Dead week is, for reasons that remain unclear to me, the week before finals. They call it dead week because it's *supposed* to be the week where the campus remains free of most students who normally attend classes. That's NOT how it works here at CPSLO. In fact, the computer lab is packed with students. I can only imagine that their instructors did the same as mine and assigned papers and such to be due the week before finals.
I myself have not one, but TWO 12-page-or-so-give-or-take-5000-pages papers due this week; one is due on Thursday and the other is due on Friday... speaking of that, a computer just opened up in the lab. Gotta go!
Monday, November 29, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Empathy means everything...
Click on the blog title and you'll see what I mean. The mayo clinic actually has a doctor who's "seen the light" as a result of writing his blog--apparently, all the comments from people who suffer from depression got through to him when he opened himself up to them. I say this because after nearly 10 years of being in the mental health treatment system, I just recently encountered my first doctor who took the time to say "This must be really hard for you."
Don't get me wrong -- being bipolar, recovering from addiction, and having been a victim of both childhood abuse and domestic violence has made me very grateful that I'm even able to get out of bed, much less be a candidate for graduate school. I'm aware that I'm not the only one who's gone through these things either. Also, I've had medical professionals involved in my treatment in the past who have taken the time to congratulate me on my "high functioning" (another term for fighting like hell every day). But I can't even put into words the meaning of having one medical professional, just ONE, getting down to my very human level to let me know that he knows it's difficult to go through what I go through every day just to get out of bed.
Unfortunately, I'm one of the people for whom medication has cut the edge, but not removed the symptoms. I still deal with anxiety, especially social anxiety. I also have difficulty concentrating (on a major level...what was I talking about? just kidding). I see my world in shades of gray rather than color -- if you're clinically depressed, then you'll know what I mean. I'm irritable to a fault. Thank goodness for understanding family and friends!
I also do not expect medication to be my "cure all." I get out in the world and interact with others, even when my paranoia's screaming that they're out to get me. I chat up the clerk at the store in order to get practice conversing with others on days when I've holed up in my home. I call people when I don't want to (that's a big one for recovering addicts, according to my field research).
And I keep trying. I talk to my doctors and I'm open to medication changes even when I'm convinced this "new one" can't possibly make more of a difference than the 27 (yes, really) medications I've already tried. I have side effects that are all but expected at this point. I'm sensitive to medication and stress. But I keep trying. And that's the point.
Read the article attached to the blog title. Maybe you'll get inspired. Then, start talking about it. There's no point to suffering in pain. My heart goes out to all those who suffer with depression and other disorders.
Don't get me wrong -- being bipolar, recovering from addiction, and having been a victim of both childhood abuse and domestic violence has made me very grateful that I'm even able to get out of bed, much less be a candidate for graduate school. I'm aware that I'm not the only one who's gone through these things either. Also, I've had medical professionals involved in my treatment in the past who have taken the time to congratulate me on my "high functioning" (another term for fighting like hell every day). But I can't even put into words the meaning of having one medical professional, just ONE, getting down to my very human level to let me know that he knows it's difficult to go through what I go through every day just to get out of bed.
Unfortunately, I'm one of the people for whom medication has cut the edge, but not removed the symptoms. I still deal with anxiety, especially social anxiety. I also have difficulty concentrating (on a major level...what was I talking about? just kidding). I see my world in shades of gray rather than color -- if you're clinically depressed, then you'll know what I mean. I'm irritable to a fault. Thank goodness for understanding family and friends!
I also do not expect medication to be my "cure all." I get out in the world and interact with others, even when my paranoia's screaming that they're out to get me. I chat up the clerk at the store in order to get practice conversing with others on days when I've holed up in my home. I call people when I don't want to (that's a big one for recovering addicts, according to my field research).
And I keep trying. I talk to my doctors and I'm open to medication changes even when I'm convinced this "new one" can't possibly make more of a difference than the 27 (yes, really) medications I've already tried. I have side effects that are all but expected at this point. I'm sensitive to medication and stress. But I keep trying. And that's the point.
