I am mad. I fell asleep in the living room at 9, woke at 10, put the baby in his bed and was then wide awake.
I went on Twitter for a bit, hung out with some other PPD fighters till midnight. I popped a Xanax to calm my anxiety and went to bed.
What do you know? Xanax wears off about four hours later and guess who is awake? That'd be me. I am in bed, writing this on my phone. Damn tiny ass keyboard!!
I went to Dr. Psyche last week to talk Abilify. It was working great but I was constantly having to keep my mind stimulated resulting in triple multitasking. I wasn't even tired on 3 hours of sleep. Fuckin' super power shit....
So he cut my dose a smidge and suggested I take the Abilify in the morning rather then at night. That night, I slept great. Now? SSDD. Except I am in a bad mood now. Not all glittery sunshine like before.
I am not depressed at the moment, always subject to change. My feelings have shifted from craving my baby like a crazed lunatic to only slightly looking forward to seeing him. His needs upset me because it triggers whining and crying, and noise? Cuts me like a knife through butter.
What changed? My dose, but the old dose had me wired and my blood pressure was elevated and the anxiety was high because of the restlessness. Did switching the time I took the meds fuck me over sideways or was it the dose decrease? We are talking a 1/2 a millogram.
I also got my thyroid retested, TSH went a point higher instead of lower. So my Synthroid was increased and I test again in 6 weeks.
I am so tired of PPD running my life. It has the remote control and is fucking with my channels when the program is just getting good.....
Thursday 18 December 2014
Based on a True Story
The woman woke from a restless night and was worn-out from all the side effects her medications were causing. She contacted her psychiatrist that morning. The receptionist told her he was out of town.
She requested, "Can I leave a message for someone to call me back?"
Her message was noted.
Four hours passed. She began to wonder why no one returned her call. She nervously picked up the phone and called again. She was patched through to the nurse immediately who claimed to never have gotten the message. Her fury escalated.
The side effects were explained to the nurse who calmed her and within minutes, the psychiatrist on call, called her back.
"You need to wait until Dr. Psych returns next week to adjust your medications," she stated.
She went on to suggest taking two of five of the medications in the morning rather than at night. Didn't she hear the girl when she said she had tried that and instant depression ensued? Was this fill-in doctor already on holiday and not listening?
Later that same day, she searched for local facilities to contact for advice. One local facility, at the hospital, was listed. The woman called for information.
"We're an in treatment facility. We have no out patient resources," the receptionist stated.
"I'm just looking for someone to adjust my meds. My psych is on vacation and the psych on call won't help me in the way I need," she replied.
"Go to the ER. Tell them you're there for a psych evaluation and you'll see a psychiatrist who can help," she suggested.
The woman took this advice after speaking with her husband.
Once in the ER, an announcement was made that there were multiple traumas and everyone waiting would have to wait longer. Her name was called shortly after. Finally some progress!
She was escorted through several locked doors by a security guard. During the long haul, the woman anxiously asked, "Does everyone get door to door treatment?" He wasn't amused.
Finally, they reached the double doors to where the sign read "Psych Ward". The girl assumed the psychiatrist would be behind those doors in a plush office waiting to speak with her. Wrong.
Through the double doors she was guided to a nurse who promptly asked, "Do you have anything in your pockets?"
"A barrette," the girl shakily replied.
She was instructed to hand it over along with her purse. The woman was escorted to a room where she was told it would be thirty minutes before anyone stopped in.
The room appeared to be cement from floor to ceiling. It was painted in a taupe color. The bed was a platform style bed, bolted to the floor. Only a fitted sheet covered the bed and the pillow. Did the ward assume someone would go suicidal using the pillow and that's why it too was bound down?
Alone with her racing thoughts, sounds of screaming drowned the halls. People shrieking, "Help me" and "Leave me alone" took her thoughts to a new level of dread.
"I don't belong here," she whispered to the camera above the bed. With courage, she reached out to push on the wall, which wasn't cement after all. It was rubber. She blinked away the tears, which then turned to a full on break down.
Within that half hour window, a nurse arrived to take her vital signs and ask a few questions. This part was rushed and straight faced. Before the nurse exited, the woman asked to use the restroom.
Upon entry to the restroom, she was given a cup to deposit her specimen into. The toilet was metal and cold, like that which you would find in a prison. She finished as quickly as possible and returned to the bolted down bed in that vile room.
Two hours after entering the ER, that same nurse returned to the room. She was whispering and ducking under the window telling the woman she didn't think she belonged here either. She pulled some strings and within moments, a physician's assistant made her way into the rubber room and asked a series of questions.
"Are you suicidal? Are you homicidal? Do you want to harm your children or husband?"
"Of course not," she desperately responded, tears continuously running down her face.
"Get the release paperwork," the P.A. ordered the nurse.
The woman signed a release stating she wouldn't commit suicide after leaving the facility. It was overwhelming that this sheet of paper was now part of her permanent hospital record.
It was a long drive home that night.
She and her husband discussed the horrifying events and put together a plan to get in touch with the woman's general practitioner the following day. It was time for someone new to step in and confirm that yes, she was in fact being over medicated.
The night passed into a new day. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the G.P. to call back. The woman always plays the waiting game.
The woman, is me....
She requested, "Can I leave a message for someone to call me back?"
Her message was noted.
Four hours passed. She began to wonder why no one returned her call. She nervously picked up the phone and called again. She was patched through to the nurse immediately who claimed to never have gotten the message. Her fury escalated.
The side effects were explained to the nurse who calmed her and within minutes, the psychiatrist on call, called her back.
"You need to wait until Dr. Psych returns next week to adjust your medications," she stated.
She went on to suggest taking two of five of the medications in the morning rather than at night. Didn't she hear the girl when she said she had tried that and instant depression ensued? Was this fill-in doctor already on holiday and not listening?
Later that same day, she searched for local facilities to contact for advice. One local facility, at the hospital, was listed. The woman called for information.
"We're an in treatment facility. We have no out patient resources," the receptionist stated.
"I'm just looking for someone to adjust my meds. My psych is on vacation and the psych on call won't help me in the way I need," she replied.
"Go to the ER. Tell them you're there for a psych evaluation and you'll see a psychiatrist who can help," she suggested.
The woman took this advice after speaking with her husband.
Once in the ER, an announcement was made that there were multiple traumas and everyone waiting would have to wait longer. Her name was called shortly after. Finally some progress!
She was escorted through several locked doors by a security guard. During the long haul, the woman anxiously asked, "Does everyone get door to door treatment?" He wasn't amused.
Finally, they reached the double doors to where the sign read "Psych Ward". The girl assumed the psychiatrist would be behind those doors in a plush office waiting to speak with her. Wrong.
Through the double doors she was guided to a nurse who promptly asked, "Do you have anything in your pockets?"
"A barrette," the girl shakily replied.
She was instructed to hand it over along with her purse. The woman was escorted to a room where she was told it would be thirty minutes before anyone stopped in.
The room appeared to be cement from floor to ceiling. It was painted in a taupe color. The bed was a platform style bed, bolted to the floor. Only a fitted sheet covered the bed and the pillow. Did the ward assume someone would go suicidal using the pillow and that's why it too was bound down?
Alone with her racing thoughts, sounds of screaming drowned the halls. People shrieking, "Help me" and "Leave me alone" took her thoughts to a new level of dread.
"I don't belong here," she whispered to the camera above the bed. With courage, she reached out to push on the wall, which wasn't cement after all. It was rubber. She blinked away the tears, which then turned to a full on break down.
Within that half hour window, a nurse arrived to take her vital signs and ask a few questions. This part was rushed and straight faced. Before the nurse exited, the woman asked to use the restroom.
Upon entry to the restroom, she was given a cup to deposit her specimen into. The toilet was metal and cold, like that which you would find in a prison. She finished as quickly as possible and returned to the bolted down bed in that vile room.
Two hours after entering the ER, that same nurse returned to the room. She was whispering and ducking under the window telling the woman she didn't think she belonged here either. She pulled some strings and within moments, a physician's assistant made her way into the rubber room and asked a series of questions.
"Are you suicidal? Are you homicidal? Do you want to harm your children or husband?"
"Of course not," she desperately responded, tears continuously running down her face.
