Fruit Loops for December 2011

I went shopping at Aldi (German discount Supermarket in Australia) on Monday. I bought some overseas version of Fruit Loops, which I allow myself to eat in December as its a festive gesture my stepmother used to allow us as kids. Ok ok...so it's not quite December, but I wanted to commence the FruitLoopDom anyway. So I open the said pack of Loopies the next day and instead of sugar hit I get.....CARDBOARD. Tastes like cardboard. Orrible. Am tempted to give them to the dog but don't want to ruin her diet, as I know there MUST be sugar hidden in there somewhere. They did a good job hiding it.

Have been watching the odd DVD here and there which I purchase from a second hand store for $3-4. I know many ppl download movies illegally for free; I just like to have a library of colourful spines containing discs; they make my loungeroom look pretty. I guess it's my library of sorts, in a way books would be for the bookwormers out there. I tried to engage in reading a photocopy from a chapter of a book "How to manage your mania and depression" given to me by my psychologist, but was stunned by boredom. Maybe I should dust off my old copy of The Da Vinci Code and let myself get engaged. Except I know how it ends. Still, there's something to be said for pulp fiction.

My Dad gave me a Hardcopy set of the Lord of The Rings trilogy for my birthday last year. One day I will challenge myself to read it. I found the movies hard enough to follow. There were bits in it where my mind was doing a Homer Simpson blah-blah-blah vacant thought bubble, in spite of it's superb scenery, costuming, music, acting etc. Maybe I just found the movies too long. I tend to look on the back of a DVD cover where all the teeny tiny writing is and scour for the movie length time, inwardly sighing if I see its 100mins or less. This 2 hours plus movie length is a relatively recent phenomenon; over the past 10-15 years. It feels like that anyway.

On the small screen i have a new TV love: The Big Bang Theory. It has grown on me the past few months (lord knows I've had ample opportunity to view it with all Channel 9's repeats). I particularly like Sheldon and Amy Farrar-Fowler. I'm guessing I'm not alone there, especially Sheldon. Jim Parsons is so unique, what a clever, clever man. Course he is aided by snappy writing and supporting cast, but I do so enjoy his quirks. It's one of the few things I laugh out loud on the small screen, a rarity for me with American shows. I suspect the humour element is somewhat universal in this show, judging by how successful it is overseas (check out Wikipedia, there's heaps of countries which it rates well in). Anyhoo.

Back to Fruit Loops. And Aldi. I got home Monday, convinced I'd saved myself at least $25 by buying non-brand name products (ie: overseas ones and Aldi's home brands). As the week has gone on I deduced I am prepared to spend that extra $25 and get the tastes that I know and like. Such as Kellogg's Fruit Loops, a ridiculous $6.95 a box, but a guilty December pleasure nonetheless. Yes I know it's still November. It's just starting to feel festive (see last post).

Around this time of year many people have end of year office Xmas parties. Some people get blitzed and say and do things they regret. Others are the model of moderation and have two drinks then make a quick getaway. This year I have no office party (I quit my horrible office job in April). So I've let myself imbibe on days like today when I've done the housework, mowed the lawn, and there's little to do other than watch a DVD. So why not have a few Scotch and Cokes while I do it? So there's my Xmas party on my ownsome. And to sometimes ruffle the fur on my little dog's neck and chest while she slumbers.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas....

So says the Michael Buble version of a Bing Crosby song in an ad which is being shown a lot here. The decorations are in the shops, the festive ads are on the telly, the supermarkets are selling mince pies and plum puddings and giant smoked hams....it's the festive season.....and it's still NOVEMBER!!!!

It's belting down a tropical-like rain this Saturday morning; with the odd thunder rolling along. My dog is non-plussed by thunder and lightning, in fact sometimes she barks at it. Brave little furry soul. I slept on the couch till 10am, having got up at the usual 7am; I think thats ingrained now, which is good, particularly for job hunting. I found out the the speaking engagements I've been doing have been largely wrapped up till May next year. So it's Centrelink (social security) alone for me, for now.

I bought all my Xmas presents the other day, all 16 of them; over half for family members I only see on Xmas day; it's ridiculous. I wish my fucked-up family had a Kris Kringle policy; it would be so much easier. So I went to the $2 shop and got everything for under $100; I got some odd presents (eg: a giant calculator for my Dad) and some inspired ones (a rock-like key hider for my brother-in-law). At the end of the day it's a gesture. Nobody ever gets grouse presents in our family due to there being so many to buy for (stepfamilies and their families). I suppose its not the point of Xmas, presents. The important thing is to share a nice meal and conversation with your extended family, right? And be grateful for what one has, right?

My Mum is hosting the umpteenth Xmas at her house, which I think is unfair. My house is too small to cope with the dozen or so people from my stepfather's side. My step brother and step sister have never offered to host Xmas once. Never. In over 20 years. My sister has done so a few times; she's packing up with her family to get to their holiday house by the beach, where they will spend Xmas day. Which leaves my 76 year old mother to host: she says she's doing a buffet self-serve. I've offered to make some salads. I hope my step siblings have the decency to offer to bring food; they probably will.

My Dad I hope I get to see on Xmas day, but he's usually disorganised and lets me know where and when at the last minute. He expects a present with a high dollar value; he'll be in for a shock this year!

I'm spending Xmas night with my friend Paula who has no family; she's inviting friends to drop in all day for a casual meal. I'll bring leftovers from Mum's house; it'll be nice to relax with a friend and just chill. Diana will spend it with her best friend Jen and her family, as both her parents are deceased and her brothers like to spend it with their families.

So what does Xmas mean to you? Stress? Enjoyment? Memories? Mourning? Loneliness? Togetherness? Gratitude?

I guess for me it means all of the above.

Slept like a bomb last night

Probably not surprising given I'd had 3 hours the previous night; plus I ingested 4 cans of Jack Daniels & coke yesterday arvo to cope with a panic attack brought on by missing Zyprexa the previous night. I gladly put the bright yellow bitter/sweet Zyprexa Zydis wafer on my tongue last night at 7.30 pm, and was in bed by 8.40, asleep with my furry doggy snoring too by 9pm. Thank god for that.

