tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72450422915518202992024-03-08T11:36:04.486-05:00April In MaineThe struggles of a bipolar, native Mainer, who took a detour to California, before returning her native land to do right by her grandmother. Sounds like the synopsis of a Hallmark movie, doesn't it? Let's hope that it takes fewer tears to reach the happy ending.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-66236959534123164362013-01-26T23:13:00.002-05:002013-01-26T23:13:56.389-05:00Quick UpdateI see the psychiatrist on Monday morning, bright and early. If I don't like this one I have another option in Bangor and they will take me as soon as possible due to the results of an assessment my therapist asked me to take. If I'd taken the assessment back in September, I would probably have seen a psychiatrist by now but my therapist didn't know about their particular assessment at that time, so I've been waiting 4 months. To break it down, anything 8 or above on the assessment isn't great and I scored a 15. It's like I'm a ticking time bomb or something. Anyway, therapist doesn't want me worrying about it so I'm not. I just want to find the right combination of meds and find something that resembles normal. Wish me luck, as the next couple of months could be a little rocky while we figure out the meds and stuff.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-36887401241797226802013-01-10T14:35:00.001-05:002013-01-10T14:35:59.913-05:00Cycling upMy mood is cycling up which is a good thing in some respects and a bad one in others. Basically I am not as depressed but there is a chance I will do something stupid, like spend money I don't have or send an email to someone expressing my love of them. While these may not seem like a big deal, once the floodgates open, it could get bad quick. Luckily I am aware of this and can, hopefully, keep it all under control. Eventually, though, this will all wear off and I'll be back in the dark place. It's the cycle of my life.<br />
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I did, finally, get an appointment with a psychiatrist. At the end of the month I will be assessed and started on a pharmaceutical protocol that will keep my moods more stable. There is trial and error involved but I'm hoping we can find a better "normal" than what I am experiencing now.<br />
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There is more I could write but, another part of cycling up is that I tend to ramble on about whatever pops into my head and no one needs to read that crap.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-13640908121415731372012-12-23T11:14:00.000-05:002012-12-23T11:14:20.485-05:00QuietI prefer to write when it is quiet and I am alone. Unfortunately, I don't get much alone time, and it is rarely quiet in this house. My grandmother likes to talk and when she isn't talking, the TV is on. Actually she talks when the TV is on because if she doesn't say things as she thinks of them, she will forget. Since she has some hearing loss, the TV is always loud and I can't concentrate on anything with a loud TV in the background.<br />
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Of course, even when I am alone, it is never really quiet. My brain is always "noisy". Imagine a microfiche machine. If you are to young to know what that is, Google it. You put the microfilm in and start looking on the screen for the article you need. You can speed it up until the articles are going by in a blur, or you can slow it down and look at each article before moving on to the next. Now imagine that microfiche machine is out of your control. It is speeding through the articles and you barely catch a glimpse of one before it moves on to the next. Sometimes you don't even catch a glimpse, it just all goes by in a blur. Then, every once in a while, it slows down so you can start reading the article. You get to the point where you are about to understand what it is about, and the machine speeds up again. That is my brain, an out of control microfiche machine!<br />
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That is why I need to be alone to write. I have a hard enough time pulling thoughts out of my head when there are no distractions, it is next to impossible with a TV blaring and a person always talking. And, if the dog starts barking, my head explodes.<br />
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Anyway, my moments of clarity don't last long and my brain is already speeding up to blurring stage so, I must bid you farewell until next time.<br />
<br />Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-58967890833095633162012-12-15T19:51:00.001-05:002012-12-15T19:51:16.414-05:00ShockingThose who know me won't be surprised to hear that I fell today. Our driveway is like an ice rink and my feet went out from under me. I reached back, instinctively, to catch myself, and took most of my weight on my right hand/wrist. While I didn't think it was broken, I figured an x-ray wouldn't hurt since it was swelling and the pain was growing. Turns out it is only a sprain and I have to wear a brace for a few days to keep myself from overusing it. Probably shouldn't be typing since it kind of hurts, so I will wish you a good night!Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-63865534843536651512012-12-14T17:52:00.000-05:002012-12-14T17:52:24.923-05:00Not The SameTragedies like what happened today in Connecticut really make me question our treatment of the mentally ill in this country. Compared to this man, I am only mildly ill. I also don't have the compulsion to hurt others, even in my darkest hours. What I do know is that I have had instances where I have seriously considered hurting myself. In September I was at a point where I signed a contract with my therapist stating that I wouldn't hurt myself. We came up with a list of things that I would do in an effort to keep myself from doing any harm. I was also referred to the local psychiatric service to get some pharmaceutical help.<br />