"Get the release paperwork," the P.A. ordered the nurse.
The woman signed a release stating she wouldn't commit suicide after leaving the facility. It was overwhelming that this sheet of paper was now part of her permanent hospital record.
It was a long drive home that night.
She and her husband discussed the horrifying events and put together a plan to get in touch with the woman's general practitioner the following day. It was time for someone new to step in and confirm that yes, she was in fact being over medicated.
The night passed into a new day. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the G.P. to call back. The woman always plays the waiting game.
The woman, is me....
Wednesday 17 December 2014
Flipflop Chardonnay
About a month ago I was introduced to Flipflop Wines and wrote this review. I fell instantly in love with their Riesling and Pinot Grigio. & nbsp;
Then?
Then they sent me two bottles of Chardonnay for tasting. I thought I died and went to heaven with the Pinot Grigio (which has always been my favorite) but the Chardonnay knocked me sideways. The pineapple really shined right through, I just adore it.
I'm not really into pairing this wine with that food, etc. In fact, I prefer to wait until all is calm in the house (but really, how calm can it get with 3 kids running amok?). Then I sit in my living room, sip from my wine glass and let the crazies of the day escape me. Flipflop Chardonnay goes perfect for these occasions.
As I said in my first review, Flipflop wines sell for a mere $7 a bottle. So not only are they good quality, but the price is fitting for every budget.
Read more about Flipflop HERE. They know their wine!
Then?
I'm not really into pairing this wine with that food, etc. In fact, I prefer to wait until all is calm in the house (but really, how calm can it get with 3 kids running amok?). Then I sit in my living room, sip from my wine glass and let the crazies of the day escape me. Flipflop Chardonnay goes perfect for these occasions.
As I said in my first review, Flipflop wines sell for a mere $7 a bottle. So not only are they good quality, but the price is fitting for every budget.
Read more about Flipflop HERE. They know their wine!
Flipflop Wines generously shipped me two bottles of wine in exchange for this review. The opinions in this review are that of my own and nothing more. & nbsp;
Tuesday 16 December 2014
Adult Beverage of the Week
Jack O'Lantern
1 oz Cognac
1 oz Cognac
1 1/2 oz Orange Juice
1/2 oz Ginger Ale
1/2 oz Grand Marnier
Orange Wheel and Lime Twist for Garnish
1/2 oz Ginger Ale
1/2 oz Grand Marnier
Orange Wheel and Lime Twist for Garnish
Preparation:
- Combine all ingredients in a shaker.
- Strain into a low-ball glass over ice.
- Float an orange wheel with a lime twist poked into the top.
How cute is this drink? It tastes nothing like a pumpkin but it looks like a pumpkin. After all, you eat/drink with your eyes first, no?
Monday 15 December 2014
An Interior View
What does an anxiety attack look like? Can you feel it...taste it...reach out and touch it?Have you ever watched a tornado run its course? It's hit or miss. As it pummels through a neighborhood it can hit three houses in a row, skip the next, and hit another all on the same side of the street. The funnel is dark and mysterious. Sometimes it picks up speed and persists. Other times the sky above summons her home and she vanishes into thin air. Occasionally she returns but is silent. The next victim isn't quite aware of her presence until she's right on top of him and sucks the life right out from the bottom up.
That's anxiety. It arrives without notice and has no desire to share why it's there. Sometimes the feeling of excitement is in the air. Kind of like when you're waiting on the mailman because that package is expected only it doesn't come today. Fear is instilled because you're waiting for something to happen, maybe to you or a family member. You have no idea what is going to happen but something's coming. Any time now... Sometimes when anxiety checks in at the front desk it's a mixture of emotions that settles in. Excitement, fear, panic, impaired thinking, racing thoughts.
You're trapped.
It corners you.
It takes your breath away.
And there's not a whole lot you can do to stop it.
Because in that very moment, strategies are out of your reach even on tippy toes.
So you give in.
And anxiety is a taker.
Every time the anxiety returns a little piece of you leaves with it.
And you feel smaller and smaller with each visit.
That's what anxiety is like.
Sunday 14 December 2014
Panic Room
My head is spinning.
My heart is vibrating in my chest.
I think I can hear it.
I'm shaking but I'm not cold.
Every few moments it feels like I'm going to shiver but then I begin to sweat.
Thoughts race.
Invasive thoughts.
On the verge of tears.
Walking is difficult.
I thought it was hunger so I ate.
I fought the urge all morning to swallow you.
You make me feel better in a very short period of time.
But then my body feels like lead.
So heavy.
I just sit and stare.
Stare at nothing, yet taking it all in.
The thoughts continue but they move in slow motion.
Feels like I'm running in place.
Scared.
Nervous.
Paranoid.
They're reading my thoughts again.
Oh God, when they hear what I'm thinking they're going to take me away.
What was that?
Did you see that?
Did you hear that?
I'm angry.
I am so damn mad.
I want this fixed.
I want it to go away.
Tired of being tired.
Lonely but not alone.
Everything is just slightly out of reach.
Make it stop.
I think if I start crying today I won't be able to stop.
Twitching.
Sometimes twitching because I swallowed you and the lead makes me forget limbs are attached.
Sleep now.
Sleep.
Oh, I wish but there's still so much to do.
The day has only half begun....
My heart is vibrating in my chest.
I think I can hear it.
I'm shaking but I'm not cold.
Every few moments it feels like I'm going to shiver but then I begin to sweat.
Thoughts race.
Invasive thoughts.
On the verge of tears.
Walking is difficult.
I thought it was hunger so I ate.
I fought the urge all morning to swallow you.
You make me feel better in a very short period of time.
But then my body feels like lead.
So heavy.
I just sit and stare.
Stare at nothing, yet taking it all in.
The thoughts continue but they move in slow motion.
Feels like I'm running in place.
Scared.
Nervous.
Paranoid.
They're reading my thoughts again.
Oh God, when they hear what I'm thinking they're going to take me away.
What was that?
Did you see that?
Did you hear that?
I'm angry.
I am so damn mad.
I want this fixed.
I want it to go away.
Tired of being tired.
Lonely but not alone.
Everything is just slightly out of reach.
Make it stop.
I think if I start crying today I won't be able to stop.
Twitching.
Sometimes twitching because I swallowed you and the lead makes me forget limbs are attached.
Sleep now.
Sleep.
Oh, I wish but there's still so much to do.
The day has only half begun....
Saturday 13 December 2014
Fresh Air {Just What the Doctor Ordered}
I love it when I check my email and see that I've been contacted by CSN Stores again! Have you ever shopped with them? They have everything from stylish handbags, to bar furniture, to cookware and beyond. What am I checking out this time? A bike seat for my nineteen month old!
It's no big secret around here that my PPD has returned. I've found that getting out into the fresh air is a big help! So when I started searching around the CSN website and came across this seat:
I got really excited! Fresh air, exercise and quality time with my little man. I'm also grabbing up this cute helmet for him:
I'll be sure to post a review and photos after we test drive it together!
What helps you most when you're down and out?
It's no big secret around here that my PPD has returned. I've found that getting out into the fresh air is a big help! So when I started searching around the CSN website and came across this seat:
I got really excited! Fresh air, exercise and quality time with my little man. I'm also grabbing up this cute helmet for him:
I'll be sure to post a review and photos after we test drive it together!What helps you most when you're down and out?
Friday 12 December 2014
It's Raining, It's Pouring
Thursday 11 December 2014
Chicken Francaise {MY recipe}
Today, my first born turns sixteen! When I was pregnant with each of my sons, I ate one dish in particular throughout the pregnancy. The funny thing is, the dish I ate while growing each of them is their favorite today! For my oldest, that dish is Chicken Francaise. We eat this dish so much, I had to learn how to make it on my own. Over the years, I've perfected the recipe and now I'm going to share it with all of you.
