Prelude to a Post 2

I currently look just like the guy on the end, except that the package area is slightly larger. LOL.

I am carrying all my fat in my gut, with slight man-boobs going on.

ASSHOLES

I was reading Amber's blog and her last post brought up sometime that I am currently stewing over. I didn't even realize exactly how made I was until I read her post. This is exactly what my T-doc was talking about: catastrophic thinking. I have unconsciously been ruminating about this and if I would have continued without realizing, I would likely have snapped. I can now hopeful bitch them out nice and calm like.

A couple of friends went smelt dipping last week. (Netting small fish for frying, at night with flashlights.) I acted interested as they told of their exploits. They said stated that they were going again on Sat night and invited me to go. They also said that I should bring my son; that he would have a good time. Did I mention that THEY invited US. We did a lot of prep work to get ready. It was all my son talked about. I had to buy a license. I had to borrow waders for Ash-boy. I bought batteries for the flashlights and headlamps. Sat we wait and wait. It gets dark. We wait. 10pm comes and I call. No answer at Van Horn's house. I then ring Smity's cell. I get some BS about Van Horn backing out and hr prior and being P-whipped. Sadly he is quite P-whipped. He always gets with chicks that control him. He has such a low personal self-image, but that isn't really any of my business, although I throw it in his face and call him a punk as often as I can. Just as I will the next time I see his no-commitment-keeping-ass. I sardonically jabbed that I really appreciated the call so we didn’t wait around all fucking night for someone to come and actually live up the promise to my son. I hung-up. I will have to contain myself when I go back to work. It will be hard because I already want to smack them around verbally. ASSHOLES.

Prelude to a Post

BMI calculator for those too lazy to manually compute.

I PASSED

I aced the exam. I procrastinated and second-guessed myself for over 2 months. I don’t know why I do that to myself. I think likely that it is worry of failure. More like sheer dread of failure. I am now happy. On too my first course of the second semester: Personal Finance. Now that’s funny. Bipolar guy + proper management of one’s personal finance. I think I will let Ash-wife continue to pay the bills for now. LOL.

Later, Ash out…

T-Doc and Homework

Another reason that I know I was manic on Weds was because of what happened while at the T-doc’s. I talked way too much. I wouldn’t say that I’m usually succinct to her probing questions. But today if she asked an open-ended question I was all over it, branching off into other similar topics and my personal analysis and views on the topics. Her pen was a blur on the page. I was babbling. She knew I was manic. Oh yea, funny thing that happened. I do think I might have pissed her off. If I did, she covered it well. But I know how it pisses me off someone does it to me. Anyway, while she was on a drawn-out diagnosis of one of my mental inadequacies, I get this shit-eating grin on my face. You know the kind. Where it is obvious that you think something is hilarious and are holding back. She stops what she was saying. She says, “do tell what you are thinking right now.” I say, “I don’t know,” yet it makes me smile even more. To my defense, I honestly didn’t know why I was smiling. She says in a nonchalant, non-pissed-off way, like she was actually curious, “no really, I’d like to know what you are smiling about.” I start laughing and say, “me also.” She bored of the verbal tit-for-tat and went back to her analysis of ineptitudes. About 10 mins later we go through the same conversation again because a smile snuck through my earnest attentive façade.

I tell you what, I have a guy that works for me that does that shit, and a few times when I was in a irritable frame of mind, I snapped on him. If I remember right, it went something like, “what the fuck’s so funny?” followed up with a quick, “what the fuck you smiling for then?” I am working on it guys so bear with me. These outbursts are few and far between for a while now. But I’m medicated now and also more atoned and cognizant of my moods and actions.

I told her of my quest to solve this thing and that I have begun schooling in psychology. Of course my analytical mind thinks that there has to be a finite solution to this illness. Actually there is, but neuroscientists and geneticists haven’t yet pinpointed it. Maybe in my lifetime, yet if not, definitely in my children’s lifetime. OK, I digress, back to the paragraph’s topic. I think sometimes that it irks them a little that I’m studying their craft. Like I might be second-guessing their diagnoses. They seem to calm down on the superfluous psychobabble a little bit, as if I might say BS or something. Maybe it’s just my insecurities. That’s more likely. It’s just that quick look in their eyes when you first say it.

Another thing that we decided about me is that I feel that I’m intellectually superior than most people. I agree with her. Not that I am per se, but that mentally I feel that way. She says that it is part of my disorder. I told her that I know that it is irrational and that ultimately I know that I’m not brighter than everyone around me. But I do at times just seethe at peoples’ incompetence. I can’t help it. We discussed that everyone is better at certain things than the next person. Everyone has their attributes and that I must learn to humble myself somewhat. This will be hard for me; my opinions just seem so right. LOL. She told me if I get to lofty about myself to remember that I’m bipolar and most people are normal. Damn, she slapped me down. I can handle it; I’m a big boy. I have a lot of different things to work on. Time to delve in.

She game me homework. I already have enough on my plate, but I guess healing has a cost. So I must put in some effort. BOoo. She said that what I will be working on is, catastrophic thinking, cognitive restructuring, and what if – self talk. She gave me a course book with a couple of post-its in it. One is an exercise – the daily record of dysfunctional thinking. I hate charting shit, especially personal feelings and shit. This will be tedious at best. The other one is a chapter on visualization. What the hell do these 2 chapters have to do with the 3 things I am supposed to be learning about. I have to go back on Mon so I need to invest a little time with this book. As I learn every week, I plan on commenting and analyzing my treatment and posting here. Hopefully we all can learn from my P-doc.

Lastly – does anyone else feel raped and dirty after a therapy session? I’ve only had 2 and I already feel stripped and naked after I leave. I feel like I divulged some deep dark secrets that I usually hide in the dark corners of my psyche. She knows how to pry loose things that I don’t even think about and never really realized how they actually affected me. I don’t know if I like this. I know that it is part of the healing process, but this is my personal info. My dad has already been blamed for some of my social and relations foibles. Makes me wonder how much I’ve fucked up my kids. Hopefully I have time to counteract some of the negative traits that they have learned by environment osmosis.

Lately I've Been on the Up's

I’ve had a good week guys. I truly did. The family came home. I was on vacation from work. I think sometimes life can trigger your moods. I had very little stress = I am happy. I have nothing to stew over. I slept well also. All that combined to make Ash a happy camper. Oh yea, also I only have 1 day of LSS sponsor training and 1 night to work this week. I took the last 2 days off. That equates to 6 days off again and 6 total days at work this month.

Today I felt real good. I honestly think I am a bit manic at the moment. I mentioned as much to Ash-wife and she kind of got curt with me and stated, “Can’t you just be happy?” She thinks that I like to blame my illness for things sometimes. The reason that I said that I thought that I was manic was due more to the increased thoughts that were plaguing my brain. I keep getting sidetracked with the random thoughts that keep popping in. But I didn’t tell her that. Just let her keep thinking she knows what’s going on in my head.

Here’s another reason that I know I’m manic. It felt like the car was barely moving. I kept looking down and finding myself speeding. I kept doing this the whole way to my therapist’s office. I would try to watch my speed and then go on autopilot while some stray thought took over. The problem was that autopilot thought he was in a jet. I actually put the car on cruise on a street that the speed limit was 40mph. I then commenced to zone-out and when I looked down I noticed that I had pushed down the gas pedal even though I was on cruise. I was doing 60. Well, it caught up with me on the ride home. I decided to surprise Ash-wife with an extra value meal from McDonald’s. As I was going home, I was laughing and talking to myself, mimicking my therapist’s facial expressions and gesticulations. I look up and there’s a cop coming. I look down and I running 70mph. I slow down and watch as he does a U-ey. I surreptitiously watched in the rearview like if I didn’t move much he might just zoom around me on his way to a murder or something. But no, he flips on the dome and I turn on the blinker and pull over to the curb. I think to myself if God is testing me today. I feel like Lieutenant Dan from Forest Gump up in the crow’s nest in the storm. “Is that all you got!”

Side note: I think I’ve figured out why they take so long behind you before they finally pull you over. No not an obvious reason like running your plates so they know to call backup or not. No, it’s to make you sit there and suffer while you are thinking up excuses and just hoping he won’t pull you over. It’s all about the suspense and delivery baby. Assholes.

