want stuff out of my apartment. All these stupid cutesy knickknacks and crap must go. No one ever comes here, except delivery people and maybe two or three other people a year.
My apartment is not a "let's hang out and do something fun" place. I used to feel safe here but I don't anymore. The agitation continues to build and my anger (at what?) is growing. I keep punishing myself, maybe because I can't be the good teacher I used to be. I can't hold a thought like I used to be able to do. I can't generate any more fake happiness until it's time to go to work on Tuesday.
I think Denver Refashionista (a reader and great blogger in her own right) is correct in saying that controlling one's breath can be helpful in trying to stay calm. I will try to focus on the breaths I take and hope that there is some way through this mess. I do not know why it is here now, why this depression is so deep, why it involves such deep anger and self-punishment.
I feel like a freak compared to others. I remember the last two times I clearly felt this dead inside: the first was in 2000 when I was starting a new job after having left my husband, moved, and started divorce proceedings, and the second was in December of 1999 before I left him for good. I moved out and stayed in a hotel for a while without telling other people. When I returned home I was doing so only out of financial necessity. That Christmas I recall seeing my parents shopping at the mall. I looked and felt like this, not knowing what to buy, not caring.
I recall that dead feeling. That heavy load of shame on my shoulders all the time. The desperate need for help but not knowing how to fix things. Those were times with specific plans and an almost guaranteed ticket to the psych ward. That's something I can't have, that chance to be away and try to just focus on me. I have to work and will work and I will pretend that I love it. Then I will come home and continue to find ways to punish myself because I cannot snap out of this depression.
I hope things are much better in your world.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Saturday update: work and health
Work life:
I made it through this three-day work week, after taking two days off, and next week will also be only three days because of Columbus (hero or despised invader?) and a professional development day.
Wait until you hear what our professional day centers around. Wait for it... some crap called GIS which I think refers to Geospatial Information Systems. Or it could be Geographical Information Systems and my MS is just blocking the real definition.
I have to have a partner for the activities during the day. I will get to play with a SMART board, which I don't have in my room. I just this last week had my borrowed TV and VCR hooked up correctly to show videos to my students. I mean actual academic videos and no just crap you throw in when you're too damn bored/crazy/lazy to actually teach.
I also believe we will be outside working on geocaching which sounds like great fun but will it really make me a better teacher? What I really need is time to work in my room uninterrupted by anyone else. I need time to put things in my computer, time to sort out my materials for my upcoming units, time to just sit and think and breathe without a time deadline hanging over my head.
There's something else we're doing that day with technology, and all it sounds great, but a whole day devoted to it? We have one SMART board at my grade level and I've heard from a reliable source (its owner) that it doesn't always work well. Some people have wall-mounted flat screen TVs which look great but actually have a smaller screen so kids need to be right on top of it to see what's going on. Some of the new TVs have already burned up because we purchased them cheaply and that company is no longer in business. Technology in our building for the average teacher, especially in my world of fifth grade, is ridiculously behind the times compared to some other local schools.
Health-wise:
I'm complying and taking my meds, including my new directive to take 2000 IU of vitamin D3 daily and my multi-vitamin with iron. I have a bruise now from my hand IV insertion. I don't cry as much.
My hands, however, have been real problems for me for the last three days. They ache and hurt so by the end of the day that I can't hold my book up to read. I could barely hold a pen during the last half of the day yesterday and write. I had to write some notes home and it was so painful and my handwriting looked like scribbling. I felt awful that I couldn't do such an easy thing.
Food is still a problem. Sometimes I almost eat two meals a day and then I have to purge myself from dinner meal stuff every other evening. It's like I have to punish myself for allowing myself to eat and trying to feel.
I'm angry but don't show it so that's how anger comes out for me, literally. This is my old bad behavior rising to the surface. I'm angry that I still feel so overwhelmed at work even though I'm working harder than ever to get it all under control. I know my observation last week went well although I have not received my invite to go down and discuss it with my boss. I know I am working harder on the paperwork and getting things graded faster. I know I have made a kazillion sets of copies for the weeks and reading selections ahead. We've started preparing for the state test in Social Studies that is coming up in mid-November.
It all seems like we're on track but the special education teacher and I am amazed at the sheer lack of effort by many students. We keep track of names on giant chart paper along with missing work. It is usually filled with at least 7 names for each assignment. That is mind-boggling for me. I have 18 math students in the lower group with two assistants and 21 students in my other regular class sessions.
