Tag Archives: PMDD

Stress

All the pre-election stress is kind of getting to me right now, unfortunately.

I got through a very long day, but I didn’t finish all the things I needed to finish.  I’ve already got a list of things to do tomorrow that I know I won’t get through, and I know my RFD and FO are just going to keep adding more and more to it.  And EVERYTHING is top priority.  They’re throwing things at me constantly.  One will ask me to do something that needs to be done ASAP, so I’ll stop what I was already working on to do the new task.  Then the other will ask me when I’m going to be finished with the first task.

To be fair, they’re not angry or mean about it or anything, and they’re working just as hard too.  And I think some of it’s due to my utter lack of working memory–I honestly cannot hold more than one thing in my mind at once without things falling through the cracks, and I’m being asked to hold 15 things in mind at once.

There’s also a power bill I can’t pay.  And I don’t know how I’m going to pay it next month either.  Every month, I’m just getting farther and farther underwater.

And I’m really triggered by a discussion on a forum that got taken over rape apologists who think it’s perfectly acceptable to make women totally responsible for rape prevention.  Seriously, if you ever feel the need to mansplain rape prevention, just fucking don’t.  And the mods/admins won’t do anything about it.  They don’t care that this is creating a hostile, triggering environment for survivors of abuse and rape.

And I’m pretty sure my PMDD is kicking in.

Right now I just want to do something, anything, to turn off all these fucking feelings.  I want to cut or OD or binge and purge, or something.  Just make it stop.

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The Appointment

The appointment actually wasn’t horrible.  I think my anxiety was the worst part of it, really.  My hands were shaking so badly it looked like a five-year-old filled out my paperwork.

I saw a nurse practitioner at this practice, and she was really good.  I don’t know what it is about them, but I very often have better results with NP’s than doctors.  They tend to have better people skills, in my experience.  She actually mentioned she’d read my chart the night before!  I think hell may have frozen over–I’ve never had a medical person read my chart prior to walking in the door.  She’d also done some research on UC because she wasn’t familiar with it.  So that won her big points right up front.

She was also respectful of my trauma issues.  She didn’t ask a bunch of questions about my abuse history, which I appreciated.  It’s hard enough to talk about it at all, but it would be even worse with someone I’d just met.  Once we’d established that I have no sex life, she stopped asking about that, too.  And I didn’t have to explain why I’ve never had an exam or pap smear.  You’d think that would be kind of self-explanatory once you know about my abuse history, but apparently it isn’t always.

C was actually a little overprotective, which was slightly annoying, and I told her I was okay with the questions.  I don’t want to be treated like I’m breakable.  If I’m clearly freaking out, okay, step in, but if I’m managing it okay, let me manage it.  There are times when I’m not quite an adult, but I want to be treated like one unless I’m clearly in a child state.

She didn’t insist on doing an exam.  She did say that it’s important for my health, especially given my abuse history, and that we’ll work toward me being able to do it, but she didn’t push it at all today.  Once we’d established that, my anxiety dropped a lot.

What we eventually settled on for progesterone was Nexplanon.  It’s an implant that goes in your arm and lasts for three years, so there’s one less pill I’d have to take.  And if I do have bad side effects, she can just take it out.  However, she’s going to be on vacation in August, so she didn’t want to put it in and then be away if I have problems.  So we’ll wait on that until late August/early September to put it in.  In the meantime, she wrote a prescription for Prometrium, which I’ve taken before.

But apparently my insurance no longer covers it at all.  That’s bizarre because they did a few months ago, and I thought they only change their formularies once a year.  So Monday I have to call back to the NP’s office and find out what we can switch me to.  I know there are a couple other progesterone-only birth control pills, and I’m pretty sure my insurance is legally required to cover those.  (I’m actually not sure why they’re not required to cover Prometrium.)  Gotta love it when your insurance pulls an asshole move on a Friday afternoon, right?  Luckily, my period just started, so I’ve got another three weeks to get started on something else before I go crazy.

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Disjointed and Disconnected

I feel like I haven’t had much to say lately, so I haven’t been posting. But it’s lonely. I’m lonely. I keep wanting to reach out and connect, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what I want/need or how to ask for it.

So here’s a bunch of random stuff about my life that might make me feel a little more connected, even though it’s going to come out all disjointed.

