Starting Over Again

I am about to start over again. I'm learning more and more about my own disorder - whatever the fuck that is - by talking to a friend's wife who is in Special Ed with teens and I'm learning just how fragile our body chemistry really is and that it can change with very little manipulation, yet causing gigantic problems for people who are unbalanced to begin with.

I've been on Lamictal, Klonopin, Campral, and Ambien for a few years now. "They" can't really tell me what's wrong with me. I've been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, Major Depression (which is called something else now, I've been told), Bipolar Disorder, Anxiety, OCD, and whatever else seems to be the flavor of the year. I've taken just about every kind of mood stabilizer and anti-depressant known to man - or at least whichever was available at that time. I've taken cocktails of pills every morning and a few more throughout the day for years and have become very tired of it. But, it seems to keep me from going crazier, so I take them.

I've never really wanted kids, so I had been looking at permanent birth control. After being on the Pill for 2 1/2 decades, my medical doctor feared that the hormones in the Pill were screwing with my Lamictal levels. When I began talking tubal ligation, he suggested I just try a copper IUD first. A $40 office visit co-pay and 4 hours of the worst nausea-inducing cramps I've ever had later, I was 99.9% protected from pregnancy. Hormone free!

And therein lies the problem.

Now my meds aren't working right. Of course, they weren't really working right before, because of the Pill/Lamictal conflict, but now they're *really* not working right. I'm a freaking mess. Yes, I'm under a lot of stress. Yes, I'm totally unhappy in my career, which shadows the rest of my life, but still. What this means for me is that I am going BACK TO SQUARE ONE. Starting all over with a new shrink (if i can even find one), telling my whole story from 1st grade on ALL OVER AGAIN. All my pains, hangups, traumas, baggage, theories...And all of that to try and convince that doctor to NOT diagnose me in only one 45-minute visit, even if that IS what the insurance company requires.

I can't go through all that bullshit again, but I can't go on like this anymore, either.

The IUD is an issue in itself, because I'm short inside. I don't care what my gyno said or did, I can feel it sometimes when I bend over. I can't always get tampons in all the way because it hits the IUD. Troy hits it and it hurts really badly. Sometimes it makes me bleed. The cramps are bad when I'm on my period and the bleeding is just scary. I thought this would be the answer, but I don't enjoy sex nearly as much as I did before.

So Troy decided his solution would be to get a vasectomy. His appointment is at 9 in the morning. I was fine until I found out he was going to go through with it and now I'm freaking the fuck out.

What if we change our minds? I mean, he's 37, I'm 35...I'm not about to try to have a baby past 40, so it's not like there isn't time to change minds. I suggested sperm storage and he blew that off pretty quickly. He said he's perfectly fine with this decision and I need to be okay with it. He's right. We're not even engaged. They're not my testicles. But...it's so final now. A vasectomy reversal is expensive.

I need to make peace with the fact that, staying with Troy, I will never have children. Which is what I've always wanted, but now I'm freaking out. It's the finality of it, I guess. So I'll deal. Seems like all the wrong people are fertile. I know we would be such good parents and, if I do say so myself, our kids would be smashingly attractive. But I can't do it. I'm too selfish and my temper is too bad and it all comes down to my mental issues...I'd snap and it would be baaaaad.

So here I go, on another quest to find yet another doctor that will a) have an opening for me, b) willing to delay a diagnosis until they can actually figure out what's truly wrong with me, c) be the go-to person...rather than someone who says they'll do the meds but I need to see someone for therapy, or the other way around, and d) someone I actually like and feel like I can talk to regularly.

Until then, I'm reading a book by THE Borderline Personality expert, Marsha Linehan, and one book about Bipolar disorder and Marya Hornbacher's autobio about her Bipolar issues. One of two things will happen: I'll trigger and go off the deep end, or I'll gain some insight into what's going on with me and it might help while I'm waiting for a doctor to see me. My insurance is awesome...it usually takes about 3 weeks to get an appointment.

So, that's it for now. I have to decide how I want to do dinner at Troy's while I'm still here and need a grocery store stop on the way. And, as usual, we'll be eating at, like, 10pm and then he's going to get his nuts cut in the morning at the exact same time my worst class period is in my room. That also means I'm going to have to force him into sex regardless of how tired he is tonight because they're saying it could take up to a month before he'll feel like doing it again. OMG, however shall I live?!

