A man walks into a docs office....

"'Our data suggest that a person who walks into a physician's office feeling sad will tend to recall experiencing more symptoms than they probably really did,' Suls said. 'If a person comes into the physician's office feeling fearful, they're more likely to scan their body and read any sensations they're experiencing at that moment as something wrong.'"

Apparently, you're neurotic, too. People with depression and anxiety often experience their symptoms in a physical sense. People with depression recall having had more symptoms than they probably did, and people with anxiety think they have it all right now. Interesting, huh? So when you go to the doctor with that constant "migraine" it might just be your depressive memory saying, "damn, I've had this headache for millions of years and it was so bad I couldn't think." I know I tell myself I have all sorts of diseases and syndromes (I'm totally a hypochondriac), but I tend not to report the bodily symptoms to the doc. I like to tough them out. I'm not saying it's smart, it's just what I do.

Anyway, it's always good to keep track of those things. Write it all down. How were you feeling today? Is it depression? Anxiety? Side effects? You never can tell, but it's good to have a record.

Bloated goat

Julie and I went over some of the characteristics of mania and depression again tonight. "Sounds like mania, a little, but you have some of the depressive qualities, too. Maybe it's the meds?" she said. I don't know. I've been feeling agitated since before I started on the meds. Thursday was my first panic, and I didn't start the new meds till Thursday at bed time.

So what is it? Do I have to put a label on how I feel? Can I just say I feel extremely agitated, irritable, ansty, unnerved, like everyone can see just how messed up I am. I feel like I can't stop eating no matter how much I don't want to eat any more. I feel bloated to incredible proportions. I just feel sick. By all accounts I sound and look just fine. "You actually look much better rested this week," said Julie. Probably the awesome catatonia I fall into at night on the Zyprexa.

I want off the lithium already. I don't want to go back to doing monthly blood work and being a bloated goat, eating everything in sight. Can't I just go back on the lamictal? It has a generic, right? I think it was still $100 at CVS. I need to price these things out. And what the hell is the Celexa doing? It's the antidepressant, and I suppose I'm not suicidal anymore, but that could be the Zyprexa. Jesus. If I can't tell and I'm with me all the time, how is the doc supposed to figure it out in 15 minutes?

Alright, Phil. I'm counting on you

So tomorrow is Groundhog day and I'm hoping little Phil brings with him some good news. I, personally, love the snow and don't mind the longer winters at all, but let's use Phil as a gauge on how I'm going to feel this spring.

My aunt sent me an email. "I know it is taking every thing you have to keep it together. Only a few more days, the medicine will begin to work and it will be looking better. Tomorrow is groundhog day and I am sure that little critter will say that winter is coming to an end."

Finally, someone that understands. It seems like everyone else is expecting me to hold it together, and she actually acknowledges that it's taking every fiber of my being to not break down completely. And I've made my dad a worried mess, now. I knew I shouldn't have told him how I was feeling, and I even left out the suicidal ideation part.

I yelled at Adam earlier because he said I was "bullheaded" and "don't reach out for help." I call shennanigans. I asked my dad for help buying the meds that came too late; I got a therapist, that's help; I got on meds as soon as possible, that's help. What other help could I possibly ask for? He's "detaching with love" or whatever, so it's not like I'm heaping my burdens on him or anyone else. I don't ask for what I don't need. I don't need him worrying about if I'm going to kill myself. That's psychic energy he could be using to keep himself on track.

I am bad at reaching out, but I've done it this time. Things just, still, didn't work out the way I had hoped. Instead, I've got all this anxious energy to deal with and no outlet except eating. I should really go to the gym (If I keep saying it, will it come true?).

Are these someone else's pants?

Ok, seriously, it's not funny anymore. I put on my jeans from yesterday and I swear they're a size smaller. I can barely get my ass in them, and there's no room whatsoever to maneuver. I used to be able to put my entire hand in the front of my pants; that's how much room I had. And that was 2 months ago, tops. What the hell?

So what do I do after putting on the pants? I eat, of course. Why am I gaining weight? Because I just can't stop shoveling food into my face. I need to just stop eating for a month and get my pants back to where I can sit here comfortably. My dad is nagging me about going to the gym, but I just don't have the mental energy to execute that. Just getting to the interview and back wiped me out, and now I have to find some energy to get to therapy.

I get back from therapy around 7:30. Maybe I'll try to work out then? I'll think about it. Maybe just thinking about it will help.

As for the anxiety: it has got to stop. I am a complete and utter mess; dancing that thin line between amped and complete and total mental breakdown. I feel like I'm going to lose it. I don't know if it's me or the meds. I had that panic on Thursday last, before I went to the doctor, and it's just getting worse. So maybe it's me. Meds do take a long time to kick in, usually, so we'll see what the doc wants me to do.

Driving myself to the brink

Wow, I am a hot mess. I knew I shouldn't have opened my mouth. I was sitting there feeling panic coming on; hands shaking, heart pounding, stomach acids churning. But I did it anyway. We had just read a story in the Big Book called Crossing the River of Denial, about a woman who realized there was no point in continuing to drink. In there, she says, after losing her job, "thank goodness I was sober or I probably would have killed myself."