How is that so many people just don't do homework? I try to call home and most of the numbers don't work. I send home notes and they don't always come back. I stayed after school twice this week to force people to catch up on work and I only worked three days. I stayed on a Friday and I never stay after on Fridays. I still do not go to lunch and sometimes I don't even eat lunch because I am working and then we have an occasional meeting.
I'm tired but having trouble falling asleep most nights. I'm forcing myself to take my evening meds earlier and hoping that will be the trick in getting me to sleep. Here I am on a Saturday morning awake at 5:30 for no reason and I am tired.
My mind still gets muddled at work. Names and words and papers and answers get all mixed up. I try to cover myself but children are fabulous at pointing out every wrong thing I do, no matter how many wrong things they do.
My typing on here is atrocious. I sometimes miss words altogether, I spell things wrong and I have always been a super speller, and I type the beginning of one word and end it with the letters of the second word and I type the second word and finish it with the letters of the first word. Almost every other word I type now is wrong in one way or another until I go back and fix it.
Is at all better? Yes, slightly.
There are many times when I am home and I think about the whole Heath Ledger thing. Did he really overdose on purpose or did he just mix things and accidentally kill himself while trying to feel better?
I'm not saying I am going to do that. That is not my plan. I can understand completely how a person could be in such a place that they mix and match meds trying to feel better. I try to act like I am better but I still didn't answer the phone last night when my best friend from Maine called. I prefer not to talk to anyone because then you have to pretend.
It is easier now to pretend that all is wonderful in my work world, thanks to the med increases. I know I have to keep working now, no matter what. Maybe in the future I can afford a leave but I can't afford one now. Maybe Tysabri will work in the next few months. Maybe I will get that miracle I'm hoping for in my life.
All I know is that my hands are tired and I am tired so I need to end this. I know there are so many people out there much worse off than I am. I try to remind myself of this so I will buck up and stop b!tching. When that happens, you all will be among the first to know!
I made it through this three-day work week, after taking two days off, and next week will also be only three days because of Columbus (hero or despised invader?) and a professional development day.
Wait until you hear what our professional day centers around. Wait for it... some crap called GIS which I think refers to Geospatial Information Systems. Or it could be Geographical Information Systems and my MS is just blocking the real definition.
I have to have a partner for the activities during the day. I will get to play with a SMART board, which I don't have in my room. I just this last week had my borrowed TV and VCR hooked up correctly to show videos to my students. I mean actual academic videos and no just crap you throw in when you're too damn bored/crazy/lazy to actually teach.
I also believe we will be outside working on geocaching which sounds like great fun but will it really make me a better teacher? What I really need is time to work in my room uninterrupted by anyone else. I need time to put things in my computer, time to sort out my materials for my upcoming units, time to just sit and think and breathe without a time deadline hanging over my head.
There's something else we're doing that day with technology, and all it sounds great, but a whole day devoted to it? We have one SMART board at my grade level and I've heard from a reliable source (its owner) that it doesn't always work well. Some people have wall-mounted flat screen TVs which look great but actually have a smaller screen so kids need to be right on top of it to see what's going on. Some of the new TVs have already burned up because we purchased them cheaply and that company is no longer in business. Technology in our building for the average teacher, especially in my world of fifth grade, is ridiculously behind the times compared to some other local schools.
Health-wise:
I'm complying and taking my meds, including my new directive to take 2000 IU of vitamin D3 daily and my multi-vitamin with iron. I have a bruise now from my hand IV insertion. I don't cry as much.
My hands, however, have been real problems for me for the last three days. They ache and hurt so by the end of the day that I can't hold my book up to read. I could barely hold a pen during the last half of the day yesterday and write. I had to write some notes home and it was so painful and my handwriting looked like scribbling. I felt awful that I couldn't do such an easy thing.
Food is still a problem. Sometimes I almost eat two meals a day and then I have to purge myself from dinner meal stuff every other evening. It's like I have to punish myself for allowing myself to eat and trying to feel.
I'm angry but don't show it so that's how anger comes out for me, literally. This is my old bad behavior rising to the surface. I'm angry that I still feel so overwhelmed at work even though I'm working harder than ever to get it all under control. I know my observation last week went well although I have not received my invite to go down and discuss it with my boss. I know I am working harder on the paperwork and getting things graded faster. I know I have made a kazillion sets of copies for the weeks and reading selections ahead. We've started preparing for the state test in Social Studies that is coming up in mid-November.
