Perhaps!
I got to bed almost by 3 a.m., so you'd think I'd be a bit "out of it" all things considered.
For the first time in hmmm, almost three years (it'll be 3 years in July-August), I woke up, and got out of bed before 8 a.m. (actually by 7:45, which is UNHEARD OF for me). Had a leisurely cup of coffee, packed up my lunch bag, and even managed to shampoo today and got the husband off to the train station pretty damned close to "on time."
Productive. Alert. A little ranty and rambling, but, I think I'm doing LIGHT YEARS better than I was on "the junk." I even *GASP!* stayed on my exercise bike about 40 minutes last night. WHO THE HELL AM I? :)
146.5 hours since my last dose of Effexor, and so far so good. Still cold turkey.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
120 Hours Sans Effexor
Please don't preach to me. I went off it cold turkey, and so far I haven't looked back.
So right about now, I'm shall we say, EDGY. I can't stand being touched, and there's no reasoning with me at the moment. Work tomorrow is going to be a true joy. NOT!
I need to get to some specialist, which one? I haven't a clue at the moment, to get a handle on defining, with certainty, WHAT EXACTLY DO I HAVE (bipolar? who knows), because psychotherapy, I do not believe is helping me. And medication isn't helping me at all. Each have run their course, and I have hit the proverbial wall.
I have all this good stuff happening in other aspects of my life as it pertains to my weight loss: the weight loss itself, improved health (allegedly), and this one's more for others (I think I'm cure as is), but folks tell me it makes me more attractive. WHATEVER. I just want to get the fuck off medications.
My reproductive endocrinologist had alluded to me that he might put me back on metformin for my PCOS (my A1C and fasting glucose are (and have been) within normal parameters for a while). This distresses me. Every pill I pop, I worry about what it's doing to my liver.
Oh, I'm rambling. Get used to it.
I got tired of being a zombie. A foggy-headed zombie. I had zero focus (hence my inability to follow a relatively simple crocheted sock pattern, frogging the toe FOUR FUCKING TIMES). Paranoid, fatigued, even more depressed than I was to begin with, mysterious intense aches and pains, unable to take my tramadol for my arthritis since it would interfere with my effexor (contraindicated: SEIZURES allegedly will result). Additionally, I got tired of waking up thinking to myself, "Fuck, I didn't die in my sleep" and be genuinely disappointed! No one seems to give a shit about this. Got tired of the lethargy. Got tired of fighting with the husband in the a.m. Got tired of constantly making him late due to my lethargy and my befuddled disorganization in the morning. And the bottom line is. Let me lose my job, not him.
So there you have it. In a lot of aspects of my life the effexor was simply not helping. It helped to a point (i.e. got my grief stricken crying jags to taper off--dad passed in 2008, and I didn't stop crying until roughly 2009 when I switched off my Celexa to Effexor), but, so too, did Zoloft and Celexa in the 1990s; and Celexa and Lexapro from 1998-2008. Hell, I even went on the anti-seizure medication Topamax, because my endocrinologist* said it could help my migraines and have a magical effect on my weight. Nothing magical happened. The first week or so, I was fine, and just didn't give a shit about anything. Then the second and third weeks I titrated up, and things got a bit hairy. Very (inwardly) hostile and paranoid. That's no way to live.
*Endo recommended it; however, I did go to a neurologist who was the one who examined me and prescribed the Rx.
Ultimately, I'd like to get off every medication I currently am on. None of it is worth a god damn, imho. I'm tired of "robbing Peter to pay Paul" and trading off one or two sets of symptoms for an equally loathesome set of side effects.
*Popping 50 mcg of melatonin*
*Continuing with tonight's prattle*
Ever see the movie Airplane! ? Remember the scene where Lloyd Bridges' character does that bit about, "I picked the wrong week to give up.... (fill in the blank: cigarettes, cocaine, sniffing glue)" ? Well that's a fair assessment of how I feel right this moment. I'm about one day away from the Gates of Almighty Hell opening up and flowing out my uterus, we're going on vacay sometime very soonish, and yeah, I picked the wrong week to get my fucking fat ass off Effexor. BRILLIANT! JUST BRILLIANT!!!
*Now for tonight's scheduled downward spiral.*
So anyway, the thing which precipitated me prattling all this off here? Oh yes, I'm packing my lunch for tomorrow. I'm a bit obsessive about my lunch bag and bento box and all my little accoutrements/amenities to make my lunchtime BEARABLE, and to ensure that I remain in the habit of packing healthy lunches to remain "compliant" in my post-op lifestyle change.
Well, I'm totally undone. So undone I had to "self-medicate" with a sugar free pudding and a hot cup of tea to "regroup."
