So, I have dusted off the old blog. Revamped it. How do you like my layout? I find it to be quite fitting to the new tone of the blog. I think it will stay a while.
I've had a very quiet, long weekend. I was struggling on Thursday. Got to work in the morning, completely overwhelmed. Sat in the change room with the lights off and listen to Taylor Swift's 'White Horse' and cried a little.
Was very lethargic all day. We had a full building afternoon tea, and I elected not to go. I wanted to sit and watch the mice play instead. I had just changed a small room, and was watching the mums settle down with their babies again. They have quite big litters you know. And the mums were spread out over their pups, like a big blanket of food. The pups were having a drink, nudging and pushing the mum, and she's just asleep through it all. One pup came up to its mum, and started sucking on her face. Sooo cute. It startled mum awake, and she washed the pup a bit, and went back to sleep. The pup curled into mum, and nibbled on her chin instead. Muchly cute. I'm glad I went in on Thursday, just for that moment.
Friday was a different story. My alarm went off. I snoozed it. Again. And again. And again. Finally I rang in sick. I couldn't be bothered getting out of bed. I slept through til 2pm. Best thing ever. I felt so much better. Then I headed out to get a doc's certificate. Easiest thing ever. All I have to do is tell them that I have depression, my medication is being adjusted, and I'm not doing well. No questions asked. Well, one question. 'How long do you want?'
I did a bit of cooking too. Mum likes it when I do that. 'Forward planning' she calls it. Made several batches of low carb lasagne, and froze some meatballs. I like to have heat and eat in the freezer, for when cooking is too much, or for when I don't have time to cook. They come in handy after training too. I can chuck something in the oven, go have a shower, and when I'm clean, dinner's ready.
Saturday was chilling at home. Washed my sheets and remade my bed. I fucking love my bed right now, but it deserves a post all of its own. And sent dirty texts to my booty call.
Today I cooked as well. I made cookies. Chocolate cookies with honeycomb chunks, and chocolate with trail mix. And florentines. My trainer 'disliked' that on facebook. I'm quite happy to say that I made ricotta balls first, which I ate, and then the cookies had no appeal. Yay me!
I am wearing sweat pants at the moment. Most of my jeans do not fit, and the ones that do are on the line. I hate that. But, being realistic, I cannot focus on my weight right now. I need to work on my depression. The good news is, I go through massive stages of not eating, so I guess that makes up for the crap that I consume. Right?
Oh, and I've started knitting to. Something to keep my hands busy. Plus, the cats enjoy it.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Back Again?
Dear Readers.
I am very, very sorry about my recent blogging performance. I stopped this blog to do a weight loss blog, lost a heap of weight, put even more back on, then stopped that one too.
I have been very sick lately. After the breakdown that I had in January, I am now under psychiatric care. I am medicated. I am having another breakdown. Last week I rang my psych, and had an impromptu visit. He doubled my meds. I did not get out of bed until 2pm today. From now on, this will be new type of blog. It will be about weight loss, and depression. It will be more serious, but it will also have those moments of light hearted insanity that you are all used to.
So stick around, over the next few days I aim to dust off this old blog, revamp it, and start posting again.
Kind Regards
Phish
I am very, very sorry about my recent blogging performance. I stopped this blog to do a weight loss blog, lost a heap of weight, put even more back on, then stopped that one too.
I have been very sick lately. After the breakdown that I had in January, I am now under psychiatric care. I am medicated. I am having another breakdown. Last week I rang my psych, and had an impromptu visit. He doubled my meds. I did not get out of bed until 2pm today. From now on, this will be new type of blog. It will be about weight loss, and depression. It will be more serious, but it will also have those moments of light hearted insanity that you are all used to.
So stick around, over the next few days I aim to dust off this old blog, revamp it, and start posting again.
Kind Regards
Phish
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Optional?
So. This blog is named Sanity Optional. It has been so since its conception on 23rd May, 2005. But right now, sanity is most definitely not optional.
As most regular readers are well aware, I have Bipolar. Well, I think I do. I've never been diagnosed. I have my ups and downs, my ins and outs.I've always managed to ride out the bad periods, and control it (to some extent) with diet, exercise, limted alcohol intake and a good routine. I try to get plenty of sleep, but thats a bit hard. Ever since I as 16 I've woken up at 3.30 am. I'm not sure why. And over the years its been added to by a 1am and a 5am wake up. Its so consistent I could literally set my clock by it.
Anyway. For the past few weeks I've been doing the up-down, round and round thing. Its sucked. to put it minorly. But it all came to a head about a week ago.