He walks up to the car and asks the standard, if I knew how fast I was going. I lie and say no. He throws back at me 70 in a 55. I put on my best puppy-dog eyes, but he couldn’t see them due to my shades. He asks how my driving record is. I tell him crystal – just perfectly clear. Then I add in. “I’m not a speeder sir. Well, I guess I am today, but I don’t normally speed sir. (I thought about telling him that I was trying to get these fries home before they got cold, and that he was currently fuckin’ up that plan. But I restrained myself. Hey, maybe I wasn’t too manic today anyways.) Standard license, registration, and proof of insurance BS. I have to tell him that I was in the wife’s car and that my wallet was actually in my vehicle. I then rummage around in the glovebox. I find the registration quickly, but all I find after much duress is an out-of-date proof of insurance. So he heads back to his squad car as I stew about Ash-wife’s upcoming bitch-session. I know their will be a lot of blame and paying the bills talk, over and over and over till the point that I get pissed-off. I just know this will be another test of my control of my anger. While I’m still beating myself up for my stupidity he comes back. He says that he waived my speeding ticket and my license issue. I think my jaw dropped because he paused. Maybe it was just for effect. He then tells me that he only cited me for the no proof of insurance and that I had 10 days to show proof at the court house and that I’ll likely get a $10 fine or something like that. I thanked him profusely. Drama extinguished, I went home with our cold fries to tell of my/our good fortune. Damn I dodged a bullet there. I would say good Karma, but I was speeding because I was dogging my therapist’s foibles. I’m such a dick. LOL.

I only got angry once this week. The wife and I got in an argument over something that we both disagreed strongly over. I removed myself from the situation after only arguing a little. I felt myself heating up, wanting to start yelling, so I told her I was stepping out for a few, and the boy and I went to the movie store and took our time finding a few movies. I calmed down very quick. I made a few, “your mom drives me nuts sometimes,” comments and then I let it go. I got home and didn’t even bring it up. I didn’t have to “win” like I usually feel the need to do. A character flaw on my part I realize, but it is a hard one to work on. So I am proud of that small step toward not being an overbearing asshole.

Later, Ash out…

Funny Story - At Least to Me

Butterfly wrote a post about those spring-loaded pens and some peoples’ annoying habit of constantly clicky-clacking them. That reminded me of a story when I first started out in my supervisor role. I was a Relief Sup at the time and I was hiring a small group of individuals that I would have to work with on a daily basis. And yes I try to not be aloof and critical as I’m judging candidates. I just pick the best person for the job to the best of my abilities. Sound defensive? Good, because I am.

I was an interviewer at my company doing an entry position interview and the interviewee was doing that incessant pen click. He actually held up this pen right in front of his crest above his lap and clicked his pen loudly for the whole interview that lasted around 20 min or so. It was obviously a nervous tick. But man was in driving me nuts.

And speaking of nuts, he was I think, I could actually see it in his eyes. As the interviewing group was progressing and questions are being asked, his application was being passed around. It was passed to me by the other Relief Sup and he gave me a weird look and I started reading it. I am a very immature guy humor wise. Plus I was likely 25 or 26 at the time. (The other Relief is my good friend and we can’t look at each other at times when we both find something funny.) Anyways I was already kind of laughing at this guy’s unstable demeanor and odd answers to the queries. I get to the question that reads – Have you been ever been convicted of a felony in the past 5 years? (This guy wrote – yes. I was convicted of felonious assault with intent to do bodily harm with a pair of scissors. I just got out of prison.) I think a quick cutoff giggle popped out. I could see answering the fucking question, but why add-in the scissors part and the just getting out part. All of a sudden his red-headed dude’s pen-clicking started looking a little menacing, yet I couldn’t stop wanting to laugh. I look over at my friend and we both had to turn away from each others’ gazes or we would have busted out laughing. A few times after that I had to put his application up in front of my face because I had a huge wanting-to-laugh smile on my face. I know it was unprofessional, but I’m telling you I just couldn’t stop myself. I straighten myself mentally for a sec and start reading again. It comes to my turn to ask a question. (Everyone is asked the same exact questions to keep cohesion amongst participants.)

“What if you were on the Finish End and noticed your Supervisor was not wearing his earplugs. This was the very loud place that you walked through on your tour. What would you do?”

This dude says, “I would go up to him and forcefully suggest that he put in his earplugs.” My clipboard goes up in front of my face again, up to my eyeballs, my hyper-smile hidden from him. I didn’t want to piss-off this red-headed firecracker. (All I can image is this dude coming up to me and putting scissors to my neck and saying, “I would highly suggest that you place your hearing protection in your ears. It is for your own safety. Hurry up mother fucker. I will rape you in your ass. Hurry up.” I know, I’m retarded. I am so immature. I truly can’t help myself.)

I straightened up again and lowered the clipboard. I start reading his app again. It gets to references. He only had one and where it asked for contact info, he wrote deceased. I lose it again and up goes the clipboard again to my eyeballs and my body shook with uncontrollable silent laughter. Who the fuck would give a dead man as a reference? What? Do we have to have a fucking séance to talk to his reference? (I go right back to my mental imagery – him holding scissors up to some old man’s neck and telling him to write the letter. “Hurry up motherfucker, I will rape you in your ass.” And then at the end of the letter the last word scrawls off down the page as he dies. I have a very morbid sense of humor, I know.) It was obvious that this guy wasn’t right. Good thing that the session ended right about then because I never lowered my clipboard again. I shook this guy’s hand reaching over the table as I held my clipboard up with my other hand.

I got reprimanded pretty sternly. My friend and I were not allowed to ever interview at the same time again. But looking back, it was worth the memory.

Chronological Update

Weds, 17th – Day 9

I visited my P-doc for the first time. She seemed nice and more importantly, competent. I told her about my 4 major issues amidst her probing questions. Anxiety attacks; being distant; sleep issues; and anger and its subgroups: hyper-irritability, uncontrollable anger, and impulse anger. She said we will start with the uncontrollable anger. We talked about when I was having this form of anger and found that I was usually geeking my own self up. She called it catastrophic thinking. It is when you just keep think about and issue, ruminating about it, harping on how pissed you are at the issue or person, and running scenarios and rebuttals and the like over a period of time. It doesn’t have to be a long time. So when you do get into the situation, you are quick to anger. Quite often your anger is irrational, leaving you to take simple comments as initiated confrontation, and compounding your anger. I agree with this assessment. I know that I do this to myself. I am actually horribly guilty of this. When I finally get in the situation I have bad anxiety and I’m ready to be condescending and will likely snap at the slightest perceived transgression. So anyways, she is getting me some materials on the subject together for next week’s appointment for me to take home with me. I guess there are techniques to defuse this catastrophic thinking before it leads to anger and emotional instability.

Did quite a bit of IM’ing with Ash-wife and the kids. She was very open in our conversation. It was a lot more personal than the earlier e-mails. The live human element added to our openness and healing as a couple.

Thurs, 18th – Day 10

I went to see my P-doc. He lowered my Resperdal in half. His goal is to totally eliminate it because he says that it is merely a duplicate of my Seroquel and isn’t really needed. I saw him for 15 min. It was a 2 hr drive there and 2 hrs back. My new goal: find someone closer.

I went to Walmart and bought the kids some things, myself a surround sound system, and an impulse item – half a dozen roses for ash-wife. I call Ash-boy on my way into town and told him to be ready to get the gifts when I stop out front.

Soon as I get home the phone was ringing. It was Ash-wife personally on the phone. This, as you are well aware, was my first communication with her without an intermediary. She thanked me for my generosity and for thinking of her. We talked for 25 min or so. I put on my best “good guy” charm. It was sincere fully. I talked about my treatment and how it might be a while before any real solid results. I told her, hell it was going to be another week before we even would see each other again. I mentioned her coming home with the kids on multiple occasions, with the promise of being on my best behavior while getting better. She said she’d think about it.

Fri, 19’th – day 11

I stayed up all night Thurs with my Bro playing internet poker. I finally took my Seroquel at 9am and ended up falling asleep at 10:30. I awoke to the front door opening at 4pm and Ash-wife standing at the foot of my bed. We had a heart-to-heart as Ash-boy was sent to bring all of their stuff back into the house from the SUV.

I WILL treat them better. I WILL remain calm as I get help with my illness. We both realize that I will get upset at times because it is the very nature of the beast. I am sick. But I will put forth every effort that I can to be a good father and huband.

Thanks everyone for all of your support through this moment in time as I stood at a main crossroad in my life. I have been blessed to traverse the path that I have asked for. Now let’s see where it leads. Wish me luck.

Meds Are Kicking In

Good News – not that good news, but it’s getting there.

We have been conversing via e-mail somewhat. She still loves me and plans, I think, to come back to me. She just wants me to get myself and anger under control. She actually thinks that she is my trigger. I don’t agree, but who knows? Anyways, we are getting along and she hasn’t given up on me – yet.

