Been tossing and turning for a couple of hours now. I want to be asleep, but the Akathisia is back. I hate this. I'm so scared.

I am going to stop taking the Abilify.
kevyn: (depressed)
( May. 18th, 2009 03:41 pm)
I'm not doing well right now. I'm tired all the time. Sleeping way more than 8 hours a day.

Between the anemia, the depression, and (maybe) the Abilify, I'm barely functional. Thankfully they've reduced the Abilify dose, back down to 5mg a day. I just wish they knew what was causing the anemia.

I got up around 09:00, took my meds, ate, read the news, and then went back to bed until around 13:30. Dressed, took the bus downtown to the Opportunity Council for my appointment with the energy assistance program (they're helping pay my electricity), and came home, and promptly collapsed back into bed.

While I was out, I had to sit down and catch my breath several times. I felt fearful, almost agoraphobic about being outside. WTF?

Tossed and turned a while, then got up and wrote this. That's the extent of my day so far.
I have more energy, drive, and motivation. Things are getting done. I've been tidying my nest. Emails are getting answered. I'm writing more. And my sex drive has returned.

Either the new meds are working, or the light is returning for Spring. I can't rule either one out. I'm rarely depressed in Spring. I haven't used my lightbox much this winter.

If I could be like this more, life would be sweet!
kevyn: (depressed)
( Feb. 11th, 2009 12:07 pm)
I'm sleeping days on end now
up 8 down 6 up 2 down 18 up 12 down 8
Rarely leaving the apartment
Except for appointments

Whatcom Homless Council
came to inspect my place
They're helping with back rent
I've become a burden on society
What am I still doing here?
State pays my psych meds
keeps me nominally functional

I've started sitting at the keyboard
and moving my fingers as if I were typing
But nothing appears on the screen
kevyn: (depressed)
( Feb. 5th, 2009 04:22 pm)
So, today is the third consecutive day that I haven't been able to leave the apartment, because of my swollen foot and ankle. One thing is very clear -- my next apartment MUST be a ground floor one, because if these kinds of attacks continue to get worse as I age, and my joints continue to degenerate, then I am going to find myself more and more trapped in the apartment, unable to navigate the flight of stairs. I can't even do simple household tasks that require going down the stairs right now, like taking out the garbage and recycling, or checking the mail.

I've eaten no meat protein today, and have finished the last of my black cherry juice. I need to get someone to go to the store for me again.

And I still don't have any painkillers, and I don't know who to ask for help?

Each day that goes by, I am giving up more and more, surrendering to this life, a shut-in invalid. I am going to be forced to file for Social Security, and all of the things that means to my future.

Part of me believes that I deserve no better.

OK, I got to remember to take my antidepressants every day... I can tell I'm slipping after a couple of days.
Wow, I actually have some "get up and go!" Nice for a change.

I showered, took my meds, and answered my messages.

I cooked some food -- simering pinto beans for chili, and am also baking some biscuits.

I vacuumed the kitchen and common area.

I walked down the steps to get the mail (first time I've been able to do it without excruciating pain in days).

I walked down the steps again to take out the trash and recycling.

I emailed DVR to see what's happening -- my counselor hasn't been returning my messages, and I haven't actively job hunted since the start of the year: I've been homebound, with no energy, no drive, and waaaaay too much physical pain.

I called the Whatcom Homeless Service Center and Assumption Church, asking for back rent help, so I don't get evicted. No idea yet what will happen there.

For me... that's a pretty productive day!
I just woke up after having slept 16 hours, all last night and all day today.

Right knee is still a serious problem. The pain has shifted from inside the joint itself to the soft tissue around the knee -- muscle and tendon -- especially the back of the knee. Swelling seems to have subsided, but the pain has not. Hurts to lay on it in certain positions, and painkillers -- Naproxen and Tylenol -- don't seem to help much.

Getting up from bed hurts, anytime I have to exert my knee it hurts. Still hobbling around, using the cane. And my right hip is aching now, too, I suspect because of all of the unnatural positions I am having to put it in to keep weight off the knee.

Was supposed to go to the food bank today, but slept through it. Couldn't bear the pain of carrying bags of groceries. I'm almost out of food, and have no more food stamps. Out of cigarettes, too.

Haven't left the apartment since Faerie Coffee on Saturday morning. All I've done for days is slept and watched Babylon 5.

I feel like I'm falling apart.
kevyn: (depressed)
( Nov. 21st, 2008 03:41 pm)
Shards of glass riddle my heart
shrapnel of exploded hopes

The inky discharge of despair bubbles forth from the wounds, covering everything,
And then congeals into long needles of obsidian
That rend the tissue of my soul,
Which falls apart, like old cobwebs brushed aside.

I curl up into a fetal ball to escape the pain,
but the darkness within me is growing more insistent,
cancerous voices whispering that I am worthless, lazy, and hopeless.