I have a box. One of those Fit and Fresh lunch box systems, where there's a larger box, which is large enough to put stuff in the bottom (like a sammy), then there's an ice pack insert, then there's two smaller self contained boxes to sit atop, and a lid to keep it all together. I am a creature of motherfucking habit. I eat. I clean the box. I put it back in my bag. It's a no brainer. Unless, I didn't clean it, in which case, the self contained insert boxes went thru the dish washer.
I looked in the dishwasher.
I looked in the cupboard.
I looked in my project bag for my crochet.
I tore apart the fridge.
I looked in the basket where I keep all my smaller bento box items when not in use.
I looked IN my lunch bag.
This particularly sized insert box is now missing. Which pisses me off to no end. Seriously. My household has only two people in it. Where the fuck could this thing have gone?* I'm furious on a lot of levels.
*We're now suspecting it fell off the counter and into the plastics recycling bag, which, of course, as fate would have it, was taken out to the dumpster DAYS AGO. BRILLIANT! FUCKING BRILLIANT!!!
Some folks may think I might be frivolous about some things, or even possibly come off as I don't know, perhaps well-to-do? I don't know. But I don't mind spending some cash for quality things (i.e. good work horse clothing which will wear like iron for YEARS, good shoes which don't hurt my feet, good natural fiber yarn to crochet with, and lastly, good food); however, it sticks up my ass sideways (WITH BURRS ON IT!!!) when I have to continually replace items because I cannot find the shit I am looking for. It's this very phenomenon which causes me to have:
10 Hair brushes
Dozens of hair clips and pony tail holders (apparently the husband had been tossing my pony tail holders in the trash when he'd find them, and not know what they were)
3 pairs of flip flops
10 umbrellas
COUNTLESS totes and shopping bags
More looseleaf tea I could shake a stick at.
I worry that when I finally do die, and folks are going thru my possessions, they're going to think I'm OCD or something, or a hoarder, when the reality is, I live with Felix Unger, who insists on putting shit away in such a manner where I cannot find MOTHERFUCKING JACK SHIT when I need it.
Note to those who will go thru my possessions, post-mortem: The only thing you will find that is eccentric which was intentional, will be a box of hair. January 2012, I will be collecting my hair I shed, so I can document how much I lose on average, annually. Just because I'm curious. Afterwards? I don't have a plan for it. Perhaps a needle felting project. I don't know.
And mind you, those are just things that I can think of off the top of my head which I *KNOW* I have replaced. I absolutely LOATHE having to make unnecessary purchases.
SO yes. I go to Amazon, ISO replacement cups for my Fit and Fresh lunch box system thingy. Can't find them, but find some 2 cup capacity thing marketed for kids, which isn't what I need. SO I go to the Fit and Fresh website, thinking the manufacturer surely has the option to buy replacement "parts." Well, apparently, Fit and Fresh defines "replacement parts" as the ice pack inserts, because with ONE exception, every replacement part on their replacement parts page are... you guessed it... ICE PACKS.
So, if you're still with me here, and didn't bail out in paragraph oh... I don't know... TWO? The only option I have now to get ONE REPLACEMENT ONE CUP CAPACITY CONTAINER is to buy an entire lunch box system, which I don't need.
Oh this reminds me of my 32 oz capacity Assam pot by Bodum. The plunger broke. They don't sell replacement plungers. WTF. So They sent me a replacement pot. Lovely, right? Well the fucking pot they sent me wasn't the 32 oz pot, it was a "tea for one" individual pot. I didn't even bother sending it back to get the correct pot, because that's too much fucking effort invested already... when all I needed was a fucking replacement plunger.
Perhaps I've said too much.
Perhaps I've lost my audience with this rant.
Fuck ya's. I'm going to bed.
So right about now, I'm shall we say, EDGY. I can't stand being touched, and there's no reasoning with me at the moment. Work tomorrow is going to be a true joy. NOT!
I need to get to some specialist, which one? I haven't a clue at the moment, to get a handle on defining, with certainty, WHAT EXACTLY DO I HAVE (bipolar? who knows), because psychotherapy, I do not believe is helping me. And medication isn't helping me at all. Each have run their course, and I have hit the proverbial wall.
I have all this good stuff happening in other aspects of my life as it pertains to my weight loss: the weight loss itself, improved health (allegedly), and this one's more for others (I think I'm cure as is), but folks tell me it makes me more attractive. WHATEVER. I just want to get the fuck off medications.
My reproductive endocrinologist had alluded to me that he might put me back on metformin for my PCOS (my A1C and fasting glucose are (and have been) within normal parameters for a while). This distresses me. Every pill I pop, I worry about what it's doing to my liver.