  • I still don’t have a therapist.  I’ve come to the conclusion that I probably should, but I’m too afraid to look for one.  Afraid I won’t find someone, afraid it won’t work out if I do find someone, afraid they’ll reject me (again).  So my brilliant approach is to do nothing about it.
  • I am exhausted, existentially.  After the Boston trip last week, I haven’t done any campaign work all week.  Didn’t even answer my phone for campaign people.  I feel a little guilty, but mostly I just don’t care.
  • I think some of the apathy is the Supreme Court’s fault.  I’ll spare you my political ranting, but suffice it to say that I’m very unhappy with them.  It feels like no matter how hard we work to make the country more fair and kind, it just doesn’t matter.  Someone with more power will just stomp it into dust.  Right now I’m too tired to fight back.
  • I am doing a table for my AG candidate at the farmers’ market on Saturday.  But I plan to just sit there, smile at people, and hand out lit.  I’m too tired to be aggressive about it, and if they don’t like it, they can dock my pay.
  • I still don’t know what I’m going to do about my roommate situation.  I should be advertising on Craigslist and talking to friends who might know somebody, but I haven’t done anything at all.  I feel like my roommates are screwing me over, so it should be their job to fix the situation.  Of course, that’ll just end up screwing me over in the end.  I know this, but does it motivate me to do anything?  Nope.
  • The fatigue is slightly better since I’ve been on the iron, but it’s still very present.  My gastroenterologist’s office called to say my blood counts looked better in this week’s labs, and I’ll see my doctor this Tuesday.  I’m going to discuss with him whether it’s the iron sulfate that’s making me sicker, the lower 6-MP, or both.  The worst, of course, is night.  I don’t know why, but it’s always been that way for me.
  • I have an OB/GYN appointment July 11.  I’m freaking the fuck out about this.  C is going with me, but that does not actually make me feel better.  I’m afraid she’ll refuse to give me progesterone without an exam, and then I’ll be totally fucked.
  • It poured all night tonight–I’m talking hurricane quantities.  This makes me nervous because I live 50 yards from a lake, in a first-floor apartment, but we didn’t flood.  Our power flickered a bunch, but it didn’t go out.  In spite of this, I hope it pours again tomorrow night.  That way every asshole with a lighter won’t be setting off firecrackers.  I don’t do well with sudden, loud noises.  It’s all right if I go to a fireworks show because then I expect it.  But on the 4th of July, even though it’s illegal, people just LOVE setting off fireworks.  Maybe if I beat them up, I can blame it on my PTSD.
  • I also need to get around to installing my window unit tomorrow because it’s too damn hot to exist.  Of course, I’ve been saying all week that I was going to install it tomorrow.  Apparently I’m so apathetic about everything that not even heat stroke can motivate me to get out of my bed.
  • I really hate this new WordPress post layout.  I don’t usually complain about website updates unless it’s Votebuilder (don’t start me on THAT rant), but this one bugs me.  It feel like it’s trying to be too Facebook-y, and the interface is less intuitive than it used to be.

I don’t really feel more connected, but maybe it’s a work in progress?  I don’t even know anymore.

 

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Left Out

The event today went well.  We had several hundred supporters, great weather, and lots of energy and enthusiasm.  I managed pretty well with the fatigue, but since it was outside in the hot sun, that was a pretty big drain on my energy.  Luckily they did have seats available for people with disabilities–otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to manage.

Afterward, we (mostly staff, plus a couple interns and volunteers) went to lunch at this place called Dick’s Last Stand.  It’s pretty hilarious–the servers get to be jerks (not mean jerks, just sarcastic and funny), and they make everyone these hats with rude things on them.  The field director put a social media ban on posting pictures of most of them.  For instance, one guy’s hat said, “I blow bubbles,” and the hat of the guy next to him said, “I’m bubbles.”  There were also gems like “I pee on my balls” and “I mate with innocent animals.”  But mine wasn’t terribly offensive, so I got to tweet mine.

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Then, when we were on the way back to HQ, the candidate called to say thank you, which was pretty awesome.  She tried to call me once before, several months ago, but I didn’t pick up because it was an unfamiliar number and I was stuck on the toilet.  I think it’s classy to call the volunteers who put in a lot of time and effort.  Obviously you’re not going to call everybody who shows up for a canvass or two, but I’ve been doing a lot.  Basically, I’m a part-time regional field organizer without the title or the paycheck.

But now I’m exhausted.  That and my hormones mean my moods are all over the place.  For the most part, I enjoyed the rally, but I also felt really left out most of the time because I had to sit most of the time.  I wanted to be doing something, helping, but there was really nothing to do from a chair.  I got left out of conversations because everyone else was standing up, so they stopped noticing I was there.  I was literally below them.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t think any of it is at all intentional.  I really like the people I’m working with on this campaign, and I don’t think anyone means to leave me out.  I think it just doesn’t occur to them to make an effort to include me, and I don’t feel confident enough to push for it.  So I end up sitting on a bench alone for two hours because when I ask what I can do, nobody knows what to say.  I’m the only visibly disabled person working on the campaign, so I think the staff haven’t really needed to find ways of including me.  Most of the time I’m in western Mass, so I’m kind of invisible.

It just leaves me feeling so lonely and useless and invisible.  Even though the rally itself was good, I found myself wanting to cry and/or disappear for most of the time.  I still really feel like disappearing and crying, but I’m trying to remind myself that a lot of how I’m feeling is a combination of hormones and exhaustion.  Still, it’s really hard, and I start to get upset about how much I’ve lost–not just the loss of physical abilities, but the loss of inclusion.  Sometimes it even feels like I’ve lost my personhood.

