I haven't spoken about it in a long while, but most everyone I know, knows how badly JT & I want a kid. I drove myself crazy (crazier?) thinking of ways to bring a lil Star Key into the household, but alas, its just not meant to be. Maybe at some point down the road, we'll be able to afford adoption or surrogacy, but at this point, a biological child is not in our cards.
Which got me thinking . . . Why am I holding on to parts that I don't really need? Life would be so much simplier if I got rid of the old baby baker (which is just collecting dust and causing all sorts of problems). I could go swimming, ride ponies, wear white hot pants - all kinds of craziness could ensue. But seriously, why go through the heartache each and every month, the constant reminder of what will never be? And this would put an end to the little, bitty, tiny piece of hope I have that this month something might have slipped by the BC Enforcers.
So what do you think? Should I shed an organ or at least get the play pen lasered out?
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Somebody Give Me Back My Rug!!!!
I know, its been awhile. Blah, blah blah, I'll try to do better. Blah, blah. I've said it all before. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Anyway!
I have a new shrink, Dr Shrinky Do. She's quite good, but she is on my crap list. You see, I'm schizo-affective. I was devastated when I got the diagnosis, but after doing the research, I realized it actually fit me and made sense. It resonated with me. So I was a happy little schizo, doing my happy little schizo dance between normalcy and psychosis. All was right in the world, until 2 weeks ago when Dr Shrinky Do decided to she wanted to steal my rug. Not only did she steal that bitch, she ripped it right out from underneath me. She decided that I was not, nor have I ever been, schizo-affective. I am bipolar. What the hell?! I've researched bi polar (seeing as JT is bipolar, I have to know what I am dealing with). I am not bipolar. There is no resonance there. Just a loud clanging that is jarring to my soul. Bipolar my ass.
When I asked Dr SD about this new diagnosis, she stated that I was too clean and well kept to be schizo. Um, well I'm also medicated. Unmedicated. . . let's just say things get real ugly, real fast. Showers are optional to say the least. I can't believe I'm sharing this, but even medicated, showers are a forced hobby that occur hopefully every other day. I really do try for every day, but some days, getting in the that little rectangle from hell is just too much. God only knows what would happen if I didn't have to go to work everyday. Wait, I do know what happens. Hygiene goes right out the window and I'm asking Jeff to check my pits just to watch his reaction (which is really funny to watch someone give themselves whip lash just from a smell). It slays me, but I digress. Sure I fit some of the things of bipolar, but I am more schizo with a bipolar flair.
I don't know why her changing my diagnosis bothers me so much. I talked to my therapist about it and even she agrees with me; Schizo is a much better fit. My first 3 shrinks each diagnosed me as schizo, as well as my therapist. Now suddenly, I'm supposed to be bipolar? Something stinks and its not me. Therapist is trying to get me to understand that it is just a label and I am not a label, but a real person. But when your label has become your reality for over a year and suddenly someone is telling you that your reality is wrong, but here, try shoving this new reality down your gullet and see how it fits, it puts all kinds of doubts in your head about what is real and what isn't.
I guess one up side to all this is that the treatment is the same for both diagnosis and so far the meds seem to be helping for the most part. Therapist suggested I get a second opinion, but I don't want to change shrinks again. I finally found one I like and as long as the meds are working, I guess I can't complain too much. I can keep doing my schizo dance, in private.
I have a new shrink, Dr Shrinky Do. She's quite good, but she is on my crap list. You see, I'm schizo-affective. I was devastated when I got the diagnosis, but after doing the research, I realized it actually fit me and made sense. It resonated with me. So I was a happy little schizo, doing my happy little schizo dance between normalcy and psychosis. All was right in the world, until 2 weeks ago when Dr Shrinky Do decided to she wanted to steal my rug. Not only did she steal that bitch, she ripped it right out from underneath me. She decided that I was not, nor have I ever been, schizo-affective. I am bipolar. What the hell?! I've researched bi polar (seeing as JT is bipolar, I have to know what I am dealing with). I am not bipolar. There is no resonance there. Just a loud clanging that is jarring to my soul. Bipolar my ass.
