new lamictal warning

There is a new warning for those who take the drug Lamictal. Since I mention it in my blog often, I thought I would link to this page on Drugs.com in case someone stumbles upon my site.

INTRO: The FDA is warning that the medicine Lamictal (lamotrigine) for seizures and bipolar disorder can cause a rare but very serious reaction that excessively activates the body’s infection-fighting immune system. This can cause severe inflammation throughout the body and lead to hospitalization and death, especially if the reaction is not diagnosed and treated quickly.

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can I get you more coffee, sir?

Just some rambling thoughts on getting older.

I’m not sure when it happened, but I’ve become a “Sir”. Thank you for coming, sir. Have a nice day, sir. Can I get you more coffee, sir?

When we moved to Ohio I was 35 and in the prime of my bipolar-addled life. Despite the instability, I felt like I was still a youthful person who could hike for miles, climb volcanoes, cut down and chop up trees, shovel the driveway, or stay up late without consequences. My kids were young, and I enjoyed playing with them. My life didn’t revolve around doctor’s appointments.

Now I look back just a little, and it seems such a short while ago. It’s been 13 years. I feel old now. I’m very close to 50, an age I never contemplated reaching. I grew up with old people, but they were old-old, as in ancient. Old people had medical problems, aches and pains, and emitted strange noises at regular intervals.

I feel old now, but I’m not really. If I were to leave this world, people would say it was too soon. I still have to work for 20 years before I can consider retirement, and I’m afraid I won’t make it. Thoughts of ailing health and mortality take up too much of my available thinking time.

emotional eating

I seem to be stuck in an endless cycle of eating, satisfaction, and depression. I think I am addicted to the feeling of being full and satisfied. I can’t get satisfaction any other way, so I eat the sadness away. I feel full and content for a while, but then the feeling goes away, so I have to eat more to bring the feeling back again. In the meantime I feel embarrassed and disgusted about being fat, which leads to depression. A few hours later I need to eat again, and the cycle continues. I wish my depression made me lose my appetite. Instead it makes me crave comfort, and comfort food, and so I eat.

I learned this behavior when I was young. My adopted mom was also an emotional eater. Furthermore, we used food as an escape from the toxic and abusive environment we lived in. When she and I would go out to eat, we could avoid talking about our problems, and for a short time escape reality by enjoying the food and the feeling of being full. After the meal was done, we would go back to reality, and the momentary happiness dissolved.

I don’t know how to disassociate food from happiness. I enjoy good food, but I will also eat mediocre food to get the emotional high. In the meantime I don’t really do anything to take care of my body, like exercising or making better food choices. Vegetables don’t make me feel full and content.

Because of the embarrassment and anxiety of being seen eating, I would rather eat alone. I prefer take-out food to eating in, and I love drive-up windows. I try not to go to the same place more than once a week so they don’t remember me, because that would also be embarrassing.

By the way, it’s time for a snack.

bad knees

Fishrobber Classic – December 2012:

If a guy had bad knees but ran marathons, then collapsed in tears at the end of each race, and had to go lay down and do nothing so he could rest before the next race … people would talk about his courageousness, toughness, dedication, strength.

If he was forced to run the race to earn his family’s only source of income, and had no time or energy for other hobbies or friends, they would talk about his selflessness to provide for his family while sacrificing his own body and happiness.

If people found out the runner took drugs to help his body recover, he would be ridiculed as a fraud, a cheater, a less honorable person for having resorted to chemistry to perform better. People might question whether he should run at all.

How is this different from the functioning bipolar person? My mind is my knees, the marathon is daily life. My strength is a show for everyone while I feel weak inside; I sacrifice the happiness I don’t feel I deserve. I have no time or energy for hobbies or friends because I collapse at the end of each day, but my selflessness is really a sham concealing a dark desire to run away from this life and be free from its responsibility. People would treat me differently if they found out I was constantly medicated.

I wonder what happens when I can no longer run the race every day.

see the light

I’m a little better the last two days. This was a rough week.

In addition to a deep depression swing, my headaches have become strong again. I have always had sinus problems, and I have always had headaches since I can remember. But the sinus headache seems to trigger a stronger migraine, and my sensitivity to light aggravates those migraines. Any kind of light is bothersome, especially fluorescents and bright cloudy days. I have been wearing sunglasses inside at home, I bought a sleep mask, and I have been taking non-prescription pain pills constantly. I need to talk to my doctor about this, because it has become very difficult to function. Maybe I will end up wearing colored glasses all the time, like Bono.