errant thoughts

so much in this life is forgotten.
so much is abandoned.
fumbled body tumbles on the crumpled plane
spirals down and spirals up and all is vexed betwain

skin lays flat, we forget that
a scintillating brilliance remains
the untouched thought, the untouched mind
the human who would be a proper sovereign

so much is random, so much is chance
i try to find the proper words but everything is lost and i don’t know if i make sense and these are errant thoughts.

Has my being honest helped the situation at all?

posted today, in 140 character bits. makes more sense if read bottom to top:

the fact that i just found out in the past half hour that definitely 2 of my brothers have died, and possibly my mother (unsure)… a normal person, i think, would be feeling something.

i feel like i am having a complete mental/nervous breakdown. we had the whole business where i wound up in the emergency psychiatric clinic last thursday, coming on the heels of me slicing myself up while insanely drunk, and, well, just all stressed out. had told the frustrating PT design client that i had things to do, would get back to them monday. checked email late monday to find way too emails in a row, posted the entire weekend, ALL IN CAPS!!! WITH EXCLAMATIONS POINTS!!! PLEASE CALL ME!!! WHY HAVEN’T YOU CALLED ME/!!! I HAVE MONEY FOR YOU, IN CASH, WILL THAT GET YOU TO CALL ME?!!!!

what was bothersome was that the reason he wanted me to call him was for no important reason, he just wanted to find out how i was progressing on the design job that wasn’t due for another week.

so, given the amount of stress i was dealing with, i sent an email, which i thought i phrased nicely, but saying, look, there’s a certain way projects have to go when you’re working with a freelance designer, which is that we meet, discuss the terms of the project, set up a production schedule, and i give you a set date by which i’ll have the next phase of the project to you, then we meet again, etc. but if you are, on a 24/7 basis, sending me emails IN ALL CAPS!!! CALL ME!!! WHY HAVEN’T YOU CALLED ME?!!!!, it makes it difficult for me to do my job.

i then promptly set my inbox so that any emails from that client would go into a subfolder, bypassing the inbox, with the intention of looking in it friday (yesterday). as friday, yesterday, was the day when i said i’d have the rough draft of their design piece ready.

of course, yesterday i had a complete emotional breakdown, soaking wet, breaking down crying in a psychiatric community outreach office, and had to take a huge hit of ativan to stop me from cracking completely… i just never contacted the client.

and woke up at 1pm today, and should’ve gotten it to them today, by 6pm, latest.

instead, i am fumbling with basic math, and i have their indesign file open, and i am moving the mouse around, moving things, and it’s getting ugly, just worse and worse, cannot pull this design piece together, creatively i am useless, and i’m supposed to be pulling copy from their website, but none of the words are making sense.

a recent episode of ugly betty had the wealthy son character being taught a lesson, that in order to achieve healing, he needed to learn how to be honest with people, not hide in subterfuge.

if i were to follow that lesson, this is the email i’d send to this client right now:

“Hi, client. I’m very sorry that I didn’t get the rough draft of your design job to you yesterday like I said I would. I’ve been trying to work on it today, but am having trouble getting it finished. See, in between trips to the emergency psychiatric clinic, having a bipolar/mental breakdown, and the side effects I’m dealing with from the tempoary drug I’m on, and repeated trips to the food stamps office and meets with a case worker and trying to get set up with a psychiatrist and, oh, this general persistent depression, in which I haven’t changed my clothes or showered in 6 days…

Sorry, rambling there. This medication I’m on, which they gave me to help me not get violently drunk and slice myself up with knives, it’s making me very stupid, and my writing is all disjointed. I think what I’m saying is I’m sorry. I know you need help, but… Are you willing to wait 2-3 months til I get my medication stabilized and find a job so I’m not living in primordial terror of being homeless again? Can you wait til I get out of my bad space? The fact that you need this design piece to be done in time for a mailing at the end of this month… yes, that does cause a problem, I know.