Oh, I'm rambling. Get used to it.
I got tired of being a zombie. A foggy-headed zombie. I had zero focus (hence my inability to follow a relatively simple crocheted sock pattern, frogging the toe FOUR FUCKING TIMES). Paranoid, fatigued, even more depressed than I was to begin with, mysterious intense aches and pains, unable to take my tramadol for my arthritis since it would interfere with my effexor (contraindicated: SEIZURES allegedly will result). Additionally, I got tired of waking up thinking to myself, "Fuck, I didn't die in my sleep" and be genuinely disappointed! No one seems to give a shit about this. Got tired of the lethargy. Got tired of fighting with the husband in the a.m. Got tired of constantly making him late due to my lethargy and my befuddled disorganization in the morning. And the bottom line is. Let me lose my job, not him.
So there you have it. In a lot of aspects of my life the effexor was simply not helping. It helped to a point (i.e. got my grief stricken crying jags to taper off--dad passed in 2008, and I didn't stop crying until roughly 2009 when I switched off my Celexa to Effexor), but, so too, did Zoloft and Celexa in the 1990s; and Celexa and Lexapro from 1998-2008. Hell, I even went on the anti-seizure medication Topamax, because my endocrinologist* said it could help my migraines and have a magical effect on my weight. Nothing magical happened. The first week or so, I was fine, and just didn't give a shit about anything. Then the second and third weeks I titrated up, and things got a bit hairy. Very (inwardly) hostile and paranoid. That's no way to live.
*Endo recommended it; however, I did go to a neurologist who was the one who examined me and prescribed the Rx.
Ultimately, I'd like to get off every medication I currently am on. None of it is worth a god damn, imho. I'm tired of "robbing Peter to pay Paul" and trading off one or two sets of symptoms for an equally loathesome set of side effects.
*Popping 50 mcg of melatonin*
*Continuing with tonight's prattle*
Ever see the movie Airplane! ? Remember the scene where Lloyd Bridges' character does that bit about, "I picked the wrong week to give up.... (fill in the blank: cigarettes, cocaine, sniffing glue)" ? Well that's a fair assessment of how I feel right this moment. I'm about one day away from the Gates of Almighty Hell opening up and flowing out my uterus, we're going on vacay sometime very soonish, and yeah, I picked the wrong week to get my fucking fat ass off Effexor. BRILLIANT! JUST BRILLIANT!!!
*Now for tonight's scheduled downward spiral.*
So anyway, the thing which precipitated me prattling all this off here? Oh yes, I'm packing my lunch for tomorrow. I'm a bit obsessive about my lunch bag and bento box and all my little accoutrements/amenities to make my lunchtime BEARABLE, and to ensure that I remain in the habit of packing healthy lunches to remain "compliant" in my post-op lifestyle change.
Well, I'm totally undone. So undone I had to "self-medicate" with a sugar free pudding and a hot cup of tea to "regroup."
I have a box. One of those Fit and Fresh lunch box systems, where there's a larger box, which is large enough to put stuff in the bottom (like a sammy), then there's an ice pack insert, then there's two smaller self contained boxes to sit atop, and a lid to keep it all together. I am a creature of motherfucking habit. I eat. I clean the box. I put it back in my bag. It's a no brainer. Unless, I didn't clean it, in which case, the self contained insert boxes went thru the dish washer.
I looked in the dishwasher.
I looked in the cupboard.
I looked in my project bag for my crochet.
I tore apart the fridge.
I looked in the basket where I keep all my smaller bento box items when not in use.
I looked IN my lunch bag.
This particularly sized insert box is now missing. Which pisses me off to no end. Seriously. My household has only two people in it. Where the fuck could this thing have gone?* I'm furious on a lot of levels.
*We're now suspecting it fell off the counter and into the plastics recycling bag, which, of course, as fate would have it, was taken out to the dumpster DAYS AGO. BRILLIANT! FUCKING BRILLIANT!!!
Some folks may think I might be frivolous about some things, or even possibly come off as I don't know, perhaps well-to-do? I don't know. But I don't mind spending some cash for quality things (i.e. good work horse clothing which will wear like iron for YEARS, good shoes which don't hurt my feet, good natural fiber yarn to crochet with, and lastly, good food); however, it sticks up my ass sideways (WITH BURRS ON IT!!!) when I have to continually replace items because I cannot find the shit I am looking for. It's this very phenomenon which causes me to have:
10 Hair brushes
Dozens of hair clips and pony tail holders (apparently the husband had been tossing my pony tail holders in the trash when he'd find them, and not know what they were)
3 pairs of flip flops
10 umbrellas
COUNTLESS totes and shopping bags
More looseleaf tea I could shake a stick at.