For the uninitiated, I work with animals. Its a great job, but it can be quite emotionally challenging at times too. I had a group of animals that were destined to die, and we needed some blood from them. The easiest way to take the quantity of blood we needed, is to anaesthetise the animal, take the blood from the heart, and kill it immediately. No muss, no fuss. And its something I've done lots of times before. Well, this time it failed. For some reason, they would not take to the anaesthetic. Every time I got the needle in, they'd move, or kick, or wriggle. I hated it. No matter what angle I tried, no matter how I held the needle, how I supported the head (so the gas was unobstructed), they moved. I tried aspect in every combination. Still, they moved. This went on for 3 hours. I was a mess by the end of it.
I chucked the worlds biggest tanty. I was screaming and swearing and crying. I ended up yelling at my coworkers to finish the job, and literally running out of the facility. I sat in the change rooms, door shut, lights off, in the corner. I cried, for I don't know how long. Not little weepy bits, but gut wrenching, wracking sobs. I ended up making myself feel sick, so I tried to vomit for about 10 minutes more. To no avail. All I could do was spit up something that tasted like vinegar.
Eventually I got changed into a fresh uniform. I was so wrecked I could no longer bear to wear the other one, even though there was nothing really wrong with it. I slunk back into the facility and apologised to some people that I'd yelled at, and went and hid somewhere quiet, isolated and dark.
Later that day, my boss came to see me, and asked me up to HR. I nearly shat myself, but I did end up crying again. Before I'd even gone anywhere. I headed up and had the talk. You can tell how it would have gone. Basically they asked me how I thought they would be feeling about what happened. I replied (very honestly) that, if it was anything like how I felt, they'd be acutely embarrassed.
*Insert more tears here*
So the next question went along the lines of 'is there something going on?' To which I started with the gut wrenching cries again. If I had've kept breathing, I would have been absolutely hysterical. As it was, we were in an office in the middle of admin and, despite my earlier outburst, I still didn't want everybody knowing I was sick.
I told my boss I had bipolar and it hasn't been playing nice. Both her and the HR lady were great about it. Very supportive. They told me to go home immediately after the interview, and take the next day off if I wanted to.
I ended up going straight to Gloria jeans for a gigantic muffin and a coffee. I dithered about a little, before swinging past the doctors to ask about their mental health care. Its bulk billed (meaning I don't have to pay any of it), but I'd have to get a referral first, and it would be a half hour wait to see a doctor. I declined.
Mum rang me that night. Since she works in the mental health field, she knew what was going on. She was asking me questions about my sleep habits, spending, eating, exercise, routine and thoughts. She ended up deciding that I wasn't a danger to myself, but she's still worried, and has been calling pretty much every night to see how I am.
I did go back to see the doctor on Friday though. Went up to the counter and asked if there was a doctor who would be best to talk to about mental health problems. Tweedle dum and Tweedle dummer just suggested I wait for the next doctor. I wasn't too keen on that idea, since it was a bulk billing medical centre and about half of my experiences with doctors are to get me in, sign the sheet (so they can get paid) and get me out.
I lucked out though. I got a great lady doctor, and told her about what had happened. She asked the same questions that Mum did. We talked about keeping to a routine, eating right, sleeping better etc. She told me to really limit my spending. Apparently thats a big problem with bipolar peeps. And she gave me a mental health crisis line that I can call any time I need to. We discussed the panic attacks I'd been having. And we discussed my sleep patterns too. I asked if she could give me anything to help me sleep, and she said no. She didn't want to prescribe me with anything because she didn't want to be messing with drugs and such, when I was likely to end up on something. She did give me a natural remedy that I could try.
Out to the pharmacy, I asked about that particular remedy. The pharmacist recommended something else, but they didn't have it in stock. I went to another place. That pharmacist (c*nt) said herbal remedies were all a bunch of bollocks, and without treating the underlying problem, nothing would work. Another place, another pharmacist, recommended the same as the first. By this stage I'd spent about an hour just looking at sleep aids, so I had an idea of what to look for, and had already come to that conclusion. I managed to price shop around, and found it for $10 less than most other places.
I have made an appointment with the psychiatrist for the end of March. It is quite a while away, but I should be ok. I have boot camp going on at the moment, and I'm muchly excited about it. Training with the best trainers I know, and some fantastic people. Its outdoors, and something different each night. So it will keep me quite happy and interested for a bit. The sleep tablets are starting to work. On the first night I skipped the 1am wake up. And just two nights ago, I slept straight through til 5.30. Its not much, but its something. I know I'm likely to be on these for quite a while. I have 10 years of fucked up sleep to retrain my brain from.
As most regular readers are well aware, I have Bipolar. Well, I think I do. I've never been diagnosed. I have my ups and downs, my ins and outs.I've always managed to ride out the bad periods, and control it (to some extent) with diet, exercise, limted alcohol intake and a good routine. I try to get plenty of sleep, but thats a bit hard. Ever since I as 16 I've woken up at 3.30 am. I'm not sure why. And over the years its been added to by a 1am and a 5am wake up. Its so consistent I could literally set my clock by it.
