Quote for the day
I have learned through bitter experience the one supreme lesson to conserve my anger, and as heat conserved is transmitted into energy, even so our anger controlled can be transmitted into a power that can move the world.
Monday January 30th…
today is one of those days where you say to yourself…
“self, we just got to get through this day, and it’ll be OK.”
The thing is I have so much stuff to take care of today…I am feeling overwhelmed. The facts of life today are:
I have to run all the errands that I have to do,
can’t miss any of them today.
I also have to go and talk with the Head Shrinker…I am angry with my Doctor, so it’s not going to be an easy visit for me.
Anger is something I have never been comfortable with…I mean I lived with it in such huge amounts, and for so many years of this life,
that it’s hard for me to really get angry and act a fool.
I need to speak hard words to my doctor, I need to say somethings that I have never said to a Doctor…Especially one who is in “charge” of my mental Health and well-being. I have seen hundreds of counselors and therapists over the years…All of them are scary, they have way too many labels for me…And medications that they are sure would correct my “depression” “anxiety” and “fear issues”.
Thing is…I am not depressed, or nearly as fear based as I used to be. I do suffer daily with overwhelming anxiety…Some days are better than others. I also can’t sleep…Like at all…Ever. I have always had issues with sleep, even as a small child, so I can get kinda batty if I am not sleeping well, and having terrible anxiety attacks, daily…and my physical pain levels are elevated because of the freaking weather.
(the cause of my stress and fear is the freaking issue here people not a symptom of my environment to be cured with better living through pharmaceuticals)
So if you combine no sleep, barely any food
(freaking IBS and a spastic colon),
elevated pain levels,
high stress levels because I have three kids,
(the oldest of which I am sure is trying to shave years off my life span…Give it a break freaking teenager!)
and two business to run and an art career to continue to launch and grow,
and the fact that we don’t EVER make enough money to ever enjoy the pleasures that life can bring…You know vacations, shoes…Bread that isn’t on the day old sales rack…Electricity and food in the same month…You know the basics, facts are when you live this close to the line…You are always acutely aware of how close to the edge of disaster
you are dancing, and it’s hard to relax, when walking tightropes.
My issue this morning is how to get all the things I HAVE to get done, done and get myself mentally prepared for a hard conversation with my doctor.
She went to great pains to make me feel safe and comfortable in past visits. I have never been as honest about myself as I tried being with this Woman, at least not in a clinical situation.
I have a crazy metabolism, that does not interact with drugs of any kind very well, or if it does, it’s in a weird way. I have about 4 trillion allergies…Which also complicates things…Because half of the things I am allergic to are the popular medications being offered by western doctors today.
So I go to my new doctor, with my new found self advocate in my side pocket, and I tell the truth.
I say I am freaking overwhelmed, and I can only take these types of medications…This is the list of things that work and an even bigger list of things I have tried and have bad reactions to.
I need a vacation in a pill. I want to be able to sleep. Give me something that helps me make it all stop before I got to bed, so I can freaking sleep or I am going to really go insane.
Are you getting my drift?
Well…She agreed that I had really been through the ringer with the HMO metal health situation, and that indeed my medical history was impressive…so we decide to give Xanex a try.
At the beginning of December I saw her again, we talked about how things were going with the medication, we talked about the high risks of this drug becoming a habit, we talked about addiction, and the warning signs of it. We agreed that I was using the medication properly, and could be trusted with a refilled prescription…5 refills, and call if I need to…She thought I was doing well enough to be trusted…
and when I followed her directions and did not abuse the drug at all…I had my refills taken away…Without notice. She never called and said, “Ummm…Heather I think we need to talk, you look like you are taking too many of these pills.” Nothing, just no contact and no prescription, which means no sleep for the last week.
So I made an appointment three weeks ago to see her and talk about how that wasn’t really the best way to deal with this situation, after she herself was the one that told me that she would NOT do exactly this type of thing to me.
I know that the pills are not the issue. I have figured out a way to deal without them…I am working on getting myself right round.
What is my major issue is that I actually thought that I had gotten somewhere in this world through the using of TRUTH.
I had never been so open or honest or willing to trust.
She screwed the pooch with me.
That feeling of security and safety…Gone.
That’s what is really getting my panties in a knot.
I want to stream and yell at her.
I want to pitch a fit.
I want to make a written complaint.
I want someone to care that I was hurt and mistreated.
I want someone to care.
Well, facts are, I am just another file in the stack , on the desk of another jaded, overworked professional.
I am not a human being in their eyes, because they are not in the business of curing Humans, in my opinion they are only interested in what medication they can give you, and then controls you though.
I will find my own way out.
I also will have to tell her in plain language, why I am not going to be talking with her anymore, or anyone else for that matter. I am done with Western medicine for what ails my brain and it’s funky nero transmitters.
