Anna

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  1. Shit

    Ugh. I've been editing pretty hard core, and doing a bunch of other shit. I need a break from writing that's supposed to be awesome. I need to seriously make some major structural edits, and I did send the first part which was copyedited to my favorite Swarthmore English professor who offered to blind send it to his OWN editor (he's really famous), but I was like, no dude, read a piece first, I don't want to embarrass you, (he's really famous) and so I sent it. God, I hope he doesn't hate it. My cursing habit is definitely within my book, I mean, come ON, it would be pathetic for me to not curse, that's what I do. I hope it's all not "de rigueur" and he has to hesitantly tell me it sucks. That could so happen. It's so great not to give a shit about spelling or ANYTHING. I'm DYING. I think at this point, I need to limit myself to a few hours a day, and that is how it all is going to be. Has to. BECAUSE, I've so much else happening. Got to pick a medicare plan, the medicare guy I talked to on the phone kind of terrified me about the cost of my meds. IDK. I have begun gastro getting rid of some of my laxatives, and weaning sucks. Also, my dentures.... I've had em about 10 years now and right before I got fired, I had them relined by a really sleazy denture doc, who freaking fucked them all up, especially the bite, since he was trying to get me to pay 4 K which I DO NOT HAVE, not even close, I think he on purpose made the dentures so they ground down my lower bone. My mom SUPER NICELY offered to pay for dental implants, which preserve your bone and no ew-ey disgusting dental adhesive which since I smoke and vape, it needs continued reapplication. Her only desire was I visit her "Mexican Dentist" which like, the VERY first thing I read about Mexican tourism was like, NO NO if you are mentally ill OR have health issues, don't do it you could die in a Mexican hospital. My mom wouldn't listen to my concerns so I reluctantly went to Nogales (which I’m glad I went with my mom, she kept not using crosswalks, one time I had to leap out into traffic to rescue her, I’m worried she might be getting altzheimery) but in any case the Mexican dentist first informed me that dentures at my age meant I was a meth addict, which, I’ve nothing against meth addicts per se, it’s just, I’m not, and also, I really think that for fuck’s sake, if I tell you 25 times that it was lithium that ate my teeth and it was a “brain or teeth” situation, you should LISTEN. It wasn’t FUN having 24 teeth removed and my bones shaved, that HURT, asshole, and now I’m young and have to do these denture implants so I can even LIVE with dentures, damn it. SO yes, then, he stuck his BARE hands in my mouth and I lay there in the chair, stunned and frozen, and I was like “OH JUST NO.” Fortunately, he quoted my mom 13.5 K, (unless I needed a bone graft, fuck you I am NOT getting a bone graft in goddam Mexico, SORRY), and I was like, WOW, I can do that WAY cheaper with my IN TUCSON original denture guy who I ONLY left due to having dental insurance. I love him because he’s honest, says what’s needed, and isn’t OMG, that guy was SUPER GREASY. He said he used “Swiss steel posts, the best” and I know DAMN fucking well, you use TITANIUM. I do my research. It was horrifying. The best part? I got the flu, 5 days later. Nogales is awesome however. I’d go back any day. Not alone, but definitely. It’s kind of a faded, more dangerous looking Costa Rica. I got approached by about 15 Mexican dudes as I smoked morosely as my mom was being examined (she needs a tooth implant). But I fucking know how to get rid of losers, loud cursing and threats. God, it was relentless, however. I made my mom promise I could go with, she was going to “go alone”, WHAT? No, you don’t get IMPLANTS alone, with no driver, but it looks like she’ll be using my guy, anyway. Cheaper. So, my REAL dentist just gave me new dentures, he can do mini-implants on top, but on the bottom I need my bone ground down because it’s too sharp, like a triangle, and I need four VICIOUS implants in the bottom. Found a perio-dentist I trust, who also gave me a discount because we are both from the east coast and he saw my need. Sorry. Rushing through this. So it ended up being 11 K and I feel bad for my mom, but they are being done RIGHT. Doing all this without opiates is going to SUCK however, fortunately medical MJ is here in AZ and I will be edibleing it up. Smoking—that will be an issue. I mean, even my e-cig? IDK. I might have to plug tobacco (no, not in my mouth, figure it out) because, agh. It will take 4 months before I can use my lower implants, they have to set. So yes. Troubling. Also, Mr. A is being kind of a dick, he’s my rep-payee, long story, but basically I got back pay for like 8 K and he will give me none of it. This pisses me off as I gave him half my retirement account money (we are broke due to the fire) and I am FAR more likely to work part time to make $1100 K extra so we can live. I was bitching to my mom, looking for options (Al-anon, I hate it but need it currently) and maybe a different rep payee because someone ON disability themselves? Why are they MY rep payee? Well. The final weird thing that happened? My son’s been at the SW campus of the AA college here, and I am SO GLAD he’s moving downtown.. That’s another long story my mom is abruptly moving to Colorado, my brother to live with my sister, it will be just the three of us and I feel rather resentful everyone’s leaving when I NEVER WANTED TO COME HERE ANYWAY. Also, things are weird, man. It’s just… .that leaving vibe. My son’s super freaked about Trump (hey aren’t we all) we are trying to stay chill, I was venting to my mom by phone about Mr. A and my son overheard and had a meltdown about my being an abused spouse. Really. It’s not at that level, damn it. But the kid’s super emotional about everything, I worry. Well, though, I VISITED the campus, finally, merely needing to pee. NO big deal right? I was sent to the student toilets by the receptionist, and I guess EVERYONE thought I was a student. Because I’m skinny and in this part of the country, that’s rare unless you are young. Swear, it’s diabetes central around here. Any case, the freaking… agh, well, it’s gang central around here, too. I worked at times in the feeder school but always used STAFF bathrooms. SO, I inspected the toilet, cursorily, and then sat! Someone had GOUGED the fuck out of it, with a knife, I wound up wounded and bleeding. And ANNOYED, as Hep C is also endemic around here, and I didn’t fucking inspect the toilet for MICROSCOPIC pieces of blood. It took FORTYFIVE minutes to talk to the receptionist, campus security, and freaking then the campus police to explain over and over, a) NO, I am not a fucking STUDENT, thank you, I go to GOOD schools, can I advise—LOCK that fucking toilet until it’s fixed, it has MY BLOOD all over, thanks, b) CAN I HAVE SOME DISINFECTANT FOR MY ASS GODDAMNIT and c) randomly, some new doc tested me recently for Hep C, I DON’T have it, if I get it, you guys pay, Jesus, what a goddamn nightmare. JESUS. WHO GETS ATTACKED BY A TOILET? Why do these things happen to me. I want my own fucking reality show. Anyway, I’m tense. Six more fucking months for my book I bet, gotta get started with Al-anon, finish fixing the house which is crazy complicated, man, OH MY. Yep, it all sucks. Also, I am going to MISS my little brother, he’s my favorite, though I’m glad he’s moving on. In a weird way, I shall miss my mom, also. Even though… well, IDK. It’s hard. Mr. A accuses me of being psycho and dramatic, but I think he’s the one off the wall at present. Lithium carries me through ANY-fucking thing. Even violent toilets. Nice to check in, hopefully will do it more. Need more balance in my life, this book is sucking away my life essence. Happy to report I just smoked a cigarette after two hours of vaping or maybe more, and it sucked. I was doing great, lately I am super, super stressed, and the cough’s coming back. This isn’t good. The weird part? I love vaping, man. Anyway, see my therapist for like the last few times, man. I don’t think Medicare advantage plans give a rats ass about therapists. I know I am one. Need a brain not attached to my issues! Hey all! Merry Chirstmas, or whatever the inoffensive version of that is now.
