It’s now month two on the all new psych meds, Sports Fans, and after a few tweaks, and having to titrate down on the Gapapentin — culprit of making me wanting to eat ALL THE THINGS, and therefore gaining thirteen pounds…thats right, THIRTEEN, within just a month — all the changes has got my brain just a bit discombobulated; but also, there has been quite a bit of improvement, on the depression side of things.
And finally, after switching up my antipsychotic for the THIRD TIME, and still gaining weight, I tracked down the other culprit (there was more than one psych med exacerbating the problem, yes); Gaba-fucking-pentin. I spoke to several people, including my sister-in-law as well, and SHE dropped a bunch of weight as soon as she stopped taking it, so I decided to do a bit more research…and low and behold, it’s a BIG weight gainer. So last night, I didn’t take my evening dose — and for the first time since I started on the med, I didn’t feel the need to eat the entire contents of the fridge. And I went to bed after just eating a normal small healthy dinner — without even an iota of sugar craving. So, I suspect that by next month, I’ll be back down to my normal weight again. Which is extremely important for someone like myself who deals with an eating disorder, but wants to be med compliant. Oh, my little Kumquats — the struggle is real.
That’s the first thing out of the way.
And I’m glad I figured it out, because it’s just in time for my appointment with my new psychiatrist, on Friday. I’m VERY much looking forward to this, because thus far I’ve been seeing a psych nurse — which truly is great, she’s been amazing and very good to me — but it’s been YEARS since I’ve seen an actual psychiatrist, and I think it’s time. I need to discuss raising my aripripazole, because I’m on a child’s dose, currently, and while it’s been having a positive effect on my mood (and hunger), I still have some psychotic symptoms that need attention — and I’m definitely not on a therapeutic dose for that, yet. And, I need my Gabapentin dose officially lowered — or possibly, even just taken off the roster entirely. However, I DO need something to address the neuropathy I’m still experiencing which the low dose of tramadol isn’t reaching — not the purview of a psychiatrist, unless of course it IS, in part, a psychosis thing; and it could be, because I’m also having this bug-crawling-all-over-me sensation thing going on, ever since the incident with K and her bedbug infestation. And it’s only getting worse; like the sensation of bugs crawling all over me, all day, only now it’s like they’re stinging me; little rubber-band snapping against my skin stings. All day. Every day. That could be neuropathy, it could be my fucked up brain. But, it’s getting pretty intolerable. I need to talk to the Brain Cootie doc, and my Pain Doc — both of which I’m seeing this week, and see what they think. But my suspicion (and this is where my docs usually stare at me for a moment, an then say something like “you know, it’s probably EXACTLY that”) is that it is my psychotic little brain taking my neuropathy and running off the rails with it, since we DID actually have a bug infestation (thanks K, you addict nightmare Hellbeast); but since it is now no longer an issue, and even if it WAS, they certainly aren’t crawling on me and stinging me like wasps while I’m sitting in my counsellor’s waiting area, with nothing at all visible on my skin anywhere, to me, and certainly not to anyone else. I must have looked like quite the picture of Schizoaffective Crazypants sitting in my chair, unzipping my boot and pushing up my sleeve, checking for bugs because the stinging and crawling sensation was so bad. It is, in fact, happening right now. When we actually HAD the bugs, it wasn’t like this. The neuropathy was the usual zingy pain everywhere…now I’ve got the added “crawly” feeling. So…I think we can safely say that part is allll in my head.
I AM pretty good at differentiating what is real and what isn’t, even when in the midst of the crazy.
And it is…well, maddening. It also IS, from a psychiatry perspective, pretty interesting how an chemically unbalanced mind interprets neuropathic pain and such as “invisible bugs crawling all over and stinging me”. I mean, as far as horrific goes, that’s pretty high up there.
As for the rest of my meds — the Wellbutrin, the Lamictal, the Abilify, and topiramate, and now my tramadol for the pain; I’m doing pretty well on them, as far as I can tell. My depression is definitely lifting — not gone, by any means, but certainly better than its been in a LONG time. Being in less pain is helping on that front, too. The tramadol is really wonderful. It’s only 50 mg pills, which I can take two of per day, but that’s a starting dose, and I think once he realizes I can handle it and am not abusing them, he’ll likely up the dose, as that’s a very small dose indeed.
Now, if only my brain would quit with the psychoses bullshit, I’d be a happy woman. But, I’m still on a starter dose of all these meds, so I expect a lot of improvement on all the things, soon. Already, I can tell I like the Abilify. It’s one of those multi-purpose drugs that hit several brain cooties at once; it’s an antipsychotic, a mood stabilizer, it works on anxiety, and helps treat Major Depressive Disorder, for treatment-resistant depression patients like myself — when just one anti-depressant doesn’t cut it. It’s pretty great shit — when it works. And it looks like for me, it’s going to work. Tonight, I upped my dose from 2mg to 4mg, because my psychoses symptoms are just getting to be too much for me, and I know when it’s time to do that sort of thing, rather than deal with the ultra-crazy.
And, since I’m seeing my new Psychiatrist in two days, and would have been titrated up to at least 4mg anyway, I feel it’s an appropriate decision to make. So far, I’m feeling fine on the higher dose (naturally). Less wonky, a bit — though it will take some time before I’ll notice real change, long-term. One of the good things about being unsentimentally self-aware about my psychosis is that I know exactly what’s going on in my brain, without any judgment, or stupid emotion attached to it. I’m having a psychotic episode, fine. I need a med increase. I’m not having delusions that I am the Goddess Kali, but nor am I feeling sorry for myself, crying hysterically because oh, poor me, life is SOOO hard, I’m Schizoaffective Bipolar I, why me…
What’s the point of that?