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I’m alive.

I’m doing a bit better this morning, thank god.

I did wind up calling C last night because it was either that or I was going to start cutting, so I figured calling her was the wiser course of action.  She even said she doesn’t mind at all when I call because she knows how isolated I am and how little support I have.  It was one of those things that I knew rationally, but I needed someone else to say it out loud so I knew I wasn’t making it up.  She managed to calm me down some, which really helped.  She’s good at that.  Sometimes I just need a voice of reason who’s outside my head.  I can usually be pretty rational; I like numbers and statistics and data more than the average person, apparently.  But when I go crazy, even though that ability to think rationally is still there, it just doesn’t help.  The crazy is too much stronger.  C wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t already said to myself, but I needed to hear it anyway.  I don’t know exactly why it works that way, but whatever.  At least I know what I need in those situations, even though it’s weird.

I realized while I was on the phone with C last night that probably a major component of my crazy right now is hormones.  I don’t think I’ve talked about it much before here, but I have bad PMDD.  Some months it’s not so bad, but some months it’s pretty horrific.  I used to take birth control, which helped, and then I switched to straight progesterone when the birth control stopped helping as much.  But now my insurance won’t let my psychiatrist write that prescription for me anymore.  I tried to get it from my primary care doctor, but he wouldn’t do it–I think he was nervous about the other meds I’m on and the UC.  Ex-Nurse is trying to get me an appointment with a trauma-sensitive OB/GYN, but that’s proving to be kind of difficult.

So for the time being, Ex-Nurse got Psychiatrist to write her a prescription for progesterone, and she’s going to fill it and give it to me.  (Psychiatrist knows this is the plan and has approved it.  He’s cool like that.)  Technically it’s insurance fraud, but I don’t think either of us feels bad about it.  We’re just trying to do what’s necessary to control a dangerous disease.  I don’t have a problem with breaking the rules if it doesn’t hurt anyone, and this is one of those cases.  It’s a relief I’ll be able to get it until I can see an OB/GYN and get a legitimate prescription.

I’m pretty exhausted today, and my whole body hurts after the bicycle debacle.  It feels like I did an intense workout, but I didn’t.  (I wish I still could!  I miss my martial arts training!)  I see Idiot Case Manager in an hour…bleh.  She called today, AGAIN, and totally blew off the not getting my voicemails issue.  I’m not telling her about my meltdown last night or my housing issue–I’m not giving her any excuses to hospitalize me or put me in a group home.  I’ll just tell her I’ve been really sick, which is true.  I really don’t want to deal with her at all, but I don’t feel like I have much of a choice.

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Frustrated

I feel like crying right now.

And then I feel guilty because I feel like all I’ve done here lately is whine and complain.  I know that’s old stuff, trauma stuff.  I even hear it in my mother’s voice: “No one wants to be around you because you’re so negative all the time.”  I know it’s old stuff, and I know this is my space to say whatever I want to or need to…but I still feel like I should censor myself, like I should just shut up if I don’t have something good to say.

But sometimes things just suck for long stretches of time.  That’s not my fault, and it’s okay to talk about it.  (This is what I’m trying to convince myself of, anyway.)  I don’t want to shut myself up anymore.  I wouldn’t let anyone else shut me up, so why do I let the internalized voice of my mother shut me up?

I’ve had a headache for four days now, and it won’t go away.  If I take any more Tylenol, my liver will reach up my throat and strangle me.  I tried taking a Flexeril on the assumption that it was tension-related, but that hasn’t helped.  I’ve tried ice.  I’ve tried heat.  I don’t have any more prescription painkillers left, so that’s not an option.

And I’m frustrated with my GP.  I think I mentioned before that my insurance suddenly decided my psychiatrist couldn’t write my prescription for progesterone anymore.  I was going to see an OB/GYN, but it was easier and quicker to get an appointment with my GP.  I had the appointment today, and it was useless.  First, they somehow ruined my urine sample, god only knows how.  I gave them a full cup, and I don’t know how they managed to ruin the whole thing.  They wanted me to stay until I could pee again, but I lied and said I had to be back at work.

Then I saw my doctor and asked for the progesterone, but he wouldn’t give me a prescription.  I get that I’m complicated because I have a serious illness and take a lot of meds, but I’ve been on the progesterone already.  I just needed a prescription from a non-psychiatrist because my insurance company was being ridiculous.  But he just said I had to see an OB/GYN.  He wouldn’t even write me a prescription for this week so I don’t go crazy.  Nope.  So now I have to wait until I can get an appointment with an OB/GYN, which, as previously mentioned, scares the shit out of me, AND I’m just going to have to deal with a week of full-blown crazy.  Which is probably a big part of why I’m fighting back tears right now.  Fuck my hormones, and fuck my doctor.

(Disclaimer: most of the time I like this doctor.  It’s just really hard for me to be able to ask for what I need, and it feels really awful when that need then goes unmet.  Then it starts the messages about how I don’t deserve to have needs at all.)

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