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As of today, I am still on the waiting list at not one, but two, local help centers. If I needed meds for a physical illness I could most likely get them within 24 hours, but to get meds for mental illness I have to wait months. We don't let diabetics wait for life saving insulin, so why does someone with bipolar disorder or depression have to wait months for their life saving medications? Something is very wrong with that. Seriously, if cancer patients suddenly had to be put on a list and wait for who knows how long to start chemo, someone would raise a stink and do something about it.<br />
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There is more I want to say about this subject, including how going to an ER isn't much better than being on a waiting list for outpatient treatment, but my brain has lost focus, and I can no longer compose my thoughts into something comprehensible.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-35192870014967076702012-12-13T17:57:00.000-05:002012-12-13T17:57:29.266-05:00A BeginningI've been thinking a lot lately about what to do with this blog. The truth is, I need a place to write and it's just sitting here, taking up space. The things I need to write about are scary but I need to share them. That said, I have no plans to let anyone know that I am blogging again. I figure some of my "followers" will notice and maybe I'll pick up a couple of new friends along the way. The fact is, I need to write for my own benefit and for my own sanity. I also need to know that someone may be reading this, even if I never receive a comment as proof. My life is spiraling out of control and I don't have much of a support system to help me. At this point, invisible internet friends may be all I have.<br />
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I've spent most of this year trying to get a handle on my mental illness. I've been in therapy since May and I'm on a waiting list to see a psychiatrist about getting on a medication protocol to stabilize my moods. The current theory is that I am Bipolar II, not just suffering severe chronic depression as previously thought, but also contending with states of hypomania. My mind races so continually that I have a hard time focusing on anything and writing does help me sort things out, at least a little bit. Problem is, I also lack the motivation to write, or do much of anything else. I'm hoping that if I start writing here again, I may be able to continue on a semi-regular basis.<br />
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Anyway, that is about all the focusing I can muster at the moment. I am becoming overwhelmed which leads to anxiety and isn't a state I want to be in right now. Welcome, or welcome back, and prepare for what will probably be a very bumpy ride. Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-23481803781142492962012-02-03T22:12:00.004-05:002012-02-05T12:35:45.082-05:00Temporarily Out of ServiceI haven't forgotten about my blog but I have been doing my writing elsewhere. I have gone back to the long hand, notebook method of writing as I have a lot of reflection to do, and a public forum isn't the appropriate place to do it. <div><br /></div><div>I've lost my sense of self. I don't know who I am or who I want to be. I don't know what defines me, what makes me, me and I have a lot of shit to dig through to figure it out. </div><div><br /></div><div>I still plan on stopping in if I hit upon something worth sharing but I'm no longer going to stress if there is a long stretch of time between posts. I'm still writing and, right now, that is what is important. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you need to reach me try one of the many other forums I subscribe to or drop me an email at Caapril73 AT GMAIL Dot COM. See you on the flip side! </div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-78866453810508476822011-12-07T15:36:00.002-05:002011-12-07T16:02:42.172-05:00Vegas LessonsThis isn't going to be the typical trip report. Some things that happen in Vegas really should remain in Vegas and other things should remain in the heart as memories to retrieve when you get lonely and need a reminder of the awesome people in your life. Speaking of awesome people, I need to send out a special thanks to Katitude and Iggy who were there for me during a low moment. I got through because of your kindness and will not forget it. <div><br /></div><div>During that low moment I was reminded that having expectations of other people is unfair and often brings about disappointment. The only person I should have expectations of is myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>Everything else about the trip was awesome. I have never laughed so much and felt as loved as I did throughout the weekend. Poker bloggers are a special breed, even if none of us blog about poker all that much anymore, and I am so glad I took a leap outside of my comfort zone to meet you all way-back-when, at the first summer gathering. Hopefully I won't have to wait a year to see you all again and if any of you make it to Maine (I'm looking at you Iggy), look me up! Take care and thank you all for a great time.</div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-63719744953277795722011-11-27T21:59:00.002-05:002011-11-27T22:21:19.720-05:00Would You Like Some Cheese With That?I really can't wait to leave for Las Vegas early on Thursday morning. I am praying to every god, goddess, the universe and anything else that may be listening, and asking for perfect weather for my flights. I have to stop in New York and Memphis before I get to my paradise and I don't want to be delayed one moment more than is necessary.<div><br /></div><div>Honestly though, it isn't Vegas I care about. It could be New York, Chicago, or some little town somewhere and I wouldn't care as long as my friends are there. When I made the decision to stay in Maine permanently I knew I was giving up a lot and, while I have gained much since making the decision, one thing I don't have here are friends. There are people I went to high school with, people who go to my grandmother's church, and tons of family, but no one I can just go and hang out with on any regular basis. This has left me very lonely, with very little motivation to leave the house, especially as winter comes storming in. </div><div><br /></div><div>That is enough whining for now. I may just have to bring a few of you back to Maine with me. Who likes to shovel?