  2. So poor kid, I was driving him yesterday to get his weed for the week, then school, which is usually fun. BUT, my brother is in town, my OLDER brother, who, like my younger brother, spent years depressed and Paxil worked briefly but pooped out, he would HIDE in his bedroom for days and me and my mom would want to knock, thinking he was dead, but were afraid of his ire. IT WAS AN AWFUL TIME. I think I was already getting treated for bipolar, actually. Sort of right in the middle. He got shipped off to this Sufi Commune where he learned to “live,” sorta, and kind of went down the road of supplements and being “gluten intolerant.” I feel for the gluten intolerant, I do, but he really takes it to the max, like he’s VISTITING and he’s afraid of my MOM’s TOASTER. That sounds like psychosis to me. ANY time he feels he has a little gluten issue, he has this “pack” of things to feel better, including marijuana, I merely mention this because he spent a long time accusing me of being a drug seeking addict with my doctors which IS SO NOT FUCKING TRUE. I know how to get drugs without doctors, damn it. THOUGH you’d think it would be awesome that I’m off Suboxone x 1.5 years, which is fucking HARD, and I cleaned out my receptors good and thoroughly with a type I substance I smuggled into the country and microdosed because I did NOT want to hallucinate for three days, but trust me, Ibogaine is SO much better than Naltrexone therapy. You know, side effects like “completed suicides” and whatnot bother me. I DID tell my doc about it (pdoc) because I wasn’t going to do something THAT nuts without discussing it. Anyway, I microdosed for about 9 months, and I am fine. NOT a single craving. I really don’t recommend that for someone who isn’t a risk taker, which is why I wear the bracelet, my receptors are as virgin as the driven snow; I don’t want to fuck with that EVER. Anyway, no one cares about that except Mr. A and kid a little bit. Well, my AA pals. It’s fine. I have long given up on my mother going to al-anon, I mean she’s like, 75. So, kid was talking to me about how much my brother SUCKS, like he has demands for quiet, hates my kid’s dog (kind of understandable, she’s a PTSD bitch. Severely neglected. Only me and kid can really do much with her. I’ve wanted to work on training with him, BUT with math and Physical Therapy for his fibromyalgia (I am SO PROUD he is doing that) he’s fucking busy. Anyway, he’s having trouble doing his work because my mom and brother are two of the most self-centered (not selfish! That’s different!) people ever, and have demands on QUIET. Sigh. Nick, who is a person until LAST YEAR I could only gingerly approach with the most intense chillness (we’ve hated each other for years, forever actually), found out he was back on Paxil. Motherfucker, it seemed to be working, he was pretty damn chill you could actually take for like 10 minutes without wanting to die. ANYWAY, kid reported he was upset because Nick and my mom sat around at dinner the day before, making fun of depressed people, manic people, and there were MANY comments CLEARLY directed at my little brother, and me. My son was upset because first of all he’s super chill with mentally ill people and is understanding, AND, he himself has ADHD and some depression. There were pointed comments about how “God, being around depressed people sucks, but you worry, mania it just fucking sucks, you want them away from you.” GAH. They made fun of my brother and his depression, and that he dropped a dumbbell in the sink. YOU are SUPPOSED to eat right and EXERCISE if you are depressed, fuckers (they’re both fat). THE THING THAT IS NUTS ABOUT THIS? My brother has been depressed worse, longer than my little brother, who has issues with meds, but at least he tries. I’m scared Nick will say something awful and damaging. But I had NO IDEA my mom and Nick would have this LOVEFEST. Also, my mom was on steroids awhile and was a fucking paranoid loon. AT LEAST 3 times a week, me and my sister had to talk her out of suicide, we were TEENAGERS it wasn’t pleasant. HAVE THEY FORGOTTEN? Then there was the time my parents made me go hang with Nick in college because they were worried that he was suicidal. I mean? That’s YOUR fucking job? Anyway, no.So do I gently warn my brother? Kid asked me not to say anything to my mom, as it would only make his life hellish (it would, I’d be cutting her to the ground at HIGH GODDAMN VOLUME) so I had to agree. I may send my brother a little letter later, but honestly, after praying about it, it’s a let it go thing (had to check with my Sponsor, she was correct), I can only ask to be left OUT of the loop, frankly. HELL. I’d rather be called Cinderella than what those two have to offer. MUST let it go, as I have done with Cinderella. In fact, I thought about it, it amused me. Mr. A was being a jerk and called me Cinderella, it would be GREAT to be Cinderella. I’ve already had the childhood for it. ARGH. My mom did say I could call my denture guy, get a comparison price I also had to get it together for kid, because he was all upset that he upset me. I feel awful. So I had to be like, “Kid, it’s not YOUR fault, you didn’t say these things, want to come over for dinner and bring the dog (which I swore would never enter my house she has SO MUCH hair)?” My mom was gone a particularly long time, this time, I forgot how fucking peaceful and nice it is without her around. MY smoking intake took FIRE, and I was doing really good, and THEN THAT BITCH SHOWED THE FUCK BACK UP. I am going to avoid her. I am going to advise my kid to vent at Mr. A about shitty crap like that. I just can’t deal. I’ve been stable for 10 years or whatnot, and they STILL can’t be nice? Assholes. As far as doing that in front of kid, WHAT THE FUCK? YOU know he’s going to be upset, you KNOW he knows what you guys are actually saying. And Nick, you can kiss my ASS you are ON psych meds and still acting like a nanoparticle of gluten will kill you. If you REALLY had gluten intolerance, where’s the proof? He’s been doing that forever, thinking if he just gets this NEXT THING RIGHT with his food, he’ll be okay. It’s his neurotic proof of symptoms. His fucking nut job wife is on LAMICTAL. Jesus. SO SHE’S NOT NUTS, but I AM. GOD, I HATE YOU. me Cinderella, it would be GREAT to be Cinderella. I’ve already had the childhood for it. ARGH. My mom did say I could call my denture guy, get a comparison price. As I was dropping off weed, my mom and I had this conversation yesterday. “What are you doing?” “Dropping off kid’s weed and scripts.” “Oh, well, I’m on a conference call right now.” “That’s fine; I don’t feel like talking to you anyway.” “Oh!” Laughter. Think she didn’t quite get it. So YEAH, though, do I warn off my brother? I mean, I hate to gossip, not sure it’s good, but must be frank, any progress that kid has made has been via me) finding a good therapist, encouraging him to reefed and bringing him a case of Ensure Plus (did that for kid too a bit ago), encouraging exercise. BUT. He needs the right drug. LIFE shouldn’t be this HARD.Thoughts? God, my family sucks ass. Smoked little today, am pretending my mother and brother are dead. Sorry, but MY health is MORE important to ME. And yes, I think of scenarios of death. I don’t MEAN them, it’s just a coping skill. Thoughts? God, my family sucks ass. Smoked little today, am pretending my mother and brother are dead. Sorry, but MY health is MORE important to ME. And yes, I think of scenarios of death. I don’t MEAN them, it’s just a coping skill. Also, I see my brother this afternoon. I'd use help. Fuckers, Anna