I went down and took my psych/business exam. I think I did well. The one section that I am worried about is English. I suck at English. I sure hope a squeaked it out. I will be devastated if I fail and have to take it again and go on academic review. Please no. But on a positive note, I got my ass out of bed. I actually tried to talk myself out going. The lady said that Mondays were quiet days without much traffic. I started throwing that around in my procrastinator’s gray matter and it almost stagnated my progress. But in the end I went in and took it.

As an aside – don’t you just fucking hate when people try to include you in their conversation without you being necessarily in it. Sorry for the excessively drawn-out, yet vague question. Ex: I’m trying to take my exam and in walks these two high school chicks. I’m sitting in an out-of-the-way spot with only 2 tables. The rest of the library is pretty much empty, yet they come over and sit at the table adjacent to mine. They immediately start talking loud for my benefit, seemingly oblivious to the teetering mound of course books and other notebooks littering my table. They start talking all big and were peeking to see if I was getting all the “Grown-up” talk; I noticed through my peripheral. They started talking about the cool stuff they do like drinking and smoking and going out with guys – all for my benefit. Like I really give a shit. I hate that crap. It is usually young people that want the crowd to hear of their grown-up exploits. Also kids like to do this while waiting in the line at stores. I only had to suffer through this for a ½ hr, because I finished, just as the librarian noticed the girls and came over to shoo them away. I stood up and said, “I’m done let the young ‘women’ stay there.” They blushed and I left.

The message that I left with my P-doc last Thurs apparently didn’t fall on deaf ears, because I got a call yesterday saying that they hooked me up with a T-doc that comes into town 3 days a week. She called me back and we set up an appointment for tomorrow. So I am pretty nervous. I will get though it.

We started IM’ing a little tonight and talked a lot and that was nice. She initiated it the conversation. She is going to come over and take care of the bills while I’m at my P-doc’s on Thurs. I hate bills. Good to talk live though.

Well I need some sleep and the Seroquel is kicking in. Night all.

Still Getting Angry Like the Hulk in a Flash

IM message with my Mom. This is why I have to get therapy. Simple shit like this gets me all worked up. She just couldn't get it and my anxiety started kicking in and I was getting irritated. And take into account that I was waiting around 1 to 2 min between each of her comments. It took ten min before I calmed down, although I stopped hyperventilating in just a min or two. It still shouldn't make me mad like that. Hopefully the lady tomorrow can start to teach me some exercises or techniques to alleviate my stress levels and my quick temper. I'm such a spazz. I need to get this under control before the Fam comes home. I hope I can change. It hurts me to be this way. I lust for patience.

As an aside - some hook me up. Tell me to change font color. Also does anyone know how to put that line through words?

leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
hey son
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
how are you?
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
sup
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
do you know how well you did on you exam today?
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
I'm only worried about my English exam
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
oh, how many subjects did u take?
you should have taken my english book home. lol
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
lol
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
PIC of smiley
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
5 subjects
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
wow
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
thats a lot
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
when will u find out your scores?
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
i got done an hr early - i should have taken that time to really go into that English Ex
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
She said she would send it out that day.
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
oh, over the internet
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
no no
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
snail mail
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
lol
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
haha
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
what are u eating?
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
I got sick of playing on the $25 tables
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
yes
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
so I put $100 on the $100 table
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
I'm currently up $130
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
u playing now?great
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
First time I've played in a long time
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
yes UB
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
trying to get there. don't know if i can.
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
lol
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
pop up ultimate buddy
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
and then click on my name and table
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
trying, lizard just finished
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
downloading now
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
I already did that for you I thought
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
u know me
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
not taking me to table
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
ub screen
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
sign in
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
you see the table that im at
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
yes
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
in buddy
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
i see maplewood
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
see the triangle by my name
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
double click map
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
maplewood
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
working
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
log in
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
screen
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
ok then hit poker
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
poker tab up top
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
log in first?
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
you still haven't logged in
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
sry, son
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
please log in
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
i did
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
then i hit poker
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
ok now try double clicking maplewood
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
where table to play is at
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
ok forget buddy
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
go to the poker tab at the top of the screen
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
now what do you see
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
when i hit poker tab, it takes me to where the tables to play are
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
good
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
at top click real money
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
now whaat
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
ok
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
there
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
there, where?
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
did u click the real money button
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
don't see anything
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
yes
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
have u clicked the poker button
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
poker/real money.................
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
yes
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
u are making this real hard
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
now what
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
?
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
sry
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
use to be easy
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
now click games
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
PIC of a rainbow
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
it is right below real money button
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
where is that
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
oh
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
click it yet
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
yes , nothing happened
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
just shows games to bet on
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
now poker button and games buttons and real money buttons should all be red
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
yes
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
now below games button hit holdem button
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
ok
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
nothing happened
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
now look below at the games tables
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
ok
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
see where it says stakes
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
yes
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
what does it say
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
I could of actually drove over there and did it for u by now lol
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
what does it say\
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
money needed for table
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
ok close UB
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
X out
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
ok
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
talk to me
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
is ultimate buddy still up
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
hello
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
are we going to start over
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
?
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
yes
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
what do u have open right bnow
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
u start off
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
from very beginning
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
nothing
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
ok open U buddy
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
hello
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
ok
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
see
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
ur mname
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
do you see me and my table
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
now it says download
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
yes
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
down load?
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
do you see my name
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
name and room
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
ok double click my name what a sec and tell me what it did
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
My room I mean
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
maplewood
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
yes double click it
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
ok, thanks
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
it did not work earlier
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
are you at my table now
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
yes, i see u son
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
man
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
lol
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
u killed me there
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
I'm glad I have therapy tomorrow lol
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
sry
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
hanging by a few hairs, huh
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
No I punched my keyboard once and said the lords name in vain
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
chill
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
out
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
I know
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
did u have ur pill today, haha
mcash2@sbcglobal.net says:
It's hard sometimes
leldot@yahoo.com (E-mail address not verified) says:
i know

Lions and Tigers and Bears - Oh My - Rinse and Repeat Over and Over at a Faster Pace

I got really spooked out last night. I got ready to got to bed and turned off the TV im the living room and turned off all the lights and walked down the hall. As I was walking suddenly I heard a TV for about 3 sec. I jumped and turned around and walked back into the living room. Maybe I did that double click thing with the power button. Of course total darkness and no TV. I decided to check the kids’ rooms. Ash-girl is notorious for leaving her TV on and they were visiting that day. No TV on. I checked my room and Ash-boy’s even though I knew that he took it. Yep, still gone. I then heard it again – it was like TV background conversation. Gooseflesh erupted all over and I went into a full-fledged panic attack. The dogs weren’t barking. They are extremely acute to anything out of the ordinary. The last time I didn’t respond to their barking my wallet and radio was stolen from my truck. That made me turn on all the lights and check the house thoroughly and outside also. I left the outside lights on just in case some punks were prowling around my vehicle. I then went into my room and irrationally stared at the wall by the room’s hallway door off and on, fully expecting a head to pop around to look at me. My fear was a tangible thing. Likely over spooked by this, due to my wife’s belief in spirits and that shit and the fact that she has said on multiple occasions that she has seen 2 different ones in my house.

Hopefully it was just a residual reverberation in my mind left from the TV’s droning into the sudden silence and darkness. Hopefully it was some mundane event and not my first psychotic episode. I don’t think I could handle hearing shit. I know I could not handle seeing shit. No matter what it was it total had me frazzled. I’m taking my seroquel earlier tonight so maybe I can get to sleep before 4am.

“You Hear Jimmy, You Just Can’t Hear Jimmy!”

I’m turning into a girl – my genitals are shrinking and my breasts are enlarging. Jokin’. Just being goofy. But lyrics to songs used to just flow between my ears without much retention, yet now songs that I’ve heard merely the beat to, have opened up to reveal greater more detailed meaning. So many love songs, so little time. Damn, I’m a punk. That’s not being negative, that’s my ego, and he’s Tuff.

I feel good today. I’m getting manic – it feels good. I shall breathe it in while it lasts.

It’s round 2 and the question is worth the prized toaster oven emblazoned with my smiling visage. (Worth lots I tell ya.) Name from whence that quotation came?

Later, Ash out.

I WILL...

Why do I fear somuch? Why do I procrastinate? Fear of failure is the likely culprit.

I couldn’t make myself getup this morn. I had my exam scheduled, but I just couldn’t get from the confines of my bed. I’ll make some lame-ass excuse and go in to take it tomorrow. It was very inconsiderate of me. It’s hard to incorporate positive monikers into my “self-talk” when you do shit like this. Self-respect is earned. I now need to be positive and earn it. I will try.

I just opened my curtains for the first time in 7 days. It is sunny outside. The latest snowstorm’s shedding is melting fast. The warmth coming in on me feels great. I think the sun will do me good.

I have 5 bags of garbage on the front deck that I have failed to put in the alley for pick-up for 2 weeks now.