Woke at 7am as per usual today. Feel a bit fuzzy but not altogether bad. The sky is blue the wind is still: it will be 24 degrees celsius today. I don't have to troop into my old office job in the basement with little natural light and deal with the moods of my odious former co-worker (skip back before April 2011 to get a dose of her). I don't have to churn through piles of correspondence and summarise them into a dull database program after scanning them. True, I don't have the paycheck that turning up to my former work afforded me. Yet I am free. A bit lonely and bereft of people to talk to, but free.

I will walk my dog again today; she loves all the smells on the various naturestrips, trotting along happily. She goes ape with excitement if we meet someone, especially if they have a dog on a lead. Unfortunately she has no road sense and does not come when called, hence I can't yet let her off lead in a park. The walk is better than nothing though, plus I leave her outside in the front and back yards for a few hours each day. Right now she is sprawled on the brickwork in my side yard, blinking and squinting at the gentle morning sun. Dogs are great. I love dogs.

A domestic day awaits: there are chores inside and out in the garden which require attention. I can't do much else as my finances restrict me to buying (mostly) necessities and budgeting. Yet for now, that is my choice. Diana challenged me the other day that I could and should be working, at least part time. She's right. My casual work doing public speaking engagements has dried up as the year winds to a close. I quit the catalogue delivery due to it being too labour-intensive and poorly paid. So I scoured the internet before; slim pickings.

I'm searching for work as a consumer educator ideally; an expansion of what I'm already doing in speaking to the schoolkids. Nothing so far, but will hold out. If it comes to Feb/March next year (when the job market picks up again) and I'm still in my current position, I will have to be prepared to compromise; maybe even soul-destroying office work again. Or retail. Or call centres. Sigh. I know there are millions who endure such jobs who would be shaking their fist at me and yelling "You sanctimonious bitch!!!! How dare you sponge off hardworking ppl like me who pay your wage (my disability pension is funded by taxes) when you should be out there working too!!!!"

I hear ya. My conscience has been prickling since I left work, most of the time. It's time of the year like this when I really notice being out of work; like having no end-of-year break ups; having time to gradually go around the shops and carefully choose Xmas presents instead of rushing; staying calm in the chaos that major road arterials become as drivers Rush Rush Rush and the roads become clogged. No wonder people find relief when the festive season is over.

And that's not even mentioning coping with 'difficult' family members to endure on Xmas day itself! You know, the one or two you normally never see, nor ever would want to, who manage to say and/or do annoying things, especially after a drink or two. Maybe not an argument, but enough shennanigans to make one feel relief when either (a) you have all guests gone and the house to yourself again or (b) you pull away in your car from the venue when Xmas lunch or dinner was held.

Anyway I digress; being unemployed puts one out of the loop in several ways. I've had my fair share of unwinding and chilling out. Diana is right: I need to work.

I've mostly recovered from my manic/depressive cycle from the past fortnight or so. I know to be mindful of seeking a workplace where such 'blips' on my radar would not only be tolerated but cared about. I did get that at first in my old workplace; in Dec 2008 I was unwell and went to hospital for a month. Work gave me a 'get well' basket of goodies and were most accomodating. I felt grateful. Then in June 2009 I had a blip where I had a cold, took a Codral cold and flu tablet(with psuedoeferdrine in it), got manic and was in hospital for a wekk. That elicited no sympathy, in fact I got a bit of schtick for it. Then in Sep 2009 my psych put me on Abilify and I became zombie-like which didn't endear me to my co-workers. I became depressed in the workplace thereafter; taking too any sick days. It bubbled and boiled in my head and I finally quit in April 2011.

Friends have said they were amazed I stuck it out for so long at that workplace. I guess that could be why I've been so reluctant to step back into another, for fear of poor relations with co-workers.

Anyway look; I've been told by more than one person that my public speaking has been fantastic. I'm gradually rebuilding confidence. God knows I was a shell of a person when I left the council. Awful place.

Schizoaffective or Bipolar? Does it matter???

My Psychiatrist is a Latvian fellow aged about 45. He surprised me last visit by saying "your bipolar or schizoaffective features...etc etc", as if it were a toss up betwen the two as to what diagnosis I had. Bizarrely, I felt affronted: I have always identified as Schizoaffective, especially after my worst hospital admission in 2003, whe I was 33. The chief Psychiatrist at that hospital said in my discharge meeting (with the registrar, my contact nurse and parents present) that I had a "Schizoaffective Psychosis" at that time. I was in that hospital as an involuntary patient for 7 weeks; 2 weeks in high dependancy ("the fishbowl" looks over you 24/7). So I always thought that schizoaffective was my diagnosis. So to have my present Psych (of the past 3 years) say in his Ruski-style accent that I might be Bipolar took me by surprise.

I looked up the ever-reliable (???) Wikipedia and gleaned that to be deemed schizoaffective, one must have either (a), (b), (c), or (d) features (look it up if it piques your interest) PLUS have disorganised or chaotic thoughts for four weeks or more. That's been true for me three times; each hospitalisation I've been convinced my parents are evil or that conspiracy theories abound. At my sickest I not only heard voices but hallucinated; thankfully that's only happened once (2003, aged 33). I know I've had it easy compared with some schizoaffective people.

Why does it matter what my label is? I guess I attribute a certain level of gruesome torment to psychosis (which I'm aware Bipolar people can be afflicted with too). It probably doesn't help that psychosis, or schizophrenia, has been misunderstood (eg: media reports of police shooting a psychotic person waving samurai swords) or misinterpreted (movies like "A Beautiful Mind" get some elements rights but either gloss over or get other things dreadfully wrong).

Maybe its the type of mystique that psychosis has? That people who only read or hear about it can't begin to imagine? Why do I want to be known as Schizoaffective instead of BiPolar?

