As you can see from the time elapse between my two posts, I am not a daily blogger! I haven't been feeling well for a while, so I have not wanted to write about my discomfort.
I frequently experience depression. I have been diagnosed bipolar and my condition was being controlled by doctor prescribed medications. Unfortunately, about 20% of people on antidepressants, experience what is called "the poop-out effect". I'm not kidding. That's the term that is used. It's when for no concrete reason, your medications stop working. There are theories as to why. One is that the brain does not like the interferance of the drugs and learns to override what the drugs are doing to improve one's condition. I didn't know that this could happen, so when I started to be really tired and depressed, I thought it was just stress from work. I had a new job at the time and my boss was someone you had to adjust to. He was unlike any other boss I have had and this was new territory for me.
Fortunately, after 9 months of this depression, I realized that I needed to contact my doctor. The one I had at the time was semi-retired which meant he was pretty much unavailable, especially when you needed him. In my opinion, no psychiatrist should ever conduct their business the way this doctor did. It is unprofessional and dangerous to the health of their patients. Fortunately, I was able to get an appointment with another doctor who was reputable, but this included a 2 1/2 month wait for the appointment. I got through it, though, and we tried a couple different medications. One helped with the mood swings but changed my tastebuds. I put up with that for 2 1/2 months and decided I could not take not knowing what would taste good and what would be nasty. I was wasting food because things I normally enjoyed were tasting different and I could not stomach them.
We changed the medication, but you have to lower the dose of the one you are on and then start low and increase slowly with the new one. This made for more mood swings and depressive episodes, but it seems I am getting better. I am wanting to be more active. I have the strength and desire to do more things and even force myself to be more active. It's kind of hard to explain. When you are depressed, you don't want to do things that might make you feel better. You don't want to spend time with people, exercise, or eat properly. You want to sleep a lot. Those are the symptoms I experienced, though there are many different symptoms of depression. When I am depressed, I know what might help, but I don't want to do it, even though I want to feel better. It's like I don't have the capacity to want what's good for me, even though I am miserable.
Depression is a sickness. I was taught by my parents that depression is a choice. It's choosing to not trust God. It's not a medical condition. It's a sin. Those beliefs didn't make me feel better and didn't help me pull out of the depression either. Depression is a mental illness. Our society can deal with physical illness, but mental illness is something we are afraid of. When I think of the mentally ill, I think of people talking to themselves or to imaginary people. I think of people who are unpredictable, people who want to talk to you but you don't want to talk to them because they seem scary. But not all mentally ill are like that. I can be fine and talk and laugh with people and seem just fine and I could still be depressed. Just being around people I could trust and that cared about me helped me feel better and function better, but my system could only take so much visiting before I would feel overwhelmed and exhausted.
I still have those moments when I am at a party for several hours and I feel like I have maxed out my capacity for stimulation. It doesn't even have to be a very exciting time, but just being around people and having expectations of how you should act when you are company at someone's house only goes so far. I have a medication that I take when I am feeling anxious. Fortunately I receive relief on a pretty low dose. Unfortunately, a side effect of the medication is that I feel tired (like I feel when I am depressed) and that does not lend itself to productive days.
I have prayed to feel better and though prayer is a powerful thing and God has provided multiple ways for people to receive help and one of the ways I receive help is through my trusted medical professionals. I grew up with my parents believing in the power of prayer and vitamins and herbs. Only after trying the prayer, vitamins and herbs were we allowed to go to the doctor. It is an understandable belief. There are horror stories about people experiencing bad side effects from medication and every once in a while you get a doctor who doesn't know what they are doing. My parents wanted to err on the side of caution and I am happy to say that I recovered from whenever I was sick, even if I didn't see a doctor.
My mom takes those experiences (the non-doctor ones) and thinks that the way I was when I was a child is the way I should respond to things now. I wasn't bipolar when I was a child. I wasn't depressed. The thing is that it was always in the background. I fended it off by being very sociable. I also eat whenever I am upset about something and I get an endorphine release from that which makes me feel better (albeit temporarily). I have had crises of faith in the past few years which took me away from weekly church attendance. This meant I was alone more and not having the joy I received from all the hugs I would give and receive in my church. I no longer accepted fully all that my church taught about God and since I am a very spiritual person, that was really hard for me.