Today, once again, BOTH of my case workers made a point of telling me how impressed they are by my self-awareness and calm acceptance when it comes to my Brain Cooties. That’s the ASPD, but I don’t mention that to them — they know of the diagnosis, but I imagine they have enough difficulty dealing with the concept that the perfectly calm, articulate, perfectly polite, but also psychotic client is also a Sociopath with Psychopathic features (“nothing ever seems to upset you…”) without me belaboring the point.
And yes, it’s true — I do have a very long fuse, right up and until that last straw is laid upon my back. Little things — in fact most things — don’t bother me, ever. Which is where I diverge off into “Psychopathy” territory. I am perfectly capable of letting things slide that many other people would get very bent out of shape about. I simply don’t see the point of it.
It’s the main way in which I diverge, generally, from most ASPDs.
(On a side note; another thing, is that I have to remind myself to blink when I look at people if we’re in a conversation; because I tend to freak them out, and I don’t do it naturally. Blink, because I’ve been told my eyes are “creepily intense” — but also beautiful, so that’s good, I guess — and put on a smiling, but not TOO smiling, expression. Nod, and make attentive noises and sympathetic comments to let them know I’m listening. It’s exhausting).
However, when the Bipolar hypomania is kicking in, I CAN get testy and irritable, and even full of uncontrollable rage — and then I can be more like a typical ASPD/Hypomanic person, which is where the anti-psychotics come in. It’s complex. Like most people are complex.
Which is why, although categorization can be very useful, it’s never a good idea to judge a person solely on their diagnosis.
It is a guideline. A way to navigate certain behaviors that people seem to repeat over and over. But, nobody will behave exactly like the “textbook” definition of their disorder, all the time. Because we are human beings, and we are always changing, evolving, nebulous.
But, there are some things that are sort of…signposts, I suppose, that if the person doesn’t have those traits, then they probably don’t have that particular personality disorder. Two thing you will not see a person with ASPD doing is being sentimental about themselves, or feeling remorse. That goes not only for things they’ve done to others, but also it applies to their own lives, their own experiences. Remorse, regret, self-pity, they all are traits one won’t see in a typical person with ASPD; which comes in very handy if one is experiencing serious health issues — because it allows one to get on with things that need to be done, instead of wallowing. Why would I waste time feeling sorry for myself when that time could be spent working the system? Getting services, free meds, free health care, home health workers, a cleaning lady who comes in once a week that I don’t have to pay for, free meals for the week, and I’m also applying for housing. There is a whole system set in place for people with serious mental and physical illness, and intend to take full advantage of all of it — because people like me are the ones most likely to end up on the street, living in a tent down on Lower Wacker Drive, muttering to themselves and eating out of garbage bins.
Well, fuck that.
I have no time for tears. And, to be fair, I don’t feel the need to cry, anyway.
Punch my pillow on occasion, yes. But cry, no.
Unless I’m hormonal, and then I cry durning those commercials about that cat litter that turns different colors depending on the health of your cat’s urine.
But that’s hormones, that’s not a true emotional response.
When I was young — in my 20s, I was more able to access emotion if I drank. It was why I did it. Even though the results were once in a blue moon over the top, it was the one time I was able to access “feeling” things. Then, once I was sober, it was gone. Also, when I was writing, I was able to write in a way that at least was very self-observational. But, back then, I had a big following in the heyday of Blogging, and I would, in order to make myself more accessible and “human”, try and write in a more “emotionally” sympathetic tone, once I realized that’s what people responded to, as opposed to my actual self. The audience was very young, I was young, so I wrote to my audience. However, as I kept writing, I realized what I was doing was boring to me. While I had a ton of readers, I also wanted to be more real, because I was curious how that would actually go over in a world so enamored of “empaths” and “vulnerability”. What’s funny is that now, people praise my writing for being so open and…strangely enough, vulnerable. But it’s not that I am being (or at least, feeling) vulnerable at the things I write. I am simply no longer masking.
And it’s for MY benefit as much as yours, because this is far less work, effort, and far less exhausting, trying to keep up this façade of being this sympathetic character that I am not. I am a mentally ill, emotionally un-empathetic individual (but with excellent cognitive empathy skills) writing about my experiences as such; and about making an effort to be as well as possible.
But, I digress a bit.
What I’m saying is that this whole meds adjustment thing takes time, and patience, and sometimes meanwhile your brain is still doing wonky shit, which can make you feel like the meds just aren’t working. But, I’ve been through this MANY times…and while I wish to god I could stop feeling like there are bugs crawling all over me and biting me ALL DAY LONG, which I suspect is more my brain being fucked up than anything else (Thanks SO much, K, again, for that), I know that once the increase in dosage of my antipsychotic, anti-Brain Cooties meds kick in really good, which won’t take too much longer (or my Psychiatrist will prescribe me something a lot stronger, I suspect), I’ll be feeling much better.
It really is just a waiting game — and I thank my rational mind every day that I know it’s my brain, and not Magic Devil Bugs sent from Beelzebub to torment me. Sometimes, the dispassion and ultra-logic I get from being a “Sociopath” — let’s call it ASPD, which is the official term — has its advantages.
At any rate, I will keep you all posted on how the upcoming appointments go — at the Pain Doc, and then at the Head Doc, so stay tuned, my little Kumquats (and say a little prayer for me to Beelzebub or Cthulhu or whomever that those damn Magic Devil Bugs stay the fuck away from me).
Psychomoxie 
Leave a comment