Meds

     Well, seeing that I am withdrawing from a medication (epival), I thought I would take the time to write about my good friend, my constant companion, psych meds. Crazy pills, happy pills, call them whatever you like, they have come to my rescue, and all they wanted in return was my liver, kidneys and cognitive functioning. Don't get me wrong, the benefits outweigh the risks....for me. I know plenty of people that have run into troubles breathing, heart palpitations and weight gain. I used the weight gain excuse to eat barbecue. And lots of it. Was it worth the girth? Yes, yes it was.

     Back at the ranch...
Meds were first introduced to me in 2002, by way of my family Doctor. I was in a psychosis, I was in a major depressive episode,  my anxiety and OCD were off the charts and I had been phobic for 2-3 months. I was given 20mg of Paxil, after being mislead by another "Doctor." (I later found out he bought his phD online!) This phoney had no idea what was going on and he thought that the answer was taking a Summer semester and going on the Zone diet. He also wanted to see me everyday. At $200.00 a pop, he was genuinely financially benefitting from my worsening state. And worsening it was.

     I was afraid of the colour red, afraid that I would forget how to breathe, which lead to the other fear of putting food in my mouth and therefor obstructing the breathing process. I was also afraid of leaving the house, being IN the house, enclosed spaces, being alone, seeing knives and showers. I was bathing, however. I didn't let that slide. But it was very frightening. I felt like I couldn't breathe. And when I say afraid, I mean terrified. Full blown panic attacks with racing heart, shallow breath, that hyper alert cum sinking feeling that only a good, solid panic attack gives. Not so much a "oh shit, I left my keys at home" feeling, but a "I just witnessed a car accident where someone's head popped off" feeling. Thankfully, my Mum took me the heck away from that Doctor's 4 month incompetence spree and took me to my family Doctor.

    A free three week sample of paxil was given to me. Within a few short days,  Paxil took the edge off. I was able to slowly desensitize myself. I could ride in cars, look at the colour red and eat. Everytime my mood dipped, I was handed another 10mg. By the time I was on Paxil for 6 years, I was on 60mg a day. By this time, I was working, going to school and running a small online business shucking fake Chanel for cash. Then, I started to dip into major depressive episodes. I would feel high as a kite and then a few months later, I wouldn't be able to leave my bed. Paxil came at a small cost. I felt dizzy if I bent over or moved around too much. My orgasms were not as mind blowing and I had some spells of cotton mouth. Not too bad. It was in 2008 that I was so depressed, I wouldn't leave the bed from Monday to Friday. I would order pizza, have it delivered and feast. Once a day. I thought that it was Paxil no longer working. So, I went to a different family Doctor and asked for the "catch o' the day". I first had to get off of Paxil. A ha ha ha ha ha. Have you ever cut yourself off from crack, cold turkey? Child's play in comparison. You can't walk, think, eat, or live, really. You pretty well fall around everywhere, and I had a panic attack that lasted what seemed like two weeks. And if you want to sleep...good luck. No energy and insomnia? Batter up!

     I was put on celexa. Mmmmm! Good eatin'. I felt a little better and I was able to travel. However, if you want to have a searing ball of anger in your throat for no apparent reason, celexa is the med for you. It quickly made me a pleasure to be around and I went off of it and picked up Effexor. A little known side effect is that it makes you incontinent. That's right. You pee yourself. That one isn't on the side of the box. But it was buried in a huge study that the Mayo Clinic did. Luckily, I worked with dogs at this point and they loved it. I quickly became a huge hit in the canine community. They could read me like a book!

     I decided to get off of meds, altogether. That was a fun Christmas. Egg nog, cranberry jelly and meltdowns. Let's just say I went through a lot of waterproof mascara. (Diorshow for the win!)

     After a few months of mania and the resulting crash, I cracked up, 2002 style. I was put on 80mg of Paxil and then lasted a year sailing on that. I found a new psychiatrist, also a quack, but this time provided by the Province. She told me to get off Paxil, yesterday. I went from 80mg to zero in one day. Holy shit. A note to the wise, don't go hiking. You will fall, fall, fall. Nature doesn't always cure what ails you. I was what is called "snowed". This is what you do to crazies that are a danger to themselves. They pump you full of so much drugs you can barely speak. No exaggeration. And my good friend incontinence?  Back for round two. This time, I was in Winners, staggering like a drunk and I lost all muscle control. Both number one and two. A great way to celebrate your 30th birthday. Snowing. Fuck. I was taken off all of the snow drugs once I found the New Westminster Mental Health Centre. They saw that I needed to be able to walk in a straight line and live without shitting on linoleum like an excited dog.