I'm out of here for now.

Here's Grease in Your Eye

I may have spoken too soon about getting Troy to focus on his business. He's currently pursuing an office job with the company, which would have him based about 2 miles the other side of my house, and about 20 from his. It would also be a work-your-way-up kind of deal, so he'd probably still have to go back to roustabouting it for a few hitches before moving up to a higher position. I can't see how being a roughneck is any better but, hey...whatever. Sometimes I think my life would be better with him gone, if I could just restrain myself from calling and sending him texts. Of course, now that's irrelevant, because they moved his rig out into the Gulf now, so none of that wireless shit would work, anyway. It's selfish, but I'm hoping he'll end up resigning from the rig - which he's done - and won't get hired for the corporate position. I know he'd be good at it, but I have so much more respect for him when he's working on his own business and developing strategies and making it work.

In an attempt to show him that I care about him too, I've delved more and more into the cooking thing. This is NOT me. I don't know what the fuck he's done to me, but it's weird. I WANT to cook for him and I usually make a big production out of it. It makes me happy to conduct experiments and see if they turn out, and I like to hear good things about it from him. I grilled salmon two different ways, twice, and it turned out better than anything we'd ever had - even his.

Well, tonight I hit a serious winner. I cooked chicken Parmesan. And it was amazing. I couldn't believe it! The downside, of course, was that I still really couldn't tell you what I'm doing. I put the garlic and the basil into the heated olive oil - just like the directions said - and it popped and spit all over the place. In fact, a splatter of hot oil flew directly into my right eye. It was really bad for a little while but, by the time dinner was ready, it seemed to have quit being quite so painful. Now it's just tender. It's sensitive to light but I'm hoping after a good night's rest (like i'll get one of those anytime before school's out...), it will feel better.

Really, there's nothing much else to say. I got my fifth replacement LG phone a couple of days ago and it's been working flawlessly, amazingly enough. For now. Give it two more weeks.

I've been watching my caloric intake like crazy. I actually started running on my treadmill. I'm on a 1200 - 1500 calorie/day diet and I managed to run 1/75 miles today. I feel thinner already.

Almost Speechless

I know I haven't been around. It seems like only one person has noticed, anyway. The only thing I can say is that I have about 15 drafts written, none of which I published. This has been such a miserable, tumultuous time in my life; I can't really put into words everything that sucks so badly right now.

I am currently pursuing a complaint with our local police department due to ongoing road rage incidents with a sergeant that works up the street from my job. We are, unfortunately, driving to work at the same time almost daily. He's been aggressive with his vehicle, words, and gestures and I'm not the only one - but I AM the only one willing to come forward. So that sucks, because I'm pretty sure nothing's going to change.

Things are fine with Troy. He quit his rig job and has been taking my advice about growing his business. He's finally letting me help and I think that, with some gentle prodding, we can get it into the thriving company it deserves to be.

We aren't going to be able to race this huge race over Easter weekend as we'd planned. There are many reasons - none of which are good. But that's how it is, I guess, and we'll just have to set our sights on moving forward and getting on with the next one.

I'm looking for a new house because I'm about to be foreclosed on. My grandfather is willing to step up and buy a house for me, which is the most generous and undeserved thing that could happen to me. After years of fighting with Wells Fargo and NationStar, jumping through all of their hoops, it looks like they finally won. They offered me a final modification offer, so I got it all signed, notarized, and sent back to them by the due date, and now they're trying to say they can't accept it because of THEIR internal error with an "audit" and "tracking." No attorney will help and I just don't know what to do. The whole thing is just too much to take. Because of my family situation, I have to move out of here before trying to short-sell the house. Long story best untold.

Work is still a pain in my ass. They've come off me a bit, but they're still trying to make my life a living hell and make it uncomfortable enough for me to not want to come back. Trust me - I don't WANT to go back - but I can't seem to find any leads for anything else. So, as long as I'm extended a contract again, which, by the looks of state law they'll have to, I'll be back in the same situation next year.

I actually need to go even now. I'm planning a car show with my car club and we have an organizational meeting halfway across town. At rush hour. Nice, huh?

I'll be back. I promise.