When I asked Dr SD about this new diagnosis, she stated that I was too clean and well kept to be schizo. Um, well I'm also medicated. Unmedicated. . . let's just say things get real ugly, real fast. Showers are optional to say the least. I can't believe I'm sharing this, but even medicated, showers are a forced hobby that occur hopefully every other day. I really do try for every day, but some days, getting in the that little rectangle from hell is just too much. God only knows what would happen if I didn't have to go to work everyday. Wait, I do know what happens. Hygiene goes right out the window and I'm asking Jeff to check my pits just to watch his reaction (which is really funny to watch someone give themselves whip lash just from a smell). It slays me, but I digress. Sure I fit some of the things of bipolar, but I am more schizo with a bipolar flair.
I don't know why her changing my diagnosis bothers me so much. I talked to my therapist about it and even she agrees with me; Schizo is a much better fit. My first 3 shrinks each diagnosed me as schizo, as well as my therapist. Now suddenly, I'm supposed to be bipolar? Something stinks and its not me. Therapist is trying to get me to understand that it is just a label and I am not a label, but a real person. But when your label has become your reality for over a year and suddenly someone is telling you that your reality is wrong, but here, try shoving this new reality down your gullet and see how it fits, it puts all kinds of doubts in your head about what is real and what isn't.
I guess one up side to all this is that the treatment is the same for both diagnosis and so far the meds seem to be helping for the most part. Therapist suggested I get a second opinion, but I don't want to change shrinks again. I finally found one I like and as long as the meds are working, I guess I can't complain too much. I can keep doing my schizo dance, in private.
Monday, February 7, 2011
My Nemisis- The Book of Face
Oh Book of Face . . . How you have betrayed me! You were supposed to make it easier to keep up with friends and all the going ons in their lives. Instead you made me a lazy friend. A really lazy friend. The type of friend who has no idea what is actually going on in the Friendship World. And I hate you for that.
Sure, I get the happy little glimpses and the tip of the surface that they allow me to see. But the real stuff, the actual things that matter, no freakin idea until its too late and they're gone. Where were you on that BoF?
So I bid you adieu Book of Face. You suck. Bawls. Big hairy bawls. With bawl cheese.
Sure, I get the happy little glimpses and the tip of the surface that they allow me to see. But the real stuff, the actual things that matter, no freakin idea until its too late and they're gone. Where were you on that BoF?
So I bid you adieu Book of Face. You suck. Bawls. Big hairy bawls. With bawl cheese.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Guess There's Always a Puppy
A boxer puppy that we'll name River. Wait, 2 boxer puppies named River & Rex. And they'll be so well behaved everyone will love them and want to snuggle them forever. Or a tortoise.
As I stated before, I was nervous about this appointment. So my mom picked me up from work to come with me. I needed a little fortifying, so we stopped at happy hour for some happy juice. After the juice kicked in, we headed over to Dr Baby Maker's office. The one downside to his office is that he always runs late. Like really late. My appointment was at 2:45 and I wasn't called back until 3:30ish. He didnt actually come in the room for another 15 minutes or so. The giant collage of happy babies on the wall had me sweating bullets by the time he showed up.
After the introductions, he jumped right into it. I have a bun in the oven. Don't get excited. Its a moldy loaf that has been getting bigger and has possibly been impeding my conception chances. Its not cancerous, but it has to come out. So sometime in November I'll be having surgery to remove the loaf. But there's good news. All my other tests came back negative. Once I get the mass out, I'm in the clear fertility wise. Then the fan started up and shit started flying.
Due to other circumstances, the only chance we have of conceiving a biological child will be IVF. $10,000 per session IVF. And I can only do it if I get my BMI below 40. And there's no guarantees that it will work. This was a tad disheartening. On one hand, our new insurance will probably cover it. On the other, is the emotional and physical stress of it. There would be intensive testing and meds and jumping through hoops while juggling poodles. And do I really want to go through that?
Our other option is adoption. I have no qualms about adoption, especially if it means finally having a child of my own. But adoption isn't feasible for us right now. It would be several years down the road before we could even start the process. I guess I'm being greedy, but I want a baby now. My goal was to have a child by next year. I see my family getting older around me and I want my child to be able to grow up among them, with cousins close in age and grandparents that are still around and mobile. With adoption, that's just not possible. Who knows where we or our family will be in the span of time it takes for us to adopt?
Its a lot to process and I've only just begun doing it. The rational side of me says to take it one step at a time, which means starting with the surgery in November. The emotional side of me has already skipped forward to the decision of IVF vs adoption. Which side will win out?