  3. God. Talked to my mom yesterday. Backstory on this is that when I went to get my dentures relined (made to fit better), the dude doing it (the only guy who took Cigna for dental) was a major ass. He talked me into soft liners (which I hate) and I THINK deliberately fucked them up, so I’d get dental implants, for my lower denture, which I’ve wanted forever. They were really fucked and done incorrectly and when I went back in disgust, they TOTALLY blew me off. They also wanted an inordinate amount for the implants, and I was just freaking, I can’t keep these dentures in my mouth more than about a few hours, and it SUCKS. In any case, my kiddo told my mom about it and she offered to help, meaning pay for them. ONLY, to my mom, the ideal place is MEXICO. GOD-DAMN it. For one, the guy who ORIGINALLY did my dentures who I TRUST is like half as much as this first guy, I checked. It’s like 1700 dollars which is fucking CHEAP ANYWAY. I cannot do this procedure on any kind of opiates, during or after, so sedation will be tricky. I will likely be in shock the first half-hour, then come out of it screaming at the top of my lungs. They are DRILLING down into my jaw. I HAVE to do it no opiates; I have made a pledge that if it’s ANYTHING doable (this is) I will do it that way. I have a NO OPIATES medical alert bracelet. I cannot TELL YOU how much I will NEVER take opiates. Maybe if I’m terminal cancer, that’s it. I DON’T want to be driving with my mom as this happens; she is NOT GOOD at CRAZY ANNA ever. Also, my mom “says” she will take me each time, but she will fucking flake out like always, and then I’ll be driving myself. Mr. A doesn’t want to go to Nogales can’t say I blame him, but Jesus. This takes like 4 months, my mom will be absent at the most crucial juncture, that’s her thing. It’s a magical gift. ALSO, what if something goes wrong DURING the procedure? I’d end up in a Mexican hospital which frankly, I’m not so hot on. Gah. I read a LOT about Mexican dentistry and it says if you have major M.I. or health issues, don’t go to Mexico it’s like the worst idea ever. Not to mention there’s not really any kind of regulation, AND, if something major goes wrong, I have no legal recourse. Infections SERIOUS ones, way more common in Mexico if you are doing something BIG. This is my one and only jaw. ONLY. I think people without dentures don’t get it they don’t realize how major these procedures are, and how if things get fucked, you can wind up with shit like: “Oh hey, let’s put this 10 K PERMANENT denture in the lower jaw, that’s huge, because there’s no bone left. I had to get dentures EARLY and dude, I want to keep my mouth as long as I can. My mom could give a shit about that. She’s all “La la la, we will go, and if it’s MUCH cheaper, you’ll do it.” WHAT? THAT is the input I get. Well, guess what I’ve researched it, it WILL be much cheaper, but that doesn’t mean better. Materials can suck in Mexico, they can use weird shit, I will have to travel multiple times and be in GREAT pain, I don’t think I can do it with my mom present, she won’t cope. I know what I’m FACING. I really need my dentist I TRUST and whom every other dentist I’ve seen told me my dentures were great and holding up awesome. This all just sucks. I think I’m going to have to go, hear whatever paltry sum the dude offers, and just tell my mom to give me the fucking money and I’ll make up the difference, somehow. I cannot do it this way. It will suck, it may have to be done, I HAVE to do something to convince my mom, maybe talk to the dentist about all my concerns and see. Jesus, I know SOME dental work in Mexico is fine, but not THIS. They will be shoving two or four, depending, LARGE steel posts, screwing them into my bone. They say the risk of sickness is really elevated if you go to Mexico for another procedure. My mom wouldn’t listen to me at all; she’s such a cunt sometimes. With her gone, I forgot her controlling nature, was just happily driving kid around and kinda having a nice time with him. I love kid. Add insult to injury, my mom’s fucking loaded. She just bought a THIRD property, in Colorado, and she has all this money from my dad, and then from her second husband dying he had about 15 life insurance and 401K things. He wanted to PUT one in a trust for the kid, but my mom talked him out of it saying that could only happen after SHE died. She’s such a boomer. SUCH a boomer. You know, for once in my life, I would SO LOVE it, if my mom freaking just HELPED me, no strings attached. No: “Come to Tucson, but you have to live across the street.” What a fucking fail that was. So glad we bought a different house, even though I never heard the end of it. Frankly, she was overcharging us the mortgage during a period we were having EXTREME difficulty. WHO does THAT? I actually broke into her house when she was gone because I really needed the facts before proceeding. I think my mom was a) totally shocked we could buy a house, and b) horrified that we presented it as a fait-accompli. Also, we were supposed to buy her damn house in 5 years, and she refused even though we had the money for down payment and whatnot, she just wanted the investment and us renting. And you know, she MADE money on that house, compared to the stock market. We made it new, sold in a week, paid the mortgage for 6 years. I am SO GLAD we moved more rural. We’re on an acre and the views are the BEST and also, I just love it here. This house is one reason it will be hard to leave. My mom was all pissy, “Why didn’t you discuss it with me first?” “I DIDN’T WANT to; you’d have tried to find a way to keep us stuck.” So true. That is how my mom is. I don’t think I’ve gotten into my howling dismay about how she undermined my childrearing EVERY.TIME.IT.MATTERED. Like, one time, kid was getting teen feisty. I was talking to him about something and he all went whiny and was like, “I need safety, grandma,” and I was like, “Listen, kid, the deal is, this isn’t bipolar okay, I’m discussing your BEHAVIORS.” Kid grabbed me and shoved me, left bruises, even though I didn’t put a HAND on him. While I was deciding whether to call the cops or not and to kick him out or not, my mom was being all enabling and “Of COURSE your mom is nuts,kid,” we had to call a meeting and EVERY GODDAMN thing I said about what happened was undermined. “Well, he ASKED to leave,” my mom said. BFD, ASKING to leave doesn’t always mean you GET TO. Also, had I kicked him out, my mom would have let him live there immediately. We had some family therapy and the therapist was like, your mom is nuts, and I was like yeah, I already know, just get it through kid’s head. Like, my mom will support kid, but ONLY if he is with her. When he was with us for six weeks, she made kid and Mr. A “pay” for the stuff she paid for by doing work for her. WTF, when she’s with him, though, it’s fine? She is a control freak of the highest order, and while a) I do love her and b) she does do a lot, c) she really ruined any chance Mr. A and I had to get that kid in some kind of shape. