Just thought I'd slip over to my other blog to complain, my dog doesn't want to hear it, but hey

I know that most of you I have invited over here are in the mental health fields and are probably not shocked by anything I've said so far. I'm sure you've heard it all.

Today, I'm complaining. In fact I'm really pissed off at myself right now. My body has its own way of fucking with me, and when I woke up this morning to take a jaunt out of town, the pain was too much even to get out of bed.

I don't really like pain, though I work with it everyday. I use it to carry me through a rough day.

But days or mornings like these really make me wonder. I'm in pain from head to toe, my heating pad hasn't been of much use, and even the pain medicine isn't doing anything. FUCK! I will only take a small amount of pain reliever because I want to stay functional and alert.

After an hour of crying which sometimes actually helps, I crawled onto this fucking computer to have at it again. I don't know though, I may have to just go to bed and hope that the pain will be more tolerable later this afternoon.

Being the bi-polar I am I have two problems with this condition. First, pain triggers mania and then depression. Pain killers are so touchy I have to be very careful as to how much to take. Medications are my nemesis as I have had so many problems over the years.

When the neurologist treated me earlier this year for my squishy neck condition, (I'll call it whatever the hell I want to call it) they put me on steroids. Oh, so bad.

The first couple days were wonderful as the inflammation obviously was subsiding, then the problems started.
I can't even drink coffee, I am a stimulant myself, but the steroids were like an espresso IV. I couldn't come down and then my personality became inflamed. I thought I might hurt someone so friends kept me at their house for a few days until I began to be able to handle things, like "hi how are you?" My answer was "fuck you."

Steroids are now off my list. The only thing I can say about them is they make you eat. I ate so much that week, all my food, and raided other people's fridges too.

Unfortunately, had I taken one more of those pills, I and this community would have been the top story on CNN.

And other drugs are blackouts for me, I don't even remember, but yet people have told me that I talked, was seemingly lucid, and yet I haven't the slightest idea who was in charge.

A friend of mine came over during a crisis which got me my first 5150 of my life last December. The idiot guy I was seeing didn't realize I was not there. I had had a colonoscopy that morning and I warned those bastard doctors that they needed to watch me closely with their drugs that "everyone else" seems to tolerate. (I guess I'm just not everyone else assholes)

The last thing I remember was walking out of the clinic. Then a blip of crying and yelling on the canyon road. But then I was at our local hospital being threatened. I imagine they charged up enough adrenaline in me that I was able to remember they were wrestling me. Threatening me to the point I have the memory.

How I know its a true memory, was that I didn't know the nurses who were doing this and went to the hospital to find them. Yes, it was a true memory.

But my friends were called in on this finally, and she took one look in my eyes, and told everyone (I guess the house was full of cops and paramedics) that I was not there. She knew.

I came out of it the next morning at KMC. I was sitting in a chair in the hallway and suddenly thought, "how did I get here?"
I looked down on my wrist and there was a black hospital band. "Am I a pirate?"
The security guards watched me stir, and came running. I don't know what I did to so concern them, but apparently it wasn't good.

Later when the idiot came to pick me up, I had a good repore with the staff, and brought them out to see my car. They couldn't believe my license plates read "5150."

It took two weeks to get over that whole situation. I was embarrassed, depressed, and wanted to give everything in my life up. I ditched the idiot but not the lesson. Again, somehow, it made me stronger.

That was the week I began accepting myself as bi-polar. Oh, I wasn't happy at first, but then, I thought, hell yeah. It's freeing to just be yourself sometimes even if it is usually a sordid tale.

Okay, I'm done. Going to bed for a bit.

I had a sagacious 12 year old tell me last night I needed to take breaks while I work and take care of myself. I laughed and she thought I was laughing at her. No, I realized that a prepubescent knows more about life than I do.