I still have to deal with my inner issue of feeling betrayed. I still have to speak outloud, in person to someone who has the power of being a Mental Health Professional, and is taking notes in my permante file. I know that bitching about them taking away my Med’s will only make them think I am a drug addict, and I know I will be treated as such…how dare I know so much aboout my medical history…Names of drugs?! Oh my…You must be a drug addict…No dumass I happen to be a very intelligent, mentally very stable and healthy, stressed out, not sleeping over worked human, who happens to know my own medical history, and have had to deal with the weirdness of my corporal self for my entire life, so it’s important to know what works and what doesn’t. They always want me to take their drug, because it works better now, it is this or that…And when I ginny pig it for them, and have bad reactions that sometimes land me in the hospital with shock or some kind of Organ damage thats totally unheard of…Then they always say…”Wow, you weren’t kidding.” They either loose interest in me, because I actually require them to care and think about me other than the five point 2 seconds I get in the exam room, or the 30 minutes session on the couch.
I am not easy to fix.
Or they go the other route…I become a pet experiment, and they say…”Well take this and we will see what happens.” I have had these doctors in the past write papers and cases histories for their own research or needs. I even had one therapist retire and write a fiction based novel on my life story, and she told me about how she was really excited to retire now, because she couldn’t wait to write this book…Based on the two years of therapy I had done with her to get over sleepwalking and night terrors, felt like, “thanks I’ve got all I need, here are some reffeerals to other doctors to finish your therapy.”
So I might have a few issues with being treated like either an exploitable commodity or a big pain in the ass.
The thing is that I broke down and asked for help. I went in and said, please help me feel better, please help me sleep, please help me turn of my freaking brain.” I just wanted a vacation in a pill. I just wanted to be able to say, I am not super human, and I need help getting to sleep at night. I need help to stop feeling like I can’t stop.
Not all day everyday, just PRN (as needed) and at night, so I can look forward to going to bed instead of dread.
No big deal. I thought.
It is a big deal…Damn, it was hard to get enough courage to go in there and ask for help in the first place…After waiting for 4 weeks to be seen in the first place…And then to end up in the same situation, even though I handled the entire situation for a present moment stand point. I asked for help, and I thought I had done it right for the first time in my life, and was being rewarded in a way, for doing the right thing for my own mental health, for telling the truth about myself, for not prejudged the doctors because of my past experiences with people I am supposed to be able to trust, literally with my life. For being real, for being imperfect, for being honest…I thought I had gained some powerful new insight to the way it could work.
I am angry about the fact that I lost that. I may not have really ever had it in reality, she may have been snowing me all along…I may have needed to believe that it could be different this time, if I handle myself with integrity, honesty, and faith, so that I could go and ask for help to begin with. I am not sure, but I do know that I am one pissed off Human. I am not good at being angry and productive at the same time. I can get mad…I can speak my mind, I can tell you how the cow eats the cabbage in a heart beat. I am not afraid of confrontation…I never have backed down from anything, I get scared, but I do anyway…Always have. I have been trained to not yell, scream or become unseemly when angry. I become very tactful, diplomatic, calm, patient. The nicer I get the madder I really am.
So I have to learn how to take reality, and the facts of my life and make them work with me, not against.
I have to print this blog and take it with me to my doctors office and ask her to read it. I have to tell her the truth, that I think she was uncaring and unkind.
I have to say, that she has made my progress with trust and the Medical World, take a couple steps back and sit down hard.
I have to say ouch, you hurt me.
So I will do all those things, I have no hope that she will really Understand my feelings on this issue…Communicate with me, that’s all I ever asked, please don’t do things without communication, because that would make me feel uncomfortable and unconvinced that you really are thinking of my best interest.
Don’t think I did the right thing with my script? Well, then how about a phone call? Going to take all the refills away after the first refill, well how about a freaking phone call to say that? Instead of making me and the Pharmacy track down the reason after waiting a week for the refill to be filled…Why would I have to wait for something I had a refill for? Well because my doctor went into my file and took away all the refills without making a note as to why, or for what reason, or any instructions to me or the pharmasist about what I needed to do next .
Just gone, no notice.
You know what? That shit is not cool.
Do you think the grrrl taking xanex at night to sleep is going to get a little panicked when after months of everything is OK, and you are doing great…You take away my ability to sleep? You think that might make someone who is dealing with ANXIETY feel a little STRESSED out?
Hmmmm, I wonder.
I need help with this matter, and I will get it. It may not be xanex. It may be some other way to really long term solve my real problem. I can’t realx. EVER!
So instead of wanting to turn it off, I need to put the pedal to the metal…I need to burn rubber on my own.
I don’t want your freaking medication. I want to be CURED.
Help me solve that problem, then I’ll not ever need a vacation in a pill again.
How about that?
So…I have to go do this thing, and get my huge assed day done…and not snap and start eating small children live or committing random acts of Buggy violence at Costco later.
Living with integrity is a really hard thing to do.
When you live this way you must face facts as you know them, and move within those confines…. Being willing to take risks, not be perfect or even right, not knowing what I don’t know…And living in the present…Not the old self that says…”You have a past with this or that”…So shit Sherlock, we all have issues…
That’s why I must go and tell the truth about my feelings again.
I know that was not the wrong way to deal with this, and my advocate will take care of the business of humanizing Heather for the Medical Masses. All I have to do, is get myself to the office, and tell the truth, my truth.
I’ll see what happens, I am sure that it will be an educational, moment for at least one of us.
(myself and the Doctor)
Yours in the struggle to become more than what is allowed, and being the change I want to see in this world,