Thanks Mom. You are right it is time to stop the self-pity and step-up to the plate. May I have the arms of A-Rod.


I WILL get up.

I WILL take my exam tomorrow.

I WILL not drink.

I WILL start sleeping for only 8 hrs a night instead of 10 to 12.

I WILL pick-up the house.

I WILL put the trash out on Thursday.

I WILL like myself better.

Day 6 and a Heartfelt E-mail

Psychology/business exam tomorrow. I probably won’t sleep much tonight even with 300mg of Seroquel. I think I am becoming somewhat immune. My mind is swimming. I have a lot to wade through currently. School, work, and the big one: personal life. School and work can fuckoff. Other than the fact that I want to pass the exam. I don’t really show that fact by my anti-studiousness towards my courses. I just know that I will hate myself if I fail.

The kids came over today. I just couldn’t get up. I was hung over and utter depressed this morning. I did go in the living room where I remained in a catatonic stupor for the first few hours of there multi-visits. (Grandma lives 2 blocks over.) It didn’t affect my children much, as they played out in the back yard mostly. When they were inside, they lived on the computer watching Naruto vids and spoofs on You-tube and other sites that they frequent. Finally we all sat together and laughed while we watched Spongebob and Patrick’s lunacy.

When they left I called over to the in-laws’ house, but Ash-wife said through my son, the intermediary, that she wasn’t ready to physically talk to me, yet would converse via letters or e-mails. The boy called a short time later and said that she sent me an e-mail. She keeps telling me to find myself and love myself so I can give them the love that they deserve. I don’t quite understand these statements. I will print my reply at the conclusion of the post. I would appreciate some feedback here from everyone that is willing. Your honest opinions. Mom your non-bipolar thoughts would be helpful, because you see through her eyes somewhat. Am I irrational guys to think that now is when I need her with me more than ever? 14 years she has put up with my swinging ass and now when I’m right on the cusp of getting a handle on this evil disorder, her, my one strength giving me stability, has left me to my own vices.

My mom then came over while my dad went to church to preach Sunday night service. She acted as though I was some fragile egg that must be coddled. I hate that shit. Let me fucking have it. And as mom usually does at some point, she kicked out the God talk. I told her to leave it be and she did. Sorry church goers, though I respect you, you must respect my decisions also. Me and God just haven’t seen eye-to-eye for a long time. Although my dad is now a preacher, I didn’t grow up a PK. Actually while I was in my vulnerable learning years my father was at times a biker and a drug dealer, yet always an utter asshole that treated my sister, mom, and I all like shit not even worthy for his boot sole. Now that he has changed somewhat he thinks that I should somehow be able forget those years where I meant shit. He made me hate God because he took him in. That is one reason why I feel so bad about how I treat my children. Although I didn’t often spank them while they growing up, the mental abuse wasn’t good. They would often come to me for affection and I would be in manic mode and scream in their little faces like they were shit. I am deeply ashamed at my actions. I was evil and sometimes I still am. Though I have my screaming spells, my current form of mental abuse towards my whole family is my distance. I often live in my own little world and exclude them from my existence. I don’t do this on purpose either, but I know it hurts them as much as my occasional hollering. It was getting to the point that I would sleep all day, then eat in bed, shower, and leave for work. No interaction with dad and husband. How long would anyone be able to put up with that? But truly I think therapy will give me a new lease on life. I will be the Ash that they love, whom has shown up less frequently as of late. But it is going to be a process.

I now leave you with my e-mailed response.

I do not understand what you're saying. How can I show you and the kids the love that you need if I can't see you? I miss you and the kids badly. What is it that you are waiting for in my life? I will likely never love myself; it is part of my disability. The only thing I know for sure is that I love you and I will try anything that this world has to offer that could help me treat you guys right. I don't get angry on purpose. I don’t act distant and hide in my own world on purpose. I don’t mean to neglect my family. I do love you guys; I have trouble expressing that love and affection. I have trouble telling you my feelings because I am a man and am insecure about my shortcomings. A husband is supposed to be strong and protect his family. It hurts me deeply that I am the one that you need to be protected from. I often stay away physically sometimes because I know that I am manic and will be aggravated easily. I am sorry. With therapy I feel that I can treat you all right and be there for you emotionally like a normal family.

This is going to be a process for me to get better. I can't lie to you and say that I will never yell again in my life. I just can't; it is part of my disability. What I can do is get therapy to help me learn to quell the beast inside me. I did not mean to hit you with that handle in the leg. I was having a fit like a fucking little 2 year old and I threw it. But I know it is not the intent, it is the result that counts. I am sorry. I truly am. You don't deserve to be hit. I am not a physically abusive man. I sadly am a mentally abusive fuck. I am sorry for all the years you guys have had to deal with that. But remember that it isn’t because I don’t love you or care about you. It is my illness. I’m not making excuses here, it is the truth. I have been trying. I take my meds and get them tweaked every few months trying to stop these evil things about me. It’s not about fucking finding myself. I have found myself for 14 years and you are it. You keep me sane. You are the love of my life. I need you deeply. I am sorry that I can’t tell you these things daily, but believe me I love you whole-heartedly.

I think you are a very strong woman; for you to put your kids ahead of your feelings for me is something that my mom never had the heart to do. Once again I can't say that I will never snap and yell and throw a tantrum. I can get treatment. I thought that my Psyciatrist was giving me therapy, but as we now know he was just asking how I was doing so he could change my meds. The meds have suppressed my evil streak, but I think only psychoanalysis with a therapist will have the right effect, and make me the Ash you and the kids deserve. But you must understand that therapy is also a life-long procedure. It might take months before I am totally stable. What you need to decide is if you want to come home and support and help me through this tough time or if you want me to try by myself. I truly don't think me sitting in a house lonely and depressed is really the best way from me to get through this. But I will accept your decision. But I will say this. I will try my very best to treat you right while I get my meds changed again and go through therapy if you guys come home. I will try to leave the room if we argue. I will try to talk and smile and be a part of the family daily. These things will be hard for me, yet I promise to give it my best. I love you.

I will never be whole with you not in my life. I need you. The house seems so large. Your tough love is killing me. But I know you are trying to help me and at the same time protect the kids. But honestly I don't know how long it will take before therapy will give you your Ash, but I think you should come home to me and support me through this. I love you guys and will except your decision. But if you aren't coming home until I do something specific, you should let me know what that thing is so I can work towards that goal so I can get you guys back as soon as possible.

Let me know. I miss you.

Day 5

OK, it’s 3am and just got home from the game. Like a dumbass I drive and had to have someone tailgate me home. I don’t think a DUI would have really impressed her. My head is killing me. I also forgot to take my pills before I left. God does my head hurt. I’m going to stop drinking from here on out. I am going to sleep in until this hangover is dead and then I think I will try to call her. Hopefully she will at least speak to me. It's one of those moaning skull-aches. You know - the ones that are trying to teach you a lesson.

later

Day 4 and Counting

Well here I am drunk and wanting. I don’t drink often. Well that’s not exactly true. I have been drinking a bit more as of late. I know my wife is worried about that.

She dropped the kids off after school today. That was nice. They acted weird around me. I explained the situation again. My son couldn’t really look at me. My daughter gave me many hugs; they boy at entrance and exit. Ash-wife sent a letter with them. I had tears in my eyes as I read my fate. I really didn’t quite understand parts, but it was brutally honest and negative. I don’t think she is coming back for a little while. She ended it with, “the ball’s in your court.” So I think once I get a little therapy she will try again to deal with me. Her big statement was that she had to protect the kids and that they were somewhat afraid of me. They apparently asked about what if I snapped while they were with me. I assured them not to worry. They hung around for 2 ½ hrs and made an appearance and then said they wanted to go back to mom. I hugged them and dropped them off.

I actually have to give her props for being strong enough to what she is doing. Leaving the security of financial stability and a long relationship must be tough. She has always been strong. Shit she told my dad to fuck off and he isn’t even allowed at my house anymore. I think her strength is what has held me together all these year. Before I met her I was a druggie and a drunk that worried more about partying than working.

So I sit here alone watching Gladiator on the 51” flatscreen. The sound system utterly sucks; there is a constant hum. I will buy a cheap surround sound soon. I have downed 8 beers as of yet. I hate being alone. Last night I took my 200mg of Seroquel at 11pm last night and it was 4:30am before exhaustion forced the Sandman’s hand. I awoke every hr until 2 when the dogs’ incessant rolled me out of bed.

I stopped being a negative punk and went down and talked to my proctor and set up my exam for Monday. Shit I haven’t studied in 2 months. Hopefully I pass. If not fuck it, I have a retake of the course exam that I fail. At least I am stepping up to the plate and giving it a swing.