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. I really didn’t want to come to desert city but my mom said she’d “help” and Mr. A kept saying that it would be better, he didn’t know her that well, yet. Just once, ONCE, I would like some help from my mom, no strings attached. That would ROCK. It’s never going to happen. Anyway, I’m a bit bitter in general since when I came to Tucson really ill (ultram and w/d and rebound mania) my mom tried to trick me into GIVING HER custody of my kid, “To help with your ex, I wouldn’t interfere unless you were incapable.” What a broad definition that is. Endless control, whenever she wanted. No thanks. I said no like a billion times, and she kept having her Sufi friends call and talk about how great it would be. It eventually led to me moving to an apartment across town with the kid, I couldn’t take it. Poor Mr. A, he learned quickly. I mean, I’m sorry my mom beat the shit out of all her kids when we were growing up, she was a TRUE abuser. I know that isn’t the case now, but it smarts a bit. I adore my kid but he could be SO MUCH further along. Sigh. Oh well, what is, is. So, I’m going to Mexico in a couple weeks. I do plan to talk about ALL concerns. Going home on Advil with my mom’s driving, GAH. Moving on, I awoke early this morning and spilled a pill and couldn’t find it. This mean opening the huge box from Cigna and Mr. A was having fits. I don’t get why he SO freaks about dropping a pill. IT HAPPENS! Why you can get your meds EARLY. I mean… Jeez. It HARDLY happens. So he was yelling about that, I also tipped over some water which I was planning to clean in just a second and he freaked the fuck about that and was yelling about cleaning things, which I TOTALLY do. I clean the kitchen ALL the time and yesterday I took two hours to return our bathroom to the state of pristine new. I have been ILL on my abx, I woke early, shit happens. Anyway, going into PTSD mode, he demanded I clean up the water that second, and I was left with: “Do I challenge this combat level PTSD, or just go through it, it’s so fucking early.” Usually, I won’t allow this shit, but it was like 545 a.m. I ended up cleaning up the water and he was calling me shit like, “Cinderella,” which frankly, made me want to go for his jugular. But I was just, “Anna, let’s get through this,” and then I went off to smoke (early, but FUCK, see what I mean about smoking?) Later, he all wanted to apologize and shit, but I was just like, “Go to hell, kinda.” I’m sorry, you behave like that you do NOT get to apologize 20 minutes later like it’s all okay, go fuck yourself. Mr. A’s PTSD is way better, actually, THANK GOD, and most of the time we get on fine, but like, every now and then, it’s just horrific. I really wind up pissed off, though I know it’s a disorder. He took off for a meeting; I can’t because I’m driving kid to school. Sigh. Living with combat-level PTSD, as they call it, his providers, he’s like a vet even though it was just life, but man, he’s had a tough life. Still, it’s quite annoying for the partner. I really should not have rewarded that behavior but I was SO NOT awake. And guess what, I have PTSD too and I behave a whole lot better than YOU. Crying when I go near the Tribe, doesn’t bug anyone. It’s disturbing. My bipolar is also under total control I feel SO MUCH better off that ABX. God, also, he was whining. He’s was taking the manufacturer’s generic of Lamictal, and he’s so “sensitive” that the 20% plus or minus or god knows, he’s having trouble since Cigna sent another generic. I explained what to do; he feels like it’s more, so take 10% off the tablet and go from there. Or, get more Tevia or whatever it’s called Lamictal but he doesn’t have Medicare part D yet, due to my awesome HR it was delayed 2 months even though they are retroactiving it. Jesus. That was tough, there. Glad I’m not so side effect sensitive. I get the weird ones, but everything else is fine. Sigh. LITHIUM…. DENTURES…. Kid’s an idiot about prescriptions. He truly is. He’s always leaving them to the last second and running out. Twit. Gotta handle that this morning. I guess I’d say I’m cranky. Need more Al-anon meetings to deal with the people in my life ATM. Truly, I love my mom but when she travels a long time, I forget how controlling she is. Like, I was trying to explain my little brother dilemma, and she blew me off totally. GAH. Again! All I can do is try to say. I’d LIKE to be at a point where I’m NOT pissed off about this. That’s what al-Anon is for I guess. I went to half a meeting last week. Better get moving, I think. Today is a new day, without any mistakes in it. I want to say that’s Anne of Green Gables or whatever that series was. I’m quite sure the rest of my day will be better. Hope yours is too. Anna
  4. God. Talked to my mom yesterday. Backstory on this is that when I went to get my dentures relined (made to fit better), the dude doing it (the only guy who took Cigna for dental) was a major ass. He talked me into soft liners (which I hate) and I THINK deliberately fucked them up, so I’d get dental implants, for my lower denture, which I’ve wanted forever. They were really fucked and done incorrectly and when I went back in disgust, they TOTALLY blew me off. They also wanted an inordinate amount for the implants, and I was just freaking, I can’t keep these dentures in my mouth more than about a few hours, and it SUCKS. In any case, my kiddo told my mom about it and she offered to help, meaning pay for them. ONLY, to my mom, the ideal place is MEXICO. GOD-DAMN it. For one, the guy who ORIGINALLY did my dentures who I TRUST is like half as much as this first guy, I checked. It’s like 1700 dollars which is fucking CHEAP ANYWAY. I cannot do this procedure on any kind of opiates, during or after, so sedation will be tricky. I will likely be in shock the first half-hour, then come out of it screaming at the top of my lungs. They are DRILLING down into my jaw. I HAVE to do it no opiates; I have made a pledge that if it’s ANYTHING doable (this is) I will do it that way. I have a NO OPIATES medical alert bracelet. I cannot TELL YOU how much I will NEVER take opiates. Maybe if I’m terminal cancer, that’s it. I DON’T want to be driving with my mom as this happens; she is NOT GOOD at CRAZY ANNA ever. Also, my mom “says” she will take me each time, but