Anyway, my meds are helping and I am able to help myself more, too. I am trying to attend more support group meetings and hopefully will get to a place where I won't need to eat to comfort myself. There was a time when I was doing really good with that. Since that has changed, I am trying to work on accepting myself for who I am no matter what my weight is. That is very hard for me because it seemd to me as a child that my parents were obsessed with weight. My mother would notice if I put on a few pounds. It would show first in my face and my mother would comment on how full my face looked, so I learned to hate my face. My mom would try to get me to learn how to have good posture by holding my stomach muscles in and tucking my bottom under when I stood, so I became obsessed with my not-flat stomach. I think that part is genetics, though, because even when I was skinny (though I did not think I was skinny at the time) I still thought my stomach was something to be ashamed of. It was never flat even when I did stomach crunches daily. I was actually in great shape, but I was clueless because my mind didn't work properly when it came to self awareness.
I don't blame my mother for making me this way. It may be that I just tend toward unhealthy thinking. There may be things in my past that contributed to my poor self esteem. I'm still working on finding that out.
That's all for now.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Changes
Well, I'm changing things in my life. I've been a Clay Aiken fan for a couple of years now. That's actually why I joined MySpace. Clay got a MySpace page, so the fans had to get their own, too. I'm not one to play on the computer a lot. I work on a computer all day long, so I only use it occasionally when I am at home -- like to research something I see on TV that I want to learn more about.
I've had some health changes, too. I was diagnosed with a cat allergy at the beginning of this year. Since I have three cats, this was not good news. Fortunately, the medicine my doctor gave me is helping, but it does not take the symptoms away totally. When I asked the doctor why I had gotten worse over the last two years when I have had a cat for over 10 years, he attributed it to increased exposure. Then a lightbulb went on. I had adopted my last two cats 2 years ago!
A couple weeks after this revelation, I heard on the radio that black cats tend to aggrivate allergies more than other breeds/colors and male cats are the worst of all. Well, on of my cats is male and black, so I hit the jackpot on that one!
I had my first cat, Little Girl, since I was married. We got her to be a compantion (not a mate) for my ex's cat. Spook was a Bombay and they are very talkative. He was always talking to us, but we did not realize that was a normal trait for that breed. We decided he needed company because he seemed lonely, so we went to the local Animal Protective League (APL) shelter. The only cat there that met our qualifications (fixed, declawed, good with other animals) was a little black female cat, so we took her home. She hid under the recliner for 3 days before coming out and immediately proceeded to establisher herself as the alpha cat. Spook was bigger than her, but she put him in his place. She was a fiesty one.
When I got divorced, I kept my cat and my ex took his. Little Girl really enjoyed being an only cat. About 4 years into our time alone with each other, I moved into a new apartment and learned of a cat who lived with a family in our building who was constantly picked on by the other cats in that family. This cat had been owned by the daughter of the landlord. She had given it away when she married a man who was allergic to cats. That family gave him away when they got another cat (or some such reason). The family who inherited him was the one whose other cats did not like him to be around. I felt sorry for him, so I volunteered to take him. It took 18 months for him to not be afraid anymore. He eventually showed his lovey side. He would let me pick him up and give me a kiss by rubbing his cheek against mine. He was a sweetie.
After I had Shasta for two years, he got sick. I took him to the emergency clinic and learned he had a urinary tract blockage. The only way to treat it was through surgery, but there was no guarantee that it would work and it might re-occur. Because Shasta had been so traumatized in the past, I did not believe he could handle being left alone at the doctor's for three days. I didn't want him to suffer from the surgery either since it was not a guaranteed procedure. He was already pretty sick, so I made the decision to put him down. It was awful. I explained to him what was going to happen and why. I told him he would be happy and healthy in his new life and I was so glad he had chosen to live with me for the time I had him. The staff at the clinic were wonderful and kind. Shasta when peacefully but I was in shock. I had taken him there because he was sick, but I did not expect to have to make such a horrible decision in such a short time.
I decided to take his body home with me because I could not decide how I wanted to dispose of it. I just could not think clearly and I was grieving. Also, I wanted to help Little Girl in the transition of the unexpected loss of her friend. When I got home, I explained to Little Girl what had happened and she spent some time with Shasta. I told the family I had adopted him from about it, too. I finally called my brother and he went with me to the vet to drop off his body to be cremated.
Needless to say, Little Girl grieved, too. She expressed it by crying at times and by biting my feet when they hung over the edge of the couch. It would come out of the blue and I knew she was just frustrated and hurting. After two weeks of this, I decided to get her another companion. I went to the same APL where I got her. I liked the temperament of the Bombay so I was looking for that breed. I saw two beautiful black cats. The one was a female. Her name was Porcia. She seemed to have a bit of a timid temperament. The other was Midnight. As a male, he had a stronger temperment. I could not decide. When a shelter work came in to check on me, I joking said I wanted to take both of them. She said they were having a buy 1, get 1 free special, so I got both of them!