      Two years of experimenting has lead me to a good cocktail. I am off of Epival, which is great. Epival, while a great mood stabilizer , depresses one and leaves them a solid 15 IQ points lighter. With no memory. And let's face it, reading and writing skills are gone. You become an elderly man in one week. You hair begins to thin, you gain a solid 20lbs of belly fat and you can barely remember your own name. Sometimes you don't! Parking space? Who knows! Did I even take a car? What is that solid red light mean? Oh shit! Stop??!? But that is now all in the past. I am now on 225mg of Lamotrigine. It is for bipolar folks that end up depressed more often than manic. I am also on 10mg of Paxil for depression and ocd maintenance and Clonazapam and Rispiridone for funsies. Clonazapam is for people with crippling anxiety. I feel like such a celebrity on it. Michael Jackson had it in his system when he died. Rispiridone is for keeping OCD and psychotic features at bay. Have I been in a psychosis? Yes. Did I kill people? No. It just means that you perceive reality differently than others. Hell, using that definition, most of the Republican party are in a psychosis. But in actuality, psychosis isn't fun, or trippy. You are scared for the most part. There are not a lot of drugs out there for OCD. You have to learn coping statements to get through your day, hour or moment. I must repeat "It's just a thought, not a fact" to myself at least a dozen times a minute. I have pretty juicy OCD. I started going to  OA (Overeaters Anonymous) in order to stop obsessing about food. Turns out, I would rather think about food all day then slay the other disturbing thoughts that are hatching. So, dance on, little canolis.

     I am taking this blog on a decidedly new turn. This blog will now be a place of quiet contemplation about all the weird shit I find thrifting. And there is plenty of it out there. I will post pictures of all of the "Jesus loves me" plaques proudly emblazoned with a cartoon bear precariously holding his giant pants up. I genuinely saw that! This is why the blog must be! I will have plenty to choose from, as I thrift for a living. It is an unusual job, but one that is filled with thrills and chills. Will the next rack have "the find"? Will I walk out empty handed? When will this sea of rayon "Jessica" dresses ever come to a blessed end? I will let you guys in on the fun!

Observations.

Well, I am still in the market for a car. Well, I may be on the periphery looking in; stepping in and out. But, can you blame a girl? There is a fellow who would like to trade his 1996 Honda hatchback for an Audi. Right. And right smack dab in the middle of his list of features and benefits? Centre cup holder. Wow! Stop the clock and hold traffic. That Audi swap is your din and his win if you are willing to part with a centre cup holder. I hope you can come to some sort of agreement where you can saw it off. I bet one could hardly notice.

I did get to knick "the truck" today.  I was proudly flying the flag of snotty nerd by blasting The Abduction from the Seraglio. There is no playing that one down.  But what is it that makes us (relatively) young classical music fans crouch and often deny our tastes? Dare I say better tastes? Nah. But lets face it, it is a far more rich and delicious auditory experience. It plays upon emotions and thoughts and expresses much more than any pop piece of crap being churned out today. Listening is like taking apart a delicate layer cake, piece by piece, from frosting to sponge and letting the flavour spread across one's tongue.  Some bites the frosting coats the inside of the mouth with creamy butter and sugar, other bites are lighter with pastry.  I cannot encourage people to set shitty music aside and pick up classical.  I am not saying that anything past Gershwin and or some Philip Glass is all shit, but most of it is.  Most of it is auditory Mc Donalds; fast and flat filled with salt and sugar, guaranteed to leave you logy and (intellectually) constipated. Sure, we all like "fun", but how about some contemplation and depth.  How about a journey, not by Journey.  And please do not base what you have heard on Pops. Pops is shit, too.
Just as filmy and light as its  modern equivalent. Put down the Boston Pops and John Williams. Sarah Brightman is not classical. Measha is. Pick up some Mahler. Mozart, Prokovfiev.....all amazing composers that transport one in ways that one can hardly describe.  There are hundreds just itching to be listened to.  Often 2 disc CD's! Enjoy

The Crazies are out to get you... ( inspired by Shandra)

Yes, the crazies are out to get you, and keep you..