I worry that when I finally do die, and folks are going thru my possessions, they're going to think I'm OCD or something, or a hoarder, when the reality is, I live with Felix Unger, who insists on putting shit away in such a manner where I cannot find MOTHERFUCKING JACK SHIT when I need it.
Note to those who will go thru my possessions, post-mortem: The only thing you will find that is eccentric which was intentional, will be a box of hair. January 2012, I will be collecting my hair I shed, so I can document how much I lose on average, annually. Just because I'm curious. Afterwards? I don't have a plan for it. Perhaps a needle felting project. I don't know.
And mind you, those are just things that I can think of off the top of my head which I *KNOW* I have replaced. I absolutely LOATHE having to make unnecessary purchases.
SO yes. I go to Amazon, ISO replacement cups for my Fit and Fresh lunch box system thingy. Can't find them, but find some 2 cup capacity thing marketed for kids, which isn't what I need. SO I go to the Fit and Fresh website, thinking the manufacturer surely has the option to buy replacement "parts." Well, apparently, Fit and Fresh defines "replacement parts" as the ice pack inserts, because with ONE exception, every replacement part on their replacement parts page are... you guessed it... ICE PACKS.
So, if you're still with me here, and didn't bail out in paragraph oh... I don't know... TWO? The only option I have now to get ONE REPLACEMENT ONE CUP CAPACITY CONTAINER is to buy an entire lunch box system, which I don't need.
Oh this reminds me of my 32 oz capacity Assam pot by Bodum. The plunger broke. They don't sell replacement plungers. WTF. So They sent me a replacement pot. Lovely, right? Well the fucking pot they sent me wasn't the 32 oz pot, it was a "tea for one" individual pot. I didn't even bother sending it back to get the correct pot, because that's too much fucking effort invested already... when all I needed was a fucking replacement plunger.
Perhaps I've said too much.
Perhaps I've lost my audience with this rant.
Fuck ya's. I'm going to bed.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Four Month Surgiversary
Not much to report! Or is there? You be the judge.
50 lbs lost thus far. AND HOLDING. Currently in a plateau.
The impaction issue seems to be abating somewhat. Turns out edamame was the key to unlock that problem, tho I am still taking 2 Dulcolax daily until I feel confident that the impaction issue has passed (excuse the pun) entirely. Nearly 4 weeks since the last impaction episode.
33 Hours since my last dose of Effexor. I've decided to go cold turkey off the junk. I felt like I hit a brick wall as far as it being effective for me, and if anything, I felt paranoid, depressed to the point of barely functioning, and felt *DULL*.
Something had to give, as it were, and I just can't function anymore. If this means that the crying jags come back in full force, so be it. Because I know if the crying jags come back in full force, that also means my productivity and creativity will be back in full force, too. I thought I would be headachey and irritable without the Effexor. But so far, so good.
Once I actually start to feel better and BELIEVE I FEEL BETTER, then I might be able to muster up the strength and "give a fuck" to make other necessary changes in my life (such as quit my fucking miserable job).
My weight loss has brought good things: the loss of the weight, increased good health, improving my appearance (so superficial to even mention it), as well as increased stamina for walking and endurance. It's even brought my husband and I closer together, as he's a willing and capable participant in my new lifestyle. Funny thing is, he's 135-145 lbs. The man doesn't NEED to lose weight, and ... well, he's losing weight vicariously through my weight loss surgery.
So many good things happening, and yet my depression has gotten the better of me, to the point where I barely have the energy or motivation to get out of bed in the a.m., with my major daily accomplishment being: Getting up. Getting washed. Getting dressed. Dragging my ass to work. Only to come to work, be miserable, foggy-headed, unfocused, miserable, unproductive, miserable, alienated, strung out, miserable... are you sensing a theme here?
So I'm hoping getting off the junk will help at least clear the fog out, make me more productive, and give me some modicum of a sense that I've accomplished more than being a bump on a log with a pulse. Besides, I've got shit I need to do at work (i.e. WORK!!!), which, sadly, I've been great at masquerading and appearing productive and busy, but not really accomplishing anything. I'm so distracted and alienated at work, coupled up with my depression and fog from the medication, that I can't stay on track to finish anything. So this is another level of dread I have about the work place, above and beyond the lack of professionalism (to the point of it being a hostile work environment, IMHO).
Once I clear my head, I need to tackle this problem head on. The resume has been dusted off and emailed out, and I've put out feelers to some folks to keep their eyes open for anything that they think might be suitable for someone with my particular talents.