I got the phonebook out. I call Pathways (a mental heath outfit) to maybe setup a local appointment with a therapist. They gave me the runaround, making sure I wasn’t totally unstable and ready to put the pills in my mouth. They basically told me to get with my P-doc. Thanks assholes. She did have one good idea though; she said that maybe they could get me an appointment with a T-doc and the same day as my P-doc appointment, which is on the 19th. I called my fucking P-doc’s office. The main receptionist said that he was out for the day. 2 fucking days and not even the decency for a callback. What if I was in crisis? She said she’d send me to his personal receptionist. I got an answering machine. Real nice. Now it’s the weekend.

I’m going to get drunk now later, Ash out…

Home alone 3

Quick update. I am sitting here alone yet another day. 3rd day in a row. I tried to call, but she wouldn’t talk to me. I think she will likely drop the kids off after school tomorrow. That will be nice. I miss them. I will wait a day or 2 and then try calling again. Stupid Dr didn’t call me back today. I slept with the phone and a pad and pen beside my bed. Asshole. I sit here now alone watching the Star Wars trilogy as I eat Doritos and salsa for dinner. Whoever said the bachelor’s life is a great thing is truly a retarded asshat.

Later, Ash out…

An Old Journal

I found a small journal. Half of the pages are missing; the spiral binding packed with remnants of the missing sheets. What was on them, I have no idea. It is from late winter 2005, when I was in the deepest depression I can recall. It was the winter before I was diagnosed. My bleakest winter. Although I don’t talk about living in the dream-realm more than the waking world that winter. I can’t believe I can still eat ramen noodles. (Hey I spelled it right that time. LOL.) I had actually gone to an MD for my anger and depression when it got so bad that I was told at work that I was on my last straw. He mentioned seeing a P-doc and I laughed at him and told him that I had broke down some major walls just coming in to him with my personal emotional shit. He prescribed me anti-depressants. I would eventually swallow my pride after I didn’t get better and took his advice to go to a shrink. Am I crazy? Dumbass, I thought.

Since I hit my twenties I have always wanted to write a novel, but I never had the resolve to follow through. It was actually one of my obsessions at one point. I wrote a hundred pages that flowed forth like the mildest of wines. I slowly taught myself to use, close to correct grammar, from reading fantasy novels. You can definitely tell the first chapter. LOL. Maybe I’ll go back and rewrite it. Yea right, who am I kidding. English wasn’t my strong subject in school. Actually no subject was. I quit in the ninth grade after years of drugs and skipping school. Sad thing was I could go in on Friday the first time all week and usually pass tests. Teachers hated that. Matter of fact, they hated my guts. I will have to go into my fucked-up childhood at some point in the future. I truly was a piece of shit. You’ll love it.

Anyway, back to the set-up. The first few items are jotted excepts from mental chapters of various books that will never come to be. The rest are a few posts of feelings from my pre-diagnosed mind and also a few personal events of that time. There are also a lot of poker thoughts and stratagems in the journal, but I’ll not bore you with that shit; that’s what my poker blog is for.

I found it to be intriguing and overtly nostalgic. You might not find it so, yet it is a tiny glimpse into a brief period of my life. Nothing major, just stuff. Plus I feel like writing at the moment. Too bad you can’t see all the doodling in the margins. Hey, I home alone in this house, what else am I fucking supposed to do? There’s always poker… Na.

Boring, but if you like boring shit - Here we go. Oh yea, I fixed some spelling. Believe me you’ll appreciate that.

He could smell the ocean here; briny tang with a slight tinge of something that made him think of rotting crabs.

The slender contortionist of a cat repeatedly licked its own spine, occasionally pausing to nip at a flea, and then right back to its self-bathing.

The abacus in his head went “click”; the weight of the bead like a brick weighing on his soul.

A wind blew across my soul. Like rolling over in my own grave. They are here for me.

It was a cold rain. He walked out scrunching his neck like a threatened turtle, and leaning his head towards the driving wind and rain as if it would somehow shield him from the maelstrom. ~ tempest.

“Bjord is on his deathbed and I can na’ leave,” he pleaded to the old crone.
“Here, hey now, this poultice… that’s what you can do. All by yourn’ self. Made from mugwort and the blackest salve… among other things.” Her rotten teeth seemed to dance loosely in her gums. “The blacker, the better they say. He he,” she cackled absently. She pshawed with a puff of air and rolled her knowing eyes as she watched his back fade into the distance.

2/13/05

Day before Valentine’s Day. Amber and I are cleaning the bedroom. Nice and sunny outside today.

Feeling a little nostalgic going through stuff, especially old papers and shit.

I’m going to take old copies of my book to work. Going to try to go through all them and update my “pure” copy and hopefully find the parts that are currently missing because of cheap-ass corrupt hard disks.

Maybe, hopefully, it gets me motivated to write. (F-damn I keep trying to write hopefully with a fucking F. Damn dyslectic mind. LOL.) Hopefully starting this journal will also do that.

I need to do something.

2/15/05

Kick-ass – already I forgot to write. So much for motivation to write. The only thing that is escalating is my depression. Come on spring. Cabin fever sucking.

All work and no play makes Ash a dull boy. LOL.

Devine Wind.

2/22/05

Been awhile – switched doctors today. Now Dr Rao – hope he’s good.

Back to work in the morning, but only 2 days this week ‘cause I took 2 days off to take Ash-wife over to Iron Mt. to neurologist. Roads were bad there (on the way) almost wrecked once going around a corner – Tracker slid. Warmed up over night and during the day – roads were dry on the ride home. We have to go back my 1st day off on Fri. so Ash-wife can get EEG done.

Pokery stuff.

Cleaned the fish tank today.

Pokery stuff again.

Shit – shit – shit

I want a Jack Russell Terrier. They are pretty cool. I’ll get a male one and breed it with my Min-Pin Mindy. I’m just babbling now cause I feel like writing.

3/5/05

Oh yea, Ash-wife and I, we went to the casino today. We ended up $8 ahead. LOL. Ash-wife played the slots and lost $100 – but luckily I won $108 at the No Limit Holdem table. I got lucky though, because I was way out of my league. I had a bunch of Pros at my table all night.

Pokery stuff.

3/14/05

Playing poker again – of course. Having fun. Problem is it’s all I think about. Addictive personality. Though I know my limits. Not that wrapped up in it. Just like trying new systems and methods. I’m not willing to spend much $ at it though. Which is a good thing :)

Weird thing – I type and talk so much online that when I write I want to use those goofy shorthand things. Ex: TY, LOL. Retarded yes? Also, when people talk to me I have to stop myself from saying TY instead of Thank You.

Oh yea, forgot to write the real good news in here. We found Ash-wife’s big medical problem after all these years. She has Reactive Hypoglycemia. Good this we went to Dr Peterson. That biatch is good – knows her shiat.

Our diet and food in the house is changing. Which is also a good thing.

Started going back to the gym. Ash-wife is already looking better with new diet and her ability to now exercise again. She looks a lot healthier – eyes and face don’t look sickly anymore. She feels better and better about herself. I can see it in her face that she is happy.

3/23/05

Spring is officially here, by date anyway, yet lots of snow and cold left. It’s strating to warm up above freezing during the days.

I need to start my seedlings. I will have a nice garden this year, weather willing.

I’m also ready for family outings, looking for morels, and just being in the woods in general.

I have a trap to find, tree stands to take down, and some blind furniture to get before the squirrels and chipmunks do.

4/16/05

I won the 2005 Newberry Elk’s Club Hold’em tourney. It was there inaugural tournament. Won a trophy and $360. I’m a bad-ass.

Pokery stuff.

TUES 8/9/05 THE DAY I FOUND OUT

I circled the date over and over in black ink.

Last page just has some snippets scrawled hastily in pencil. I remember this was a quick jotting of things that I wanted to discuss with my P-doc the next time I saw him.

My wife and people (workers) said that they have learned to see the signs and leave me alone.

Extreme mania: When she can’t get thru to me she will write me a letter. Only a few times in our marriage.

12 hr pill makes me cough.

Not Good on the Home-front

I did the other Sup a favor and switched him a few hrs last night for today so he could go to his kid’s basketball game. So I got home at 5am when it was still dark outside. When I turned onto my street I noticed that her SUV wasn’t in the yard. The house was dark. I went in to my three dogs needing gratuitous rubbings. I started turning on lights as I surveyed the rooms. The toothbrushes were gone, some clothes, and my son’s TV and playstation. It seemed so desolate and lonely in the house with it still dark outside.

I hope I didn’t inexcusably fuck things up this time. She’s put up with my shit for 14 years, so hopefully she comes back once more and I can find an answer to my problem before I lose her. We have only spit up like 4 times in these 14 years and only for a few days at a time.