Chicken Francaise {Serves 8}
8 Boneless/Skinless Chicken Breasts {I buy the small package and cut each of them in half width-wise making 8 thin pieces)
1 Cup Flour
Batter {Place all ingredients in a bowl and mix well}:
5 Beaten Eggs
2 Tablespoons Fresh Lemon Juice
1/4 Cup Fresh Chopped Parsley
1/4 Teaspoon Salt
1/4 Cup White Wine {Pinot Grigio is fabulous here}
1 Teaspoon Finely Chopped Garlic {I like to grate mine}
1/4 Cup Parmesan Cheese
1 Teaspoon Melted {unsalted} Butter
Sauce:
1/2 Cup White Wine
1 Stick {unsalted} Butter
1/4 Cup Fresh Lemon Juice
1 Teaspoon Grated Lemon Zest
Coat the chicken in flour, dunk in the batter and cook in a heated pan in oil {I use olive oil}. Brown on each side, about 5-7 minutes per side. Remove chicken from the pan and set aside. Now, make the sauce in the same pan! Melt the butter over low heat and add remaining ingredients until combined. Turn heat off unless you want your lemons to turn bitter! Place the chicken in the sauce for 1-2 minutes and serve immediately.
(Borrowed the photo from Google. I've never taken the time to take a picture!)
I usually serve this with a side of steamed broccoli. I know it says serves 8, above but there's no way that happens in my house. Tonight, I'm serving up my son's favorite birthday dinner with a side of mashed potatoes.
Enjoy!
Chicken Francaise {Serves 8}
8 Boneless/Skinless Chicken Breasts {I buy the small package and cut each of them in half width-wise making 8 thin pieces)
1 Cup Flour
Batter {Place all ingredients in a bowl and mix well}:
5 Beaten Eggs
2 Tablespoons Fresh Lemon Juice
1/4 Cup Fresh Chopped Parsley
1/4 Teaspoon Salt
1/4 Cup White Wine {Pinot Grigio is fabulous here}
1 Teaspoon Finely Chopped Garlic {I like to grate mine}
1/4 Cup Parmesan Cheese
1 Teaspoon Melted {unsalted} Butter
Sauce:
1/2 Cup White Wine
1 Stick {unsalted} Butter
1/4 Cup Fresh Lemon Juice
1 Teaspoon Grated Lemon Zest
Coat the chicken in flour, dunk in the batter and cook in a heated pan in oil {I use olive oil}. Brown on each side, about 5-7 minutes per side. Remove chicken from the pan and set aside. Now, make the sauce in the same pan! Melt the butter over low heat and add remaining ingredients until combined. Turn heat off unless you want your lemons to turn bitter! Place the chicken in the sauce for 1-2 minutes and serve immediately.
(Borrowed the photo from Google. I've never taken the time to take a picture!)
I usually serve this with a side of steamed broccoli. I know it says serves 8, above but there's no way that happens in my house. Tonight, I'm serving up my son's favorite birthday dinner with a side of mashed potatoes.
Enjoy!
Wednesday 10 December 2014
Tuesday 9 December 2014
What's with the blog?
Write about what blogging means to you. Why do you blog? What purpose does it serve you and how have you benefited from sharing a piece of yourself online this way?
When I started this here blog back in June of 2009, I was suffering from Postpartum Depression (PPD). It wasn't pretty. I was just becoming familiar with the world of blogging and I thought it would be a great way to get the thoughts out of my head. Some self healing of sorts.
Little by little, other women who were suffering (or had suffered) with PPD began to contact me. We were all in different stages, pulling each other through, and cheering for one another. To this day, I am still contacted by women from all over the world, asking for my (un-medical-professional) advice. It feels wonderful to have been helped and to have helped others through the illness.
I don't recall when it happened, but one day I got my funny back. Not that I had ever truly shown it via my blog when I was sick. Since then, I've taken the mundane events in my life and written about them here. Funnily (as in, really funny)! I've mixed in some serious topics and reviews along the side.
The short version to why I blog is simple, free therapy. I'd also like to think that I'm pretty good at it. I've met so many great fellow bloggers during my time here and I continue to write just about every day because it's fun. I've dabbled into some short stories, writing exercises and shared silly things about my husband and kids. I'm known as the mommy blogger with a twist of adult humor.
I don't know how exactly it happened, changing the name of my blog, but I knew when I made it official that I was going to be known for it. It originated as "Motherhood is Challenging" (remember, I was in a haze back then) to "2 Much Testosterone". Not too long ago, the spermies were incorporated into the design and the rest is history.
I could sit here and plug a bunch of funny (to me) posts but I won't do that. You know where the archives are! I will leave you with my Twitter handle though..... lotsOspermies. Because that's how I roll, spermie style, YO!
Little by little, other women who were suffering (or had suffered) with PPD began to contact me. We were all in different stages, pulling each other through, and cheering for one another. To this day, I am still contacted by women from all over the world, asking for my (un-medical-professional) advice. It feels wonderful to have been helped and to have helped others through the illness.
I don't recall when it happened, but one day I got my funny back. Not that I had ever truly shown it via my blog when I was sick. Since then, I've taken the mundane events in my life and written about them here. Funnily (as in, really funny)! I've mixed in some serious topics and reviews along the side.
The short version to why I blog is simple, free therapy. I'd also like to think that I'm pretty good at it. I've met so many great fellow bloggers during my time here and I continue to write just about every day because it's fun. I've dabbled into some short stories, writing exercises and shared silly things about my husband and kids. I'm known as the mommy blogger with a twist of adult humor.
I don't know how exactly it happened, changing the name of my blog, but I knew when I made it official that I was going to be known for it. It originated as "Motherhood is Challenging" (remember, I was in a haze back then) to "2 Much Testosterone". Not too long ago, the spermies were incorporated into the design and the rest is history.
I could sit here and plug a bunch of funny (to me) posts but I won't do that. You know where the archives are! I will leave you with my Twitter handle though..... lotsOspermies. Because that's how I roll, spermie style, YO!
Hawaii Five-O
I'm going to paint this post with pictures!
Alex O'Loughlin
Scott Caan
Alex O'LoughlinScott CaanDaniel Dae Kim
Grace Park
Grace ParkI love this show. Yes, it's another cop deal but it's different. It's like a modern day cop show. Actually, in the pilot episode, the "bad guy" gets caught and is being questioned by the yum-a-licious cast. The questioning is rather bad-ass and the "bad guy" is all, "What kind of cops are you?" and hottie numero uno above replies, "The new kind!" ....and I was hooked!
It's quirky and funny and packed with witty humor. The cast is beautiful but not in a "I'm so not going to get my hands dirty" kind of way. It's a keeper.
What new shows are you watching that you love? What shows are back that you are watching the clock until premiere hour strikes?
It's quirky and funny and packed with witty humor. The cast is beautiful but not in a "I'm so not going to get my hands dirty" kind of way. It's a keeper.
What new shows are you watching that you love? What shows are back that you are watching the clock until premiere hour strikes?
Monday 8 December 2014
Burn Baby, Burn
Have you ever woken up by jolting your body into an upright position because you just know your alarm never went off?
This happened to me today. At first I was pretty mad but then I thought my body needed a break from running today. I've been sore (in a good way) but having the morning off to sleep an extra hour could benefit my aching muscles and the sleep I so craved. A fresh start tomorrow.
The feeling that whooshes over me when I'm running isn't easy to describe. Just when I think I'm going to die I remember that it's probably just psychological. The burn might be there but that's when it it counts. Burn baby, burn.
I work behind a desk everyday. I sit here day after day, hour after hour. Yesterday I decided to get off my ass and do some little things to wake my body up. Today I'm feeling it.
I did several sets of tricep dips, incline push-ups (using my desk), squats and lunges throughout the day. I can feel the burn in my arms and chest. Also? It felt good to get out of the chair. When I sit, I am trying to focus on proper posture. It's much more difficult to sit like you're supposed to versus slouching over. It's a mini workout in itself because you use your entire core to hold the position.
Tonight I'm going to give some Burpees (a.k.a. Squat Thrusts) a go. I'm definitely not ready for the full on range of motion a Burpee offers, so I went on YouTube to get some ideas to modify the moves. I ended up reading several articles on this exercise. It's one of the top most rated moves because it involves just about every body part to do it. Somewhere along the way, I read that if you're going to modify the move, to either begin or end with one full-on Burpee. Just one. And then the next time you're doing a set of the modified version, add one more and so on. Eventually you'll be doing a full set of the move how it's intended.