It took a while for them all to adjust to each other. Porcia turned out to be very vocal and she likes a lot of attention. I had gotten adult cats, instead of kittens, because I was under the impression that they kept to themselves pretty much. That's what Little Girl did. I'm not into playing with the cats much. I talk to them and pet them sometimes. If they want to cuddle, that works. I have to kidnap Little Girl to get any cuddle time with her, unless I am reading a book. Then she has to come and sit on the book :) It's all about having things on her terms.
Midnight turned out to like to play rough. Everytime I petted him, he wanted to chew on me. He must have been trained to be like that. His teeth were sharp, too, though I know he did not mean to hurt me. He was just playing, but I don't like to play like that.
Porcia sheds a lot, no matter how I brush her, it just keeps coming off her. This would make me sneeze (though I did not recognize it as an allergy -- love blinds you, doesn't it?), so I would not do that often. I would just talk to her when she wanted attention.
Needless to say, these kitties are not getting all the attention they need from me. Midnight is alway sad because the girls don't like to play with him. Sometimes Porcia will tumble about with him but that lasts only a few minutes before she gets mad. I think she gets intimidated by his energy when he tries to play with her.
Between the allergies, Midnight's sadness and Porcia's desire for more attention, I have decided I need to give them away. I'm going to put up an ad in a local store I frequent which is visited by a lot of cat lovers. Hopefully one of them will find room for one or both of the kitties.
I don't plan to give Little Girl away. First of all, she is sick. The doctor found a large lumb in her stomach/liver area a year ago. She had lost weight and I didn't know what was going, so I took her in for an exam. They would have to have done surgery to confirm that it was cancer, but I didn't want to put her through that. I don't believe in extra-ordinary treatments for people or animals. I just want her to be pain-free and not keep losing weight if that could be prevented. The doctor put her on a medicine what would help ease her discomfort and increase her appetite. Little Girl's energy has improved and her eating has increased. We had to change her food, but she is eating pretty well. It has been a year since she got sick. Back then I told her she was not allowed to die, but now I have decided to let her go when she is ready. She hates to take her medicine and fights me every time. She hides it under her tongue or in the side of her mouth where I can't see it and spits it out when my back is turned. I'll still try to give it to her, but if she won't take it, I'm not going to force her.
I wrote up descriptions of Porcia and Midnight a couple weeks ago when I was getting serious about letting them go. When I got home that night, they were so cute that my resolve dissolved. I knew something had to be done, though so I have prayed for wisdom and strength to do what is best. I have talked to them about giving them to a new home. They understand, I think, but Porcia protests. She does not like change.
I believe that the Universe takes care of all of us and when we ask for help with something, the best solution will reveal itself. I talked to the owner of the shop I mentioned and she is willing to put a sign up inside the shop as well as in the shop window. I pray that a loving family with a playful male cat will adopt Midnight. I pray that he will be happy and loved. Pray that Porcia will be adopted by a family loves to pet her and talk to her and will love her for her sweet self.
God's will be done.
I've had some health changes, too. I was diagnosed with a cat allergy at the beginning of this year. Since I have three cats, this was not good news. Fortunately, the medicine my doctor gave me is helping, but it does not take the symptoms away totally. When I asked the doctor why I had gotten worse over the last two years when I have had a cat for over 10 years, he attributed it to increased exposure. Then a lightbulb went on. I had adopted my last two cats 2 years ago!
A couple weeks after this revelation, I heard on the radio that black cats tend to aggrivate allergies more than other breeds/colors and male cats are the worst of all. Well, on of my cats is male and black, so I hit the jackpot on that one!
I had my first cat, Little Girl, since I was married. We got her to be a compantion (not a mate) for my ex's cat. Spook was a Bombay and they are very talkative. He was always talking to us, but we did not realize that was a normal trait for that breed. We decided he needed company because he seemed lonely, so we went to the local Animal Protective League (APL) shelter. The only cat there that met our qualifications (fixed, declawed, good with other animals) was a little black female cat, so we took her home. She hid under the recliner for 3 days before coming out and immediately proceeded to establisher herself as the alpha cat. Spook was bigger than her, but she put him in his place. She was a fiesty one.
When I got divorced, I kept my cat and my ex took his. Little Girl really enjoyed being an only cat. About 4 years into our time alone with each other, I moved into a new apartment and learned of a cat who lived with a family in our building who was constantly picked on by the other cats in that family. This cat had been owned by the daughter of the landlord. She had given it away when she married a man who was allergic to cats. That family gave him away when they got another cat (or some such reason). The family who inherited him was the one whose other cats did not like him to be around. I felt sorry for him, so I volunteered to take him. It took 18 months for him to not be afraid anymore. He eventually showed his lovey side. He would let me pick him up and give me a kiss by rubbing his cheek against mine. He was a sweetie.