My fucking meds do regulate my moods the way they are supposed to. Fucking Seroquel and Limictal and Risperdal and still I’m an unresponsive ever-swinging moron. I am going to take Mom’s advice call my P-doc in the morning. Hopefully he gets back with me so I can set up an appointment with a therapist. Likely he will change my meds. I am so sick of tweaking meds. It is going to suck to get a therapist in Marquette because it’s a 2 hr drive and the winter trips are horrendous. But hey, I am definitely willing to do that for some change and hopefully serenity. I am doing this for my family’s sake foremost. They deserve to have a stable environment. They deserve the good, normal, loving dad. I think meds certainly help with my disorder to some extent. My wife would say that is definitely so. But truly I think this anger issue will not be quelled through medication. I don’t think my anxiety will be helped either without a therapeutic intervention. Also I think psychotherapy is needed for my reclusive-ness. If I don’t find the answer soon I will lose everything I hold dear. I must stanch the flow. The old adage is true: You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

My house seems huge. All I have are my animals, but that just isn’t the same. I’m sure she will drop the kids off tomorrow, so at least I will get to see them. I need to see them.

As much as I want her back I currently can’t guaranty her that I won’t blow-up again. I can promise to not hit her with anything ever again because I truly didn’t mean it this time. All I can promise her is that I am currently and will continue to seek help until I get the beast under control. She has to decide if she wants to be with me through this or if she wants to wait and see how I am after some therapy. I can’t lie to her, I have an illness and I will have outbursts and occasionally hit my extreme poles. It is inevitable; I am mentally ill. There is just no way around it. I am tainted and always will be. Yet hopefully I can subdue the beast enough to become tolerable for her and the kids. Mental abuse is still abuse. I know this. I will do better with therapy; I just know I will. I have to.

I hope she reads this, because I just can’t verbally put into words the way I truly feel. I hope she sees that I’m going to make an eternal effort to change. And if you are reading this… I love you… I miss you… I need you.

I Truly Sorry, But You Took It Out of Context

Here are 2 excerpts from her post.

Before you read the following, please note that I am not actually complaining about blogging comments, except for the one that I mention in the post. The asshat derived comments I am referring to are NOT from blogland. These are asshats that I talk to every day in my non-virtual life. So, please don't read into this post, I am not at all upset with any of my regular readers (ashmc2, you can go ahead and assume I am not all that impressed with your comment though).

And at the risk of losing every single reader I have, I will say this one thing to preempt a particular comment. I am perfectly aware of the fact that people are well meaning when they make comments (specifically check out the one from ASHMC2) about the miscarriage. I am well aware of the fact that they were just trying to help. I am completely aware of the fact that they don't know what to say. I know all of this, really I do. And, guess what? That doesn't make me feel any better. One person who does get to "feel better" for having said something is the insensitive asshat who convinced themselves that their words of wisdom would wipe away the pain. Not to ruin SIL's mission of mercy or anything, but I am glad that someone is feeling better, even though it's definitely not me. Looks like she wins either way. Nice.

Here is her original post.

I am extremely sensitive to comments from people in my everyday, non-bloggie, life. Very sensitive. Here are a few excerpts of what has been said by well meaning people, and how I would like to respond is in italics.

· "It's just bad luck and you were the one in five in these odds for miscarriage. So if you have 5 pregnant women in the room, 1 of those women will miscarry and that was you." Really, Sherlock? Is that how odds work? If we have 5 people in a room, and I use everyone of them to beat you senseless, then what are the odds that I will kill you? Pretty high, I'd say.

· "It just wasn't meant to be." So the baby wasn't meant to be, but the miscarriage was? Nice. If it's not meant to be then maybe it shouldn't have started like it was.

· "Well at least you know that you can get pregnant." Unfortunately, it takes a bit more than that to get one of them take home babies though. So if that's all the optimism that you can muster, please don't bother even opening your mouth.

A nurse at the hospital after my D&C apparently thought that this comment would be helpful in some way, "I've had 5 miscarriages so far." Well, that's some happy news, please tell me more. If I get to number 5, then I will surely shoot myself in the head. That way I won't have anyway of saying the same thing to an unsuspecting, sad patient after her first D&C/miscarriage.

OK, so maybe I am a bit snarky right now. The thing is that I never say any of the stuff I am thinking when people make these comments. Instead, I just smile, thank them for their help, and even tell them they are so insightful. I am such a liar.

Here is my comment.

OK, as much as their comments hurt, they were trying to consul you in your time of need. Everyone isn’t smart enough to just shut up and let you greave on your own. You truly have the right to be cynical about it all, but remember no one actually meant to hurt you. They were trying to help in there own inept way.

I hope this isn’t insensitive – My wife and I went through more than our share of miscarriages, but in the end after all the tears and thoughts of why, two beautiful children proved to be strong enough to be here. So remember when things seem hopeless, there is still hope out there and you will find it and all these people here that love you will still be here to say congrats.

I am truly sorry for your loss.

My thoughts.

I don’t see where I’m an insensitive asshat who convinced themselves that their words of wisdom would wipe away the pain. Actually anyone that has ever commented on anyone’s blog could be accused of being an insensitive asshat who convinced themselves that their words of wisdom would wipe away the pain or what ever issue they are addressing. Right now no one can say the right thing. I wish I realized that before I hurt her. Maybe I’m un-insightful. In no way was I trying to hurt her in her time of need. I was trying to give her hope for the future. In absolutely no way was I trying to trivialize her unfortunate event or invalidate her grief. In no way was I trying to throw it in her face that I had kids in the end. I was trying to show her that it could happen for her. I was giving hope. I think that right now she is extremely grief stricken and irrational. She is emotionally spent. To hear of anything positive about the situation or anyone else’s experiences with M/C’s is to take away from her event in her eyes.

I felt the need to consul her and give her hope, because I remember just how deeply and traumatically it affected my wife. I might not have a woman’s perspective totally on M/C’s but my wife and I went through 9, count it, 9 M/C’s in 3 years. I lived with an angry, yet mostly extremely depressed wife. Most weren’t out of the 1st trimester, yet they hurt my wife deeply. One was a midterm loss and one was an ectopic pregnancy, which almost ruptured and possibly would have killed my wife. It put us in a seeming endless spiral of grief and depression. I kept telling her that maybe we should give some time, but she wanted a baby badly, even at the cost to her mentally, physically, and to her very psyche. She had to live in her bed trying not to M/C. I mean she literally lived in the bed. Finally at the end of all of our mental trauma 2 healthy children were born. Was it insensitive to tell her that we ended up having children after our own ordeal? Should I have just told her of our pain? I think not. Positive hope for the future is the key IMO. It is not her fault She is just currently an emotional wreck that wants to wallow in self-pity and wrongly blame herself and her body for the M/C. She isn’t shit. She was just one of us unfortunates that lost our child.

I want so desperately to tell her that I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I am not a bad person. I am a caring sympathetic person that truly wants to help others in need. I wanted to explain how much I feel for her personally right now, because I truly do know the grief she is enduring. But I didn’t think another comment was wise. I did tell her I was sorry and that I didn’t mean to hurt her. For me to try to explain any further would be selfish and merely trying to validate my first comment and my original intent. So I will keep reading her blog from the background and hopefully when she is again rational and stops the self-hate and is less hurt from her experience I can reenter her comment section. So here on my blog is where I will deliver my thoughts about what I actually meant. Hopefully once her grief has subsided to the point that she can be somewhat objective about the situation and peoples’ true intent, she can read this and forgive me. I do truly wish her the best and I’m extremely sorry that I hurt her when she needed help.

Thank You and How It Went This Morn

First off I’d like to say that your comments since I’ve started my blog a month ago have been invaluable. I can’t express how you guys make me feel. I am finally able to relate, express, and tell about my personal thoughts, feelings, insecurities, and ineptitudes. To have comments for people somewhat like myself is helpful, inspiring, and much needed for a while now. I am happy that I relate, though once you know the real me, I will become the freak of freaks surely. No offense meant. I’m not looking for sympathy guys. I’m not suicidal and don’t need you guys to go out of your way to say nice things to me and tell me that I’m not fucked up. Just be brutally honest with me. I might hate you for it but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. Just joking. If I fuck-up it’s OK to call me an asshole; I’ll respect you for it. In this instance I was in the wrong and there is just no way around it. Although I would never physically harm my wife the handle did bounce up and hit her. If I wasn’t impulsively raging it wouldn’t have occurred. That is the point. That is my issue. It’s not the intent; it’s the result. Thanks for all the support, but feel free to slap me around when deemed necessary.