I feel pretty awesome these days. I'm not stepping on a scale anytime soon but I can already tell that things are happening to my body as it's measured by a few pairs of pants I wear often. It's a fantastic feeling!
I'm going to close today with a quote I heard (I can't remember where)....
Makes sense, huh?
This happened to me today. At first I was pretty mad but then I thought my body needed a break from running today. I've been sore (in a good way) but having the morning off to sleep an extra hour could benefit my aching muscles and the sleep I so craved. A fresh start tomorrow.
The feeling that whooshes over me when I'm running isn't easy to describe. Just when I think I'm going to die I remember that it's probably just psychological. The burn might be there but that's when it it counts. Burn baby, burn.
I work behind a desk everyday. I sit here day after day, hour after hour. Yesterday I decided to get off my ass and do some little things to wake my body up. Today I'm feeling it.
I did several sets of tricep dips, incline push-ups (using my desk), squats and lunges throughout the day. I can feel the burn in my arms and chest. Also? It felt good to get out of the chair. When I sit, I am trying to focus on proper posture. It's much more difficult to sit like you're supposed to versus slouching over. It's a mini workout in itself because you use your entire core to hold the position.
Tonight I'm going to give some Burpees (a.k.a. Squat Thrusts) a go. I'm definitely not ready for the full on range of motion a Burpee offers, so I went on YouTube to get some ideas to modify the moves. I ended up reading several articles on this exercise. It's one of the top most rated moves because it involves just about every body part to do it. Somewhere along the way, I read that if you're going to modify the move, to either begin or end with one full-on Burpee. Just one. And then the next time you're doing a set of the modified version, add one more and so on. Eventually you'll be doing a full set of the move how it's intended.
 |
| This is the full range of motion Burpee |
I'm going to close today with a quote I heard (I can't remember where)....
"If it doesn't go bad within a week, you shouldn't be eating it!"
Makes sense, huh?
Sunday 7 December 2014
My Teen Is Melting My Brain!
I have a fifteen year old son. I may as well just shoot myself, right? Well, I'm debating doing just that because my brain is melting from all the shit he puts me through.
First, aside from this teen freak, I have two other sons (a little background for my newest readers). I love having all boys. My husband is a student and this semester, has class three nights per week away from home and one online class. It's rough. A lot of rushing around to get stuff done but we make it work!
The teen boy appears to have issues with his mouth when his father is absent from home. Like, he talks back nonstop and questions just about everything that comes out of my mouth.
Over dinner, I like to catch up on what's going on in school. The normal answers I receive are one word answers such as "good", "no", "yes", and an occasional "maybe". Lately, he's been answering my questions with sentences that start off normal but then go up in pitch. You know, like he's asking a question only not, ala Kourtney Kardashian {whom I adore!}. (If you watch Keeping up with the Kardashians or Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami, you know exactly what I'm talking about!)
The level of maturity from said teen is unspeakable.
Punishments are wearing thin for his behavior. Go to your room! Go to bed! Read! (oh how I wish he didn't see reading as a punishment!!) No TV! No video games!
I'm THIS close to taking the phone away at times and I have for a few hours at a time. He gets jittery and goes through withdrawal when he can't text. So tonight, there's a football game at school, which I said he could go to before he started with the attitude last night. I'm so sick of kids thinking that just because you say yes to something, they can now go off into jerk-dome and think they can still attend. I retracted my "yes" last night. Told him he had to earn it and respect me before, during, and after any event in daily living.
So how do you deal with your kids? I'm strongly considering calling my doctor (although I don't know which to start with, PCP, Gyno, Psychiatrist?) and asking for a Xanax prescription. My anxiety level is through the roof!
I realize this isn't much of a post but I'm open to any suggestions with dealing with the anxiety that comes with having a teenager! !
First, aside from this teen freak, I have two other sons (a little background for my newest readers). I love having all boys. My husband is a student and this semester, has class three nights per week away from home and one online class. It's rough. A lot of rushing around to get stuff done but we make it work!
The teen boy appears to have issues with his mouth when his father is absent from home. Like, he talks back nonstop and questions just about everything that comes out of my mouth.
Over dinner, I like to catch up on what's going on in school. The normal answers I receive are one word answers such as "good", "no", "yes", and an occasional "maybe". Lately, he's been answering my questions with sentences that start off normal but then go up in pitch. You know, like he's asking a question only not, ala Kourtney Kardashian {whom I adore!}. (If you watch Keeping up with the Kardashians or Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami, you know exactly what I'm talking about!)
The level of maturity from said teen is unspeakable.
Punishments are wearing thin for his behavior. Go to your room! Go to bed! Read! (oh how I wish he didn't see reading as a punishment!!) No TV! No video games!
I'm THIS close to taking the phone away at times and I have for a few hours at a time. He gets jittery and goes through withdrawal when he can't text. So tonight, there's a football game at school, which I said he could go to before he started with the attitude last night. I'm so sick of kids thinking that just because you say yes to something, they can now go off into jerk-dome and think they can still attend. I retracted my "yes" last night. Told him he had to earn it and respect me before, during, and after any event in daily living.
So how do you deal with your kids? I'm strongly considering calling my doctor (although I don't know which to start with, PCP, Gyno, Psychiatrist?) and asking for a Xanax prescription. My anxiety level is through the roof!
I realize this isn't much of a post but I'm open to any suggestions with dealing with the anxiety that comes with having a teenager! !
Saturday 6 December 2014
Am I a Whiner?
This new medicine is kicking my ass sideways.
I'm so tired.
I yawn all day and somewhere around the middle, my head begins to pound because all it wants is for my body to lie down and rest. By the end of the day I'm so dizzy.
When Dr. M prescribed me the Trileptal he said it would probably make me tired and if that were the case to "just take a nap". Yeah, because that's conducive to my work schedule and three kids I go home to every day.
I don't know if this will level off and go away.
At this point, I don't know how long to wait until I tell Dr. M what's going on.
I'll probably just sound like a whiner at this point.
Am I crying anymore? Not unless there's something to cry about.
So that's the toss up? Cry or be exhausted and achy. I don't know which is better?
Seriously, I'm out of ideas.
I'm so tired.
I yawn all day and somewhere around the middle, my head begins to pound because all it wants is for my body to lie down and rest. By the end of the day I'm so dizzy.
When Dr. M prescribed me the Trileptal he said it would probably make me tired and if that were the case to "just take a nap". Yeah, because that's conducive to my work schedule and three kids I go home to every day.
I don't know if this will level off and go away.
At this point, I don't know how long to wait until I tell Dr. M what's going on.
I'll probably just sound like a whiner at this point.
Am I crying anymore? Not unless there's something to cry about.
So that's the toss up? Cry or be exhausted and achy. I don't know which is better?
Seriously, I'm out of ideas.
Friday 5 December 2014
All Good Things Came to an End
I had the wonderful opportunity of taking some time off from work and spending the days with my family. Friday and Monday my older sons were in school for most of the day and so the little lad was stuck with me. My husband took some much deserved time off from diaper changes and feedings.It felt fantastic to come and go as I pleased, rather than being chained behind a desk all day. To sit on the kitchen floor and share a snack with the baby. To watch Blues Clues and hear his joyous squeals. To go for a mid-morning walk with a new friend. To hit up the grocery store sales when everyone else was working. No lines!
I could go on and on.
Back to the office today after a restless night. I'm still not sleeping, even with the new medication. It's probably time I contact Dr. Psych and get yet another RX for that.
It was really hard to leave the baby today. I miss the hugs he sparingly dispensed while I was with him nonstop and the constant shushing of his ever expanding screeches. I laughed so hard, I snorted on more than one occasion. The kid is comical.
Anyhow, it was great while it lasted. I knew it wasn't going to last forever but to get that little glimpse of what life would be like if I could stay at home full time.....
I will say this... If I were at home doing the "mom-thing" full-time, postpartum depression (PPD) wouldn't have reared its ugly head again!
Thursday 4 December 2014
resp-ECT
ECT. Electroconvulsive Therapy. Electroshock Therapy. Shock Therapy.
It doesn't matter what you call it, it's still the same thing.
An electric current is sent to the brain causing a grand-mal seizure for about 20 seconds.
It's used to treat various illnesses: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorders....
