*ouch* Ricocheting around the room sounds bruising...
Ah, but I'm a Super Ball! Doesn't hurt a bit! I leap over Leggo buildings in a single bound! I destroy Log Cabins with a mere touch! I am chewed on by dogs and lost in the alley, I roll down the street end up in the storm sewer! Wait...this isn't very fun, is it? Hmmmm. Yikes, here comes the wall again! Oh, no, not the window---" *crash* *tinkle* *Didn't I tell you to be more careful with your toys, young man!*
I hate not being able to predict how I'll be functioning when I'm in an unstable phase (currently trying to tweak meds, so here I am...).
Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. There is possibly nothing I hate more than titrating drugs in my own body! Shouldn't there be a more scientific method than this, something involving bunsen burners and lab glassware? I'm not furry enough to be a guinea pig.
Not being able to predict how functional I'm going to be from day to day is a major component of my life. I have to build everything around it. I hate accepting invitations because, you know, I might feel incapable of dealing with people when the time comes around. If I get a job which challenges me all the time, then there will be too many days that I can't do it. If I get a job that I can do when I'm in the worst possible state, I'll be bored as hell, not to mention such jobs pay in peanuts and subway tokens. Every time I make a commitment, there's this sword over my head. What if it should fall?
Have you read Kay Redfield Jamison's An Unquiet Mind? I found it oddly comforting, esp. her descriptions of depression... "Oh, so I'm really NOT making this up..." Sigh.
I thought it was perfectly fascinating that, as a practicing psychiatrist, and therefore presumably prescribing lithium for her manic-depressive patients, she refused to take her own medications. The incident that resonated for me was her $35,000 credit card debt. Overspending is a symptom of mania. So is promiscuity. But I'll tell you, the latter is a fair bit of fun, and hasn't left any permanent scars. (Well, except my ex-husband. We were, as they say, very young.) The former, though, is downright expensive.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2003-09-04 01:28 pm (UTC)Ah, but I'm a Super Ball! Doesn't hurt a bit! I leap over Leggo buildings in a single bound! I destroy Log Cabins with a mere touch! I am chewed on by dogs and lost in the alley, I roll down the street end up in the storm sewer! Wait...this isn't very fun, is it? Hmmmm. Yikes, here comes the wall again! Oh, no, not the window---" *crash* *tinkle* *Didn't I tell you to be more careful with your toys, young man!*
I hate not being able to predict how I'll be functioning when I'm in an unstable phase (currently trying to tweak meds, so here I am...).
Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. There is possibly nothing I hate more than titrating drugs in my own body! Shouldn't there be a more scientific method than this, something involving bunsen burners and lab glassware? I'm not furry enough to be a guinea pig.
Not being able to predict how functional I'm going to be from day to day is a major component of my life. I have to build everything around it. I hate accepting invitations because, you know, I might feel incapable of dealing with people when the time comes around. If I get a job which challenges me all the time, then there will be too many days that I can't do it. If I get a job that I can do when I'm in the worst possible state, I'll be bored as hell, not to mention such jobs pay in peanuts and subway tokens. Every time I make a commitment, there's this sword over my head. What if it should fall?
Have you read Kay Redfield Jamison's An Unquiet Mind? I found it oddly comforting, esp. her descriptions of depression... "Oh, so I'm really NOT making this up..." Sigh.
I thought it was perfectly fascinating that, as a practicing psychiatrist, and therefore presumably prescribing lithium for her manic-depressive patients, she refused to take her own medications. The incident that resonated for me was her $35,000 credit card debt. Overspending is a symptom of mania. So is promiscuity. But I'll tell you, the latter is a fair bit of fun, and hasn't left any permanent scars. (Well, except my ex-husband. We were, as they say, very young.) The former, though, is downright expensive.