I also hope to get more active. But this will necessitate two things: 1. The motivation factor (see paragraph devoted to me getting off Effexor); and 2. Getting a handle on my pain (can't take Tramadol if I'm on my effexor, which leaves me few options to help with my pain, since NSAIDs are verbotten post-op). But every once in a while (subtext: every other day or so) the husband is successful in getting me to get on the recumbent bike, and I pedal for about a half hour.
This weekend, he introduced me to Tamilee Webb, and got me to do her 10 minute arms on Saturday and Sunday. I wouldn't mind doing THAT every day! I felt good and tender after (days after, not immediately after doing it), and thought to myself I could manage exercise in 10 minute increments. I mean, I'm not THAT lazy that I can't manage it. So pain notwithstanding, I hope to get addicted to Tamilee Webb like my husband is.
Also worth mentioning, I got my first bag of Caramel calcium chews from Bariatric Advantage, and they are very tasty! I don't do chewables for all my calcium needs. For me, I like to have something sweet with a hot cup of tea and I take my chewy chews then. It's a nice change of pace from my other supplements I use.
50 lbs lost thus far. AND HOLDING. Currently in a plateau.
The impaction issue seems to be abating somewhat. Turns out edamame was the key to unlock that problem, tho I am still taking 2 Dulcolax daily until I feel confident that the impaction issue has passed (excuse the pun) entirely. Nearly 4 weeks since the last impaction episode.
33 Hours since my last dose of Effexor. I've decided to go cold turkey off the junk. I felt like I hit a brick wall as far as it being effective for me, and if anything, I felt paranoid, depressed to the point of barely functioning, and felt *DULL*.
Something had to give, as it were, and I just can't function anymore. If this means that the crying jags come back in full force, so be it. Because I know if the crying jags come back in full force, that also means my productivity and creativity will be back in full force, too. I thought I would be headachey and irritable without the Effexor. But so far, so good.
Once I actually start to feel better and BELIEVE I FEEL BETTER, then I might be able to muster up the strength and "give a fuck" to make other necessary changes in my life (such as quit my fucking miserable job).
My weight loss has brought good things: the loss of the weight, increased good health, improving my appearance (so superficial to even mention it), as well as increased stamina for walking and endurance. It's even brought my husband and I closer together, as he's a willing and capable participant in my new lifestyle. Funny thing is, he's 135-145 lbs. The man doesn't NEED to lose weight, and ... well, he's losing weight vicariously through my weight loss surgery.
So many good things happening, and yet my depression has gotten the better of me, to the point where I barely have the energy or motivation to get out of bed in the a.m., with my major daily accomplishment being: Getting up. Getting washed. Getting dressed. Dragging my ass to work. Only to come to work, be miserable, foggy-headed, unfocused, miserable, unproductive, miserable, alienated, strung out, miserable... are you sensing a theme here?
So I'm hoping getting off the junk will help at least clear the fog out, make me more productive, and give me some modicum of a sense that I've accomplished more than being a bump on a log with a pulse. Besides, I've got shit I need to do at work (i.e. WORK!!!), which, sadly, I've been great at masquerading and appearing productive and busy, but not really accomplishing anything. I'm so distracted and alienated at work, coupled up with my depression and fog from the medication, that I can't stay on track to finish anything. So this is another level of dread I have about the work place, above and beyond the lack of professionalism (to the point of it being a hostile work environment, IMHO).
Once I clear my head, I need to tackle this problem head on. The resume has been dusted off and emailed out, and I've put out feelers to some folks to keep their eyes open for anything that they think might be suitable for someone with my particular talents.
I also hope to get more active. But this will necessitate two things: 1. The motivation factor (see paragraph devoted to me getting off Effexor); and 2. Getting a handle on my pain (can't take Tramadol if I'm on my effexor, which leaves me few options to help with my pain, since NSAIDs are verbotten post-op). But every once in a while (subtext: every other day or so) the husband is successful in getting me to get on the recumbent bike, and I pedal for about a half hour.
This weekend, he introduced me to Tamilee Webb, and got me to do her 10 minute arms on Saturday and Sunday. I wouldn't mind doing THAT every day! I felt good and tender after (days after, not immediately after doing it), and thought to myself I could manage exercise in 10 minute increments. I mean, I'm not THAT lazy that I can't manage it. So pain notwithstanding, I hope to get addicted to Tamilee Webb like my husband is.
Also worth mentioning, I got my first bag of Caramel calcium chews from Bariatric Advantage, and they are very tasty! I don't do chewables for all my calcium needs. For me, I like to have something sweet with a hot cup of tea and I take my chewy chews then. It's a nice change of pace from my other supplements I use.
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