So I opened up to the group. "I lost my job four months into my sobriety, and like this woman, I think I would be dead if I weren't sober." I was shaking, my eye twitching, my heart pounding. I don't know what else I said, but I could barely get anything sensible out. I made it short.

This seems to happen every time I open my mouth and talk about anything except how much something costs or whether the newspaper was delivered this morning. I can do work in the store, but I can't talk to anyone else about anything else without bringing on a panic attack.

On the drive home, I knew I shouldn't be driving. I could feel the car expanding around me: the cockpit was becoming large enough for a giant. It was just me and the steering wheel. Everything else was moving farther away from me. Then a bus pulled up behind me and passed to the left. It was so big! The bus just overwhelmed me even in my gigantic car.

I made it to the parking garage. Oh, God, now I have to back in to the tight space. Breathe, breathe. I did it. I shouldn't have been driving. I wanted to stay for another meeting but my dad needs the car. I feel like I should just take another Zyprexa and call it a night.

Anxiety causes smoking

It's not just in my head that quitting smoking is super hard for me. Oh wait, it is in my head:

"...participants with anxiety diagnoses were much less likely to quit smoking.

Study results also showed that anxiety diagnoses were very common among participants -- more than a third of them met criteria for at least one anxiety diagnosis in their lifetime."

I think I've talked about my panic attacks and anxiety before. It apparently makes it harder to quit, and in the study even a combination of the patch and the lozenge didn't make people quit. Fascinating. I wonder when I'll be able to do it?

A sweet run would be nice

If I had a shower now would be a great time for a run. The fog is hanging high above my little town, so there are little drips of rain coming down, but not enough to make it "rainy." The streets are silent now that the bars are closed, and there is no one out on the sidewalks. Everything is quiet and nice.

I would put on my shoes and run out some of this anxiety. Just run until I was tired and then turn around and exhaust myself. I could run along the beach until I get to the big dog park at the other end of town. I could run under the aging oak trees, dripping their little bits of the fog. I could even run without my iPod and just listen to the silence.

But I don't have a shower. And I don't really feel like getting into bed exhausted, gross, and wet. I packed my towels because it seemed pointless to have them out anymore. Oh, crap. Everything in the yard is going to be wet. I have some stuff out there that needs to go into the truck and it's going to be all sandy when I wake up. I suppose tomorrow morning will be spent hosing off pots and my big iron plant holder. Maybe it'll wash the lawn chairs for me.

Everything is better sober

It's amazing what you can do when you're not hungover.

Instead of standing out on the hockey field sweating out booze and having an incredibly slow reaction time, I was able to move around, stop balls, and basically not break a sweat in 10lbs of gear and standing in direct sun. I feel great! I had no idea how much my hangover was holding me back in everything I did.

I always told myself no drinking on Saturday nights so I would be ready for hockey, but that never happened. It was one of the nights I was able to limit myself, most of the time, but I could never go without a drink. And even if I ever did, my reaction time was still really slow.

I feel like I'm a better asset to the team, now. And a better asset to myself.

Everything causes me anxiety

Another fun thing that causes me anxiety is hockey. No, not watching hockey, that's fun. Playing hockey.

Since high school I've played field hockey. I'm not that good, which is reason one for anxiety, but I love to play. It's fun standing out there on the field watching the ball and waiting for it to come to you. See, I'm the goalie. Another huge reason for anxiety. I'm the last defense against a goal. My league team is pretty good, and unfortunately I'm the weak link. Sure, I stop a lot of goals, but I'm not as good as the other goalies, and my gear is really old and falling apart. I have to duct tape it to myself to keep it on. And since I lost weight, the pants fall down all the time, and my helmet is too big. So I stand there trying to keep my gear on and out of my eyes while trying to keep the ball from the goal. It is really comical to watch, but scary sometimes to play.

And I think the captain hates me. She's naturally a little brisk, so it might not be me, but I'm so sensitive to any dislike on the field because I know I could be better. I've thought about getting training from another goalie, but I just don't have the time. It's an hour drive down there, and that's enough one time a week.

So I'm off to play hockey and make myself nervous for a few hours.

I remember

9/11 still gets to me. It's one of the things that causes a lot of anxiety for me. I can't look at the pictures, or watch the reruns of the news coverage from that day. I couldn't watch that day as the towers fell and the Pentagon smoked. I couldn't stand with the rest of the students in front of that bank of tvs watching the world change.

I had been in Judaism class when someone got a phone call. She ran out of the room screaming for her mom. It seems her mom had been working in the Pentagon. I never found out if she lived or not. The teacher didn't know what was happening, but wouldn't let us panic - he just kept on teaching. When he finally released us, the news was everywhere.

I stood in line 20 miles from my home at my college and waited my turn to use the payphone to call my dad. He worked in DC at the time, and I heard the government was being evacuated. I waited, and waited, and then couldn't get a hold of him. My boyfriend at the time was in the Army and called down to the Pentagon to help remove bodies from the rubble. He ended up being quarantined for a week because of a ripped body bag.