How does it work? Why does it work? Doctors aren't sure. But doctors also prescribe patients with anti-seizure medication and call them "mood stabilizers" as well. Because they work.
ECT can work.
And so I'm considering it.
I'm at the end of feeling like this and need something drastic.
Dr. M in an hour and a half. He'll sit there and smile and me and tell me to "Have hope..." He'll ask me why I stopped taking the Trileptal. "Because it was making my suicidal thoughts more vivid. More real. More in the planning stages. You dumbass, didn't you get my message yesterday?"
Oh yes. Dr. M will get a dose of Pam at her absolute worst today.
I'm done playing wiffle ball. It's time for a real bat.
Wednesday 3 December 2014
Tuesday 2 December 2014
Monday 1 December 2014
Hammer Time
I'm pretty sure we all have a person in our lives (indirectly or otherwise) who has children who cannot make a move without his/her approval and/or direction. You know what I'm talking about. For instance, when you answer the phone at work and the person on the other end of the line is the son or daughter of this person. Like, every time!
I hope that in raising our sons, my husband and I instill enough common sense and courage for them to make decisions. I'm not saying that they should never come to us for advice or our opinions. What I am saying is, they shouldn't do it each time something arises.
The person in my life (as mentioned above) has sons who, I swear, cannot even decide what to have for dinner without her approval. It drives me bananas. What's even more over the top is that she complains of this happening, yet does nothing to change it. I'm all for "don't complain unless you plan on making a change"!
My kids are still young and very immature. My husband and I are strict, to the point, yet very much emotionally available to each of them. We are not materialistic, in fact, I'd rather show my love by means of a home cooked meal vs. the new video game that was just released. Very cut and dry. They will always know where they stand with us.
For example: Last night, our fifteen year old son was taking out the trash. To the garage. The garage is through the door in my kitchen. There was a backpack to be thrown out and he decided he needed to wear the backpack to the trash can, five feet away. My husband told him he was a tool, the kid made a sarcastic comment and completed the chore. When he came back inside I referred to him as "Hammer". He hated this. He will forever more be called "Hammer". This morning, I rushed to get ready so I would have five minutes to spare. After "Hammer" left for school, I went straight to the white board in his room and drew a picture of a hammer and wrote "Hammer Time" next to it. I'm sitting here waiting for the text from "Hammer" that he is indeed over the new nickname.
But don't you see? Like I said, they will always know where we stand!
I hope that in raising our sons, my husband and I instill enough common sense and courage for them to make decisions. I'm not saying that they should never come to us for advice or our opinions. What I am saying is, they shouldn't do it each time something arises.
The person in my life (as mentioned above) has sons who, I swear, cannot even decide what to have for dinner without her approval. It drives me bananas. What's even more over the top is that she complains of this happening, yet does nothing to change it. I'm all for "don't complain unless you plan on making a change"!
My kids are still young and very immature. My husband and I are strict, to the point, yet very much emotionally available to each of them. We are not materialistic, in fact, I'd rather show my love by means of a home cooked meal vs. the new video game that was just released. Very cut and dry. They will always know where they stand with us.
For example: Last night, our fifteen year old son was taking out the trash. To the garage. The garage is through the door in my kitchen. There was a backpack to be thrown out and he decided he needed to wear the backpack to the trash can, five feet away. My husband told him he was a tool, the kid made a sarcastic comment and completed the chore. When he came back inside I referred to him as "Hammer". He hated this. He will forever more be called "Hammer". This morning, I rushed to get ready so I would have five minutes to spare. After "Hammer" left for school, I went straight to the white board in his room and drew a picture of a hammer and wrote "Hammer Time" next to it. I'm sitting here waiting for the text from "Hammer" that he is indeed over the new nickname.
Sunday 30 November 2014
She's the chosen one, I just get to sit here and rot
I read on Facebook today about a friend returning to work after her maternity leave. She was happy to get back to her job. Why couldn't that have been me? Why did I have to suffer at the hands of postpartum depression? Why was I held under water gasping for a mere moment of air? Why?
Why do I continue to battle this, almost three years later? This is me now. The bipolar me. The me who constantly has to shield herself from these horrid thoughts in my head.
Why can't a knight just come along and swing his sword in the air? Can't he just slay this bastard for good?
Why don't I have a knight? Where's my fucking armour? Why does she get to have it and I sit here bleeding from lack of protection?
Why do I continue to battle this, almost three years later? This is me now. The bipolar me. The me who constantly has to shield herself from these horrid thoughts in my head.
Why can't a knight just come along and swing his sword in the air? Can't he just slay this bastard for good?
Why don't I have a knight? Where's my fucking armour? Why does she get to have it and I sit here bleeding from lack of protection?
You SHOULD Have Read This When I Initially Published It!
I'm loving the flashbacks over at SITS this week! Today's prompt is to "Re-upload a post you wish more people had read and explain why it was important to you." The post I've chosen isn't really important, per se, but I think it's hilarious.
I hope you laugh as much as I just did when I reread it!
I hope you laugh as much as I just did when I reread it!
Saturday 29 November 2014
100 to 150 With a Simple Phone Call
Why are you burned out? Because of this:
I went to the pharmacy. It's already written in RED, did they need to highlight it too? Let's just announce it to everyone.... See this woman? This woman standing right here? Her antidepressant isn't working so she needed a DOSE INCREASE. Carry on with your day now.
Yeah, go ahead and carry on with your day. I'll be sitting over here with my DOSE INCREASE, praying that it works.
THAT'S why I'm burned out.
I went to the pharmacy. It's already written in RED, did they need to highlight it too? Let's just announce it to everyone.... See this woman? This woman standing right here? Her antidepressant isn't working so she needed a DOSE INCREASE. Carry on with your day now.
Yeah, go ahead and carry on with your day. I'll be sitting over here with my DOSE INCREASE, praying that it works.
THAT'S why I'm burned out.
Friday 28 November 2014
I Thought I Killed You
My favorite time of the day also happens to be my most un-favorite time of the day. During the work week, I creep into my nineteen-month old son's bedroom at 7am with his sippy cup filled with milk in hand. He hears me enter the room and he never fails to reach out for me. I scoop him up and give him a giant bear hug as we prepare for a diaper change.
He lies upon a plush towel on the floor, head propped by his favorite red pillow with the baseball on it. As quickly as possible, I fasten a new diaper on him and lie down beside him. I can hear his every sip and his every breath. I watch his tummy slowly move up and down in a rhythm and I snuggle right up next to his body. The body that perfectly fits beside mine.
When the last sip is drawn, I cringe. Our time is up. It has gone by too quickly. One last squeeze, a smooch on the cheek, and back into bed he goes. Then I walk out of the room, close the door and face the day ahead.
It's my favorite time of day because the house is quiet and calm and my son is at his most vulnerable. He's still sleepy-eyed and affectionate without my asking. Having to him leave for the next nine hours makes me insane with rage.This would have been understandable at this time last year. I was under the impression that this was a combat I had won!
Postpartum Depression (PPD) revisited. A relapse. Yes, it happens. Did I know it could happen? Was I prepared for the possibility? No and no.
I was very open about having PPD on my blog during the first round. My blog originated because of it. Writing was very therapeutic for me and it still is. In fact, I recapped many moments in this post. I just reread it myself and a lot of emotions came rushing back.
I have searched high and low for articles about PPD relapse. I have found nothing. The only information I can seem to muster up is that if you stop taking your medication too soon, the likelihood that PPD symptoms will return are rather high. I really feel like I kicked PPD's ass the first time. Like, it was lying in a pool of blood. This isn't some, "I think I'll stop taking my meds today and see what happens..." kind of situation. Hell no. I was better y'all. I felt great. When I weaned (under doctor's supervision and advice), I continued on the up and up. So what the fuck? I have a list of shit to get done, shit I want to get done. Does it get done? Nope. And if it does, it's probably really half-assed. For a perfectionist, that just won't do.Anyhow I sort of dropped a bomb on many of you last week with my relapse news and I felt like I should share a bit of what's going on. How long is it going to last? I have no idea but for now, I'll write from time to time because it really does help me to release some of the pent up emotions.
I do want to leave you with a bit of advice. Yesterday I heard several disturbing instances involving PPD...
