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Monday, May 02, 2005

I'm giving into the fact it was a failure

The meds experiment.

It was a failure.

I said to Rob over dinner tonight, after Adam had excused himself, that I've been thinking and that I'm going to "up" my valproic acid back to its previous, potentially liver damaging levels. He said he thought that was a VERY good idea. He said "I don't think we could say that this experiment was a complete success". Then I told him that I'd scared myself at work today and that made me finally admit that I need help.

Part of me is incredibly saddened by this. It's like admitting to the disease all over again. That I'm broken. That I'm not whole. That I'm diseased, sick, not normal, strange, weird, keep your kids away loony.

How did I scare myself?

Have you ever been motoring along throughout your day and caught yourself in mid thought, not realising that you'd been on that train of thought at all? Well, I did, and earlier this morning at work I realised I'd been spending a good portion of time (by the clock I couldn't tell you how long, but it was long enough that I couldn't remember when it started), spending time thinking about dying.

Some might say I'm splitting hairs, but I believe that there will be other bipolar people out there that will understand this fine difference, and it IS a difference, but I was NOT suicidal, but I was thinking about dying. They are definitely related, but not necessarily the same. You might say that one presages the other. And that's why it scared me. It was echoes of the horrid nightmares months before I was hospitalised, where I would have to literally force myself out the door, to make myself not drive into oncoming traffic and go to work like a good little automaton.

I haven't been thinking about it much since then, but I have to be honest (and if I'm not going to be honest to you, my own blog, my own self, then who can I be honest too? that's why I started this blog to begin with, to give me a place where I can speak freely without fear of censure or judgment), and being honest, I can say that the thoughts of dying have floated across the landscape of my mind periodically throughout the day, never staying as long as they did earlier this morning. Perhaps they knew I was watched and the thoughts couldn't stand direct scrutiny and fled deeper into the rat's nest of my subconscious.

Now, I have to not only admit to my pdoc on Wednesday that I've played with my meds, but that it didn't work. As well, I have to now be more vigilant than ever for signs of liver problems. Kind of like the extreme fatigue I had today. But you might say that the fatigue came from carrying such a large load as my mind did today, picking up once more the standard of the mentally ill and walking with it into battle.

God I hate this.

I so wanted this to succeed. I so wanted to prove to everyone, most of all myself, that I was getting better, that I was able to cope with the world without medication, that it was a behavioural thing more than a cerebral hardwired malfunction. Behaviour I could relearn. I could get better just by sheer practice.

I just want to cry.

I'll wait til Rob's asleep though. He's worried enough as it is.

Don't worry, Internet. I'm not going to harm myself. I'm just incredibly sad, stuck once more mourning who I used to be.

Blogger Franikins said...
Blondzila, I hope you will do what you know to be best for you. The experiment wasn't a failure in my mind. You learned from it. It just didn't have the outcome you had planned.

It's sort of like developing a high blood pressure medication that doesn't really work all that well BUT grows hair for bald men. Failure? Or unplanned outcome? You be the judge.  

Blogger Dangerous Mind said...
I agree it's not a failure.

Real failure would be the inability to see that changing the medication levels at this point in time was not the right action.

Being able to listen to those around you and recognise that the medication still plays an important part of the recovery process is a success.

I have come off the meds .... but it was not a straight line progression. Along the way dosage wnet down and back up again when certain situations /people caused me develop feelings too similiar to my own panic attacks.

We can learn from others sucesses and "failures" (don't like this word but not sure what to use).

But the most important thing is to learn what works for you!
And adapt accordingly.  

Blogger moodymicello said...
Ditto Franikins and Dangerous Mind. The good news is that you are better because you see and ADMIT that you are bipolar and need medication to help. And I think it's OK that you tried a slight deviation with set suidelines you cn recite to the pdoc.. You were so sure. At least you are not a sheep. And you only messed with the one scary drug that threatens the liveer..All actions of an extremely intelligent free thinking individual. So quit beating yourself up. While we generrally shouldn't go against Dr's orders, I can certainly understand your frustration under the given circumstances. I thought yout reaction was moderate. Mine would have been extreme.

I knowo you are sad. We are sad with you. It is always painful to be jerked back into reality of being reminded that we aren't who we were.. But remember there's a lot of good in who we can be. At least that what a wise Canadian lady told me once. Michele  

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