Client, I really don’t know what to say. Has my being honest helped the situation at all?”

that’s one good thing

in my “about asperger’s syndrome in plain english” post, i mentioned how my emotions don’t seem like how other people experience emotions. they’re often flat, disjointed, and even if i’m crying i’m objectively looking at it, detached, analytical mind can’t feel it, this makes no sense. always questioning if it’s pretend, i’m faking, because i can’t really feel it.

the crying i’ve been doing as of late, however, last week, yesterday, just now, 2 days ago, 3 days ago, 4 days ago, two weeks ago, three weeks ago… when i break down into suddenly finding my body bent over in shoulder-shaking sobs, my entire gut opens up, ragged and torn and lost and confused and scared, and i am *feeling* it.

so, whatever complete breakdown/collapse i’m going thru, that’s one good thing.

too often people in recovery face barriers to finding and maintaining a good job

Ralph Bilby, Program Director of the International Center for Clubhouse Development (ICCD), knows the critical importance of a good job for persons with persistent mental illness. He says, “I love what Ralph Aquila (Director of The Center for Reintegration) tells people, that employment isn’t the most important thing – it’s the only thing. The number one dream of people with mental illness in terms of breaking free from the bonds of their illness, the poverty associated with it, and the embarrassment and stigma of it is to be able to go to work.”

One reason, of course, is to make the money for necessities, such as a decent place to live. But the drive for work goes far deeper. For most people, a “real job” helps provide meaning to life. This is true for everyone, not just those with mental illness.

But too often people in recovery face barriers to finding and maintaining a good job – barriers created by themselves as well as others. Common feelings include:

* A serious lack of confidence
* The fear of recurring episodes of illness
* A sense of being too far behind to catch up
* A stigma regarding serious mental illness that, unfortunately, still exists in the workplace, and

While these barriers are real, they can be overcome. This is especially true with the recent advances in medications for treating schizophrenia and related conditions. Persons with mental illness can find meaningful work and form relationships with the thousands of employers who want to actively help solve social problems. These employers are natural partners for the mentally ill job seeker willing to look for them.

10 Important Ideas for Finding and Maintaining Meaningful Employment…

http://www.reintegration.com/reint/employment/meaning.asp

Take meds or breathe?

Decisions, decisions. Where is the line between beneficial effects and intolerable side effects of medicine? I suppose it is different for everybody, but I am having a hard time placing it at the moment, or at least I was until I ended up in the emergency room on Tuesday.

http://lbnuke.com/2006/03/24/take-meds-or-breathe/

employment issues for those with psychiatric disabilities

Like the song says, work is “more than a paycheck” – employment and a career commitment to participating in the labor force. Sociologists tell us that the two most important human activities are work and family. People who have been sidetracked with long years of managing illness and disability systems too often have lost the thread of connection to the ordinary life experiences of discovering what kind of work or career is best for them. The experience of a mental illness may have prevented people from completing high school, college or other vocational preparation. Furthermore, years of focus on getting well and managing disability related services and systems could also have interfered with people’s expectations about their own independence and abilities/talents.

Supported Employment Best Practices Psychiatric rehabilitation services include a variety of supports to assist people in returning to employment in the community. After years of services research, best practices in supported employment are now available. Gary Bond et al (link to free download of this article) provide us with the following critical components of best practices in supported employment:

*
Focus of supported employment services should be on assisting people in achieving competitive employment rather than day treatment or sheltered work;
*
Supportive services assist people in helping people with obtaining a job (rapid job search) rather than providing lengthy pre-vocational and pre-employment programming before they assist the person with finding a job;
*
Supportive services work with each person based on his or her individual preferences for employment;
*
Supportive services provide follow-along, long term support; and
*
Employment supports can be more effective if conducted in partnership with mental health treatment services.

http://www.upennrrtc.org/issues/view.php?id=7

The Ripple Effect of Bipolar Disorder

The Ripple Effect of Bipolar Disorder

Treatment should be more than just taming mania and depression. “Just getting rid of symptoms doesn’t help with finding a job,” Harvey says. “You may need to see a case manager for work rehabilitation. Getting back to work and social functioning should be part of treatment.”