Number ONE: If a new mother decides to take extra time off from work after having her baby, do not make the assumption that she just wants an extended maternity leave to coo and smile at her new bundle. It's not a vacation, trust me. In fact, she's probably too paranoid and anxious to leave her baby.
Number TWO: Do not EVER fake PPD to get time off from work and collect disability. You can read this post to see what I'm talking about.
And Number THREE: The last one I promise... If a woman with PPD reaches out to you in confidence, first realize how hard it was for her to do so. Then, take her seriously. I'll describe one instance which stands out for me, but I'll leave out names. I once was in the middle of a breakdown and reached out to someone to say how I was literally breaking in half because I wasn't at home with my son. The response I received, "Oh, it'll be okay. You'll be home in about an hour!" It. Doesn't. Work. Like. That.
Thursday 27 November 2014
I'm Not A Storm Chaser, Really!
I moved to Florida from New Jersey (where the only worry was, how high should my hair go today?) when I was nineteen. My mother bought a mobile home (A.K.A. trailer) for my son (then 2 years old) and I to live in. It was actually really nice!
A few weeks after settling in, I watched the movie Twister for the first time. You know, the one with the "flying" cows.... The very next night, we were under a tornado warning, I shit you not. Not just a watch, but a warning. Meaning, a tornado is going to take your mobile home and gobble it down as an appetizer in ten minutes! I freaked out.
I remember attempting to sleep that night with the TV left on, tuned to the news. Every two and a half minutes the siren would go off with the red band flashing on the bottom of the screen reminding me of my doom.
There were no visible funnel clouds that night.
Flash forward a few years and my now husband was living with us. Guess what? Another W.A.R.N.I.N.G. was occurring. This time though, when looking outside, the sky looked like this:
Okay fine. It looked a little more like this:
What did I make my husband do at this point?
Okay, that might be a bit dramatic. I did make him drive around though:
There are instructions for when you're already in your car and a tornado forms. There aren't instructions that say "If there's a tornado warning, get in your car and track it down!" Unless you're a storm chaser and you're going against all the rules!
My husband probably shook his head, argued with me for a minute, whatever. In the end, I won and we drove.
There never was a tornado. To this day, 24 years after initially moving here, I've never seen a tornado. Well, not including all the times I've seen Twister on TNT since then....
A few weeks after settling in, I watched the movie Twister for the first time. You know, the one with the "flying" cows.... The very next night, we were under a tornado warning, I shit you not. Not just a watch, but a warning. Meaning, a tornado is going to take your mobile home and gobble it down as an appetizer in ten minutes! I freaked out.
I remember attempting to sleep that night with the TV left on, tuned to the news. Every two and a half minutes the siren would go off with the red band flashing on the bottom of the screen reminding me of my doom.
There were no visible funnel clouds that night.
Flash forward a few years and my now husband was living with us. Guess what? Another W.A.R.N.I.N.G. was occurring. This time though, when looking outside, the sky looked like this:
Okay fine. It looked a little more like this:
What did I make my husband do at this point?
Okay, that might be a bit dramatic. I did make him drive around though:
There are instructions for when you're already in your car and a tornado forms. There aren't instructions that say "If there's a tornado warning, get in your car and track it down!" Unless you're a storm chaser and you're going against all the rules!
My husband probably shook his head, argued with me for a minute, whatever. In the end, I won and we drove.
There never was a tornado. To this day, 24 years after initially moving here, I've never seen a tornado. Well, not including all the times I've seen Twister on TNT since then....
Wednesday 26 November 2014
Talking Elevators & Birds Who Walk?
Inside joke alert: At my house, when we love something so much we say, "Oh, I just want to lick all your hair off!" Like, if my 1 year old does something too freaking cute for words I'll go, "You're so cute I just want to lick all your hair off!"
The short version of the reasoning behind this phrase is this. Last year, my son Isaac (who is 10) was making fun of the things girls say. One time he described how all the girls in his class are always all "Awwwwwwww!" when they see a puppy. So he was making fun of them one day and said. "Awwwwww, that puppy is so cute I just want to lick all his hair off!" And so it was born!
There's a story here, there's always a story here!
Last weekend. I was out promoting Palm Coast Macaroni Kid. My oldest son Jerytt and I were at this shopping center handing out flyers and talking to business owners. It was a two-story building and the stairs weren't in sight most of the time, so we opted for the elevator. The. Elevator. Talked.
She was so pleasant. You get in and she's all, "Going up!" and I'm all, "Why yes, yes I am!". When we got to the next floor she's all, "Here you are!" and I'm all, "You're so awesome, I just want to lick all your hair off!" She was that sexy, let me tell you!
Okay, now I want to discuss birds. You know how you'll be driving along and a fucking squirrel will run in front of your car and you don't even hesitate to slam on your breaks because "Fucking squirrel!"? Well, birds can fly, right? Why the hell are they taking to walking across the street? Penguins are one thing, I totally realize it's like 1,000,000 to 1 that a penguin is going to dart in front of my moving vehicle, in Florida, but that would be understandable right? Because of the whole, they can't fly thing. But when a bird is crossing the street, via his feet, I only slow down. I don't halt like I would for the fuzzy squirrel trying to find his goodies he buried for later.
When I'm approaching a bird walking across the street, I slow down a bit and am all, "Why the hell aren't you flying? You have wings you asshole!" Then I get to thinking that perhaps he's mocking me! He's all, "You're human. I know that at least once a week you have that dream where you can fly. This is me telling you that I can do both, and you can't, you dumb bitch!"
The short version of the reasoning behind this phrase is this. Last year, my son Isaac (who is 10) was making fun of the things girls say. One time he described how all the girls in his class are always all "Awwwwwwww!" when they see a puppy. So he was making fun of them one day and said. "Awwwwww, that puppy is so cute I just want to lick all his hair off!" And so it was born!
There's a story here, there's always a story here!
Last weekend. I was out promoting Palm Coast Macaroni Kid. My oldest son Jerytt and I were at this shopping center handing out flyers and talking to business owners. It was a two-story building and the stairs weren't in sight most of the time, so we opted for the elevator. The. Elevator. Talked.
She was so pleasant. You get in and she's all, "Going up!" and I'm all, "Why yes, yes I am!". When we got to the next floor she's all, "Here you are!" and I'm all, "You're so awesome, I just want to lick all your hair off!" She was that sexy, let me tell you!
Okay, now I want to discuss birds. You know how you'll be driving along and a fucking squirrel will run in front of your car and you don't even hesitate to slam on your breaks because "Fucking squirrel!"? Well, birds can fly, right? Why the hell are they taking to walking across the street? Penguins are one thing, I totally realize it's like 1,000,000 to 1 that a penguin is going to dart in front of my moving vehicle, in Florida, but that would be understandable right? Because of the whole, they can't fly thing. But when a bird is crossing the street, via his feet, I only slow down. I don't halt like I would for the fuzzy squirrel trying to find his goodies he buried for later.
When I'm approaching a bird walking across the street, I slow down a bit and am all, "Why the hell aren't you flying? You have wings you asshole!" Then I get to thinking that perhaps he's mocking me! He's all, "You're human. I know that at least once a week you have that dream where you can fly. This is me telling you that I can do both, and you can't, you dumb bitch!"
Tuesday 25 November 2014
Brownie Fix - - A Novel By Ellen Cordona
Ellen Cordona is the author of Brownie Fix. She contacted me and asked if I would read her book and host a review on my blog. I don't host reviews for just any book and/or product, I have to believe in it.
Then I read the synopsis:
Chocolate. Love. Sex. Really, what else could a woman want in life? For Persey, the heroine of Brownie Fix, her days are fun-filled until what is normally one of life's most fulfilling experiences, the birth of her son, leads her straight into a dark state of postpartum depression.
...and I agreed to do it immediately. & nbsp;
I settled in to read Brownie Fix and couldn't put it down. There were definite moments that triggered memories of when I was in the throws of postpartum depression and had to stop reading for a bit. & nbsp;
The style in which this book was written is like nothing I've ever read before on the topic of PPD. I'm so glad to come across a work of fiction on the subject. & nbsp;
There were definite moments that moved me to tears, laughter, many head nods and smiles. I was sad when the book ended and without giving the ending away, let me just say I fell in love with Persey from the very beginning. & nbsp;
I recommend Brownie Fix to anyone going through PPD or who has been there. Maybe you had a child and weren't sure it was PPD you were experiencing? Read the book. You'll be glad you did.
