The Return To Innocence

Back pain back pain back pain backpain backpain backpain NNNGGHH.
It's the lumbar area, leading to sciatica down both legs. Of course, you know? I've got an appointment with my new orthopedist on January sixth, and we're going to get be fitted for true customized orthotics... although I am going to insist they be cushioned, if not highly comfortable. The ones I had as a teenager actually made my feet hurt whilst walking. I still have the left one from those days. It is not comfortable. I understand practicality and function, but still.
Nnngh. Back, hips, legs, knees, ankles. Come on, drugs, work faster.

When we came home from grocery shopping, I looked up at the stairs and whispered, "Mama's home, Rose." I had meant it merely for her memory, for her spirit that now lived in the house, free to leave the clay statue that was a vessel, as Adam had not bound her to it. Adam said, "She's still gone, sweetheart." And I knew, and I reminded him that it was just... oh, I couldn't even find the words. It was just for her ghost. But he knew. We held each other and he knew.

My friends have cried for me, I think, more than I've cried for myself. I will have pockets of moments in which I will break down in gasping sobs, but they are so quick and triggered. A brush that had moved through her fur while I was comforting her in her lethargy, before I understood what was really happening, tufts of fur clinging to the bristles that I may not remove for a while. My pillow, and the soft bean-bag type pillow behind it that served as a general cat pillow but which was generally used by Rose especially in the mornings. A bag of Greenies treats that I realized I no longer had to move to a high place where Rose couldn't grab it and tear into it. Sitting in this desk chair, now, and knowing that Rose will never jump onto my lap and rub her cheeks over my mouth. She will not curl up on the floor, waiting for me to announce that Mama is going to bed so she can lead me there and see me to sleep. Oh. Yes, I'm in tears now. Oh, babygirl. Luna is on my lap now, kissing me, nuzzling. In her own Luna way.

We will be adopting another cat. Yes. It may be sooner than anyone thinks. I've already dreamed of her. I've already named her. I already know her age range. But... you know, someones through the grief and the numbness and the deep deep shock and the horror of physical death, we know deep deep inside that even if it takes only a week or two to get another pet, it is nothing like a replacement. It just means that the throbbing empty hollow burning in our hearts might start to heal, just a little. Luna is still my heart and soul, my queen and my moon goddess, my precious love. Jupiter is still my beautiful big boy, my chatty feline child who brightens my day just by smiling. The new kitten, the new young cat, will never be Rose. She will be herself.
Rose is never coming back, not even in a new incarnation. I'm not even sure I want that; it might hurt too deeply. Rose herself was already the reincarnation of Adam's patchwork dog, Ralph. Rose spent five glorious years learning to love and be loved. In Buddhism, that is a vital thing. All animals understand this. It is slightly Jainist. Adam and I, in our eclectic paganism, are mildly Buddhist in various, often conflicting, ways. It is not possible for us to be fully Buddhist in any way, but eclecticism is a wide arena.

"Life is a journey.
Death is a return to earth.
The universe is like an inn.
The passing years are like dust.
Regard this phantom world
As a star at dawn, a bubble in a stream,
A flash of lightning in a summer cloud,
A flickering lamp - a phantom - and a dream"

I stretched the hell out of my back and legs and arms. It was lovely. I did it my way. I am very pleased and very satisfied. I won't discuss the various burning barbed wire pains that are distracting me even through the codeine, but I will talk about the beautiful meditative exercises I've been working with. Peaceful, serene, tranquil, calm, relaxing, refreshing, fantastic in multiple ways. The scene always changes, but always appears Zen in some way.
I had mentioned that my human coping mechanisms, my spirit guardians, had begun communicating with each other deep in my brain without my conscious knowledge, which leads me to believe that parts of my brain are starting to come together as part of the story, as my unlimited imagination and writerbrain is starting working on a whole new, amazingly unique, private story all on its own. No wonder I have been working on Amber's story beyond these bits of my brain. Amber has also given me free reign to write her as a fully developed character and not just a created coping mechanism.
In general, I am just... very happy.
And the funny thing is that I am in a depressive episode. I have all the symptoms, and I am quite conscious and aware. But I have things that are helping distract me: Talking about my imagination and my creativity, talking about the triggers for my panic attacks and my simple seizures, talking about comedy TV shows and powerful fiction books. Somehow it all is able to keep the major depression away, although it is a very intense fight. Sometimes I find myself weak and struggling, even physically, as thoughts of worthlessness and hopelessness, frustration and terror, pessimism and guilt all slam into me and my wall and my shell.
I suppose I could say I am happy. I feel happy.
But... what is happiness?
"Happiness is a mental or emotional state of well-being characterized by positive or pleasant emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy." Sure, I feel those things. However, there is a strong undercurrent of the exact opposite.
Brains, man. Brains are wild. Brains are weird. Brains are so complex. One day, I want to have an MRI and see exactly what my brain is doing. I want to sit with multiple brain specialists for hours on end, and just... talk. I want to talk about my brain.
Brains, man.

