Running Running Running

6.4.19 blog entry

I am doing something that I’ve come to understand as the only means I can do what I need to do in life. What is it I’m doing? I’m on the go, go, go! Move your ass mode! 🏃‍♀️👩‍💻🍳 Writing, chores, cooking… stuff that piles up when you have days during which you can do nothing.

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Hypomanic, trying to steer clear of full-blown mania. I have family watching to tell me if I’m rocketing out of the stratosphere 🚀and letting me know it’s time for PRN meds.

For now, I’m good, but coming down hurts. It hurts mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically. It’s true that my mental health affects my physical health affects my mental health affects my physical health. 🔁

Here’s the deal though, when I’m physically and mentally down for at least half of my days, if not more, then those days that rarely come along when I can just dial it up to 11, I have to do so. It’s the only way I survive and keep my household flowing and family taken care of, even though it’s also breaking me down at a faster rate. Do I need a better plan? Yes. I’m not a fool. However, I haven’t found anything else that works, and I’ve tried for decades, even with help from doctors and therapists.

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Feel free to comment on how you make it work if you’d like. I always welcome respectful comments and conversations with me and among you guys if you wish to talk to one another. Love to you all. ✌🎗

Stress/Pain Cycle

Last night, I had an extremely heightened, loud, dramatic and exhaustive argument with my mother. My mother lives with us, so there was no home to which I could retreat and decompress. No respite. For a while after, like a 2-3 hours kind of while, I sat stunned. Staring. A lot was brought up and said during that argument, mostly by me, but my mother has never been one to talk much, whether she has negative or positive things to say. Mostly negative, though. Count on that. She feels I have been wasting her money, as I have been taking care of all accounts, bills, insurance and doctor payments, etc while she was away with surgery and rehab. She also does not (or won’t?) recognize the physical and emotional toll that her return from the hospital has had on me (and lack of following through with her physical therapy program and gaining strength and independence). She actually asked me, “Well, what do you do for me?” I heard an audible gasp from my son, who was unfortunately in the kitchen, while this loud disagreement was going on in the living room. I told her I’d write her a list. (Currently, it’s two pages long.) I explained to her the system I had in place for using her money, and the why behind it. The reasons for the financial plan in place. It is simply taking care of her future should she need to go back to a rehab or nursing home. It’s long and sorted and not really the point. Just kind of setting the stage for you.

The other part of that is that I lost control and yelled. I mean, I yelled loud and hard about things from the past, and some current day. To me, they still have much to do with one another. I yelled about feeling I’ve never truly been valued by her, that she always told me how to do it better (if I was lucky) or, more likely, how and why I was just plain wrong. I brought up a step-father who was quite abusive and liked to show off his guns, often pointed in the face. So many things burst through some sort of compartmentalized type box.

Blog pain cycle

That explosion has ravaged my mind and body today. Anxiety is through the roof.
Depression, right along side it. I’ve had a fibromyalgia flare-up. Arthritis is more symptomatic today. My feet hurt (braces for each are due in about a month – feet and leg – due to tendinitis and other issues that came about from pushing my mother in the wheelchair). They ache, and it is proving difficult to walk. My lower lumbar fused back is on fire and stabbing. My head is about to take me down, with its clustered migraine.

This is what angers me the most. Stress leading to chronic pain becoming so severe I can hardly breathe when trying to move. I’m going to set up a time to speak with my therapist soon. This cannot continue, or I will not make it to 50 without several more visits to mental hospitals and ending up in a wheelchair myself. I’m 40 years old now. I’m so tired.

So tired.

Next entry, I’m going to discuss and ask for ideas on how to prevent this cycle, or at least effectively treat it and not be down and out so long.