I am paralyzed with fear.

I try to cover my ears, but it's still there,
Coiled like a snake
In a dark corner of my mind.

I composed this today while waiting in line at the Food Bank. It pretty much sums up my darkening mood.

The dreaded eviction notice did not arrive today. It probably will arrive Monday.

I slept 14 hours last night, never a good sign.

I woke up at 11:30, dressed, and took the bus to the Food Bank, trying the whole way not to dwell on the brutal, self-loathing thoughts that swirl around me like a dark cloud.

The lines at the food bank are getting longer and longer every week, and the amount of food they give out is getting smaller and smaller, because they have more and more mouths to feed.

The dark, gloomy weather hasn't helped, either. I'm using the light box every day, now. When I become homeless, I will lose that crutch, too.
I got a letter from the Washington DSHS today, saying they are discontinuing my medical coverage and monthly cash benefits, effective immediately. (For some reason, I'm still getting food assistance, though).
A plea for financial help )

Let me reiterate this point: I'm asking for LOANS, not handouts. I will repay any money I receive as a result of this plea (Plus 10% interest. Seriously.)

Think of this as an investment in me, my education, and my future. Any amount will help.

Thank you.

Donate here:

I met with my Psychiatrist today for the first time in months (since I sat out of school Fall Quarter, I wasn't eligible to see her).

She and I agreed to keep me on the Fluoxetine, instead of putting me through another med change by switching back to Zoloft (eek! That last switch was HELL, as those of you who read my journal know!), but we did up the dosage from 60mg to 80mg per day. I'm fine with that, though I just wish the Prozac wasn't killing my sex drive, with a new boyfriend and all...

She also wants to put me on ADHD medication, Vyvanse, which is an Adderall product... BUT... she can't try me out on it until I get my blood pressure back down. It was 150/88 today, which is high for me, though my weight seems to be holding steady at 386. Once I get it back down to 135/85, she'll give me a free month's worth of Vyvanse. AND, after that first month, if it looks like it's working well for me, I'll need to find a way to cough up $150/month. *cough*
I just got off the phone with my maternal aunt, Virginia, who I call every year on December first to wish her a happy birthday. I adore Virginia. She and I have very similar attitudes about politics and culture, which means we get along well.

I was telling her about my observation that I appeared to be the 3rd generation of the Wright family of Knoxville, Tennessee, with severe mental illness problems. And she told me something new and astounding: Her grandfather, 'Buddy' (Thomas Jefferson Wright I, my great-grandfather) had a "nervous breakdown" when he was younger, though he eventually recovered. (They attributed the breakdown to "working too hard.")

I had NO idea, but that means there are now FOUR confirmed generations of this mental instability in the family. Buddy's daughter Evelyn was institutionalized for uncontrollable violent episodes. Everyone described her as "mean." She was probably an undiagnosed schizophrenic, and later died in the psychiatric institution of pneumonia. Until today, hers was the earliest mental illness problems in the family I knew about.

Her brother (Thomas Jefferson Wright II, my grandfather) possibly committed suicide, though no one knows for sure, because of the mysterious circumstances of his disappearance and death.

His daughter (Cecilia Wright Bell, my mother's sister) is schizophrenic, and has been institutionalized for years.

And now I am the 4th generation to have severe mental health problems -- I've dodged the schizophrenia bullet, but the major depression episodes have been grinding me down for a quarter of a century now. *sigh* At least I came by it honestly.

Wow. I wonder how much farther back this goes? No one knows much about Buddy Wright's family, so what madness might have come before him is lost in the mists of time.

I need to tell my brother Dale about this, because that means his children are 5th generation, and he needs to watch his kids carefully for signs of this "darkness of the soul," which seems to have come down the Wright line.

Neither I, nor my sister, nor three of my four cousins have ever had children, so right now, Dale's the only one where, if this is indeed genetic, it could possibly have been passed down.

I just wish I knew how to contact my cousin, Rose Bell (her birth name), who Cissy gave up for adoption at birth. I think she should know about this. But we don't know what her adoptive name is, or where she is, or if she has children. She's never attempted to contact her birth mother, as far as we can tell.
It's rare that I'm truly impressed with the quality of writing in Seattle's alternative weekly newspaper, The Stranger, but the cover feature this past week really hit home. Megan Seling wrote a powerful piece about baking cookies to deal with winter depression, titled, "The Long Winter". It's a very enlightening look at depression from the point of view of someone who has to deal with it, and the Seattle/Everett setting makes it all the more real. And the writing style kind of reminds me of my friend [ profile] kadyg: wry and sardonic and very wise. (That's a compliment, Kady!)

But what's most interesting is... lately, I've been thinking about baking cookies.

Seriously. (For proof, see this comment I made in my friend [ profile] kennapea's journal on Nov. 26th)

Click for more about cookies! )
Had a followup appointment with the P.A. at Interfaith Medical Clinic this morning (which is why I missed DVR Job Club today).