Then I read the synopsis:
Chocolate. Love. Sex. Really, what else could a woman want in life? For Persey, the heroine of Brownie Fix, her days are fun-filled until what is normally one of life's most fulfilling experiences, the birth of her son, leads her straight into a dark state of postpartum depression.Wandering in her own postpartum hell, Persey meets people that are absurd, like the swinging neighbors who want a little more than a cup of sugar and a group of mothers who become whipped up in worship to a climactic furor. On top of the madness, she keeps seeing a yellow-toothed old man who acts like he wants to breastfeed from her. Or is it her imagination? Add the voices in her head that become louder and louder, and it's little wonder that Persey reaches for brownie mix to soothe her insanity.
Buckling under the pressure and lack of sleep from motherhood, Persey experiences the five stages of grief that lead her to uncover a buried secret, and gradually she begins to heal with the help of her family, friends, and, of course, brownies.
Buckling under the pressure and lack of sleep from motherhood, Persey experiences the five stages of grief that lead her to uncover a buried secret, and gradually she begins to heal with the help of her family, friends, and, of course, brownies.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
...and I agreed to do it immediately. & nbsp;
I settled in to read Brownie Fix and couldn't put it down. There were definite moments that triggered memories of when I was in the throws of postpartum depression and had to stop reading for a bit. & nbsp;
The style in which this book was written is like nothing I've ever read before on the topic of PPD. I'm so glad to come across a work of fiction on the subject. & nbsp;
There were definite moments that moved me to tears, laughter, many head nods and smiles. I was sad when the book ended and without giving the ending away, let me just say I fell in love with Persey from the very beginning. & nbsp;
I recommend Brownie Fix to anyone going through PPD or who has been there. Maybe you had a child and weren't sure it was PPD you were experiencing? Read the book. You'll be glad you did.
Monday 24 November 2014
Michael {Myers} vs. Jason {Voorhees}
I was in and out of sleep all night. It's not what you think. This wasn't a case of the "I can't sleeps". No. It was my dreams keeping me from slumber.
Here's the thing. I have a crush on Michael Myers. Yes, blue jumpsuit...white mask...butcher knife...traps young women in closets...doesn't talk (probably my favorite part).
Where am I going with this? I was dreaming about Jason Voorhees (think hockey mask minus the NHL) last night!
& nbsp;GASP! It was as if I was cheating on my beloved.
One minute my eyes were closed and I was running from Jason and next it was like some sexual fantasy. Like...it was foreplay. & nbsp;
I kept waking myself from this nonsense. I lay in bed all shaken up trying to get the visions to leave...I even splashed cold water on my face but every time I closed my eyes, that damn beat the fuck up hockey mask returned. & nbsp; And seriously? Jason? He's coated in mud half the time and I'm a clean freak!
 |
| Isn't he a vision? |
And? I have this overwhelming urge to watch Friday the 13th: Jason Takes Manhattan. Nobody ever wants to watch that mess of a film. Hell, I wouldn't even call it a film. It's more of a fairy tale gone awry.
Quick! Someone tell me where to purchase a pumpkin this time of year. I need to carve the shit out of one stat. It's the only solution I can think of to swindle Mr. Blue Jumpsuit back into my arms. & nbsp;
I wonder if Michael will ever forgive me?
Sunday 23 November 2014
A Step in the Wrong Direction
My mind is racing faster then I can compute. I have to get some of it out of my head and project it elsewhere or I think my brain might actually burst.
At some point between yesterday afternoon and yesterday evening, things shifted within me. I posted a few days ago that I thought the emotional part of this relapse was behind me. The anxiety had kind of flat lined and I hadn't had a panic attack in a while.
Last night, I was making my son's birthday dinner. It's a recipe I have made on numerous occasions. I only refer to it now for the proper measurements. While making this meal, if you had been a fly on the wall, you would have thought I had never cooked a day in my life. Everything was running together. Following the recipe proved to be very difficult. Somehow, I pulled it off and we enjoyed a nice dinner together.
I brushed it off to being tired. A side-effect to starting the meds again. My dose goes up today. I'm scared how my body is going to react. I've been having hot flashes, sweating profusely, loss of appetite... You get the idea. As a human, I can't help but wonder how much worse these side-effects are going to get rather than thinking, hey, maybe the upped dose will level me off and things will start to get better. I'm trained to think negatively.
I cried this morning when I left the baby. I haven't cried in days. This back stepping shit isn't for me. I don't know if I'm strong enough to pull it off this time. Recovery is hard and it's uphill all the way. It's so much easier to roll down the hill.
At some point between yesterday afternoon and yesterday evening, things shifted within me. I posted a few days ago that I thought the emotional part of this relapse was behind me. The anxiety had kind of flat lined and I hadn't had a panic attack in a while.
Last night, I was making my son's birthday dinner. It's a recipe I have made on numerous occasions. I only refer to it now for the proper measurements. While making this meal, if you had been a fly on the wall, you would have thought I had never cooked a day in my life. Everything was running together. Following the recipe proved to be very difficult. Somehow, I pulled it off and we enjoyed a nice dinner together.
I brushed it off to being tired. A side-effect to starting the meds again. My dose goes up today. I'm scared how my body is going to react. I've been having hot flashes, sweating profusely, loss of appetite... You get the idea. As a human, I can't help but wonder how much worse these side-effects are going to get rather than thinking, hey, maybe the upped dose will level me off and things will start to get better. I'm trained to think negatively.
I cried this morning when I left the baby. I haven't cried in days. This back stepping shit isn't for me. I don't know if I'm strong enough to pull it off this time. Recovery is hard and it's uphill all the way. It's so much easier to roll down the hill.
Saturday 22 November 2014
Seeing isn't believing
"You don't want to get better."
"If you would just act happy then may you would BE happy."
"You're sucking the life out of me."
*~*~*
& nbsp;Depression (and/or manic depression; aka: Bipolar Disorder) is a & nbsp;treatable medical illness involving an imbalance of brain chemicals called neurotransmitters and neuropeptides. It's not a character flaw or a sign of personal weakness. Just like you can't "wish away" diabetes, heart disease, or any other physical illness, you can't make depression go away by trying to "snap out of it."
Nearly six (6) million adult Americans are affected by bipolar disorder. Like depression and other serious illnesses, bipolar disorder can also negatively affect spouses and partners, family members, friends, and coworkers.
People with bipolar disorder experience bipolar depression & nbsp;(the lows) more often than mania or hypomania (the highs). Bipolar depression is also more likely to be accompanied by disability and suicidal thinking and behavior.
Friday 21 November 2014
I Write For Technorati Too
Remember when I used to write for the Deep South Moms group and then they had to go and close shop? Well Technorati picked us up under a new channel for Women. I'm so excited to have a clear enough head to be writing again about something other than Postpartum Depression.
I've written a handful of posts over there already and wanted to share them with y'all:
December 2, 2010: Article first published as A Spoon Full of Sugar Helps the Wrong Dose of Medicine Go Down? on Technorati. -- Unintentional over-the-counter liquid medicine under/over dosing in children? Shame on you FDA...
November 30, 2010: Article first published as Picasso Resurrected on Technorati. -- Pablo Picasso recently resurrected from a trunk within a garage of the French Riviera.
November 19, 2010: Article first published as Are You Okay? Postpartum Depression.... on Technorati. -- Is the stress of Postpartum Depression eating you alive? You're not alone.
I've written a handful of posts over there already and wanted to share them with y'all:
December 2, 2010: Article first published as A Spoon Full of Sugar Helps the Wrong Dose of Medicine Go Down? on Technorati. -- Unintentional over-the-counter liquid medicine under/over dosing in children? Shame on you FDA...
November 30, 2010: Article first published as Picasso Resurrected on Technorati. -- Pablo Picasso recently resurrected from a trunk within a garage of the French Riviera.
November 19, 2010: Article first published as Are You Okay? Postpartum Depression.... on Technorati. -- Is the stress of Postpartum Depression eating you alive? You're not alone.