It all seems like we're on track but the special education teacher and I am amazed at the sheer lack of effort by many students. We keep track of names on giant chart paper along with missing work. It is usually filled with at least 7 names for each assignment. That is mind-boggling for me. I have 18 math students in the lower group with two assistants and 21 students in my other regular class sessions.
How is that so many people just don't do homework? I try to call home and most of the numbers don't work. I send home notes and they don't always come back. I stayed after school twice this week to force people to catch up on work and I only worked three days. I stayed on a Friday and I never stay after on Fridays. I still do not go to lunch and sometimes I don't even eat lunch because I am working and then we have an occasional meeting.
I'm tired but having trouble falling asleep most nights. I'm forcing myself to take my evening meds earlier and hoping that will be the trick in getting me to sleep. Here I am on a Saturday morning awake at 5:30 for no reason and I am tired.
My mind still gets muddled at work. Names and words and papers and answers get all mixed up. I try to cover myself but children are fabulous at pointing out every wrong thing I do, no matter how many wrong things they do.
My typing on here is atrocious. I sometimes miss words altogether, I spell things wrong and I have always been a super speller, and I type the beginning of one word and end it with the letters of the second word and I type the second word and finish it with the letters of the first word. Almost every other word I type now is wrong in one way or another until I go back and fix it.
Is at all better? Yes, slightly.
There are many times when I am home and I think about the whole Heath Ledger thing. Did he really overdose on purpose or did he just mix things and accidentally kill himself while trying to feel better?
I'm not saying I am going to do that. That is not my plan. I can understand completely how a person could be in such a place that they mix and match meds trying to feel better. I try to act like I am better but I still didn't answer the phone last night when my best friend from Maine called. I prefer not to talk to anyone because then you have to pretend.
It is easier now to pretend that all is wonderful in my work world, thanks to the med increases. I know I have to keep working now, no matter what. Maybe in the future I can afford a leave but I can't afford one now. Maybe Tysabri will work in the next few months. Maybe I will get that miracle I'm hoping for in my life.
All I know is that my hands are tired and I am tired so I need to end this. I know there are so many people out there much worse off than I am. I try to remind myself of this so I will buck up and stop b!tching. When that happens, you all will be among the first to know!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Happy belated and infusion paradise
Jiminey Crickets! As I was driving home from work this morning I realized that it is now the month of October (doh!). I also realized that I had not wished one of my oldest friends, er perhaps I should say one of the friends that I have had the longest, a happy birthday a few days ago. So here it is BJM, a belated birthday wish from your loser friend who was too busy wallowing in her own misery to think about someone else.
I took today off as I was dizzy this morning and tired out after Tysabri day. Plus, I was panicking last night and cried again about work, after not crying for a few days. I know I "look" okay to everyone else but inside I feel like it's a freeway backed up in California at rush hour. My thoughts are sometimes racing each other for an open spot and other times they're non-existent.
The Tysabri thing was a breeze. The worst part was waiting an hour for the doctor himself to come in and introduce himself before the infusion started. The place I go to is a palace. It's an infusion paradise. It has a chandelier in the waiting room. It is decorated as if it's a new showcase home that someone is trying to entice you to buy. There is wainscoting for crying out loud.
You get infused in your own little private suite. They have these funky chairs that are better than recliners but hard to climb in when you're five feet tall and about the same width. The doctor himself got me in the hand on the first stick. I could watch my own TV and or bring a DVD to watch if I so desired. They have remotes and the sound comes out by the back of your chair near your ears.
They have a coffee "bar" with coffee (duh), hot chocolate, and juice. I think there were some cookies or crackers there too. Nice big bathrooms if you must drag your IV pole with you and relieve yourself before the infusion is over.
Two nurses' stations to take care of what I think are about 16 suites. Lots of nurses always walking around with their timers checking on people. I was in suite number 7. Must be my lucky day, huh?
There is a real drape type thing to close off your suite for the most part. You get a pillow and a blanket, if you want one. You have a call button just like if you were in the hospital. People are constantly monitoring everyone in there.
The infusions are not only for Tysabri. A teenager was there for some blood/iron transfusion. The guy next to me was getting his IV Solumedrol and unfortunately having all sorts of problems while that was happening. The nurses never acted like he was an imposition. There were children there and older people there hooked up to IVs. The nurses called the doctor over from the other side of his building whenever he was needed and he came.