she will fucking flake out like always, and then I’ll be driving myself. Mr. A doesn’t want to go to Nogales can’t say I blame him, but Jesus. This takes like 4 months, my mom will be absent at the most crucial juncture, that’s her thing. It’s a magical gift. ALSO, what if something goes wrong DURING the procedure? I’d end up in a Mexican hospital which frankly, I’m not so hot on. Gah. I read a LOT about Mexican dentistry and it says if you have major M.I. or health issues, don’t go to Mexico it’s like the worst idea ever. Not to mention there’s not really any kind of regulation, AND, if something major goes wrong, I have no legal recourse. Infections SERIOUS ones, way more common in Mexico if you are doing something BIG. This is my one and only jaw. ONLY. I think people without dentures don’t get it they don’t realize how major these procedures are, and how if things get fucked, you can wind up with shit like: “Oh hey, let’s put this 10 K PERMANENT denture in the lower jaw, that’s huge, because there’s no bone left. I had to get dentures EARLY and dude, I want to keep my mouth as long as I can. My mom could give a shit about that. She’s all “La la la, we will go, and if it’s MUCH cheaper, you’ll do it.” WHAT? THAT is the input I get. Well, guess what I’ve researched it, it WILL be much cheaper, but that doesn’t mean better. Materials can suck in Mexico, they can use weird shit, I will have to travel multiple times and be in GREAT pain, I don’t think I can do it with my mom present, she won’t cope. I know what I’m FACING. I really need my dentist I TRUST and whom every other dentist I’ve seen told me my dentures were great and holding up awesome. This all just sucks. I think I’m going to have to go, hear whatever paltry sum the dude offers, and just tell my mom to give me the fucking money and I’ll make up the difference, somehow. I cannot do it this way. It will suck, it may have to be done, I HAVE to do something to convince my mom, maybe talk to the dentist about all my concerns and see. Jesus, I know SOME dental work in Mexico is fine, but not THIS. They will be shoving two or four, depending, LARGE steel posts, screwing them into my bone. They say the risk of sickness is really elevated if you go to Mexico for another procedure. My mom wouldn’t listen to me at all; she’s such a cunt sometimes. With her gone, I forgot her controlling nature, was just happily driving kid around and kinda having a nice time with him. I love kid. Add insult to injury, my mom’s fucking loaded. She just bought a THIRD property, in Colorado, and she has all this money from my dad, and then from her second husband dying he had about 15 life insurance and 401K things. He wanted to PUT one in a trust for the kid, but my mom talked him out of it saying that could only happen after SHE died. She’s such a boomer. SUCH a boomer. You know, for once in my life, I would SO LOVE it, if my mom freaking just HELPED me, no strings attached. No: “Come to Tucson, but you have to live across the street.” What a fucking fail that was. So glad we bought a different house, even though I never heard the end of it. Frankly, she was overcharging us the mortgage during a period we were having EXTREME difficulty. WHO does THAT? I actually broke into her house when she was gone because I really needed the facts before proceeding. I think my mom was a) totally shocked we could buy a house, and b) horrified that we presented it as a fait-accompli. Also, we were supposed to buy her damn house in 5 years, and she refused even though we had the money for down payment and whatnot, she just wanted the investment and us renting. And you know, she MADE money on that house, compared to the stock market. We made it new, sold in a week, paid the mortgage for 6 years. I am SO GLAD we moved more rural. We’re on an acre and the views are the BEST and also, I just love it here. This house is one reason it will be hard to leave. My mom was all pissy, “Why didn’t you discuss it with me first?” “I DIDN’T WANT to; you’d have tried to find a way to keep us stuck.” So true. That is how my mom is. I don’t think I’ve gotten into my howling dismay about how she undermined my childrearing EVERY.TIME.IT.MATTERED. Like, one time, kid was getting teen feisty. I was talking to him about something and he all went whiny and was like, “I need safety, grandma,” and I was like, “Listen, kid, the deal is, this isn’t bipolar okay, I’m discussing your BEHAVIORS.” Kid grabbed me and shoved me, left bruises, even though I didn’t put a HAND on him. While I was deciding whether to call the cops or not and to kick him out or not, my mom was being all enabling and “Of COURSE your mom is nuts,kid,” we had to call a meeting and EVERY GODDAMN thing I said about what happened was undermined. “Well, he ASKED to leave,” my mom said. BFD, ASKING to leave doesn’t always mean you GET TO. Also, had I kicked him out, my mom would have let him live there immediately. We had some family therapy and the therapist was like, your mom is nuts, and I was like yeah, I already know, just get it through kid’s head. Like, my mom will support kid, but ONLY if he is with her. When he was with us for six weeks, she made kid and Mr. A “pay” for the stuff she paid for by doing work for her. WTF, when she’s with him, though, it’s fine? She is a control freak of the highest order, and while a) I do love her and b) she does do a lot, c) she really ruined any chance Mr. A and I had to get that kid in some kind of shape. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. I really didn’t want to come to desert city but my mom said she’d “help” and Mr. A kept saying that it would be better, he didn’t know her that well, yet. Just once, ONCE, I would like some help from my mom, no strings attached. That would ROCK. It’s never going to happen. Anyway, I’m a bit bitter in general since when I came to Tucson really ill (ultram and w/d and rebound mania) my mom tried to trick me into GIVING HER custody of my kid, “To help with your ex, I wouldn’t interfere unless you were incapable.” What a broad definition that is. Endless control, whenever she wanted. No thanks. I said no like a billion times, and she kept having her Sufi friends call and talk about how great it would be. It eventually led to me moving to an apartment across town with the kid, I couldn’t take it. Poor Mr. A, he learned quickly. I mean, I’m sorry my mom beat the shit out of all her kids when we were growing up, she was a TRUE abuser. I know that isn’t the case now, but it smarts a bit. I adore my kid but he could be SO MUCH further along. Sigh. Oh well, what is, is. So, I’m going to Mexico in a couple weeks. I do plan to talk about ALL concerns. Going home on Advil with my mom’s driving, GAH. Moving on, I awoke early this morning and spilled a pill and couldn’t find it. This mean opening the huge box from Cigna and Mr. A was having fits. I don’t get why he SO freaks about dropping a pill. IT HAPPENS! Why you can get your meds EARLY. I mean… Jeez. It