Indeed, bipolar disorder has “a huge ripple effect in your social relationships, occupational functioning, everything else,” says Bearden. “People need programs that provide structure and help people get back to functioning.”

http://www.webmd.com/bipolar-disorder/features/bipolar-disorder-managing-mania?page=3

lindsay lohan’s eharmony dating profile

the complete, official video is at this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F6g85lp2wJc

meltdown on a rainy day, clothes soaked

I feel like I am losing my mind. Had a 2pm meet with a case worker, who was going to assess my eligibility to qualify for placement with a psychiatrist. Public health thing, for broke, unemployed, nowhere else to go people. Weather’s been fine this week, tho I haven’t been going out much, tho maybe I did, don’t remember. It has been a schizophrenic passing of days. Started raining this morning. Was raining light. I’d been up til 4:30am, alarm blares in my ears 12pm. Even before I awake I am riddled with jagged out of controlness, muscles twitching, panic, emotions escalating. The same thing I’d been dealing with last night. Unsure if it’s because of the Wellbutrin, or because the Wellbutrin is losing efficacy. I would’ve gone to the emergency psych clinic (hours today were 1-5pm), but couldn’t cuz of the 2pm meet. But desperately feeling the need for a med re-evaluation. Cuz whatever the f*ck is going on is not right.

Am out of it, very out of it, onto my bike. Light rain so far. Get on my motorcycle, and within 5 minutes of riding, it starts pouring rain. Traffic everywhere, crush of traffic, heavy rain pouring down, I’m not wearing the right gear for heavy rain, can barely see out of my visor, and am so addled & not in good space… Wrecked in my head, I overshoot, have to double back, out of desperation choose a parking space on a side street, feeling like I’m losing it, holding on by a thread. Heavy rain pouring down as I walk the block to find the right address, and my jacket is soaking wet, pants are soaking wet, dripping into my boots. Find the place, am 15 minutes early, an way stressed out, mess in mind, I duck back out, grab an addled smoke under the awning. Crush and chaos of rainy day traffic, construction, clogged streets.

Go inside, having trouble speaking, trouble hearing, words are all messed up, and finally get paperwork. Take it over to a chair, sit down agitatedly. My writing is a mess, like a two year old’s, or someone who is drunk or on speed, I don’t know. Not the handwriting of an educated, together person. I’m sitting there, hunched into myself, making a mess of the paperwork, when a guy comes out.

He tells me that the case worker I was to see at 2pm had gone home sick, an hour ago.

I completely fall apart at this point. He’s concerned at my inability to speak coherently, my manic desperateness, my telling him I’m having problems with my medication and needed to get set up with a psychiatrist as soon as possible, and I was soaking wet and… So he goes back in, looks at my paperwork, then comes out, has me come into his office. He’s a tall guy, hippiesh, long hair in a pony tail. But very nice. I’m not even looking him in the eye, can barely focus, am scribbling madly on the paperwork, quickly, as he asks me questions.

He asks me if I am wanting to harm myself. No, not at this exact moment. Are you wanting to harm anyone else? No, shaking my head. And that’s it. He wants to help, but because I am not in immediate urgent need, what he can do is reschedule the meet with my case worker to 2pm, this Monday, in 3 days. And he’s nice, gives me the number of a crisis hotline, if I needed to talk to somebody. Tells me there’s a voluntary inpatient commitment program, for two weeks, in San Leandro. That it’s also possible I could have the intention of harming myself, and wind up in the psych ward of the local hospital. And I say, I’m not sure that’d be productive, and he says, yes, actually, given you have a place to live right now, and you have clothes, and a little bit of food, I’d recommend holding on til Monday, and it’s probably that, if you qualify, you’ll get to see a psychiatrist that week. And gives me his card, tells me to call if I need to talk, tells me the emergency psych clinic I went to, they only have doctors there certain hours, but they’re open 24 hours, and I can just show up, talk to someone, sit there til a doctor arrives.

And by this point I am feeling stupid. Useless. Irrelevant. I am not truly in need. I am not an out of control gibbering idiot, I am not having a psychotic breakdown, I am not throwing myself thru windows, I am not stalking neighborhoods with a knife fully intending to kill myself and other people. Therefore, I am not important. And I feel so stupid sitting there, and I’m fumbling, trying to get my bag, agitated, keep missing it, an absolute mess, and he’s still nice and I apologize, and he says it’s okay, and he walks me to the door to the waiting room.