Safe...

a) There are some damned good cops, firemen and other enforcement officers working to keep you safe.
(http://www.depressionforums.org/forums/topic/6926-any-bipolar-cops-or-law-enforcement-officers/)

Voting...

Michael Costa
Margaret Trudeau
Alastair Campbell
Patrick J Kennedy

Watching...

Rosemarie Clooney
Vivien Leigh
Burgess Meredith
Jean Claude Van Damme
Kristy Mc Nichol
Margot Kidder
Kerry Katona
Linda Hamilton
Carrie Fischer
Patty Duke
Richard Dreyfuss

          
Reading...

Ernest Hemmingway
Sylvia Plath
Andy Behrman
John Clare
Patricia Cornwell
Stephen Fry
Graham Greene
Marya Hornebacher
Jack London
Robert Munsch
Edgar Allan Poe
Sidney Sheldon
Virginia Woolf


Thinking...

Jane Pauley
Patrick Kroupa
Kay Redfield Jameson
Abbie Hoffman
Georg Cantor
Dick Cavett
Ludwig Boltzmann

Viewing....

Pretty Much Any Artist You Can Think of...
Edvard Munch to Van Gogh to Pollock and everyone in between.


Listening....

Adam Ant
Ozzy Osborne
Daniel Johnston
Macy Gray
Emilie Autumn
Max Behmis
Adrian Borland
Eminem
Kurt Cobain
Mike Doughty
Connie Francis
Matthew Good
Ben Moody
Sinead O'Connor
Charley Pride
Axl Rose
Britney Spears
Nina Simone
Patrick Stump
Scott Weiland
Pete Wentz
Brian Wilson


Clothed...

Alexander (Lee) Mc Queen
Isabella Blow
My guess is most designers are in the spectrum somewhere.
(Hello, Lagerfeld!)


Laughing....

At least 2/3rds of comedians (according to John Cleese) are under the umbrella of mental illness.
This includes
Stephen Fry
Ruby Wax
Russell Brand
Cheri Oteri
Ben Stiller
Kevin Mac Donald

Healthy...

Florence Nightengale
Chances are your therapist, psychologist and psychiatrist are under the umbrella, too.

Loving....

Your Mother
Your Sister
Your Father
Your Brother
Your Grandma
Your Grandpa
Your Aunt
Your Uncle
Your Cousin
Your friend
You.

Not Just a Lemon but a Damned LIME

I heard of some doozies in my day, but damn, this one took and will continue to take the cake. 

This car sounded just right. A semi reluctant seller ( diesel sensitivity) that had powered through and kept up maintenance and repairs meticulously. Low kilos and the breaking in servicing behind us. 

He even had a dog NAMED ZOE, spelt the same way. It seemed too good. 

Oh, it was. 

It started, hooray. The owner thought it might not, seeing that it had been parked so long. "I thought maybe the battery was dead", he wondered out loud. An Eyebrow raises. 

He definitely had a strong dislike for the smell of diesel. "Pungent", Rory calls it. 

The driver's side mirror has the residue of a thick oily marker with  the numbers "604" in 72 size type set scrawl. Isn't that used with write offs, major accidents and roadside abandonments? He had no explanation and claims to have never noticed it before. He waved it off as if it was an optical illusion on my part. 

The upholstery had a Nissan box weave to it, not the VW pattern, not even close. 

There was so much water in the car, we thought it was condensation from the sun roof. Nope. Not the way it was raining while we took the test drive. When I say raining, I mean it was raining on the INSIDE. That explained why the fabric had been replaced. 

The gentlemen then let it slip that he had not had this car for long, and that he bought it from a friend cheap because it had been in an accident. "You should have seen it, the whole front end was smashed, now all you see is a scrape. Cost me 800.00 to fix.  I have the receipts. I know a guy who works for 30.00/hr at VW. Remy. Want to see the before picture?"   Remy would even be kind enough to perform the inspection. 