So, until I see a full end to these violent migraines, brain pains, and flares of fibromyalgia, sciatica, chondromalacia patella, knee arthritis, ulnar nerve entrapment, hypertonia spasticity with hemiparesis, hemiparetic ghost sensations, itching, shaking, hay fever, exhaustion, true muscle weakness, and hypersensitivity... I will be pretending like all hell to be a normal ordinary human. Nothing to see here, nope, move along...

What with husband working a computer trade show job in Manhattan for the next couple of days, my sweet Charlotte will be coming over every day to help me work on organizing the rest of the house. Gods know I will need such help.

Also, I have a plush red fox and a plush gray wolf to cuddle, and my darling Serenity the Pony to whisper to, kiss on the lotus bud blaze mark on her forehead, brush her long long hair with a boar brush and wood comb.

And naturally, there is my wonderful balance of pharmaceutical pills and supplement pills.
Klonopin, Codeine, Ultram, Soma. Ashwagandha, MSM, Yerba Mate, Devil's Claw, Raspberry Ketones, Mangosteen, Moringa, Goji.

So, recently I have been doing these very specific limb stretches that were taught to me by my childhood physical therapists to loosen me up, since the cerebral palsy was extreme when I was a kid - I mean, for mild CP, you know?
But today has been a particular hell on my body. And no matter how long and often I stretched, nothing actually helped... until I took a combination of baclofen, tramadol, magnesium, skullcap, vitamin D, and vitamin C. Then it got better.
I was casually chatting with an old acquaintance and I mentioned what I was doing. The acquaintance immediately lambasted me for "giving in to evil Big Pharma and holistic quackery" and "being brainwashed into thinking those poison and placebo drugs help" (actual quote).
After I picked myself up off the floor and finished laughing and wiping away tears after more laughter, I typed, "Aww, sweetie! Thanks for looking out for me. It's so nice to know I'm loved! Anyway, I gotta go take my nightly seizure drugs and antidepressants and birth control pills and relaxing supplements. You know, because I am a member of the League of Evil Pill Taking Citizens. Don't tell anyone, but we're going to take over the world by treating our chronic illnesses with drugs and supplements until we feel better, and we're going to tell other patients what we're doing so they can make informed decisions for themselves. I can't give you specifics or I'd have to kill you. I've already said too much. Uh oh, my superiors are messaging me. Gotta go!"
I closed the chat window and signed out, and so far he hasn't replied. I'm currently coming up with a better, sillier name for this League. Just to fuck with him. I know I shouldn't, because it's cruel. But seriously. Whut. LOL.
Back to stretching. It hurts, but in a really good way, you know? Ahhhh, stretching! Also, the stretching brings back some amazing childhood memories. I remember being in a room with a blue floor, trying to manipulate tiny plastic figurines with my left hand while rolling on one of those huge exercise balls. When I was little, I called it torture. Now, I want one of those huge balls in my writing room to work out with.

https://www.change.org/petitions/chairman-murphy-and-ranking-member-degette-stop-threatening-the-hipaa-rights-of-people-with-psychiatric-disabilities
To quote a dear friend:
"I am a fully-functioning human being, mentally ill people pose NO greater threat to society than non-mentally-ill people, and we are entitled to exactly the same protections as every other person. Do not discuss these issues without allowing mentally ill people to educate you. Do not discuss these issues until and unless you are aware that mentally ill people are more likely to be the VICTIMS of violence than the perpetrators. Inform yourselves and actually talk to the people involved. Don't bring your own preconceived ideas to the table, call them fact, and suggest policy based on them. That's inhumane AND unlawful."