</div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-68632919281115333372011-11-07T22:29:00.002-05:002011-11-07T22:45:35.499-05:00Where is My Happy Ending?I just saw a status update on Facebook that caused my heart to fall into my stomach. Of course it's one of those updates that doesn't give all the details, just a hint of something that may, or may not, mean what I think it does. I can't bitch too much because I've been guilty of posting those same types of updates. I usually think it's kind of cute, I know something and my "friends" don't, but being on the other side of it truly sucks. If the update means what I think it means, then someone else is getting my happy ending and, as much as I want to be happy for both parties involved, there is also a part of me that hopes I am wrong. This is one time when I would have no problem making an ass of myself. <div><br /></div><div>I realize that the above paragraph may not make a lot of sense since I didn't come right out and quote the Facebook update. I'll just say that Prince Charming may have found his Cinderella, and it ain't me. Guess it's back to kissing frogs, though they are a lot harder to come by in this neck of the woods. Maybe I should be kissing Moose instead?</div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-63437389977967267202011-09-11T07:57:00.003-04:002011-09-11T08:34:53.264-04:00No Ordinary DayThis post was originally going to be a much longer, moment by moment account of what I was doing on the morning of 9/11. Instead I am going with the short version.<div><br /></div><div><ul><li>Woke up to the voice of a radio DJ saying that a plane had "accidently" crashed in the World Trade Center.</li><li>Turned on the TV in time to see the second plane crash, live.</li><li>Went to the airport to get on my flight from San Jose to Baltimore, though I had no intention of actually flying after what I had just witnessed on TV. </li><li>Explained to the people around me in the check-in line, why all flights were suddenly being grounded. Apparently no one had seen or heard a news report.</li><li>Got to ticket counter just as the airport was officially closed. </li><li>Waited on curb for dad to pick me up and take me back home. </li><li>Stopped for breakfast at Carl's Jr. and watched events unfold on the TV in the upper corner.</li><li>Got home. Dad went to work. Dad came back home. We watched the buildings fall.</li><li>I was numb for the rest of the day.</li></ul><div><br /></div></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-42006812309330805562011-08-20T10:16:00.002-04:002011-08-20T11:01:23.692-04:00SecondWhen my mom called early this morning, I knew something was wrong. I answered the phone and she told me that Ned had died. It took a couple of seconds for my half asleep brain to process then I asked if we are supposed to do something. Ned was my mom's second husband and neither of us had seen him in over 10 years. Neither of us knew the etiquette for this situation?<div>
<br /></div><div>The summer before my freshman year of high school, while visiting my dad in California, I met the woman who would later become my step-mother. Upon returning to Maine, I met the man who would later become step-father #1. I was also told that we were moving in with him and his son. Between all that and the depression that was already starting to take root, it was not a good time of my life. I eventually ended up living with my grandmother but I would visit my mom, Ned and "Cody" on the weekends. Ned and I developed a sort of friendship and Cody really felt like my younger pest of a brother. While certainly not perfect, we seemed to function well as a weekend family.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Of course things changed, divorce happened and I never saw or talked to Ned again. I also lost touch with Cody after he graduated from college. Mom married step-father #2 and life went on. I knew this day would come, and actually thought it would be sooner as he smoked like a chimney, but didn't know how I would react or what I would do. Since hearing the news I've left my condolences for Cody on an online guestbook and shared a bit with all of you. I think I'm good, I've done what I need to do. Rest in peace.</div><div>
<br /></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7245042291551820299.post-45654528546353485382011-08-15T12:10:00.001-04:002011-08-15T13:14:09.730-04:00The Story Begins<p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; " >In the back of my mind I always knew that, one day, I would return to Maine to take care of my aging grandmother. At the same time, I hoped that somehow that day would never arrive. It has nothing to do with my grandmother; I love her very much and owe her a lot. But, for me, Maine will always represent the darkest days of my life, when my depression first began and thoughts of suicide were a daily, if not hourly, occurrence. I know it’s not rational to blame an entire state for my out of whack brain chemistry, but since when is mental illness rational?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"" >So, here I am, 5 months into my “temporary” relocation faced with the reality that it is not so temporary. I start a job in a couple of days and have started a mental list of the things I need sent from California in order to endure the cold, snowy, Maine winter that is approaching faster than I care to think about. Family friends ask me every day if I am staying “for good”, and I am slowly replacing my usual reply of “indefinitely” with a resigned “yes”. <span> </span>I am here to stay as long as my grandmother needs me and, since she isn’t getting any younger, she is probably going to need me for the rest of her life. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">And so begins my new life; the life of a native Mainer, who calls California home, yet has returned to her native land, despite her fears, to do right by her grandmother. <o:p></o:p></span>Sounds like the synopsis of a Hallmark movie, doesn't it? Let's hope that it takes fewer tears to reach the happy ending.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif""><o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11716915973461685379noreply@blogger.com4