Because the words leave me speechless...
I have a husband whom I adore and three children who are my life (sometimes I wish them away, thou shan't lie).... but books are my ultimate companion! When asked what I'm reading my instant reply would be, "At which time of the day?" I have a minimum of two books going at once, sometimes more.
I don't understand it when people say they don't read. Rather, they don't read books. How could you not?
Books are like Halloween to me. Halloween is the one day each year you that you can disguise yourself into someone or something else, and nobody questions you for it. Sure, some books have some very questionable topics but the idea that you can escape into someone else's world, even for a brief time? That floors me!
I've recently swallowed the Twilight series whole. It left me feeling empty because I wanted more. In walked Katniss Everdeen of The Hunger Games series and that void was instantly fulfilled. I'm currently at the end of book three, Mockingjay. It leaves me breathless. I'm afraid to finish the series because once the book is closed, a piece of me will disappear within. I'm also consuming Under the Dome by the one and only, Stephen King (did you catch him on the last episode of Sons of Anarchy? Brilliant!). I'm chewing on that one, bit by bit, and pairing it with the most delectable of wines.
When a book captures my attention, you'll rarely see me in a room without it. I become obsessed. Just yesterday my husband pointed out my latest Stephen King craze upon the counter-top (he already read it). He asked me what Under the Dome was doing up there? I told him my books are like my pets. While I may not have my nose in it right now, I'm thinking about it and I might want to pat its head when I walk by. You know, graze it affectionately now and again...
I'm craving the crisper weather of Fall, but alas, I live in Florida and that's not within my instant grasp. Why? Mid-afternoon french vanilla coffee, a blanket, a cracked window, and whichever book I'm reading at the present time. Doesn't that sound rich?
What are YOU reading?!
I don't understand it when people say they don't read. Rather, they don't read books. How could you not?
Books are like Halloween to me. Halloween is the one day each year you that you can disguise yourself into someone or something else, and nobody questions you for it. Sure, some books have some very questionable topics but the idea that you can escape into someone else's world, even for a brief time? That floors me!
I've recently swallowed the Twilight series whole. It left me feeling empty because I wanted more. In walked Katniss Everdeen of The Hunger Games series and that void was instantly fulfilled. I'm currently at the end of book three, Mockingjay. It leaves me breathless. I'm afraid to finish the series because once the book is closed, a piece of me will disappear within. I'm also consuming Under the Dome by the one and only, Stephen King (did you catch him on the last episode of Sons of Anarchy? Brilliant!). I'm chewing on that one, bit by bit, and pairing it with the most delectable of wines.
When a book captures my attention, you'll rarely see me in a room without it. I become obsessed. Just yesterday my husband pointed out my latest Stephen King craze upon the counter-top (he already read it). He asked me what Under the Dome was doing up there? I told him my books are like my pets. While I may not have my nose in it right now, I'm thinking about it and I might want to pat its head when I walk by. You know, graze it affectionately now and again...
I'm craving the crisper weather of Fall, but alas, I live in Florida and that's not within my instant grasp. Why? Mid-afternoon french vanilla coffee, a blanket, a cracked window, and whichever book I'm reading at the present time. Doesn't that sound rich?
What are YOU reading?!
Thursday 20 November 2014
Based on a True Story Part 2
Go here for Part 1.
When the phone finally rang I exhaled. Only then I discovered it wasn't my general practitioner as promised. It was the fill in psych from the day before. Are you kidding me?
"Hi, this is Dr. Welch. Did you go to the ER last night? I thought we had a plan set in place and you were going to follow through with that and see Dr. Psych when he returns next week." she said.
"No, you had a plan. I told you that plan sucked and I need my medications adjusted but you blew me off so I escalated the matter only I got screwed over in the process." I shouted.
"Can you come in and see me?" Dr. Welch asked.
"Why. Are you only interested in my co-pay? Why can't we do this over the phone. You're unwilling to help me anyway." I responded.
Dr. Welch insisted I come in. She couldn't make any changes to my meds without seeing me in person. Fine. I went. We hashed it out after my blood pressure was taken {high} and weight was measured {up}.
This is what's happening:
- Referral to an Endocrinologist to get to the bottom of my fracking thyroid problems
- Drop the Abilify
- Start taking Wellbutrin with my Zoloft in the morning, along with my thyroid pill
- Continue taking the Trazadone before bed
- Wait two weeks to see if the new cocktail is working or call in the meantime if it's not {to be blown off}
- Diagnosed with Postpartum OCD {I also have PPD and PPA}
Thank you to everyone who sent a warm wish, a kind note, some support, all of it. You guys are my rock and I appreciate each and every one of you!
Stay tuned...I'll update as it happens.
Wednesday 19 November 2014
Tuesday 18 November 2014
Faith. Do you have it?
Faith is defined as having confidence or trust in a person, thing, or a system of religious belief.
I'm a Catholic by default but at present, I believe in nothing.
How can a person have faith when she doesn't have a higher power to look up to?
When I hear the word "faith" I instantly visualize a great God who created life and the people who walk upon our Earth.
I don't want this to be a religious debate. I'm simply stating that in my life experience there is no God. I see faith and God as one divine being. One that doesn't exist in my corner of the world.
And if there is a God? Fuck him.
Fuck him for allowing me to come into this world innocently and unknowingly. Fuck him for allowing my daily struggle with depression to persist. Fuck him for every time I thought about not wanting to live anymore because of the darkness I face each day. Fuck him for not guiding me properly along this dreary path. Fuck him for yanking away my innocence and unknowing so violently.
What the fuck God?
What makes you the boss of me?
Who are you to decide how I think, feel, love, hate...
Who the fuck are you to judge me?
- -
When I gave birth to my third son I also birthed an illness. One so cruel and intense. It detached itself from my placenta and crawled into my head. I pushed the placenta out and that one demon who was able to remove itself before it was too late, embedded in my crux.
It's chemical. I know it is, but I want it to know that it can no longer run my life. It's not allowed to control how I walk, talk, dress, eat, or adjust my emotions.
Every day I give advice or share a piece of my story with a fellow postpartum depression sufferer. Every day! I offer encouragement and won't allow defeat.
Why can't take my own advice?
One week ago today, I thought my life was over. A friend said to me, "What would you tell friend if she came to you and said you didn't want to live anymore because of this illness?" and I was dumbstruck. She was right. I wouldn't have allowed defeat.
I'm too tired to fight anymore, but I will. I'm too tired to care anymore, but I do.
Because I'm not going to let it defeat me.
I'm a Catholic by default but at present, I believe in nothing.
How can a person have faith when she doesn't have a higher power to look up to?
When I hear the word "faith" I instantly visualize a great God who created life and the people who walk upon our Earth.
I don't want this to be a religious debate. I'm simply stating that in my life experience there is no God. I see faith and God as one divine being. One that doesn't exist in my corner of the world.
And if there is a God? Fuck him.
Fuck him for allowing me to come into this world innocently and unknowingly. Fuck him for allowing my daily struggle with depression to persist. Fuck him for every time I thought about not wanting to live anymore because of the darkness I face each day. Fuck him for not guiding me properly along this dreary path. Fuck him for yanking away my innocence and unknowing so violently.
What the fuck God?
What makes you the boss of me?
Who are you to decide how I think, feel, love, hate...
Who the fuck are you to judge me?
- -
When I gave birth to my third son I also birthed an illness. One so cruel and intense. It detached itself from my placenta and crawled into my head. I pushed the placenta out and that one demon who was able to remove itself before it was too late, embedded in my crux.
It's chemical. I know it is, but I want it to know that it can no longer run my life. It's not allowed to control how I walk, talk, dress, eat, or adjust my emotions.
Every day I give advice or share a piece of my story with a fellow postpartum depression sufferer. Every day! I offer encouragement and won't allow defeat.
Why can't take my own advice?
One week ago today, I thought my life was over. A friend said to me, "What would you tell friend if she came to you and said you didn't want to live anymore because of this illness?" and I was dumbstruck. She was right. I wouldn't have allowed defeat.
I'm too tired to fight anymore, but I will. I'm too tired to care anymore, but I do.
Because I'm not going to let it defeat me.
Monday 17 November 2014
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