HARDLY happens. So he was yelling about that, I also tipped over some water which I was planning to clean in just a second and he freaked the fuck about that and was yelling about cleaning things, which I TOTALLY do. I clean the kitchen ALL the time and yesterday I took two hours to return our bathroom to the state of pristine new. I have been ILL on my abx, I woke early, shit happens. Anyway, going into PTSD mode, he demanded I clean up the water that second, and I was left with: “Do I challenge this combat level PTSD, or just go through it, it’s so fucking early.” Usually, I won’t allow this shit, but it was like 545 a.m. I ended up cleaning up the water and he was calling me shit like, “Cinderella,” which frankly, made me want to go for his jugular. But I was just, “Anna, let’s get through this,” and then I went off to smoke (early, but FUCK, see what I mean about smoking?) Later, he all wanted to apologize and shit, but I was just like, “Go to hell, kinda.” I’m sorry, you behave like that you do NOT get to apologize 20 minutes later like it’s all okay, go fuck yourself. Mr. A’s PTSD is way better, actually, THANK GOD, and most of the time we get on fine, but like, every now and then, it’s just horrific. I really wind up pissed off, though I know it’s a disorder. He took off for a meeting; I can’t because I’m driving kid to school. Sigh. Living with combat-level PTSD, as they call it, his providers, he’s like a vet even though it was just life, but man, he’s had a tough life. Still, it’s quite annoying for the partner. I really should not have rewarded that behavior but I was SO NOT awake. And guess what, I have PTSD too and I behave a whole lot better than YOU. Crying when I go near the Tribe, doesn’t bug anyone. It’s disturbing. My bipolar is also under total control I feel SO MUCH better off that ABX. God, also, he was whining. He’s was taking the manufacturer’s generic of Lamictal, and he’s so “sensitive” that the 20% plus or minus or god knows, he’s having trouble since Cigna sent another generic. I explained what to do; he feels like it’s more, so take 10% off the tablet and go from there. Or, get more Tevia or whatever it’s called Lamictal but he doesn’t have Medicare part D yet, due to my awesome HR it was delayed 2 months even though they are retroactiving it. Jesus. That was tough, there. Glad I’m not so side effect sensitive. I get the weird ones, but everything else is fine. Sigh. LITHIUM…. DENTURES…. Kid’s an idiot about prescriptions. He truly is. He’s always leaving them to the last second and running out. Twit. Gotta handle that this morning. I guess I’d say I’m cranky. Need more Al-anon meetings to deal with the people in my life ATM. Truly, I love my mom but when she travels a long time, I forget how controlling she is. Like, I was trying to explain my little brother dilemma, and she blew me off totally. GAH. Again! All I can do is try to say. I’d LIKE to be at a point where I’m NOT pissed off about this. That’s what al-Anon is for I guess. I went to half a meeting last week. Better get moving, I think. Today is a new day, without any mistakes in it. I want to say that’s Anne of Green Gables or whatever that series was. I’m quite sure the rest of my day will be better. Hope yours is too. Anna
  5. I can type on my meds but it's harder, slower. Lithium shakes and whatnot. Anna. Haven't lost spelling ability mostly but I've always relied on the kindness of word.
  6. I hate that backward feeling. I've noted that my manic episodes tend to ruin all work completed, all things fixed, and I'm just.... useless. It's unpleasant and scary. Hope Tdoc returns soon. Anna
  7. Rough times in the abx world. Thank goodness it’s my last day on it. It’s not the splitting headaches and stuff that bother me, it’s that it makes me mental. Though it's probably going to take a week to get out of my system. Gah. These entries must suck royally. I usually do them first thing, before I even take all my meds in the morning, while I’m trying desperately to wake up without chain-smoking. So, they’re not exactly… focused. No matter. All my focus, line editing, which holy FUCK is fine on the actual printed manuscript. NOT so fine when adding it into the online version. Sigh. It took hours to do two pages, but it’s fucking complicated, alright? Normally, I don’t whine that much. My mom’s home. I need to have a chat with her, probably. She’s always so “guilty” or whatnot about leaving the kid to my ministrations (I take better care of him than you do mom!) that she wants to do all the driving. Naturally, the kid has no license at the moment and God knows when he’ll get it back. It’s a 15-minute ride for her, 25 for me, and the bus takes over 2 hours. Between Uber ($8) and us, we manage. The kid has fibromyalgia and interstitial cystitis; otherwise, I’d make him take the bus. But. He really can’t. Thing is, I LIKE driving kid sometimes, he’s adorable and we enjoy each other’s company. My mom will leave him to sit for hours, due to her schedule. He is SUPPOSED to move into a building downtown my older brother is living in next semester, but I’m not sure it’s going to happen. IT MUST HAPPEN. Can’t stay here another 2 years to drive my kid around so he can finish college. I WANT TO GO HOME. So, okay, my little brother. He’s my secret favorite in the family, and he is a musician, was living in Philly a long time, working menial jobs, and partying. At least as much as my brother can party, when he’s not right, he’s an extreme control freak. His drug of choice is weed. I’m not kidding, nor would I minimize the psychological ability to become addicted to ANYTHING, but the way I see weed is, “great for my back, when I’m sick, take it or leave it.” In fact, think I might need a nice long break for a bit. I have a card, because of car accident/back, and I was like NO OPIATES. My doc, who’s progressive, suggested weed, and TENS units and yoga, which works well and I’m like “eh,” about it, not “Give me the latest greatest opiate patch, ten times stronger than morphine, then infinity more.” It really works better, and I am really pro-medical MJ when once I wasn’t. You’d think a former addict would have trouble, but no. It’s just…. Something I have had before and had no trouble putting down. Then again you get into opiates, many things change, as far as your ability to stop shit. I might even have a chance at quitting smoking, dude, that’s nuts. So, my brother was having girl troubles (that seems to be his thing) and then he flamed out of working at Whole foods. Think I mentioned this. Only now he’s fucking STUCK. He was on SSRIs, they stopped working, I suggested Stablon (French made drug, no side effects except it will kill any asthma sx you have.) It worked for me for awhile, a good while, but it’s not STRONG enough. Anyway, that wasn’t enough, so I sent him off to public mental health, the dude prescribed Wellbutrin which gave the brother MAJOR panic attacks, the kind that he freaked about and once called the paramedics. I