Depression is almost starting to become understood (although it has a long way to go) by the wider community. BiPolar is almost nudging its way into mainstream consciousness thanks to movies and people with Bipolar who manage to contribute brilliant things to society. I said almost.....acceptance has unfortunately a long way to go yet.

However the psychotic illnesses remain cold, as far as I see. I think it freaks a lot of people out; they get scared; they imagine axes swinging and all sorts of violence and unpredictability. I know, I know.....BiPolar people endure psychosis...very real, stark and horrific/hospital involuntary stay-type of psychosis. Please don't think I am minimising what anyone with Bipolar in distress goes through; it's horrific, I've seen it in people I've been in hospital with.

Anyway look at the end of the day a label is a label. I've seen people make careers out of their label (as public speakers, authors etc). So why the fuck shouldn't I take ownership and pride in mine?

Ran out of Zyprexa last night

So I didn't sleep till 4am and woke as usual at 7am. Got on Facebook and chatted a bit (to my friend who I've posted about; we're all ok again in spite of my transgressions). At 9.30 started to feel a tightness in my chest, which intensified around my heart. I didn't smoke for over an hour and sipped water while I chatted online. Then I realised it was a panic attack probably brought on by missing my nightly 15mg of Zyprexa (hence the sleeplessness). So I showered and ate; had my morning meds and took the dog for a walk. It helped for about half an hour then the chest pain started again. So I hot-tailed it to the pharmacy and got my Zyprexa wafer script filled. Thank Christ they had them in stock (unusual for a Sunday).

Got home and the tightness continued. Tried distracting myself, then it hit me: a scotch and coke. Fucking alcohol will ease this panic. I can't take any more meds till tonight when they are due, so how to get through today? Pepsi Max and cigs will only intensify anxiety. Jack Daniels and Coke 4 pack pre-mixed for $20 (we have an outrageous 'alco-pops' tax in Australia on pre-mixed drinks to supposedly curb teenage binge drinking....it has only succeeded in driving up sales of bottles of pure spirits) will do the shot. Then I think....think through this drunk (not a drink, a drunk, for that's what it will be). I weigh up the pro's and cons. After 15mins of Will I Won't I, I shoot inside, grab my purse and keys and head out to the shops. Fifteen minutes later I am in the Bottle-O with the aformentioned JD & coke. I get home, roll three cigs, and slowly let the nectar down while inhaling and exhaling nicotine. Heaven.

After the second can, I think to myself: This is where a mild to moderate drinker thinks; "I've got that warm glow; I feel a bit giddy and giggly (because they are in company; they usually would never drink alone); I must stop now, I don't like being out of control." That's of course unless they are coping with a crisis: the death of a loved one, a lost job, the disintegration of a relationship, eviction from a rental....etc etc. Social, or moderate drinkers don't get tiddled on their own at around 1pm on a Sunday like I have done today.

I was coping with a panic attack. I am feeling alone today. I am trying to just heal and get over a moderate manic and depressive episode. I would never normally run out of Zyprexa; the past week has seen me preoccupied with my thoughts (well dah....what's new) and how I conduct myself to the extent that I haven't looked out for myself on a practical level. I've lost 2 kilos. I'm disinterested in food. Granted, the weight loss is welcomed considering I sit at a ballooning 85 kilos. Yet the carpet needs vaccuming, the garden needs weeding...eyeyaiyai...ohh Mister Hart...whattamess!!!

On the plus side I've walked my dog the past 3 mornings; that's a first. A bonus from quitting the pamphlet delivery job; walk for pleasure. The dog likes it immensely. It feels good.

I resurrected my dining room from being the engine room for sorting pamphlets (table chocked up on old university textbooks to prevent me leaning and getting a bad back; it looked awful, plus I had to eat my meals on my lap in front of the telly), to being a place where I roll my smokes and eat meals. Plus I put all the good chinaware back on the dresser (it used to house stacks of catalogues when I would sort them onto the dining table into bundles). So that feels and looks better.

Finally, despite having had 2 cans of JD and coke at 2pm on a Sunday and only 3 and a bit hours sleep, I feel quite lively. The Zyprexa really must be a knockout drug; usually by now (after takin gmy usual nightly dose and getting to sleep, say, by 10pm) I am feeling drowsy and in need of a one hour kip or so; that's if I'm up by 7am, which I am most mornings. One way around it is to get up with my dog and then doze in my armchair till 9am; she dozes too. Yet often I feel the early/mid arvo sleepies.

Oh well; medication like Zyprexa keeps me out of hospital: given the past week's activity one would think I'd be particularly grateful about that. I am.

Feel like nobody cares and yet logically I know that they do

Mood Indigo. Has been all day. Come down from a wave of a high that ran for 5 days till I noticed. On Sunday I was going gangbusters: a hot day up at 7am then out delivering pamphlets (I do a low paid catalogue delivery run which on avg pays a paltry $25 per 1000 that I deliver) which I got done by 10am. Then mowed the lawn in sweltering heat. Then went out and shopped; got home at midday and realised that although the temperature was 30 degrees (Celsius), I was in a tracksuit and felt cool. I looked down at my long-haired dog who was flaked out on the tiles in the heat, and realised maybe all my energy and great mood were not to be trusted. So I rang my Psychiatrist's consulting rooms, or rather, the hospital he works at, seeing it was a Sunday.

They paged him and he called within the hour, told me to take 400mg of Epilim on the spot then my usual nightly meds with dinner then to cut out my anti depressant the next 2 days and to call him Tuesday. Today. Which I did; at 2pm by which stage I was feeling beyond Indigo....beyond blue...into grey and blackness. The type of black where you curl up in a chair with your knees hugging to your chest while you cross your arms and stare at a spot for 15mins before you realise you are staring. You put the radio on and notice all the sad lyrics for a change instead of mostly the tune and melody. You don't want to eat. You don't even feel much like smoking a cigarette. Worst of all you can't cry, which is what you feel like doing, and you crave the healing salty tears as your body shudders into sobs and your nose runs.