Anyway. For the past few weeks I've been doing the up-down, round and round thing. Its sucked. to put it minorly. But it all came to a head about a week ago.
For the uninitiated, I work with animals. Its a great job, but it can be quite emotionally challenging at times too. I had a group of animals that were destined to die, and we needed some blood from them. The easiest way to take the quantity of blood we needed, is to anaesthetise the animal, take the blood from the heart, and kill it immediately. No muss, no fuss. And its something I've done lots of times before. Well, this time it failed. For some reason, they would not take to the anaesthetic. Every time I got the needle in, they'd move, or kick, or wriggle. I hated it. No matter what angle I tried, no matter how I held the needle, how I supported the head (so the gas was unobstructed), they moved. I tried aspect in every combination. Still, they moved. This went on for 3 hours. I was a mess by the end of it.
I chucked the worlds biggest tanty. I was screaming and swearing and crying. I ended up yelling at my coworkers to finish the job, and literally running out of the facility. I sat in the change rooms, door shut, lights off, in the corner. I cried, for I don't know how long. Not little weepy bits, but gut wrenching, wracking sobs. I ended up making myself feel sick, so I tried to vomit for about 10 minutes more. To no avail. All I could do was spit up something that tasted like vinegar.
Eventually I got changed into a fresh uniform. I was so wrecked I could no longer bear to wear the other one, even though there was nothing really wrong with it. I slunk back into the facility and apologised to some people that I'd yelled at, and went and hid somewhere quiet, isolated and dark.
Later that day, my boss came to see me, and asked me up to HR. I nearly shat myself, but I did end up crying again. Before I'd even gone anywhere. I headed up and had the talk. You can tell how it would have gone. Basically they asked me how I thought they would be feeling about what happened. I replied (very honestly) that, if it was anything like how I felt, they'd be acutely embarrassed.
*Insert more tears here*
So the next question went along the lines of 'is there something going on?' To which I started with the gut wrenching cries again. If I had've kept breathing, I would have been absolutely hysterical. As it was, we were in an office in the middle of admin and, despite my earlier outburst, I still didn't want everybody knowing I was sick.
I told my boss I had bipolar and it hasn't been playing nice. Both her and the HR lady were great about it. Very supportive. They told me to go home immediately after the interview, and take the next day off if I wanted to.
I ended up going straight to Gloria jeans for a gigantic muffin and a coffee. I dithered about a little, before swinging past the doctors to ask about their mental health care. Its bulk billed (meaning I don't have to pay any of it), but I'd have to get a referral first, and it would be a half hour wait to see a doctor. I declined.
Mum rang me that night. Since she works in the mental health field, she knew what was going on. She was asking me questions about my sleep habits, spending, eating, exercise, routine and thoughts. She ended up deciding that I wasn't a danger to myself, but she's still worried, and has been calling pretty much every night to see how I am.
I did go back to see the doctor on Friday though. Went up to the counter and asked if there was a doctor who would be best to talk to about mental health problems. Tweedle dum and Tweedle dummer just suggested I wait for the next doctor. I wasn't too keen on that idea, since it was a bulk billing medical centre and about half of my experiences with doctors are to get me in, sign the sheet (so they can get paid) and get me out.
I lucked out though. I got a great lady doctor, and told her about what had happened. She asked the same questions that Mum did. We talked about keeping to a routine, eating right, sleeping better etc. She told me to really limit my spending. Apparently thats a big problem with bipolar peeps. And she gave me a mental health crisis line that I can call any time I need to. We discussed the panic attacks I'd been having. And we discussed my sleep patterns too. I asked if she could give me anything to help me sleep, and she said no. She didn't want to prescribe me with anything because she didn't want to be messing with drugs and such, when I was likely to end up on something. She did give me a natural remedy that I could try.
Out to the pharmacy, I asked about that particular remedy. The pharmacist recommended something else, but they didn't have it in stock. I went to another place. That pharmacist (c*nt) said herbal remedies were all a bunch of bollocks, and without treating the underlying problem, nothing would work. Another place, another pharmacist, recommended the same as the first. By this stage I'd spent about an hour just looking at sleep aids, so I had an idea of what to look for, and had already come to that conclusion. I managed to price shop around, and found it for $10 less than most other places.
I have made an appointment with the psychiatrist for the end of March. It is quite a while away, but I should be ok. I have boot camp going on at the moment, and I'm muchly excited about it. Training with the best trainers I know, and some fantastic people. Its outdoors, and something different each night. So it will keep me quite happy and interested for a bit. The sleep tablets are starting to work. On the first night I skipped the 1am wake up. And just two nights ago, I slept straight through til 5.30. Its not much, but its something. I know I'm likely to be on these for quite a while. I have 10 years of fucked up sleep to retrain my brain from.
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