love how my bro sees things sometimes. “The paramedics were total jerks and blew me off completely, but that in itself was kind of reassuring.” Dude, for me that would have been PLENTY, I had my own panic attack like that once. I didn’t go out and get a fucking HALTER monitor for it, from a cardiologist, though I think at one point, my PCP was troubled when showed up after 3 years of no insurance, with cholesterol that was, in his words, “Very totally bad.” My mom went in and argued it but my PCP was like, at HER age, with her SMOKING, no mommy, time to leave. Thank god Zetia fixed it because I was NOT about to take a statin, fuck that. Anyway, I went, and EVEN when the doc said I might have:“Already had a heart attack, OR it’s the lead placement,” well, I went back for an ultrasound or whatever. “Wait, what should I DO Should I smoke less? No exercise? What? Also, the lead placement? Redo the fucker, then.” These all thoughts went through my mind, but I was like, dude, I would know if I had a heart attack, I’m quite sure. So I went about my merry way. I don’t fear death, due to many of my life experiences. I try to be good, because just ignoring illness until you DIE is like, wrong, familial wise. They know. Think it was a money grab, but my heart’s fine. So no, at that point my brother turned into a freak show/rabbit, and like, refused medication intervention whatsoever. God, he’s like Mr. A. They fucking hate meds, fear them, and think they’re unmanly. I understand. No one around me would want psych meds. I wanted Mr. A on Lamictal SINCE THE WHOLE PTSD explosion mess, ESPECIALLY after SSRIs turned him into a horror freak show. It took YEARS and a psychologist doing batteries of tests to determine that yes, this is a problem, take Lamictal. Even Mr. A’s therapist thinks I could be a pdoc, heh. Well, it’s been grim. I’ve found my brother several private pdocs and the BEST therapist ever (ended up calling the woman who worked with me for years, she was full, but recommended. That seems to be going well, and expensively.) Anyway, the child (I call him that because he is emotionally a 14-year-old sometimes) was living off my mom mostly, had a very part-time job and fell for this crazy bitch whom my brother eventually ended up getting rid off/being dumped. It was ugly. But THEN he got fired, and he fell into this suicidal meltdown and panic attacks. It was bad news. And he’s all about FIXING IT HIMSELF. Food (good) exercise (good), but it’s like he’s desperately trying to fend off psych symptoms constantly. It’s SO PAINFUL to watch. He thinks he’s depressed but I can clearly see the BP thinking and symptoms all over the place because I AM ONE, my bro is type II I think. Many a time, I’ve wanted to scream at him, “Dude, you’re bipolar; life shouldn’t be this HARD, get meds.” I can’t. A friend of his said he was bipolar, and he told me in great indignation, perhaps not thinking that his fucking BIPOLAR TYPE ONE sister (oh, I have PTSD too, now, says my doc. From work. IDK. I do cry every time I drive near the Tribe,) who takes A LOT OF SHIT to just be ALIVE is looking down her nose at him saying really, dude? Bipolar is SO AWFUL? Go fuck yourself. I gently said his friend wasn’t a doctor. Anyway, he got to the point that he wasn’t in such bad shape and went back to Philly, thinking to find a shitty job and an apartment. I was like, isn’t that what drove you here, first place? Bad plan. So, he stayed with some friend/fuckbuddy, I don’t even know these things, but she was wack, apparently? She ended up HITTING HIM at one point, holy fuck. I would have been pissed. Anyway, he got back into panic attack mode, worse than fucking ever. The last time I talked to him (about the horse) he could barely handle a 15 minute conversation. I loyally go OVER there, as a) I love him and b) I was the only one who could get him to even minimally do meds, therapy and whatnot. My mom wanted to supplement the hell out of him. HE WAS going to QUIT the Stablon, he told me he was tapering it. Thinking about my bro, I replied: "Okay. Just so you know, Stablon is nootropic." "What's that?" he said. "Well, let me just say, when I quit or run out, nootropic meds boost your thinking. When I stopped, I'd feel like I had MR for about two weeks. Just be aware. It passes. But, you'll suffer." "Well, MR poeple look happy right?" he said. "Oh no, none of that Flowers for Algernon bit. MR is EXTRAORDINARILY UNPLEASANT. I might LOOK cheerful when I stop, but it is MERELY the fact that I have NO ENERGY to be a bitch. I might want to be one. But, I'm so freaked out about the chaos in my head, it's not possible. You'll see. Don't worry, it passes." Knowing my bro and his brain, it was the best way I could figure him to stop. He thinks being smart is like HIS DEVOIR. I did it on purpose, it is, however, true, and stopping Stablon now, which is also brain-healing, would have been idiocy. I felt bad, but not THAT bad. I am going to say it, next time I go. Even if he gets pissed off. “Child, life shouldn’t BE this hard. Even if it’s a VERY BAD TRIP, really, it shouldn’t be so DEVASTATING. Meds aren’t a failure, and I’ve diagnosed a lot of people and you are BIPOLAR. Most bipolar meds aren’t terrifying, UNLESS you overfocus on your brain every goddamn second and pay attention to how your cognitive functions curl up and die for a bit, it’s just an ADJUSTMENT. Mr. A is like that too, you should have seen him trying to adjust his Lamictal. And HE DOESN’T get the rash. Fucker. I LOVED LAMICTAL, til it almost killed me.” Okay, not say all of it, like how drugs can kill you. I just don’t understand my bro being where he’s at and not WILLING to fix it, or try. He’s just all uppity about being in control of his own emotions. Not. Also,my dad left when he was little, and being raised ONLY by my mother with occasional intervention by her borderline abusive husband, well, he doesn’t know much. He’s not got a good approach to things. He has a weird approach to things. Maybe I should hope he has a WACK ASS first manic EPISODE like mine, which would scare the living fuck out of him. Except, I can’t wish that on anyone. It is really painful, I love my brother and I don’t want to say something bluntly horrific, but I really…. He needs to get better, away from my mom, and now this set him back and he has NEEDED MEDS for years. But, I don’t want to piss him off, either, because I am one of the few sources of social contact my brother has. ALSO, when I was divorcing my ex and getting my Master's, brother watched the kid for a couple years, and seriously, he was such a GOOD male role model, I don’t think my kid would have been as okay as he was, otherwise (until I got full custody lots of neglect and abuse, which included “if you tell your mom and stepdad I’m using I will send people to kill them.” A false threat, but kid believed it. It took him a couple years to out with it. My ex would steal summer money I sent for kid to buy cigarettes, drive drunk, that kind