I walk thru the door, to the glass window of the waiting room that the street is visible thru. Agitated mind’s plan, I think, was to set bag down, put my soaking wet jacket on. But I put my bag and jacket down and I stop. I bow my head, and ragged crying overtakes me, and I am sobbing, but trying to do it quietly, so the front desk person doesn’t see, and my shoulders are shaking and the crying won’t stop, and tears are pouring down my face, and I can’t stop. And I’m standing there, shaking, tears pouring down, sniffling shot, feeling useless & worthless, for the longest time, world a rush of rain and traffic and construction outside, and I try to hold it in, try to breathe, just breathe, wiped tears from face, chin, snot from nose, with wet sweater sleeve, again, again, just breathe, and then empty and not there I put my jacket on and exit onto the sidewalk, bowing my head so no one sees the redness of my eyes.

And I walk in the rain and detached, mind can’t even deal, and into a taco bell on the corner and I am like a crazy person, hands keep shaking, and my eyes are darting this way and that, and I am on the verge of panic, of melting down, and I’m convinced there are people in the dining area looking at me, thinking, dude, that chick is seriously whacked out. And a phrase keeps repeating in my head and I don’t know where it’s coming from or if it’s even true: I am losing my mind. I am losing my fucking mind.

been on wellbutrin a week, here are the results

been on wellbutrin (150mg, once a day) since last thursday, which makes today the 6th day.

side effects for the first 2-3 days:
cleared my sinuses right up, almost as much as if i’d done speed
very mediciney taste in mouth, powdery, would not go away
distended, balloon-like feeling in first hour or two of taking, like there was a pressure in my head, in my blood, in my eyes
weird effect on my vision, felt lopsided, my eyes felt lopsided, don’t know how to explain it more
2-3 hours upon taking it, would feel like i’d done codeine, or morphine. very opium-like, let go, let everything go, just grooving on the out of it-ness
then, 6-7 hous after taking it, i’d start to feel restless, find myself more easily annoyed, have panic attack-like symptoms, feel much too restless, very scared it was making me manic

last few days
this medication is making me as dumb as a bag of wet bricks. i’m slurring, having trouble speaking. absent-minded, leave the house without my keys, leave my key in my motorcycle, run red lights without knowing it, bump into walls, drop stuff. my motion, motion of limbs, of arms, it’s like i’m stoned, moving thru a fog. usually, in an undrugged state, i have fluid motions, very soft walker, cat-like. last few days, i’m clumsy, slamming doors tho not meaning to, clunking things heavily down. i can’t focus enough to get anything done, am practically useless, walking down sidewalk i weave a little bit, constantly feel like i’m gonna nod off to sleep. limbs float like in slow motion.

supposed to be working on a design job, due tomorrow, but cannot, for the life of me, get my mind to focus. the drug haze is so pronounced.

it also… dreams have been more vivid than usual. a generally persistent headache, minor. also, perpetual nausea, minor. not interested in eating, can barely finish a meal a day. tried to drink one night, and no appetite, did nothing for me. can see how this drug would be useful for stopping smoking. have noticed… i’m remembering 10 years or so ago, when i was prescribed paxil, it completely stripped me of all emotions. and for the first time in my life, i saw how, normally, my mental state is one continually beseiged by out of control emotions, massive mood swings, lack of impulse control. i marveled at my ability to make decisions based on sense, practicality, not being swayed by deep, dark impulses.

wellbutrin has kinda done that, but in a much more fogged, stupid way. i’m not liking how stupid, brain fogged, slow, slurring, clumsy it’s making me, but i am scared to death of returning to where i was last week, the out of control downspiraling collapse. am scared to death of going there again.

am also experiencing… given that normally my mind is a violent maelstrom of mood swings & lunging impulses, hysteria, massive escalation of stress… given that, though i’m in this fog, and wiped blank, neutral, stupid, slow, not here, i am very, very scared of that out of control-ness, i don’t want to feel the slightest desire, any impulse, no emotions. i am scared to death to feel anything, and am realizing that i’m not sure if i have any idea what a normal emotion feels like.

i have an appt with some sort of case worker tomorrow to possibly refer me to a longer-term psychiatrist, and if i can make that happen, then i can be put on a mood stabilizer. the wellbutrin is a stop-gap thing for now. however, the wellubtrin has made me as functionally stupid & useless as my depression had been. and the motions i need to make to find work, i’m dealing so much with side effects & lying upright in bed eyes half out of focus, stoned, it’s difficult organizing much anything.

and that’s the state of affairs in my world, this week.