I rang a friend who said she was going to call and check how I was at 3pm; I'd given her a fair amount of time to have made the caring call to me. She was in the middle of something; she noted that I sounded down; she said she'd ring in a week or so when she got a chance. People don't much like talking to depressed people; it may seem like the depressed one is just feeling needlessly sorry for themselves and engaging in self-indulgence. It can be hard to talk to a depressed person; they sound sooooo flat and defeatist and negative; it's confronting and to many people is not something they want to deal with at the best of times. I can't blame my friend for shying away from conversing with me in flat mode today. It hurt at the time though. The whole nobody cares thing. Such a powerful voice in my addled mind. Destructively strong.

I distracted myself on the internet for most of the afternoon: thank god for the anonymous, ever-present internet. I stayed away from Facebook, where I have a grand total of 19 friends: I don't see the point in friending someone you've never met, let alone got to know in real life. I have a skewed view of friendship, it's true to say: when i am acutely manic I am unbearable (babble babble babble about myself and get irritable and critical of people when I connect with them); ditto when depressed, as described above. Hence I have a very refined tendency to alienate myself socially. Plus I've been burned a lot. I know, I know; who hasn't been burned??? No reason to get bitter and twisted, right?

I wish I could say, right on; you live and learn; be good to those who love you; be considerate and help others, be a friend to have a friend; etc etc . Stop being self-centred.

I've tried. Here's proof: over the past 5 years I made 3 close friends. There was give and take in all friendships, but ultimately I ended up being 'the sympathetic ear' more often than not. In some ways I behaved like an unpaid therapist, which is how a lot of friendships work, and it's about showing genuine care for someone you like a lot. But things got weird; suffice to say all 3 people are no longer my friends. There was only so much I could give. I had to step away.

I've been rejected by more friends I would be able to readily add up right now, mostly due to my illness making me unbearable. Sometimes it was through my insensitivity and careless comments, which I totally regret doing and saying. At the end of the day, whether the friendships were ended by me (a handful) or by others (dozens), it's left me in a state of having few friends. Very few. So much so that I don't celebrate my birthday with friends. My birthday ius coming up in a few weeks and I'll go out to dinner with my ageing parents. I'm lucky they are still alive. I love them deeply. They put up with my moods. I try not to inflict them on Mum and Jeff too much. They are great.

So in solitude I write this. The indigo will give way to a brighter colour on the spectrum. My anti depressant will kick in eventually if not already.

Hell....I'm alive. I don't yet have diabetes or any major health scare...just a blip in the head which usually is manageable. I'm lucky to be treated for it and have a roof over my head and food in the belly. And a little dog who licks my face. That helps.

28 degrees Celsius today hooray

Summer is just around the corner with Melbourne having its warmest day today since last Autumn.  For me this means having salads for dinner and leaving doors open to air out the house and being able to wear a t-shirt all day without being cold.  For my furry companion Floss it means splaying out on the cool bathroom tiles and having lots of gulps of water; I had Floss clipped a couple of weeks back but she stills feels the heat.

Have to leave in an hour to be part of a paid discussion group for mental health; which approaches helped me recover, which didn't etc.  Then it's on to my monthly catchup with the shrink; hopefully we can discuss going on to any alternative antipsychotics than Zyprexa, my zombifying balloon-fat-making drug.  He tried me on Abilify but that made me REally zombie-like, with serious blunted affect and inability to animate which impacted  on all my social constructs and hence diminished my confidence dramatically.  I tried Zeldox but that made me restless and also had my right leg 'pinging' up on its own from the knee joint which would have been a danger when driving.  So here's hoping he thinks I'm stable and that there's something decent and new happening.

Am still delivering catalogues; have to finish my run today as I felt mega tired yesterday and only got half done; I overdid things on Monday while helping a friend get organised for moving house and wore myself out.  Am still realising my limits when it comes to energy levels; it's also greatly affected if I have more than 2 drinks a day, so I try not to.  I didn't have any drinks last night so here's hoping i can get through today the best I can muster.


Gotta fly....seeyou!! :)

Warmer weather, my dog and walking walking walking

                                                          My beautiful dog Flossie xo

So it's late September at nearly 8pm and the wind is mild; my dog is outside fossicking around.  Yesterday she caught a big black spider and every time I went near her to kill it (it looked seriously menacing) she gleefully ran off with it in her mouth whilst waggling her bushy tail.  Then she proceeded to bat at the poor beast with her paws till it curled up its legs in self-defence.  THEN to my horror she picked it up in her mouth and ATE it.  Fearless Flossie, I call her (Flossie being her name).  The other night we had a thunderstorm; she barked angrily at the rumbling; sticking her furry head out beyond the curtains to blink at the lightning.  Again, fearless.

I think it's the terrier in her; she's a cross between a shih tsu, a terrier and a pekinese, which basically means she's fluffy and cute.  It also means that, as a stray whom I adopted from a shelter she's been allowed to get away with murder by her previous owners, and she has a fair few challenging behavious which I'm trying to train her out of, like whining for food when I eat my meals, biting at my feet when I walk if she gets excitable, ripping furniture when bored, barking incessantly at people who walk past our front window...the list goes on.  And she isn't toilet trained.  She's challenging but worth it.  I now have a furry friend who greets me enthusiastically when I come home.  She curls up with me on my bed at night and we snore in unison.  When I rub her belly she sighs and licks my hand.  My companion, my Floss poss (short for possum, an Australian native animal she barks at if they jump on the roof at night).

