I wish I could explain depression to people who don't have it.

My husband understands, sort of. We're hanging in there until I can get my meds adjusted.

It's not sad. Sad has a reason. It's like this sweet voice power. - I should really get stuff done today, like dishes, and laundry - and then [i] Nah, snuggle in that blanket, take a nap. [/i] -but I slept well last night - [i] sleep anyway [/i]

it's not lazy...it's just not wanting to do anything. Not even fun things. Like a giant blob of darkness grasps around me and I can't fight it. I just watch the world pass by.

When I go to work, I smile. People think things are fine. What are you going to tell them? I have done anything in a week because I feel bad. Then they ask why. The reasons I produce are just...they then seem stupid. I tell people why I'm upset, when I cry...I don't do that anymore.

I don't want to exist sometimes. I don't want to die, I just want to disappear. Like a vacation. Which you can't just randomly do for an indifferent period of time, and you can't enjoy a real vacation if you feel this way. You probably couldn't set it up, not being able to get everything done.

I don't want to pay $800 a day just to shuffle around, playing puzzles with missing pieces, not shaving because I don't want people to watch, nurses peeking in with flash lights, while you try to sleep on uncomfortable bed. I don't need that.

My pdoc is busy. A doctor quit so he has to cover at the hospital and take on some extra patients. Even if you go to his office saying you're suicidal, they can't get you in for two weeks. I was squeezed into the first week of July, the next appointment is August. You can't call the crisis people, they send you to the psych ward.

I'll get by. I'm here. That's a long way.

Dear local hospital system.
I owe you a lot of money. Thank you for not being like the debt collectors and actually treating me like a real person. I don't plan on being this poor forever, but right it's all I have, just barely floating by. It sucks the people who are suppose to help financially have these stupid deadlines. I'm not mentally ok, and dealing with some hard stuff in life. I don't want to print out three months of bank statements. You don't need to see every taco bell run. K? Second, I wouldn't have a debt, if you listened to me. I'm not saying I know everything, I don't. I'm saying when I go to p-doc's office and say "I'm suicidal, I think I need a med change." The reaction is not ok. I don't want to wait three weeks. I feel suicidal now; I need help now. (now being then, not now now. I'm ok.) Seriously, I don't take big doses; I'm not a drug dealer. I'm sure people love my pills, random lactation, acne, weight gain. Yeah. I don't need to stay 6 days in a hospital to be given lithium. (Because of a long weekend, I didn't even fulfill the 96 hour hold).
Seriously. I know what's going on. I'm bipolar, not stupid.
Love
Jamie

Dear School Health People,
When I say I'm moody, it means I'm moody. Not stressed. Finals have never, in my five years of college and four years of high school, stressed me out. Not even a little. It's a test, all the material is in the book or the study guide and I probably have a big fat A. I had 4 finals, and three of them resulted in a pizza or food party. The last was human sexuality. Not too hard; I made a better grade than some of the psyc majors. Life is good, you give me a shot of depo provera and I suddenly try to rip my skin off to get it out....yeah, not normal. We're not talking crying at chick flicks, here. Lets talk about mood to a bipolar person. I'm very aware of my emotions. Don't question me. Second, 20 hours of sleep a day is not normal, even if its been a long semester. See above, it was easy.
Not cool.
Jamie.


Dear mom,
No, I'm not calling you back after you and two of my brothers just told me was a jerk I am for graduating. I did not graduate. I did have a daily dose of diarrhea and did not get paid for playing at graduation. If you want communication, me not being good enough and my husband not being good enough is going to have to stop. Which I know will not happen. For me to be happy with you, you'd have to realize you have a problem and start seeking help. Since that's not happening, I'm avoiding you. I don't like you. Common sense and reason doesn't matter to you, my opinion and feelings don't matter to you. You say you want respect and to give respect. Bah Humbug!
grr

We had awards in band, voted on by band people. I thought it was sort of silly. It's obvious who works hard in band or who is a good musician. Their scholarship is bigger for one. The person who won the best band member award was pretty obvious. She practices all the time, even when most of of us take a day off. Not a bad thing, but she's arrogant about it. She knows she's better than everyone else, she knows she works harder. She's a Brittany Brooks, the person the teacher always boasts about because she's well behaved, always has perfect grades, her coloring is neat, ect ect. It bothers me, the only way my mom praised me is if I had an award. It's hard getting over that. Just functioning, at a halfway normal level is quite a feat. People struggle with bipolar quite a lot, finding the right meds, staying on those meds, finding a job they can keep, not giving in to manic crazy-ness. I'm not saying bipolar people are lazy jerks, just that we have a lazy jerk in our head that screws our chemical balance and makes it hard to fit into the real world. If there was an award for best functioning mentally ill person on campus, I'd be all over that. It's like having a learning disability and getting a C; you're darn proud of that C because you worked super hard on the assignment or maybe you didn't have as many accommodations as you normally have. I'm proud of what I've done, but at the end of the day, it's just being average.

I'm very ready to be done. I'm very scared. I've skipped a couple of classes this week. I walked out of band (we were just putting music away). I've been having a hard time dealing with stress. My recital is over so it's getting better. But what am I going to do when I'm a teacher? I can't just not do stuff because I need a mental health day. I am tired. I want to change the world and make it a better place, but what can I do? I am not that strong.

Debt collectors are horrible. I owe quite a bit of money and I was trying to set up a payment plan, but it's obnoxious. Even with a refund check from school, I live pretty far below the poverty level and I don't have insurance. Insurance really doesn't help my more common expenses, like medication or my pdoc appointments. I'm on their assistance program, which is really nice. It covers more than my last insurance.

I believe health care is a right, not a privilege. I know that hospitals must treat you, regardless of your income or insurance. But that says nothing about the bill they send you or what insurance will not cover. Good health and good health insurance is for the rich and healthy.



In other news, it was the annual music educators conference, which is always fun. There's a mixer for the college music ed group. My school brought six people, including myself. Partly because some of our members where in the all state collegiate orchestra. Other schools brought 20, 30 or 40 people and always dominate the state elections. We had music Olympics with music history jeopardy and musical chairs. The final challenge to break the tie was a dance off. I won the dance off. I can't dance. I did the robot! It was pretty dorky. It's the first time my personality, how weird and fearless I am, actually did some good. It felt like one of those TV episodes where the kid feels bad about being small, but his size is useful later.

I got married! whohoo!
I married a wonderful man. He's kind and loving and deals with my bipolar best he can.
His family is nutty, like nuts on ice cream. I like it that way.
My mom did not attend.

I sort of called her a naughty name out of anger. It lead to a whole mess of trouble. My apologies weren't good enough, I was evil, ect ect. My brother, who might have bipolar, sent me and my sister (who hasn't been speaking to my mom for a long time) a long email explaining how we're jiggly piles of poo and we should apologize. I did eventually apologize, which was good enough until now. My mom was very unhappy that my mother-in-law was helping me. My cool brother couldn't make it to the wedding because he has Parkinsons and can't sit in a car that long. My mom wanted crazy brother to give me away. I hardly know him, every time he came up, I played with his daughter and he talked to mom. and after the jiggly pile of poo email, he's at the bottom of my list. My mom is very upset about this. I told her I didn't want a scene at the wedding (because I keep getting emails and facebook messages about all sorts of stupid crap). So she didn't come at all.

Now she made this big long post on my facebook wall. Which is great, all my friends get to see how crazy she is. It bother me how every time there's a disagreement, it's always my fault and there's something wrong with me. If you're going to blame my bipolar, at least know what my bipolar spells look like.

Aside from that and the cold (aka the crud) I'm doing ok.