It’s My Life

Well, another visit to Dr. Goodenough has come and gone (dear Lord, will I ever find a better name?) and he increased my Lamictal from 400 mg to 500 mg/day. I was concerned at first because that’s higher than the norm for bipolar, but he said people with seizure disorders can take up to 1000 mg/day so 500 is safe for me. Of course, I trust him, so I started the new dosage the same night. As I expected, it hasn’t made much of a difference yet, in fact I’m a little more depressed than I was, but then things have been somewhat stressful at home so it’s as much situational as anything else.

And I find myself wondering: is this what my life is now? More and more meds, in higher and higher doses? I’m on EIGHT drugs for psychiatric reasons, six of them actual psychotropics, and I still have breakthrough episodes. I also never seem to be able to decrease the dosages once I’m stable again. What’s up with that?

On top of it, I’ve started feeling faint stirrings of March Madness, even though nothing’s changed on the outside. My thoughts are racing again, I’m jumpy and slightly irritable, and I’m having trouble focusing. It’s taken me over an hour to get this far in this blog post, though I think it’s making sense. I hope to high heaven this isn’t the beginning of a mixed episode. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m just a wee bit paranoid, though I’m able to talk myself out of it. Sometimes I feel like my family is mad at me, ignoring me, when it’s really only that they are dealing with their own shit and it’s not about me. In fact, Ben and I had a great chat a couple of days ago, which made me all warm inside for a few hours. But even though I know on an intellectual level that everything is more or less OK, I’m not convinced emotionally.

One thing I’m not doing is messing with my meds. On the contrary, I’m religious about taking them as prescribed and not fantasizing about stopping them. I know I need them—all of them—and while I wish I didn’t need so much, I’m cooperating. That’s different from the past few Marches, when I’ve gone off the rails and experimented with dosage reductions. I’m not even tempted. I hope that doesn’t change, because I really don’t want to be unwell either way.

In the meantime, we’re already on Daylight Saving Time, which means it’s light later in the evenings, and spring is coming. I’ll be all right soon. And if I’m not, I’ll call Dr. G. I promise.

Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

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