I haven't been walking her as much as I should (ie: every day).  Lately I've taken on a second job delivering catalogues to letterboxes; I do it twice a week and the delivery takes me over 2 1/2 hours to do, which feels great but is tiring.  Not so good is the time it takes to collate the various catalogues into one parcel (Ie: fold 8 or 9 catalogues into one bundle per letterbox); usually around 3-4 hours to do this.  For all this work I get around $30; I'm paid per 1000 catalogues I deliver.  It's a massive rip-off, but I'm mainly doing it for the exercise.  Whether I can maintain doing it long term is another question, but with the weather warming up I feel inclined to continue.  Am still giving the talks about mental illness to schoolkids, but that will wind down as they approach their final exams in October/November.  I might have to look for better paying work, but so far I'm managing.  I'm learning to shop at discount sores and to budget better.  So for all that it's piss-poor paid, the walking I'm doing delivering catalogues is suiting me at the moment.  It's great for depression: non-existant at present.  So, yeah, happy at the mo :)

Talking about having a mental illness

I'm getting paid to talk to school groups about what it's been like for me having a mental illness. Secondary school kids who are studying psychology pretty much. I've done two talks; so far so good. The kids have been attentive and some ask insightful questions afterwards. Things like Did Art Therapy help you when you were sick and what would happen if you didn't take your medication. I guess it's a good thing to be able to share with schoolkids about what it feels like to be unwell and to be well; helps debunk some myths hopefully.

I spend a fair bit of time talking about what its like being in hospital and also what was running through my head when I was sick. I'm careful to balance that with how I think when I'm well.

So far, so good; hopefully I can keep doing this regularly and not ever have to go back to soul-destroying office work.

Domestic happiness

Am settling in well with my 1 year old dog from the animal shelter; Flossy. Have just about mastered toilet training (it's me with any errors, not her), but have a few behavioural issues to get over, such as her barking when I leave her alone and also carrying on when I eat. Am going to the animal trainer today so we'll see how things pan out. 

 Had an interview to be on a committee of mental health consumers who do a monthly review of drug and alcohol services for dual diagnosis people in my region. They said I'll hear from them soon. They said the committee is monitored by the department of Human Services (State govt body) so it has some 'teeth'. Will look good on the resume anyway, if not a learning and contributing experience. 

 Last week I had an interview for a temp job with the ABS (Australian Bureau of Statistics) to be a data collector for the upcoming 6 yearly census. It's more data entry type work, which while not thrilling would help financially. Will hear from them in upcoming weeks hopefully. The job was to be 5 days a week for 5 hours a day, which would be taxing for me as it is an hour-long train trip to the city for me, making it over a 7 hour day. I requested in my interview to hav ea 16 hour week; whether that's possible I don't know. We'll see. 

 Got a referral to a drop in group for psych illness-affected people who do many walking activities, cooking classes, go out for coffees etc. Have had appointment s the past week or so which have precluded me from participating but hope to join in soon and meet some new people. Have been pretty isolated socially for some time now; have been preoccupied with my dog lately but still need some sort of ppl interaction. Otherwise have been relatively content; it makes a big difference not to be stressed out about an unhappy workplace.

Got me a doggett

Last Tuesday I adopted a dog from the pound. She is a 1 year old terrier/spaniel/shi tzu mix; caramel coloured; mischevous as a monkey and totally adorable. I am in love. 

Am still out of work, although have done some training to do public speaking engagements on behalf of the mental illness fellowship about what it's like to have a mental illness. Will be speaking to schools, community groups and university students. I can't make a living out of it, despite being well paid ($32 an hour); i would be doing a 2 hour talk per month max. So the hunt for work goes on. 

 Back to Flossie; yes that's the dog's name. That's what the pound named her and it suits her. Am trying to toilet train her with minor success. She gets separation anxiety; tends to follow me like a shadow, so am trying to restrict her access to certain areas, which is met with much crying and barking (ie: when I leave a room and shut her in). I have a secure backyard but tend to leave her in the laundry if I go out, just for these early stages. She likes to chew sticks and I have visions of her lodging one in the roof of her mouth. I know it sounds worrywart, but she's the 1st dog I've ever owned; I'm on a steep learning curve. 

 The pound offers post-adoptive training for $30 an hour which I think i will need. A downside is that she is a longhaired breed, which will need grooming. I tried brushing her, but have to get her when she's subdued; she tends to want to eat the brush! She had her dewclaws removed, along with being spayed hence is wearing an elizabethan collar to stop her chewing her stitches. Her stitches come out this Thursday. 

 She sleeps on my bed; the only way I manage to fall asleep is by having a few beers prior to bed. She makes sounds when she dreams; muffled 'wuff' and growls softly. Otherwise she nestles into my side. I'm allowing myself to drink temporarily, as I get stressed about having a new creature in my home that I have to supervise and pay attention to. Sounds alien of me to say that when dealing with a cute bundle of fluffy doggie fun, but that's the truth. The 1st day I was very stressed; I wanted a valium. I thought of ringing my Doc to get a PRN of valium, but was afraid he'd say no or (worse) that he'd say having a dog wasn't good for my mental health.

Unemployment sux

HHmmmm....what to do??? Here's the avg routine...get up 9.30; have a coffee and 2 fags while listening to talkback radio; make a 2nd coffee and turn on the computer and have 2 more fags. Browse email, Facebook and the newspaper. 10.30-ish have a shower. 10.45 breakfast. 11ish send my friend who has no landline a text then hop onto Facebook and chat to her for an hour or so. 12.30 put a museli bar in my bag and go out to a 1pm AA meeting. 3-3.30pm home again. Try phoning one or two people. Back on the net. Check the nightly television schedule. Investigate possible courses I can enrol in for some career development. Still a bit baffled as to what sort of job to apply for. One that pays, yes, I know. One that gets me off the couch and into society; that too. There's volunteer work which I'm waiting to get a response about. I'm not working in an op-shop, or doing meals on wheels. Maybe I could volunteer on the help lines at the agency who helps me look for work. Yes maybe that's a start.