It took me a day or so to get home. Luckily Diane lived near my college, so I was able to stay with her, but there was no way they were opening up the highway to let me go home. We could see the smoke rising from the Pentagon, and smell it. Oh, what an awful smell that was!

So I can't stand this time of year when they recap everything again, and again. I can't look at the newspapers or their websites. I just can't see it all again.

Maybe tomorrow I'll take a Seroquel and wait for the day to be over.

Co-morbidity

"Patients with bipolar disorder (BD) who suffer from anxiety are at increased risk for substance use disorders...."

It's like I have a trifecta going. I have anxiety disorder as well as bipolar, which causes some of my irrational fears, like the one about going to the grocery store a few months ago. There was no reason for it, just a fear of going there. I also get irrational death fears. I fear the people close to me are going to die, which is a fear of abandonment issues, as well. Character flaw!

So I'm on Seroquel for anxiety, but I only take it when I'm really losing my shit. Otherwise it just makes me pass out for 10 hours, and then be really sleepy the next day. My therapist says there are better drugs out there that won't make me sleepy, so I think I'm going to talk to my doctor about that. I don't need another drug, and my anxiety hasn't been that bad since that last panic attack earlier this year.

Ugh, I hate panic attacks. At least I don't have them often, and they don't last long. Seroquel can knock one out in minutes.

Anyway, they're all linked: bipolar, anxiety, and substance abuse. Which is kind of a duh, but interesting nonetheless. Drugs are good for balancing out emotions, and often people take a drink to "calm the nerves." It's a timeless tradition. People drink when things happen that make them anxious or sad, or even happy. Things that evoke emotion are often linked with drugs and alcohol. But when it's deeply ingrained in your head, like bipolar or anxiety disorder, you have a tendency to abuse those drugs instead and really use them to cover your symptoms.

I haven't wanted a drink when I've been anxious. But I did want a drink today. I was at the grocery store and the woman in front of me was buying Corona and tequila. I knew what kind of weekend she was going to have. I wanted to reach into her cart and grab the beer and just chug it. Then the line passed the booze section, and I thought about grabbing the gin (I hate gin) and just swigging out of the bottle. Then I thought how sick that would make me. I think my body would revolt if I put alcohol into it now. So the obsession is occasionally lifted, but I'm still having moments of want. These moments have definitely become few and far between, though. I'm grateful.

Hockey makes me nervous

So I play field hockey every fall with a team of ladies an hour or so from here. It causes me massive anxiety every year. I am a goalie, and so I'm the last defense against a score. I always think I suck, because we suck as a team and lose a lot. But if the ball is constantly next to me, I'm going to miss it sometimes. We never lose by more than one point, but it still makes me think I'm awful and can't do a good job.

I have anxiety and panic attacks, as well. I usually have panic attacks on airplanes, and I fly a lot. But hockey always makes me feel inadequate. Why do I play? Because somehow I love it, as well. I love to be out there on the field moving around in gigantic smelly pads watching a game. It's something that makes me happy and anxious at the same time.

You should always do something that scares you. It adds a quality to life that you can't get when you stand still. Hockey starts in two weeks, and if I'm still here I'll be out on that field, sweating and waiting to fail, but loving every minute of it.

Addictions galore

Seriously, what the hell else can I be addicted to? I already have a food addiction (which I manage with Weight Watchers, but I'm doing a shitty job right now - I just had a packet of M&M's), I'm addicted to smoking (quitting isn't going so well....), I'm an alcoholic (thank God that's going well, though I have an urge today), and I think I'm addicted to feeling bad about myself (which being bipolar doesn't help)!

I'm hoping that as I turn my will and life over to the care of God he can remove some of these obsessions from me. I really want the food one to go away, because I hated being fat. I'll take smoking over fat any day. And the alcohol obsession is mostly gone, except in times of stress. I think I'm over-stressing myself by trying to quit smoking right now. My doc said it was a stupid idea, and so did my sponsor. But here I go trying to control everything despite advice from others. Is God speaking through them or through friends like Michael who are trying to get me to quit? Who the hell knows. Even he said it might be a bad idea, but that I should just cut down.

I smoked a cigarette last night. I just couldn't take the withdrawal anymore, and it was just raising my anxiety level. I have enough mania and psychosis creeping in without another catalyst to it.

I'm feeling less manic - more tired - but still a little off. I've been thinking about cutting all day, and the urge is stronger than it's been in a long time. My doc keeps telling me we need to keep a close eye on it, because withdrawal can exacerbate the bipolar symptoms and I may need a med change pretty soon. If these thoughts and mania continue to next week, she wants me to call the psych doc.

I like mania. If it didn't have so many bad parts like the urges and the psychosis, I would love to be manic all the time. It's so nice having so much energy! But I know it doesn't last, and it just gets me in trouble. So maybe it's time for the Seroquel again to calm me down. I just hate that it makes me so sleepy and numb.

This post is one big ramble. Sorry.