Well, it didn’t work out the way I was hoping this morning. I got home after my morning meeting at 7:30am. I walked in, the kids were doing their normal post-shower couch lounging while watching cartoons thing, and Ash-wife was cooking them breakfast. I talked to the kids and told them that I was really sorry for my despicable outburst the previous evening. I told them that I was having mental problems and that my emotions were out of whack. I told them that I was sorry for scaring them with my yelling. I told them that I was going to get help and that I was going to see my P-doc and get a T-doc. I told them that I loved them. Ash-wife went to the bathroom. I walked in and asked if I could talk to here. She asked me to please get away from her. I walked out dejected but knowing that she was deserving of her mood. I was the culprit here. She had the right to her space to figure out how she wants to resolve this. I decided to get on the computer and peruse blogs while playing 2 tables of poker all at the same time; multi-tasking at it’s finest. Fill the senses so I don’t have to deal with them; that’s my credo. Anyways, she takes the kids to school. My pills kick-in pretty good and I get groggy. I head to bed. I hear her come in and stay in the living room as I drift off to loneliness. I wake up at 3:30, just about the time she should be home with the kids. I get on the computer and resume my multi-tasking habit. I quickly realize that I am going to be home alone and likely she will likely stay at her parents’ until 7pm when I leave for work. I lose a few bucks playing poker and decide to take a bath and read my fantasy novel. I get out at 6 and get ready for work. I then get in through the passenger side of my car and head to Subway for something to take with me to work. I wonder how long this is going to last. I took a vacation next week; I don’t think I can handle it right now. Hopefully we make up before my appointment next week, my P-doc wanted her account of who or what she lives with. That will be nice to sit and endure.

Later, dejected, lonely, Ash out.

Sleep: You Fickle Bitch

I am starting to have trouble sleeping again. For the last month or so I’ve been waking up every hour or so. Often I can go back to sleep. But when I do I’m still plagued with plenty more awakenings.

When I first got diagnosed I was having horrible sleeping issues. I couldn’t go to sleep. My mind would spin. I would relive every interaction that I had had and analyze every minute detail. I would run scenarios over and over, especially if it was a dramatic, or perceived dramatic event. I would plot and plan how I would interact with people the next day. With all this shit going on I could go a week with very little sleep. Oh how tired I’d be, yet my mind just wouldn’t stop. At my worst I was averaging 4 hours of sleep a day for maybe 2 weeks straight.

Then came the seroquel. I would take 75mg and soon after I would sleep all night. I’ve been doing that for a good year. Although, I do feel that I’ve lost a lot of insight from the loss of nightly intellectual churning, I was still happy to have that off switch. If I was stressed about something and I felt that I needed to analyze deeply, I would just not take my dose. If I didn’t take my pills I would find it near impossible to sleep.

Well lately it’s not the falling asleep that has changed; it’s the staying asleep part that is killing me. We have recently upped my dosage to 200mg to 300mg a day due to my mood instability. I truly don’t know if the sleep pattern correlates with the change in dosage. I think this issue has been creeping up and lately has gotten to the point that it has become very noticeable. How can I not sleep with that much dope in me.

Another thing that corresponds the awakenings is nightmares. I don’t know if it really has to do with it or not. I am embarrassed to even mention it, but hey it’s my fucking blog. But I have been getting these horrible dreams with a shadow person in them. Like a spectral, insubstantial yet tangible, ethereal, opaque, ring wrath with hood and the works. I know this sounds stupid, but as manly as I try to portray myself, these dreams cause me anxiety. It is always real world images of my room. He come in and slowly walks around my bed, getting ever closer. Often he touches me or holds me down so I can’t breathe. It’s weird, I know I’m dreaming but I can’t wake up. I feel paralyzed as I try mentally to move, overcome and combat his crushing weight, shake my wife for help, or try to ask for help. I go into panic mode, trying to awake. It just seems that I can only stare as he comes for me. I usually wake up at some point once the fear culminates to the point of breaking. Here are the strongest and most prominent ones lately. He came in and leaned over me and kissed me forcing my mouth open and began to pump his essence into my mouth through a sort of proboscis. I awoke before his essence could perform its intended purpose. In the other one he grabbed my feet and began to drag me off the bed and out the dog door, my struggling reaching no avail. It wasn’t my physical body, but a fully formed shadow of myself - my soul possibly, yet totally my very living quintessence. I knew if he got me passed that door there was no coming back. I woke up just as my arms’ strength gave way and the last of myself was consumed through the orifice. Not only is the dream filled with overpowering dread, there is always a feeling of pure evil in my room as I awake. Often I roll over, reposition myself, and try to think of something different to try to not go right back into the same dream when I fall back asleep. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes I can’t get back to sleep due to strong feelings of dread. I wouldn’t even mention it, but for the fact that it has escalated in frequency. I have had these dreams occasionally as far back as I can remember. Occasionally being the optimum word here. Try waking up to that shit 1 to 5 times a night where you aren’t even safe in your sleep. It gets real old quickly. No wonder they call them night terrors. I have to deal with the demons inside me daily while roaming this earth; it doesn’t seem fair to have to battle them nightly as well.

I Need Help

I really need treatment before I lose everything I have. 2 days after returning from my trip and I already spazz-out angrily and scare my family. I really feel like having a breakdown right now. Nothing seems to be going right. Something is amiss. Something is wrong.

Everything was going fine. My son had his birthday party today over at his grandparents house while I slept for work. They came home and brought me some McDonald’s. I ate and got up. Everything was fine. I hung out in the living room with everyone while I got ready for work. Everything was good. I was happy. I had to leave so I gave everyone a hug and a kiss and walked out the door.

There was a snowdrift by the driver door so I went to the passenger door. It wouldn’t open. It looked like it was unlocked to me. I jerked on it a few times. Nothing. I walk around to the driver door through the snow. I try the door and it wouldn’t budge. I start jerking on it, half thinking that it was frozen shut and half thinking that it was locked. The door handle broke off in my hand. BOOM, I went nuts inside.

Instantly I remember seeing my set of keys on the hook inside the door. I walk inside with the handle in the air for effect, all wild-eyed, and scream who the fuck locked my door. My wife said that she did and that there had been some suspicious kids hanging around while I was gone. She told me to just take her car. I screamed and threw the handle on the ground and commenced to have a temper tantrum like a little kid. I kicked the door and started shaking the coat rack. When I looked back around my wife had her pant leg up and was rubbing her chin. So obviously my handle bounced off the floor and struck her leg. I said sorry and that I didn’t mean for it to hit her. She didn’t look up and said nothing. The kids were crouched up on the back of the couch with fear and terror in their eyes. Seeing how this all had played out sent me into a defeated rage. I screamed that I couldn’t have shit and started rampaging again. I kicked the door again. I shook the coat rack on the wall trying to rip it off because I couldn’t find he keys there. Then I lumbered across the room and pounded my fists on the table as I screamed where the fuck are the keys. She found them and handed them to me. I them ran across the room and kicked the screen glass door, hoping to break it, as I stormed out of the house. I got in my car shaking with tears in my eyes.

I called home twice when I go to work. I needed to apologize. I don’t know how much longer I will have a family. I don’t deserve a family. I just terrorized my family. Just think how they saw it. Dad walks out to go to work with a smile on. 2 minutes later he busts the door open and rampages the room as he screams and throws shit. I am truly shit. If I don’t get help quick I will lose my family. And then I don’t know what I will do.

It is hard. I love my family so much that I want to be with them. The problem is that I love them so much that I should make them leave me. I am too selfish to do that. My P-doc appointment is in a week. I will then get a T-doc. Hopefully we can all work together to quell the beast in me. I will try to call again. I hope they are home when I get there. How many times can you apologize before apologies don’t hold any meaning any longer and become merely words? I need this to all stop. I need to treat my family right or make them go. I need them to be home in the morning.