Hmm....I got distracted from telling about my yawnsome routine. Not much more to tell really. Eat dinner, watch telly, go to bed. Sigh. NEEDS A JOB, I DO!!!!!!

slowwwing down, slowing down

Fark!!! I got a bit hypomanic in patches over the past 48 hours. I didn't realise how kooked up I'd been till I went out to a meeting yesterday and ended up being very verbose, yammering away at a poor lady who probably just wanted to escape. I think I know now how many elderly folk feel; at home alone (sans computer skills) maybe listening to the radio or watching telly, stroking a cat or dog if they're lucky, missing their deceased partner, their busy adult kids, their busy grandkids etc. Unlike an elderly person in the picture I've painted, I have a computer (which I've been using massively), I can walk a few km's to get the paper which my eyesight allows me to see, I can get in my car and go places, my body isn't racked with arthritis or other ailments. I have a lot of good fortune really. However for whatever reason my instinct wants me to stay indoors and prowl around like a cat, staring out the window at the passing traffic and curl up on the couch in front of the gas heater. Isolating, eating, smoking etc. Then I start to get very stir-crazy (as would anyone), so much so that when I eventually have human contact I want talk. And talk. And TALK. Just the way my gran would when she was still alive, bless her soul. So yesterday I was particularly talkative, both in 3-D then later at home in chat on Facebook. I ended up staying up late, which wasn't showing much commonsense as I had an early appointment today. Hence now, late afternoon, I am weary, but thankfully, have slowed down. It's now 4.30pm and the air has turned very cool. Time to shut the doors and stop airing out the smoke, which had begun to constitute a stench. My folks are dropping by Friday; I'm guessing they want to check that I'm looking after myself and my surroundings ok. And to snoop for evidence that I'm drinking, which I'm not. Sometimes I tell myself that's about the best thing I can say about myself today: I didn't drink. I'm bored out of my fucking mind being unemployed!!!!!!!!!!!

Telly, the gas heater and isolating

Hibernation, I believe is the correct phrase to surmise this title. Chuck in a bit of low-lying depression, some sleep apnoea and feeling unmotivated, and that's my basic portrait from the past week or so.

It's hit home that I can't spend money like I used to when working; I've been budgeting like a ferret-nosed bookish accountant. Today I bought groceries and stuck to my list looking for the 'on-special stuff' at Coles, like a 2kg unwashed bag of spuds for $2.50 and a medium sized fresh chook for $6.30. I'm going to chop the chook in half and roast it with spuds and pumpkin tonight; that should do 2 meals. I'll freeze the other chook half. So it's not all bad being frugal, foodwise at least.

I can see why lower socio-economic groups tend to have obesity problems; if you only have an extra $50 in your weekly budget it goes farther on food than on other items. I can feel like I'm spoiling myself by doing as I did today and allowing myself a couple of things that weren't on my list, like peanut M&M's and a chocolate milk. The $7.50 I spent on these things won't do my waistline etc. any favours, but what can I buy for that amount as a treat for myself? I guess I could go to the $2 shop and get some sort of knick-knack. I could go to the op-shop and hope to find a jumper or some piece of clothing that hasn't lost its shape or gotten little 'balls' on it from friction. I could find a second hand book on Amazon easily, but the shipping cost (around $15 per book to Australia) would bump it up.

In the end I bought the daily newspaper, which is always more satisfying (to me) to read than the online versions. Call me a creature of habit, but I infinitely prefer a real paper or book than e-papers or e-books. Doesn't hurt your eyes as much. Plus the feel of the paper in your fingers. Anyway I digress.

I booked my car in for a service this Friday, which will be around $100. My mobile mechanic Dan is an honest and reliable man, who doesn't charge the way most mechanics do (avg. would be at least double that).

Otherwise it's been a case of watching DVD's and telly, which can be ok, although you get a bit bored with it. The ads drive me spare. I don't feel motivated to do any screenplay writing at present. I forced myself to go out for a walk today and will do so again tomorrow, along with doing an AA meeting. Wednesday I see my psychiatrist and break the news that I am not working. He will not be pleased. What's done is done; I can't go back to work now, I need time.

Too much time, not enough $$$$

So it's nearly two weeks ago that I resigned from work. Things are ok, if a bit slow. I've gone through my last pay check like it was water; last week I told myself the $600 or so dollars I had in my account would go towards having my car serviced and going for a dental checkup. Now there's only about a hundred. I get paid this week, my final payout, which won't be huge but it will be the most I'll see for a while. I'm fortunate to have the disability pension to fall back on (with a schizoaffective diagnosis I have been deemed a legitimate recipient by all my psychiatrists, who have said that all I can manage is part time work; when I am employed I receive a part pension, not much but better than nothing). I don't intend on being unemployed long, but need to work on my workplace fears as previously mentioned.

I saw my psychologist today in a bid to work through this very thing; I also saw my D&A counsellor earlier today. The D&A lady said I need to Notice my thoughts regarding social interaction and feelings of fear and insecurity and then to Challenge them. She pointed out that the few people I have problems with (eg: when I was at work I had the bully, in AA there's a rough woman who is always rude to me) could well create problems for others too; to not view myself as an isolated case. She mentioned a heap of other stuff too which I've forgotten; I wish I could tape our sessions; she's like Yoda to me. Might have to take notes next time. She picked up that I was not in a good frame of mind in our last session and out of concern rang my psychiatrist in case I self harmed. I wrote myself off with alcohol that day, like totally, but didn't take my pills. My angst was with work. Then I had the Easter break then I quit. But anyway.

The clinical psychologist is a younger woman but has a very logical head on her shoulders. She works from her head more than the D&A lady, who tends to use intuition, experience and gut. I respect both of them, they just have a different approach. She was happy that I am nearly 3 weeks sober. Itold her I'd also been walking and going to AA, that these gave me some structure. They were up until late last week: since Sunday I have neither walked nor been at a meeting. Autumn is morphing into an early winter here; this morning it was around zero degrees Celsius in my suburb....very hard to get out of a warm bed and go walking. It's also been pretty foggy lately too.

Excuses excuses. The past week or so I have been out shopping and have spent over $500. I'm not elevated: if I were I'd be up at the crack of dawn, doing heaps of housework, emailing a million people etc etc. That hasn't happened. I suspect the expenditure has been a bit of denial on my behalf about being unemployed and having to curb my budget. Like it's been 'one last splurge' just for the hell of it. The scary thing is how easy it is to spend up on stuff you don't really need, like cheap DVD's, warm tracksuit pants (ok, I did need these and they only cost $9.99 at Dimmey's), a new grey hoodie (meant to inspire me to go out and huff 'n' puff up hills like Rocky Balboa), lunches out, coffees out etc etc.