Read the article attached to the blog title. Maybe you'll get inspired. Then, start talking about it. There's no point to suffering in pain. My heart goes out to all those who suffer with depression and other disorders.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Hmmm...I guess if I want to have a blog, I have to be human, too...
So, I've been thinking for some time now (okay, years) that I should perhaps let the general public into my inner world -- meaning, that I should start writing off-the-cuff. After all, I'm trying to get across to you all that this is a real human being typing this stuff. I figure, for my writing to be applicable to anyone who's trying to go to school and raise kids both, and for it to be inspiring enough for the disabled, I should perhaps get into more of my struggles than my seemingly "normal" peers have going on in their lives. This is real life here, folks.
Getting out of bed in the morning, for me, is hard -- and I mean, EVERY DAY. I wake up and I'm exhausted and this is a regular occurrence. It occurred to me today, however, after reading an exceptionally forward status update (on FB, you guessed? 2 points! You're right!) that my exhaustion is not me being abnormal. I'm sure it's a remnant of the depression whose butt wasn't proverbially kicked by medication. Unfortunately, in my quest to fine tune this medication thing, I ran across Abilify.
Diagnosis? Bipolar Disorder, NOS. I also have Chronic Depression, Generalized Anxiety, and PTSD along with Bulimia in partial remission, but the main focus of my medication-go-round is my Bipolar Disorder. I present with anxiety and irritability in place of mania -- and whoa, Nelly, you better watch out for that irritability on some days because I even irritate myself. But Abilify and me aren't such great friends after all. In fact, this Abilify thing is driving me nuts. To be more specific:
I started on 2mg and almost immediately noticed a weight difference. I actually thought I was pregnant at one point. I went off of it for 2 weeks to see if the weight gain would reverse itself and *thought* I lost weight (but according to Dr. office scale, it was sadly not the case) -- I went back on the Abilify at the1mg level for 2 weeks, then just upped the dose to 2mg again last Friday. I can't hardly fit into my formerly loose pants (formerly, meaning a month and a half ago). I'm going crazy over this. I'm thinking about going off of it again. So, I start posting things like "Medication with weight-gain-side-effects should be made illegal" and "Drug companies should foot the bill, at the very least, for new clothes" but aside from the tongue-in-cheek humor, I'm really getting anxious and depressed over the weight gain, and quite perturbed as well! Since these are the symptoms that the medication I'm on is supposed to address, I call it a push. What do you think?
Getting out of bed in the morning, for me, is hard -- and I mean, EVERY DAY. I wake up and I'm exhausted and this is a regular occurrence. It occurred to me today, however, after reading an exceptionally forward status update (on FB, you guessed? 2 points! You're right!) that my exhaustion is not me being abnormal. I'm sure it's a remnant of the depression whose butt wasn't proverbially kicked by medication. Unfortunately, in my quest to fine tune this medication thing, I ran across Abilify.
Diagnosis? Bipolar Disorder, NOS. I also have Chronic Depression, Generalized Anxiety, and PTSD along with Bulimia in partial remission, but the main focus of my medication-go-round is my Bipolar Disorder. I present with anxiety and irritability in place of mania -- and whoa, Nelly, you better watch out for that irritability on some days because I even irritate myself. But Abilify and me aren't such great friends after all. In fact, this Abilify thing is driving me nuts. To be more specific:
I started on 2mg and almost immediately noticed a weight difference. I actually thought I was pregnant at one point. I went off of it for 2 weeks to see if the weight gain would reverse itself and *thought* I lost weight (but according to Dr. office scale, it was sadly not the case) -- I went back on the Abilify at the1mg level for 2 weeks, then just upped the dose to 2mg again last Friday. I can't hardly fit into my formerly loose pants (formerly, meaning a month and a half ago). I'm going crazy over this. I'm thinking about going off of it again. So, I start posting things like "Medication with weight-gain-side-effects should be made illegal" and "Drug companies should foot the bill, at the very least, for new clothes" but aside from the tongue-in-cheek humor, I'm really getting anxious and depressed over the weight gain, and quite perturbed as well! Since these are the symptoms that the medication I'm on is supposed to address, I call it a push. What do you think?
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