The building itself is both a pediatric place and an infusion place. The infusion doctor is a pediatric oncologist, I think, by training. He built this palace to make it nicer for both children and anyone who needs any type of infusion. The offices are even done up the way the rest of the place is. It's amazing; I cannot say this enough. This is way better than having it done improperly by my previous neuro in his office while not following the TOUCH protocol.
Infusion doctor/semi-god is telling me that his current patients are seeing a change somewhere between the 2nd to the 4th infusion. He infused Tysabri before it was taken off the market and strongly believes in it, based on his patients' anecdotal experiences. He has asked me to take 2000 IU of D3 daily. He also wants me on a multivitamin with iron. He's a believer in that sort of stuff. He recommends the vitamin D to anyone in this area (the Northeast US).
So today I am dizzy and tired and still depressed. That last part is great for my eating, or rather lack of eating. Cheesecake and Pringles are still here. Yesterday I had 2 small slices of pizza and a half cup of cereal with milk and some water. I also ate a few almonds while infusing.
I'm still having some trouble falling asleep at night. I attribute this to the depression. I prefer to be alone but I am lonely. I still feel like I am in the pit of despair and I don't know how I can fix it to make everyone happier. I feel like each day is another day I move farther away from the human race. I only feel safe in my apartment. Going out into humanity is frightening. Everyone expects things that I just can't give now. The increase in meds have made life easier chemically but the panic and depression are still there like bubbling magma waiting to shoot out the volcano.
Now I am going to rest because I need to do so. I hope your day is going well wherever this finds you. And, of course, to my friend BJM I am so sorry I am such a dolt. I don't even have a card yet. I feel really bad about all of this.
I took today off as I was dizzy this morning and tired out after Tysabri day. Plus, I was panicking last night and cried again about work, after not crying for a few days. I know I "look" okay to everyone else but inside I feel like it's a freeway backed up in California at rush hour. My thoughts are sometimes racing each other for an open spot and other times they're non-existent.
The Tysabri thing was a breeze. The worst part was waiting an hour for the doctor himself to come in and introduce himself before the infusion started. The place I go to is a palace. It's an infusion paradise. It has a chandelier in the waiting room. It is decorated as if it's a new showcase home that someone is trying to entice you to buy. There is wainscoting for crying out loud.
You get infused in your own little private suite. They have these funky chairs that are better than recliners but hard to climb in when you're five feet tall and about the same width. The doctor himself got me in the hand on the first stick. I could watch my own TV and or bring a DVD to watch if I so desired. They have remotes and the sound comes out by the back of your chair near your ears.
They have a coffee "bar" with coffee (duh), hot chocolate, and juice. I think there were some cookies or crackers there too. Nice big bathrooms if you must drag your IV pole with you and relieve yourself before the infusion is over.
Two nurses' stations to take care of what I think are about 16 suites. Lots of nurses always walking around with their timers checking on people. I was in suite number 7. Must be my lucky day, huh?
There is a real drape type thing to close off your suite for the most part. You get a pillow and a blanket, if you want one. You have a call button just like if you were in the hospital. People are constantly monitoring everyone in there.
The infusions are not only for Tysabri. A teenager was there for some blood/iron transfusion. The guy next to me was getting his IV Solumedrol and unfortunately having all sorts of problems while that was happening. The nurses never acted like he was an imposition. There were children there and older people there hooked up to IVs. The nurses called the doctor over from the other side of his building whenever he was needed and he came.
The building itself is both a pediatric place and an infusion place. The infusion doctor is a pediatric oncologist, I think, by training. He built this palace to make it nicer for both children and anyone who needs any type of infusion. The offices are even done up the way the rest of the place is. It's amazing; I cannot say this enough. This is way better than having it done improperly by my previous neuro in his office while not following the TOUCH protocol.
Infusion doctor/semi-god is telling me that his current patients are seeing a change somewhere between the 2nd to the 4th infusion. He infused Tysabri before it was taken off the market and strongly believes in it, based on his patients' anecdotal experiences. He has asked me to take 2000 IU of D3 daily. He also wants me on a multivitamin with iron. He's a believer in that sort of stuff. He recommends the vitamin D to anyone in this area (the Northeast US).
So today I am dizzy and tired and still depressed. That last part is great for my eating, or rather lack of eating. Cheesecake and Pringles are still here. Yesterday I had 2 small slices of pizza and a half cup of cereal with milk and some water. I also ate a few almonds while infusing.