Today at Eastland shopping centre I was killing time between appointments. A hawker with a stall stopped me to ask what face cream I used. Before I knew it, this charming well-groomed young man had me rubbing my hands over a basin using "Israeli Sea Salt" from the dead sea (purportedly). He used a spray bottle of water on my hands for me to rinse, and they felt incredibly smooth. He then put on some lovely smelling moisturiser and proceeded to tell me that normally the exfoliator ('a year's supply worth')would be $100, the moisturiser $50, but he would be happy to sell me the two for $120. I looked him in the eye and told him I'd just quit work a week or so ago. He came in close and lowered his voice and said "in that case...I can give you the exfoliator for only $50, but you must (motions to his lips) zip it and keep the price to yourself". I had a fifty dollar note burning a hole in my wallet, my last before payday this Thursday. Before I could tell myself You Don't Need This, I whipped out the wallet and smiled "ok", feeling demure, attended to and satisfied. Silly old me!!! The stuff was probably only worth half that!!! AARRGH!! A sucker for a good looking young man with a European accent. And I'm fucking gay!!! That guy must make a killing, clever fella.

Wonder how he goes picking up the chickybabes in the nightclubs??

Hospital sweet hospital

Said tongue in cheek, well...mostly. While being institutionalised for feeling suicidal and/or homicidal can hardly be regarded as fun, there can be moments of levity in a psych hospital. Like the guy I used to see out in the courtyard who took to clicking his heels sideways from time to time. One day he came out with his boots and put them on the table in front of me. Someone had thoughtfully tied up his laces tight in all sorts of knots. He slammed a fork next to them and grunted: "canya untie these for me? Some C*NT went and fucked them up". It took me a while, but my nimble fingers worked them into straight laces again. He gave me a couple of smokes for my efforts. Then there was the guy who hated being medicated. We had to line up to get our meds from a mobile trolley outside the nurses station each night. One time, after he had been given his meds, he waddled away, baring his flabby bottom, as if to say "Youse are all Arseholes". There was a girl who used to wear gaudy makeup; she got out energy by belting out The Power Ballad, circling around the courtyard screeching Celine Dion and Whitney Houston numbers. Her versions were infinitely more entertaining than the original, if a little hard on the ears. Some people liked to order in pizza, whether they had the cash or not; they'd try their luck with the delivery boy saying "we'll get you the money tomorrow". Others were more blunt, saying stuff like "if you give me the pizza, i promise not to chew off your nose". I woke up one morning only to have a huge aboriginal woman staring intently at me. "What do you want?" I cowered away; she hushed me "you sleep...you sleep". Apparently she hadn't slept for 48 hours and got relaxation watching others sleep. A couple of days later she stole all the womens' toiletries bags, picked what she wanted and put the items in the nicest bag she could find. That wasn't such a funny thing at the time, but I can laugh about it now. Finally, there was a funny guy who used to play hide and seek with the nurses during the nights, when they had to do hourly checks. He would wander out of his room, finding hiding spots. One night he bolted into my room giggling and shut himself in my wardrobe, hushing his finger to his lips. Soon after, a nurse opened the door, flashlight in hand and shone it in my face. "Is Mark in here?" she skwarked. I shook my head and she left. Mark bolted out of my wardrobe after a minute or so, giggling all the time. Of course bad stuff happened. Of course I often felt a whole lot of paranoia, fear and anger. It wasn't a holiday, not by a longshot. It really pisses me off when people say shit like: "ohhh, it must have been good going to hospital for a little rest", as if there are jacuzzis and masseurs and adonises fanning you with palm fronds. Phaw. But it's not all bad in hospital. It wasn't for me, anyway.

Going toxic???

I feel like I have a brick in my stomach. This is about the tenth time in the last month I've felt this way. A couple of weekends ago I thought I had gastro, as I had to toilet myself to relieve the symptom. Apologies for being graphic, but there's no other way to describe it.
It comes and goes, although the past weeks it's been happening more often. Then it occurred to me; I might be having a reaction to my meds. I googled "Epilim Lithium combination side effects" and went to wikipedia (aka the bible). Apparently Epilim may well be the precursor; too much and going toxic can cause nausea, diahoerrea etc.

My doctor increased my Epilim about a month ago to deal with a potential spike in speediness. I also feel light headed and dizzy; like all the blood has rushed from my head.
I just cancelled going into work, which I'm sure won't go down too well. I called my doctor and am waiting for him to ring me back.
Geez I feel sick. I'm going to lie down :(

Fight Club and movies

That's right....when I started writing my last post I meant to comment on this DVD which I just watched tonight for the first time. The "I am Jack's Medulla Oblongata" phrase which another blogger on this site has in his title self-description. It'd alwaysed perplexed me what that phrase meant (a section of the brain which controls respiratory function and other essential things) and then I heard it tonight in fight club. Huh.

So I was watching this movie thinking When Does It Get to the Good Bit and pondering hmmm...aside from the undertones of homoeroticism and gratuitous violence I fail to see the point and then Whammo. So the protagonist is hallucinating about the Brad Pitt character. It did improve the quality of the film but all the far-fetched stuff about the explosions etc was a bit out there for me. I prefered A Beautiful Mind or the Australian film Angel Baby better.

There's still room for more stories about psychosis and mood swings. It's such a shame that hollywood will only finance those that have sellable features (eg: the fighting aspect in fight club along with the whole Fuck the Establishment side).

I had a vision the other day: in the next 5 to 10 years some bright spark willl invent software that will enable people to script, edit and direct a film with virtual characters. By 2030 Hollywood will be a bygone era; the ultranet will take over and individuals will be able to produce their own feature films (distributed freely online but aided by eg: product placement).

Maybe a wonky vision, but a vision just the same.