And I would like to add:
There are very different types of crazy. What I call Hollywood Crazy or Hollywood Mental Illness is usually the kind that is an exaggerated version of a disorder that is seen as a danger to oneself and others. There are people out there so terrified of this that even if they are mentally ill, they will refuse to say anything because ignorant family members might see them as Hollywood Crazy (see: "I am not crazy! I have never been crazy! Don't call me crazy!" often intoned with an air of fear, upset, prejudice.) And in those minds, Hollywood Crazy might mean commitment to a ward or facility, which is often seen as a terrible thing, not a helpful healing thing. We seriously need to change how we view mental illness and mental disability. There are so many people living with a form of mental illness who absolutely refuse any sort of treatment purely out of fear of ridicule, shunning, disconnection from family, even forced unnecessary commitment to hospitals. We need to show them that the stigma is human, driven by fear that breeds hate, and that there is no shame or fear in getting some sort of treatment.

***

Dear pharmaceutical drugs: I know people hate you and think you are poison, but I just wanted to tell you that I greatly appreciate your role in saving my life.
I will always balance you with holistic remedies, allopathic medicine, and whole body treatments. But I will always be grateful for the way you have helped me feel better, and even normal, under certain standards. I am one of those people who rarely experience the various side effects listed - which really, are simply issues reported by test patients during trials, which may or may not actually affect anyone. It took me years to realize that. After all, many, many pharmaceutical drugs were initially derived and synthesized from plants, foods, and botanicals. I am not sure about recent years, but chemistry is chemistry.
I do not participate in the stigma and hate toward you. Of course, I am only speaking for myself and my personal experiences. I know so many people who really have been poisoned and "screwed up" because their chemistry reacted very badly to certain medicines, causing extreme side effects that led to even worse conditions. I cannot speak for them. But I can speak for me. And all I can do is be grateful.
One day, I will taper down until I need only very small dosages of the drugs I am taking. That may be years from now. I will still need to take certain drugs for the rest of my life However, for the time being, I am perfectly fine with the pills I take. I cannot say that for anyone else - I am not anyone else.
I am always sad when I learn that so many other patients cannot handle certain medications or become worse due to negative side effects - that is horrific.
Yet as long as no one tries to convince me personally that my life would be better if I quit all my essential medications, I will nod and agree that we take too many prescriptions as a whole, and that negative side effects can be absolutely terrifying and can lead to worse problems. I wish there were more patients like me, who are are able to handle drugs without intense side effects.
And now I shall take the supplements that I take daily, to help balance the pharmaceuticals. Because the supplements work for me. And that is a completely separate debate for another post.

Oh, hell, might as well do that post now.
Depending on who you talk to, supplements and holistic medicine and alternative remedies are either the best thing and the only thing, or absolute bullshit and placebos. And then there are those who regard supplements as exactly that - supplemental. Alternative. Balancing. No big deal.
I grew up on vitamins and supplements, only being given pharmaceuticals when necessary. Now that I need to take over half a dozen pharmaceutical pills daily, I balance them as best I can with vitamins and supplements.
There are plenty of sick patients who are physically unable to take supplements and alternative treatments, as their bodies and brains completely reject or don't respond at all to said medicines. Which is why I bristle whenever someone insists that pharmaceuticals are all poison and only supplements and natural medicines are the way to treat illness. Nobody is the same. Everybody is different. What works for me may not work for you. People don't seem to understand this. People may never understand this.

And here, I submit a full list of every single diagnosis ever made in my life, and here I submit a full list of pharmaceutical medications and supplemental medicines, stored in both my Facebook Notes section and a document in Word.

( Read more... )

And now, time for the daily supplements that I take daily because they work for me.