We've upped the Fluoxetine to 60mg/day, close to where I was before back in the 1990s.

No comment from her on my blood pressure: 140/90. Pulse: 80 bpm. Weight: 389 lbs. She did ask if I was getting any exercise, to which I answered "yes, some" -- which is true. I've been taking guests and friends up to the Sehome Hill Arboretum a lot lately, which gets me out of the house.

If all goes well, with school registration, then I won't have to see the staff at Interfaith anymore - I'll be a student come January and have access to the Student Health Centre, which has far superior care to the free clinic.
kevyn: (Default)
( Nov. 6th, 2007 03:37 pm)
I've been more depressed than normal all day. Low energy, sad mood, more self-destructive thoughts than normal.

I made it to DVR class today, Thanks to Zach giving me a ride, but I was having a hard time getting into the swing of things. We did an exercise where we were supposed to list something we wanted to change in our lives (a change which we really wanted, not that others wanted us to make, and was realistic). I couldn't come up with anything that I felt especially motivated to change right now.

Then we worked on affirmations. The best I could come up with is "I am glad to be alive," to which my inner voice said, "but you know that's not really true."


It's half past 3 in the afternoon, and I think I am going to go to bed now.
OK, I've now been on the Fluoxetine at 20mg a day for 5 days. So far, so good, with only a few instances of suicidal thoughts, bursts of rage, self-destructive behaviour and binge eating. Starting a new regimen of antidepressant meds can trigger all of these things in me, which has happened over the past 5 days. I actually was "stable" in my depression before starting the meds, and was warned by the prescribing P.A. that the early stages of taking this med could be rough. She was right.

Today I up the dose to 40mg, as prescribed. It could be a roller coaster ride for the next few days, so be warned. Buckle your safety belts, please keep arms and legs inside the ride at all times, and enjoy your visit to Disneyland.
kevyn: (Default)
( Oct. 31st, 2007 06:02 pm)
So, I finally got to see a new Physician's Assistant today. She decided to prescribe Fluoxetine (Prozac), so I am back on that again. I was on it for years back in the 90s, but it stopped working. "Prozac Poop-Out," the phenomenon is called. She said it's possible it will work again now that I've been off of it for a few years, and it's covered by the state.

Of course, it takes 2-3 weeks minimum to start working, so we'll see.
I'm still without antidepressant meds due to bureaucratic snafus, and have been barely holding it together. I'm supposed to be going to the Dept. of Vocational Rehabilitation (DVR) seminar tomorrow morning, so why am I still awake tossing and turning and unable to sleep? My brain is going a thousand rpm, and the dark cloud that envelopes my soul is still there.

I'm still waking up in the mornings, disappointed that I hadn't died in my sleep.

Click here if you want to read more depressive ramblings )
He asked for my forgiveness. Said he made a mistake. Wants me to take him back.

And I do believe in giving people second chances (though thirds are pretty much out of the question).

And, I do love him.

My heart wants him back.

Especially when he kissed me.

But my mind isn't so sure.
So I've been through anger, bargaining and depression (well I'm still in depression, actually)... don't see how denial's gonna work, but I'll be glad to get to acceptance. In the meantime, however, I have a question:

Is there truly someone for everyone? Or is that just a self-serving myth we tell ourselves and others with broken & lonely hearts, because the truth might just be too frightening to bear?

Is it possible that some people are just meant to be alone, no matter how much they try not to be?

What if not everyone has a "soul mate," or if you just missed them? What if the man of your dreams thinks you are too complicated and messed up to be involved with? Does that mean empty anonymous sex or celibacy are the only options left?

What if some men truly are islands?
kevyn: (meme)
( Jun. 26th, 2005 11:18 am)
My entire life, I have been a loner, a hermit, and a social outcast. Always unable to "fit in," I long ago gave up trying to be with other people, resolved to just "be myself," and at times to actually revel in my outsider status.

As long as I can remember, people have told me that the secret to making friends is to just "be yourself," and people will like you for who you are, instead of trying to pretend to be something that you are not.

And, for the most part, I have always followed that advice.

But a nagging doubt has always been there in the background, that I am giving voice to here for the first time... what if "being yourself" means being someone that people generally don't like? I'm not being cheeky here, just wondering if there isn't a flaw in the logic of "being one's self" as the key to good relationships?

If one's true self is the kind of person that is curmudgeonly, or unpleasant, or negative, or just plain unlikeable... doesn't that belie the idea that people liking you for who you are is sometimes untrue, that sometimes, you must suppress your true self and pretend to be something you are not in order to get along with others? That you may have to choose to be alone in order to be yourself, or choose to be something insincere in order to have companionship?

Just a random thought on a Sunday morning....


kevyn: (Default)


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