I'm still having some trouble falling asleep at night. I attribute this to the depression. I prefer to be alone but I am lonely. I still feel like I am in the pit of despair and I don't know how I can fix it to make everyone happier. I feel like each day is another day I move farther away from the human race. I only feel safe in my apartment. Going out into humanity is frightening. Everyone expects things that I just can't give now. The increase in meds have made life easier chemically but the panic and depression are still there like bubbling magma waiting to shoot out the volcano.
Now I am going to rest because I need to do so. I hope your day is going well wherever this finds you. And, of course, to my friend BJM I am so sorry I am such a dolt. I don't even have a card yet. I feel really bad about all of this.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Why couldn't I sleep?
I have always been a great napper. I could pretty much take a nap within an hour of waking up because my fatigue is so pervasive. If napping was an Olympic event, I could definitely represent for the US and maybe even medal! Last night, however, I didn't sleep well.
I guess it must be the Tysabri infusion doing it to me.
I've had IV Solumedrol and I know how to hook up an IV with meds and flush the lines. Heck, I have worked teaching and hooked up to an IV pole, dragging it around the room. As a complete aside, not all IV poles are created equal. If you get a "bad" one you know it. The last one I had kept twirling itself around, maniacally ramming me in my sandaled feet. Ouch.
I've taken Copaxone for almost the first two years of my diagnosis which meant daily shots. My first shot was on Christmas Eve, alone in my apartment, but I just wanted to get it started. Then I later took Rebif for my thrice-weekly torture pricks that make you feel like dried dung in an African desert.
But this one measly infusion kept me awake until almost midnight and then it had the gall to keep me tossing and turning when I finally could get to sleep.
I feel as if there is so much riding on this one medication. Will it make me better? Will it slow down my multiple sclerosis? Will I have an allergic reaction to it? What will I feel like later on? What will I feel like today while I'm there and then after when I come home?
Oh my good golly, too much for me to be thinking about here. It's one medication but I am hoping for a miracle. Is it too much to ask for my life back?
Can I follow through on tasks that I started? Can I deal with the heat of late spring and summer like a normal person instead of having to hide inside like a vampire, minus the cool cape and the blood-drinking thing? Will I be able to walk a reasonable distance, say from my room to the teachers' room, without limping and spasming like a cowboy who has been riding his horse for far too long ? Can I think clearly again? Will I stop living in this pit of depression where everything in life overwhelms me?
Look at me asking for all of these things to make my life better. How selfish can one person be while enjoying the slow spin on this third rock from the sun? As selfish as she wants to be, I reckon.
If you happen to be reading this and you're of the prayerful sort, I wouldn't mind someone throwing up some positive vibes for me around 1:30 this afternoon. Maybe I'll sleep better tonight.
I guess it must be the Tysabri infusion doing it to me.
I've had IV Solumedrol and I know how to hook up an IV with meds and flush the lines. Heck, I have worked teaching and hooked up to an IV pole, dragging it around the room. As a complete aside, not all IV poles are created equal. If you get a "bad" one you know it. The last one I had kept twirling itself around, maniacally ramming me in my sandaled feet. Ouch.
I've taken Copaxone for almost the first two years of my diagnosis which meant daily shots. My first shot was on Christmas Eve, alone in my apartment, but I just wanted to get it started. Then I later took Rebif for my thrice-weekly torture pricks that make you feel like dried dung in an African desert.
But this one measly infusion kept me awake until almost midnight and then it had the gall to keep me tossing and turning when I finally could get to sleep.
I feel as if there is so much riding on this one medication. Will it make me better? Will it slow down my multiple sclerosis? Will I have an allergic reaction to it? What will I feel like later on? What will I feel like today while I'm there and then after when I come home?
Oh my good golly, too much for me to be thinking about here. It's one medication but I am hoping for a miracle. Is it too much to ask for my life back?
Can I follow through on tasks that I started? Can I deal with the heat of late spring and summer like a normal person instead of having to hide inside like a vampire, minus the cool cape and the blood-drinking thing? Will I be able to walk a reasonable distance, say from my room to the teachers' room, without limping and spasming like a cowboy who has been riding his horse for far too long ? Can I think clearly again? Will I stop living in this pit of depression where everything in life overwhelms me?
Look at me asking for all of these things to make my life better. How selfish can one person be while enjoying the slow spin on this third rock from the sun? As selfish as she wants to be, I reckon.
If you happen to be reading this and you're of the prayerful sort, I wouldn't mind someone throwing up some positive vibes for me around 1:30 this afternoon. Maybe I'll sleep better tonight.
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