Okay.
Okay.
I'm... oh, hell, what is just under "okay" but not near "bad" or "poor"? Medication and meditation have both helped immensely. Cuddling with spouse and cats has helped immensely. I was laughing. Except there was still that Dark Nope in my mind, flattening me and reminding me that darkness was everywhere in my brain right now. There is absolutely no point in pasting on a smile and ignoring the depression, because fuck it, there it is, and it will end when the episode ends. See? Clinical major depression is an entity, and it will leave when it is ready. It can be coerced, cajoled, enticed, forced and tortured. But sparkly thoughts are not a treatment. I have not and do not live any part of my life by the so-called "The Secret" book suggestions. Nice idea though.
I have been envisioning things that relax me, entertain me, and amuse me, of course.
Best to take my pills with something decent in my stomach - milk in coffee, juice, yogurt. Followed by a full meal. I just have no feeling for an appetite. It's not a rejection of food, it's just a lack of feeling hungry. I ate half a burger with sliced cheese and yuk choy vegetable dip, washed down with thick acai pomegranate juice. It was plenty.
I just feel empty, dark, slow, neutral. That is it. Neutral. Shrug. Whatever. Okay. I don't mind. "I have no strong feelings one way or the other." (Hah! I knew I'd find a way to quote that line soon.) I don't really want to go anywhere particularly to anyone else's houses and couches. If I were to move, it would to go walking, shopping, moving for exercises. I'm just a cat. If someone wants to hang out with me, they had better enjoy sitting on a couch, reading books and watching TV and browsing online. With the occasional discussion about physics and neuroscience and maybe fandoms.
See, here's the tricky part: Depression is a great pretender. It can put on a perfect mask. It can smile, laugh, and interact with the best of them. That is what viruses do. It can move me, control me, make me do whatever it needs me to do while it quietly spreads across all my nervous system and tweaks each little neuron so that gradually it overcomes its host and becomes a best friend. Creepy, isn't it?
But I will know. I have been learning. That is part of my library magic, my moonlight magic. I am just as sneaky. I have weapons. I can sneak into the main consoles and screw with the auxiliary systems before I even start working on tampering the primary systems. Sometimes I get caught and I get locked up and I even get tortured. But usually it is worth it.
In conclusion... I will be okay. For now, I am that thing just below "okay" which is nebulous.
Nebulas are pretty.
I've been watching too much Star Trek. I don't even care.

Links to my newest favorite supplement, which is actually a drug in Europe, and is actually effective in crossing the blood brain barrier. Also, posted here so I remember.

http://www.lef.org/prod_hp/abstracts/picamilon.htm
http://www.lef.org/magazine/mag97/july-lbn297.htm

Also, thank you, Baclofen, for making it easier on my muscles tonight.

I forgot to take the morning Ultram and Soma before we went to Adam's doctor check up appointment and it was raining and my rhinitis was flaring and my knees were aching stabbily and blah blah blah everything was horrible. But we got our flu shots and there was a CVS Extra Bucks coupon for 18.50 when I scanned my card, so we got a bunch of stuff and saved a bunch.
And when we got home, I went upstairs and prepared to sit on my couch and turn on my laptop, which meant I rapidly got a Luna in my lap kissing me and purring, as usual, which happens every time I sit down at my laptop on my couch; it's almost Pavlovian. OMG, Mama is going to the couch! Run run run! Jump on the lap! Get hugs! Yay!
Cats are fun.
Every time I marathon 'Futurama' I feel better. I'm not sure why. Actually I am sure why, but you don't need to know, because I'm always watching that damn show and you don't need to hear about it.
I have so, so, so many books to finish reading. I shall begin that forthwith. The painkillers have been actively and nicely painkilling since four this afternoon.
Also, I have weird pains in my right abdominal area near the bladder and surrounding muscles, so I am on a UTI watch and taking cranberry juice and extra extra ascorbic acid. So far, so good. But things happen. It is most likely just fibromyalgia being a bitch, plus gas bubbles, since I've been belching all day and the pain feels slightly better after each belch, but the spot is still tender and annoyingly stabby.

I have no idea why, but I love the shit out of this Wikipedia explanation.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Speculative_fiction

To paraphrase a rather obscure Futurama quote:

I should be sleeping. I'm not sleeping!!

*sounds of leather whipping and Zoidberg whooping*

Some days I truly do feel like Bender. Other days I'm a blend of Amy, Fry, Zoidberg, Kif, Scruffy, Nibbler, Hedonismbot, and Al Gore's Head.

Time for deep transcendental meditation and valerian. And possibly Flexeril and Klonopin, depending. Last night's anxiety attack was really really... not good. Mild insomnia combined with major anxiety is... bad brain, no smart-making. Brain did not brain nicely at all. Brain had better brain better tomorrow.