Solitary confinement and gaiety

I like getting lost in a good flick, as most people do. I tend to watch DVD's at home rather than see them in Cinemas; here in Australia the average film costs $15 concession ($18 full adult), compared to buying a second hand DVD from pawn shops like Cash Converters for $4. I know, I know...it's easy to download movies illegally from the net, everyone does it etc. I'm on a pissy download plan for my internet and have never learned how to download something that I could put onto a disc and watch on my telly. I did download one show once...the original Underbelly underworld crime mini series that was banned in Victoria due to certain characters still facing trial in real life. I didn't regard it as much fun to perch on my computer swivel chair and watch my computer monitor (however 'riveting' at would have been to watch Alphonse Gangitano, The Morans and Carl Williams being their devillish gangsta-ish selves)so I haven't downloaded since. The point I'm getting to is that I like to own movies to watch at my leisure in my armchair where I can put my feet up and smoke if I want to. So I do.

It's one of my solitary pusuits that I relish doing, sometimes moreso than being in good company. I caught up with a friend I've known since primary school on Wednesday, we had a nice lunch and saw "The adjustment bureau" (crap film which had interesting elements but not properly built on...based on a Philip K Dick story but I would suggest somewhat loosely). It was great to see my friend but I would have been almost as happy to be there on my ownsome.

One place where my anti-social side hinders me is at work: I can't fake congeniality. Some times I need to put on a happy face and I find it excruiciating; like when someone asks for a registered mail envelope, or a bulk mailout, or I have to do the internal mail run. Phone service I'm fine with; I can put on a warm and an "I give a shit" voice, but in person I freeze. It's mostly the eye contact thing (impossible), often it's lack of warmth and difficulty expressing myself. Like today when I asked my co-worker to explain (for the 7th or 8th time) how to do something then I got an attack of the giggles. Very embarassing.

I get a modicum of comfort in reading the wikipedia page on schizoaffective disorder;

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schizoaffective_disorder

especially when it mentions the DSM 1V criteria of affective flattening (lack or decline in emotional response). I know, it might sound bizarre to be comforted by the DSM 1V (don't yew fuckin label me...etc etc); I just mention it because I feel so inadequate to be robotic, and yet to see it written that flatness is to be expected with S/D....makes me feel like, well then I'm just behaving as much as my medicated body will let me. It's not as if I'm intending to be aloof. Can be easily misunderstood though.

I guess my tendency to have trouble communicating, whether if it's with a friend I know and trust or in the workplace will see me naturally retreating to the comfort of solitude. Mostly I distract myself with DVD's, television (I like some reality stuff like Survivor and the Amazing Race....Americans fascinate me with their intensity; also like Nurse Jackie, The Good Wife and of course AFL Football), the internet, reading (mostly biographies), housework, recently gardening and (god forbid) going for a walk, which incidentally, is the best anti-depressant I ever took (walking). I rarely get bored and lonely these days. I said to my friend last Wednesday at lunch that I could see myself being alone for the rest of my life and that it didn't bother me. That's partially true. It would be nice to meet someone, but that seems unlikely.

'Bout time I got myself a faithful hound!! :)

I accidentally overdosed on Zyprexa last week

One night last week it got to about 11pm and I thought i'd forgotten to take my nightly Zyprexa, so I took my usual dose (15mg), then went to bed at about midnight. I was half awake half asleep an hour later when I had a gag reflex; I thought I was going to be sick. At first I thought it was the big bowl of cherries I'd eaten, but my stomach wasn't sore. Then I actually was sick twice. I noticed my arms and legs were very heavy. Then I went to sleep. I didn't waken till 3pm the next day! 13++ hours straight!! I told my shrink about it a couple of days later and he said it was too much Zyprexa, not cherries. He told me to use a dosette box to avoid such things happening again. Now I know what 30mg of Zyprexa feels like: not in a hurry to do a repeat performanace. 

 So I dragged out my old dosette box; the one the hospital gave me in 2003 when I had my longest hospitalisation ever. A time when, upon discharge I had the CAT team come and give me my meds twice a day: 8am and 8pm. They did that for a few weeks; I was too spacey to care for myself. I was living in a boarding house at that stage; grimy, expensive and dank. Another story for another time. Back to the dosette: it sort of feels a bit institutionalised to use it again, but I guess I don't mind using it for now. 

Zyprexa (olanzapine) is not a popular drug; every person I know who's been on it has complained, mostly about weight gain, but here's a list of possible side-effects; As with all neuroleptic drugs, olanzapine can cause tardive dyskinesia and rare, but life-threatening, neuroleptic malignant syndrome. Other recognised side effects may include: akathisia; inability to remain still (restlessness)[21] dry mouth dizziness irritability sedation insomnia constipation urinary retention orthostatic hypotension weight gain increased appetite runny nose impaired judgment, thinking, and motor skills impaired spatial orientation impaired responses to senses seizures trouble swallowing dental problems and discoloration of teeth missed periods problems with keeping body temperature regulated apathy, lack of emotion Endocrine side effects have included hyperprolactinemia, hyperglycemia, and diabetes mellitus Brain Shivers Auditory Hallucinations. 

 I can't claim to have gone through many of these; my main ones are increased appetite, tiredness and dry mouth (I drink heaps of water and Pepsi Max, around 15 tall glasses a day). Oh and seizures; had my first of those in my sleep a couple of weeks ago. That made my doctor say to cut back to 1 1/2 tablets a day (7.5 mg dose; around 11mg a day) and to start taking magnesium capsules twice a day (apparently helps with muscle spasms). I've had a rigid neck for quite a few years now; tends to 'turn' by itself to the right; it's a subtle turn, mostly bothers me when I try to fall asleep due to head lifting off the pillow. It started happening on the older anti-psychotics I used to take; Risperdal and Solian. 

 The 1st anti-psychotic I was on was the worst: Stellazine. You had to take Cogentin along with it to stop muscle cramps. One night my head wanted to spin off its axis a-la "The Exorcist"; it was quite terrifying. All this in the name of cessation of paranoia and hearing voices; no wonder mental health patients are a downtrodden lot. I doubt very much whether the majority of the population would accept putting up with such side-effects if they were told they had to.