As I stated before, I was nervous about this appointment. So my mom picked me up from work to come with me. I needed a little fortifying, so we stopped at happy hour for some happy juice. After the juice kicked in, we headed over to Dr Baby Maker's office. The one downside to his office is that he always runs late. Like really late. My appointment was at 2:45 and I wasn't called back until 3:30ish. He didnt actually come in the room for another 15 minutes or so. The giant collage of happy babies on the wall had me sweating bullets by the time he showed up.
After the introductions, he jumped right into it. I have a bun in the oven. Don't get excited. Its a moldy loaf that has been getting bigger and has possibly been impeding my conception chances. Its not cancerous, but it has to come out. So sometime in November I'll be having surgery to remove the loaf. But there's good news. All my other tests came back negative. Once I get the mass out, I'm in the clear fertility wise. Then the fan started up and shit started flying.
Due to other circumstances, the only chance we have of conceiving a biological child will be IVF. $10,000 per session IVF. And I can only do it if I get my BMI below 40. And there's no guarantees that it will work. This was a tad disheartening. On one hand, our new insurance will probably cover it. On the other, is the emotional and physical stress of it. There would be intensive testing and meds and jumping through hoops while juggling poodles. And do I really want to go through that?
Our other option is adoption. I have no qualms about adoption, especially if it means finally having a child of my own. But adoption isn't feasible for us right now. It would be several years down the road before we could even start the process. I guess I'm being greedy, but I want a baby now. My goal was to have a child by next year. I see my family getting older around me and I want my child to be able to grow up among them, with cousins close in age and grandparents that are still around and mobile. With adoption, that's just not possible. Who knows where we or our family will be in the span of time it takes for us to adopt?
Its a lot to process and I've only just begun doing it. The rational side of me says to take it one step at a time, which means starting with the surgery in November. The emotional side of me has already skipped forward to the decision of IVF vs adoption. Which side will win out?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
First, You Get a Turkey Baster
So I didn't get the surgery. It's probably a good thing since I'm still playing around with my meds. Also I'm not happy with myself and having surgery isn't going to fix that. It would help immensely, but it's not a cure all. My new therapist on the other hand, she's doing some things and I must admit they're working. I like her alot. I can say anything to her and I know that she's not judging me, nor will she betray my trust. I feel safe with her, safe enough to trust. That's what I'm working on right now. I'm learning how to let my guard down and trust that everything will be ok. Its not as easy as it seems and is quite daunting, but I'm making good progress. I'm hoping that people will notice and if they don't, just means I need to open up even further. Scary thought, but its refreshing to do. I've been surprised by the reactions I get. I kinda like it.
I also kinda like my new doctor, Dr Baby Maker. He is so funny. He offered to steal a baby for me at my very first appointment. I like that type of forward thinking. Not sure insurance would cover it though. So we stuck with more traditional treatment. He has sent me for numerous tests and blood work. Tomorrow is the big day where we get to go over the results. If I said I wasn't nervous, I'd be a complete liar. We've already gotten some semi-bad news on the baby making front, so I'm preparing myself for the worst tomorrow. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. Worst case: I'm a mess inside and wont be able to carry a baby or even use my eggs for surrogacy. The plan for this scenario is to put the baby making aside and try for adoption in a few years. Maybe get a puppy in the mean time to ease the want. Or a fish. A kick ass beta fish that we can enter in underground Fish Fights. We'd dress him in a mini ninja suit and put spurs on his fins. He'd take every opponent down in 5 seconds flat. The Splish Splash of Death- Beta style. Who am I kidding? I hate fish unless they're breaded and deep fried. I digress.
So that's the goings ons in my world. Trying to stay sane and make a baby. Can't be that hard. Everyone else seems to be doing it.
I also kinda like my new doctor, Dr Baby Maker. He is so funny. He offered to steal a baby for me at my very first appointment. I like that type of forward thinking. Not sure insurance would cover it though. So we stuck with more traditional treatment. He has sent me for numerous tests and blood work. Tomorrow is the big day where we get to go over the results. If I said I wasn't nervous, I'd be a complete liar. We've already gotten some semi-bad news on the baby making front, so I'm preparing myself for the worst tomorrow. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. Worst case: I'm a mess inside and wont be able to carry a baby or even use my eggs for surrogacy. The plan for this scenario is to put the baby making aside and try for adoption in a few years. Maybe get a puppy in the mean time to ease the want. Or a fish. A kick ass beta fish that we can enter in underground Fish Fights. We'd dress him in a mini ninja suit and put spurs on his fins. He'd take every opponent down in 5 seconds flat. The Splish Splash of Death- Beta style. Who am I kidding? I hate fish unless they're breaded and deep fried. I digress.