We declined the offer and popped the hood, trying to scrape together some semblance of due diligence.  Oh look, bolts. Mystery structural bolts put into the passenger side attempting to straighten and strengthen the metal that had folded and buckled like a fan. They look like a backyard Kluge if  have ever seen one. 

I began to see...He flips cars. He and Remy. Remy and Co. buy write offs or what have you, put in some money, time, kluges and sell them on Craigslist. 

He had plenty of cars, at least two other VW's an SUV and a civic or two. Same goes for his number. It comes up on craigslist  on several occasions, selling cars, similar story of long time ownership,  and an insurmountable hardship that is severing the car and driver relationship. 

I think I will keep looking. 

Consumer/Survivor

Back when I was first working on my undergrad at UBC, I was a good little A-Type personality and wanted to secure myself a plumb summer internship.  I applied to all sorts of art institutions, one being Gallery Gachet. The position was for a grant writer, and they asked that one knew a) about art b) about grant writing and c) about "the system".  In this case, it was the mental health system, and the host of terms and phrases that were new to me. One in particular still stands out; "Consumer/ Survivor".  Consumers of mental health services and programmes and those who, well, survived them.  I thought that survivors were primarily from days past; horror stories from Riverview, psychwards of the past, et cetera. However, now I am not so sure. I have been in the system for all of four months. In that time I have seen four psychiatrists, a litany of nurses, prodded by insurance companies, hospitals and specialists. My first psychiatrist turfed me after I refused extra pills and wanted answers and firm diagnoses. The second one didn't "believe in taking pictures of her cat, it will take her soul", and put me on enough valproic acid to make a regular menses a thing of the past. When confronted with this side effect she threw up her hands and exclaimed: "oh god, you are pregnant and your child has spina bifida". Relationship terminated.    I have been "snowed", and then put on withdrawal inducing medication regimes. All the while being told how important sleep and staying positive are.  They put me on meds that were so strong I forgot how to drive and lost bladder control.   They have put me on sleeping pills so strong that if I am 20 mins off in taking them, panic and anxiety quickly course through my veins. How the hell am I going to get off of that one? More white knuckled nights? Oh swell...why was it so readily given out in the first place? I was on a waiting list for you? They now have me seeing a GP with an "interest" in psych drugs who works at the centre 2 days a week. The other 3 days a week, who knows.  Maybe specializing in foot odour issues and pesky calluses.  Oh swell. Let's experiment...with  my life, brain chemistry and quality of experience.  Four months in, I am a survivor.

How much is too much?

Damnit, CBC. I was just lying in the sun and enjoying a rare moment of peace ( of mind ) and you tossed a  genuinely creepy story in the mix, yet again! This has not been an isolated incident, either. What is wrong with "the media"?

It was a genuinely cruel story about mass sled dog slaughter, too. I real doozy for some of us with gentle hearts and fragile minds.

This comes on top of their lead story this weekend that a man convicted of murdering a child was bipolar.
They just slipped it in there, like a key card under a door. A door that opened the populace to the idea that bipolar people are all a bunch of murderers. Hell, it even scared me. (I am bipolar)  They neglected to find out what type of disorder he had, or his comorbidities, of course. Just plain old bipolar will do.  I suppose my idea of starting a nanny agency staffed with bipolarites will just have to wait.

I wonder just who it is that picks and chooses the stories over there.  Is it someone who is deterred to sustain their level of heady depression, then spreading it around? Someone getting kick backs from GSK, Abbott and or Pfizer to keep the steady stream of people on SSRI's flowing? Is it someone who is trying to get the populace to be less apathetic to the injustices of the world?

Well, I think mental illness is the new racism. In new stories of the past ( and sadly present) race was presented as if it was a motivator/cause/reason for violent crime. Mental illness is now skirted in as a more PC replacement. However, it causes just as much damage.  It causes fear all around and when is fear a jumping off point into anything positive?

What I would like is more balance, less sensationalism and more positivity. Not naive positivity, devoid of fact and precedence, but a thoughtful positivity.  Not news stories on baby ducks playing in the rain and ponies whinnying  in the sunshine positivity...but good things on the horizon and people making a difference positive. Maybe even a story where the mentally ill are not killing children.