After I had Shasta for two years, he got sick. I took him to the emergency clinic and learned he had a urinary tract blockage. The only way to treat it was through surgery, but there was no guarantee that it would work and it might re-occur. Because Shasta had been so traumatized in the past, I did not believe he could handle being left alone at the doctor's for three days. I didn't want him to suffer from the surgery either since it was not a guaranteed procedure. He was already pretty sick, so I made the decision to put him down. It was awful. I explained to him what was going to happen and why. I told him he would be happy and healthy in his new life and I was so glad he had chosen to live with me for the time I had him. The staff at the clinic were wonderful and kind. Shasta when peacefully but I was in shock. I had taken him there because he was sick, but I did not expect to have to make such a horrible decision in such a short time.
I decided to take his body home with me because I could not decide how I wanted to dispose of it. I just could not think clearly and I was grieving. Also, I wanted to help Little Girl in the transition of the unexpected loss of her friend. When I got home, I explained to Little Girl what had happened and she spent some time with Shasta. I told the family I had adopted him from about it, too. I finally called my brother and he went with me to the vet to drop off his body to be cremated.
Needless to say, Little Girl grieved, too. She expressed it by crying at times and by biting my feet when they hung over the edge of the couch. It would come out of the blue and I knew she was just frustrated and hurting. After two weeks of this, I decided to get her another companion. I went to the same APL where I got her. I liked the temperament of the Bombay so I was looking for that breed. I saw two beautiful black cats. The one was a female. Her name was Porcia. She seemed to have a bit of a timid temperament. The other was Midnight. As a male, he had a stronger temperment. I could not decide. When a shelter work came in to check on me, I joking said I wanted to take both of them. She said they were having a buy 1, get 1 free special, so I got both of them!
It took a while for them all to adjust to each other. Porcia turned out to be very vocal and she likes a lot of attention. I had gotten adult cats, instead of kittens, because I was under the impression that they kept to themselves pretty much. That's what Little Girl did. I'm not into playing with the cats much. I talk to them and pet them sometimes. If they want to cuddle, that works. I have to kidnap Little Girl to get any cuddle time with her, unless I am reading a book. Then she has to come and sit on the book :) It's all about having things on her terms.
Midnight turned out to like to play rough. Everytime I petted him, he wanted to chew on me. He must have been trained to be like that. His teeth were sharp, too, though I know he did not mean to hurt me. He was just playing, but I don't like to play like that.
Porcia sheds a lot, no matter how I brush her, it just keeps coming off her. This would make me sneeze (though I did not recognize it as an allergy -- love blinds you, doesn't it?), so I would not do that often. I would just talk to her when she wanted attention.
Needless to say, these kitties are not getting all the attention they need from me. Midnight is alway sad because the girls don't like to play with him. Sometimes Porcia will tumble about with him but that lasts only a few minutes before she gets mad. I think she gets intimidated by his energy when he tries to play with her.
Between the allergies, Midnight's sadness and Porcia's desire for more attention, I have decided I need to give them away. I'm going to put up an ad in a local store I frequent which is visited by a lot of cat lovers. Hopefully one of them will find room for one or both of the kitties.
I don't plan to give Little Girl away. First of all, she is sick. The doctor found a large lumb in her stomach/liver area a year ago. She had lost weight and I didn't know what was going, so I took her in for an exam. They would have to have done surgery to confirm that it was cancer, but I didn't want to put her through that. I don't believe in extra-ordinary treatments for people or animals. I just want her to be pain-free and not keep losing weight if that could be prevented. The doctor put her on a medicine what would help ease her discomfort and increase her appetite. Little Girl's energy has improved and her eating has increased. We had to change her food, but she is eating pretty well. It has been a year since she got sick. Back then I told her she was not allowed to die, but now I have decided to let her go when she is ready. She hates to take her medicine and fights me every time. She hides it under her tongue or in the side of her mouth where I can't see it and spits it out when my back is turned. I'll still try to give it to her, but if she won't take it, I'm not going to force her.
I wrote up descriptions of Porcia and Midnight a couple weeks ago when I was getting serious about letting them go. When I got home that night, they were so cute that my resolve dissolved. I knew something had to be done, though so I have prayed for wisdom and strength to do what is best. I have talked to them about giving them to a new home. They understand, I think, but Porcia protests. She does not like change.
I believe that the Universe takes care of all of us and when we ask for help with something, the best solution will reveal itself. I talked to the owner of the shop I mentioned and she is willing to put a sign up inside the shop as well as in the shop window. I pray that a loving family with a playful male cat will adopt Midnight. I pray that he will be happy and loved. Pray that Porcia will be adopted by a family loves to pet her and talk to her and will love her for her sweet self.
God's will be done.
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