So that's the goings ons in my world. Trying to stay sane and make a baby. Can't be that hard. Everyone else seems to be doing it.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Take a Ride with Me
I've been on a roller coaster for awhile now. Its jostling me and throwing me all over the place, but I'm trying my best to hang on for the ride.Some days I'm ok. I might even be on the verge of good. I have my smile plastered on and I'm making it.Lately, I've been more down than up. Everything seems to be weighing down on me and I can hardly lift my head, let alone move my body to do anything. Its easier to lay in bed curled under my quilt and think what a failure I am. Needless to say, this isn't healthy for me. I spend more time crying than anything else and the tears aren't helping. They leave me more frustrated and heartbroken. I need a change.
But change is what scares me the most. I'm not having my surgery and return to work on Wednesday. I was actually looking forward to it, but now I'm terrified. The what-ifs are plaguing me. What if they fire me anyway? What if I've forgotten everything I learned? What if? What if? What if I just try and damn the results? It scares me to think that way, but its the attitude I need. I can only do my best and right now I'm no where close to doing that. What if I got out of bed and started working out again? What if I just got out of bed?
I've been putting off this post because I haven't actually worked it out in my head. I re-read some of my old entries and I realized I'm still hanging onto the damn bird. I need to be ok with me as I am before I can start changing things. Otherwise I might change some of the good things and let the bad fester.
But change is what scares me the most. I'm not having my surgery and return to work on Wednesday. I was actually looking forward to it, but now I'm terrified. The what-ifs are plaguing me. What if they fire me anyway? What if I've forgotten everything I learned? What if? What if? What if I just try and damn the results? It scares me to think that way, but its the attitude I need. I can only do my best and right now I'm no where close to doing that. What if I got out of bed and started working out again? What if I just got out of bed?
I've been putting off this post because I haven't actually worked it out in my head. I re-read some of my old entries and I realized I'm still hanging onto the damn bird. I need to be ok with me as I am before I can start changing things. Otherwise I might change some of the good things and let the bad fester.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Birds
As I sat in group today, I came to a realization. She, a patient with no nickname yet, talked about how she could not let go of a relationship, because she was not in control when it ended. She was extremely adamant about getting her questions answered, but rejected group feedback unless it was what she wanted to hear. Holding on was tearing her up, but she wasn't ready to face reality. It got me to thinking about birds, hunting birds more specifically.
I couldn't get the picture of a falconer and a falcon out of my head. The falconer was urging the bird to take flight, but every time the bird lifted off, the falconer would grasp the bird's legs preventing it from take off. Of course a battle would ensue, the bird pecking and shredding the falconer, but she being determined to hold on. How many of us are faced with the same battle? What is the one thing in our lives that we know we need to let go off but can't let our hands rest so the beast can finally take flight?
For me, it's my self doubt. The voices really did a number. I no longer truly trust what I think as rational thought. It could be so many other things that it never occurs to me that it could just be me. I haven't had a voice in over a week, but the doubt still eats me up. It gnaws on me, infecting me with negative thoughts until no positive can possible thrive.
So the real question remains: When will I let the damn bird go?
I couldn't get the picture of a falconer and a falcon out of my head. The falconer was urging the bird to take flight, but every time the bird lifted off, the falconer would grasp the bird's legs preventing it from take off. Of course a battle would ensue, the bird pecking and shredding the falconer, but she being determined to hold on. How many of us are faced with the same battle? What is the one thing in our lives that we know we need to let go off but can't let our hands rest so the beast can finally take flight?
For me, it's my self doubt. The voices really did a number. I no longer truly trust what I think as rational thought. It could be so many other things that it never occurs to me that it could just be me. I haven't had a voice in over a week, but the doubt still eats me up. It gnaws on me, infecting me with negative thoughts until no positive can possible thrive.
So the real question remains: When will I let the damn bird go?
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