Long Post: Trip Report

I passed my test. I was so stressed out until I passed. Total undue pressure. Just to think that I now have to go through this shit every 6 months. I was the first one of our group to pass. We had 10 tries over 2 days to pass. I failed my first test by one reading. That truly sucked. You could have up to a 15% deviation on any reading and pass, although on average you couldn’t be off more than 7.5% for the 50 reading. I had one reading that I missed by 20% and that was all she wrote. Damn was it cold. We were in a suburb of Minneapolis and St Paul. At the DOT center. We were outside at 8:30 am to start the test. It was +2 degrees with wind chill added in. Probably 15 degrees actual. I didn’t really pack for that kind of weather. I layered up with a hoody taking most of the brunt. Let me just say, holy shit was it cold. My hands were frozen. You should have seen all the people fidgeting around trying to stay warm – it looked like a torret’s/ADHD convention. Test 2 I failed 2 readings. There were 25 readings with white smoke and then 25 readings with black. 2nd test I made it all the way to to number 43 with good results and then bang 2 in a row off by 20%. Failure. It was lunch time. We all were pretty worked up about the tests. We were all analyzing how everything played-out and measuring ourselves against how each other performed. I actually was having anxiety attacks during each test and as they were calling out the right answers. Not strong ones but strong enough. Test 3 didn’t seem any different than the first 2. They started reading out the results. I made it through the white with only one out by 15%. I about shit when he called the number. I thought at first I was out. I was actually slightly hyperventilating during the calling of the right answers. My ears were on fire and I was flush and shaking. I hate feeling like that. I got down to the last few and knew I had passed the 20% rule. I had to go sit down and tally up my score and found that I was less than 5% ave. and had passed. The other guys were already back to the vehicles to warm up. I handed in my test and they told me that they would get back with me soon. I don’t smoke, but I asked for a cig and smoked it. I really must stop this. I just started lately smoking a little when I drink. I did have 3 Bud Lights at lunch so I guess you could chalk that one up to drinking. They have been tasting good, plus giving me that initial buzz, and then the relaxing feeling. I used to smoke 3 packs a day. My wife and I both quit 8 year’s ago and just recently I’ve been doing that BS drinking/smoking excuse. I will stop right now. This is how stressed I was. I couldn’t relax until they called out my name and said I passed; I was afraid my math was off somehow. It felt like a giant weight was lifted from my shoulders. Ain’t that sad that I allowed myself to get that worked up. I then went back to the Hotel and waited for the others to come back. Schmuckal passed on the 4th try. We had to stay an extra day because the other 2 didn’t pass until the next day on the 7th test. I’m telling you that it was a very subjective test with very little science to it. I never realized how many shades of gray there were.

Boy I’m glad to be back. It really sucked on some levels and in some ways it was nice. It was cool to do something different for a change. The ride sucked; 10 hr drive, with around 6 hrs through Wisconsin. Damn… nothing but barns and silos and fields. God bless radio. OK, time for another positive. Hanging out with the other Sups was nice. It’s odd, although we compete, we don’t hold much animosity towards each other. That is good. I’ve known all 3 from before we moved up the internal ladder. I could go back and forth for a while longer with the +/-, but I’ll just hit those others up more thoroughly.

I had a tough time sleeping. This is actually an ongoing issue that I need some resolution to at some point very soon. I think my biggest problem was that my bed seemed large without my wife taking all the room. It was a king size bed so it was large. Empty was the problem. I never went to bed before midnight all week and I was usually pretty well intoxicated. I then would take 300 mg seroquel and go to sleep. I had no problem going to sleep; it was staying asleep that was the problem. I would wakeup at least once an hr. Often I would wake up to terrible dreams. I would fall right back to sleep. 2 nights I turned on the TV very low to try to combat the evil feelings permeating my room. I still awoke hourly. I felt like a wimp, but hey, at least I could go back to sleep.

Went to Mall of America. Man was it big. It was 4 floors high with a plethora of shops and myriad of restaurants. And in the middle of it all was an amusement park. We spent like 3 hrs there looking for Schmuckal a pr of shoes. Every time his picky ass found a pr that he liked they didn’t have his size. Mall of A-fuckin’-merica and noboby carries 11 ½’s. We said the hell with it and went to Hooter’s. I had never been there. They are supposed to have the best wings around. That’s why I went anyways. LOL. As we were leaving we found a place called Underwater Adventures. We paid the $17 to get in and it was worth it. It was an aquarium that had a glass tunnel throughout. You could either walk or ride the conveyor belt and look all around yourself at the fish. They had fresh and saltwater fish. Bass to Sharks. They also had a touch pool where you could handle the stingrays and the like. I put the Crock Hunter out of my mind and played with them. No really, it was a good time.

I definitely gained a little weight. We ate well all week - three meals a day. A lot more than I usually eat, but the company with fitting the bill, so I indulged myself. Not a good excuse, but I did. I also drank all week. I don’t drink too often, so I really hammed it up while there. I’m sure that wasn’t too good on the waistline. It’s time for a diet I think.

When we spent time alone during the day I would just turn down the TV and go to sleep. I woke up every hr during these naps also.

Schmuckal and I went to the bar one night downtown Minneapolis. The other 2 didn’t feel like going. I almost got in a fight. I don’t think this was due to my mood disorder or any swings or cycles. This guy was just a dick. I’m not the fighting, tough-guy, macho type. I actually feel that you should be able to use your intellect for the most part. Usually it’s when you outsmart someone that they want to fight, because they mentally can’t battle you. But you came only push me so far. Not to say that I don’t lose it quick sometimes. My wife doesn’t call me trigger for nothing. Anyways, I don’t start fights; let’s just put it that way. This dude was kinda hanging around our table. He came up to me and says that he’s not trying to offend me, but that we look like small town guys. I said that he guessed it right. Ain’t it weird how when people say “I don’t mean to…” that is exactly what they mean. The cabbie pulled the same crap the night before when he commented that he didn't want us to thhink that he was robbing us by taking a different route which conveniently costed us $10 more than the trip home with another driver. LOL. The comment bothered me a little but I was rather congenial about it and told him that it didn’t offend me, although by the way he said it, it was obvious that he though himself my better. I was raised in all over Wake County NC so I’m really small town per se. But I think he thought that because we were laid back in our attire. I had on a Led Zeppelin hoody and a Tarheels cap and Schmuckal had on a Polaris jacket and a Detroit Lions hat, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to analyze the evidence. A far cry from the Metrosexual guys with their greased back hair and their preppie clothes. A little later we were standing next to each other watching the band, when he reaches over with the back of his hand and pats my stomach and says’ “A little fat there aren’t ya?” I once again gave the guy the benefit-of-the-doubt here and remained calm. I jokingly held up my beer and said that they don’t come cheap and they come at a price as I patted my belly. I could tell that he meant it in a derogatory manner. Shit, how else can it be meant? But I decided not to let it ruin my good mood and let it slide. A little later I go outside to have a smoke. There I go again with the smoking. There is no smoking in Minneapolis, so this place had a canopied pavilion out back. He then comes out and starts smoking a cigarette. About halfway through the smoke he says hey, do you want to wrestle. At this point I get pissed and I’m feeling belittled by this jackass. I should have told him to go over wrestle with Schmuckal. He was the North American Muay Thai Light Heavy Weight Champion. That’s what I should have done. But no I blow up and tell the guy that my small town ass would knock him the fuck out. He then tries to give it another ego-driven effort and give me the stare-down. I told him that I wasn’t playing and that I was going to knock his ass out. He then starts stammering and stuttering and apologizes over and over. Schmuckal comes over and tells me to calm down and we go inside. I kinda ruined the rest of the night for Schmuckal because he stopped drinking after that because the guy had 2 friends with him. The guy keep coming up to me and apologizing over and over and buying me drinks. I really don’t know if I over-reacted or not. It just hit me wrong I guess.

So I guess as far as my BPD goes, I had only a few issues this week while gone. And maybe I’m just blaming BPD for a few problems. If I was alone in my room I was sleeping. No TV, no movies, just trying to sleep. Even if we were all going to meet up in 2 hrs or so, I would still lay on the bed and go to sleep. I was actually ashamed of myself for this defeatist BS. Another issue was, once, I woke up and was getting dressed when Schmuckal knocked on my door. Being by myself I didn’t realize that I was irritable. I snatched open the door and half-yelled, what the fuck are you knocking so loud for. He walked in without saying anything. I apologized and he said not to worry about it and that he was used to me getting that way. I hate how people have to put up with my shit. He has been a close friend since we were teens and he knows about me being bipolar. The anxiety attacks while training were another sign. I’m really starting to hate these. I don’t know if these are part of my disorder or come from something else. I had bad anxiety issues the night before the trip. A guy from work called and said that some guys in town were having a poker tourney. Of course I was inconsiderate and could say no, the night before my trip, where I would leave my family for a week. During the game I had a few times were my heart was banging in my chest, my eyes were blazing, my hands were shacking so bad that I couldn’t barely handle the chips, and I was worried about how everyone was see me. Hopefully this is something that I can work on with a therapist when I get one. This is one of my major issues. I am very impulsive when I get this way. This is were I get myself into trouble. Oh yea, I came in 2nd in the tourney BTW.

The trip ended on a big Negative, when we got back to Michigan, there had been a spring snowstorm and there was well over a foot of snow in my yard. It had just finally all melted last week and now it is back. Hopefully in the next couple of weeks it will be gone again. So overall no a bad trip, yet I would rather have stayed home and slept in my own bed, and of course no freakin’ tests.