of shit.) It really was dreadful. I owe my brother a deep debt, not that I didn’t pay him. But he did the blanket fort, outdoorsy kind of thing before he completely melted down. Sometimes I wish my bipolar WEREN’T so extreme, if only so the rest of my family would GET TREATMENT. Hello, guys, I’m an OUTLIER. NO one gets my weird side effects, no one ends up in the burn unit for SJS, (my own doing, that one), no one gets dentures because lithium WORKS but rots out about 3 teeth a month. No lie, I could see the cavities forming, but I was like ONE DOOR no brain, the OTHER DOOR, no teeth, and I picked the no teeth. SO FUCKING WORTH IT. Well, my sis is type II but Zoloft does it for her, she calmly goes about her business and doesn't BITCH. She's awesome in fact. So, not sure, if anyone has an idea how to get through to this kid without insulting him/ruining the relationship, I’d love to hear it. I have a vested interest in my bro leaving so kid can end up downtown, walk to wherever he needs including college, and I don’t have to do this driving shit. Too. There’s that. Want to go HOME. IDK. Things seem so grim, one way, so great another. But NO ABX today! I’m thrilled. I just need to wake up, and get back to to-do lists and shit. I really wanted to go to a meeting, but I haven't been sleeping well and I slept past 7:30 which is nuts for me. Okay, think I’m going to take my meds. And awaken. Doing good with the cigarettes. I tried smoking a joint yesterday and vaping as well, neither worked but my headspace was poor. It just so happens that my favorite (and at the moment ONLY way to use dope is like, a spliff --tobacco AND MJ) which is like the unhealthiest way EVER to smoke it. I will try again in a few days. Partially, the vape machine “Da Budda,” I think it’s called, has been sitting in the shed for like 5 mo during the Fire Days, which like, OMG, I have at least that to be happy about I’m home, but the tube needs replacing. It is nasty. I might do it myself; Mr. A is blowing that off. I’m like, it tastes like plastic vapor and just gross weed combined. Well, later, hope all is well. In about a half hour, I’ll be line editing. Journaling is so freeing, I can suck ass just exactly how much I want, writing wise, without all the OMG, you suck, Anna, you SUCK. As an English/Phil major at Swarthmore I am ashamed of myself, as well as simultaneously wanting to buy Falkner when I got the grammar books to be like SEE? FUCK YOU GRAMMARIANS. But, books aren’t like that now. Later, Anna
  8. Ugh, it's hateful. It's the stimulant that's doing it now, really. "Gentle Vegetable Laxative," my ass. I did just notice I actually forgot to take 400 m.g. of 800 m.g. of quentiapine, slept fine, but woke to an AVALANCHE of poop. It was a scary moment, as i was having this very loving dream about pooping, then realized I was REAL. Maybe I should start reducing to 600 like my doc wants when I next fill my medbox. No idea if it's constipating because NOTHING constipated me, ever, except suboxone. OK bowl, I'm telling you you can do it. Anna
  9. uUUH.,

    Kinda fried at the moment. This abx, the most annoying thing? Well, the constant headaches, yes, but also it makes me psycho. I really pushed myself the past few days, which culminated in an explosion of suck, really. I'm exhausted today and really freaking happy that I'm on my last pill. Also, I took a closer look at my abx sheet, and all these symptoms I have (lack of appetite, psychoses, and whatnot) are all things you are supposed to call your doctor about. But, I only noticed today. Surely, it will not matter/get worse, etc. I mean? I really... . have an appointment coming up on the 1st anyway, and also on the 31st, with the gastroenterologist. I think I'm going to need a referral to a gynecologist, I'm way overdue for getting my IUD replaced, which is normally not a problem, except it's migrated somewhere, causing well, blood to happen, after activities involving sex. That's got to be bad, I mean, surely? That said, maybe it's just snug up against my uterus walls, just oozing a bit, and frankly they say that it's FINE to keep your IUD from your thirties to your lack of menstruation, forget that word, I'm ill today, and honestly, I've expelled three of those suckers doing the crazy yoga I do. It's a thing. So I'm kind of fond of this one, it's been with me at LEAST 15 years. I guess I'll ask the doc. There was a whole bunch here that went away about my becoming addicted to laxatives, via suboxone, which is the best constipator ever, I take this drug, amitzia, was out due to HR switching INSURANCES, and me screaming at my HR rep about how she sucked, and I would report her to the COBRA people, which I can't it's a sovereign nation. THEY didn't notify a change in insurance. And no meds. AND FREAKING about ALL my docs and meds., I was like, if armageddon comes, I refuse to die of CONSTIPATION. As I was out of Amitiza. Anyway, that's when I decided. Through sheer IGNORANCE, I had been taking a STIMULANT laxative daily for months, I was totally addicted to it. Stimulant laxatives make your bowl move, which is helpful, but it also weakens the BOWL which should BE RIGHT ON THE PACKET, see your doc if you take chronically. Nope. So yea, even AFTER the suboxone was gone (over 1.5 years!) I still must take all these laxatives which WHO BOY that wasn't fun in any way. I was like a bulemic, without being one. I'm totally neurotic about my ability to poop. I don't even want to SAY what all I take. Anyway. I gotta fix this, and since I have been so fucking MISERABLE with the throat cancer scare (I was tense... at that time, smoking too much) had to go get scoped, my PCP was SURE I had throat cancer. I don't. Called my ENT, whose secretary, after hearing my tale (and voice) was like: "Where are you?" and I gave her my home address, started, and she said, "Which cross streets?" and said she'd set up a folder and I was to drive immediately to the ENT. Guess throat cancer's a big deal and all, my PCP was like SO SAD when he told me. I was like, "Dude, I know you aren't bipolar but my kid's 19 and I'm also an addict, you live that kind of life, hey, fulfilled my function of getting kid to 18 so my ex-drug dealer husband didn't get him." PCP was wide-eyed, and I was like, "Hey, if it's cancer, I did it to myself, don't worry." Anyway, got scoped and I was fine, which I kind of sort of figured, despite my at times SPECTACULAR lack of self-care, I can tell when something is REALLY wrong. Anyway, ENT scoped me and was all, "You NEED to drastically reduce your smoking," so I E-ciged on up (kid was helpful here with the latest tech) and am reducing. I think once I get off this MOTHERFUCKER of an abx, I might try to take the next step and quit. I'm better. But wrastling with cigarettes is so hard, you allow yourself ANY, it's like, forget it. It will be hard, due to MR. A. ANYWAY, so I came back all wheezy and the doc was like "why haven't you done your chest x-ray yet?" And I was all, "Dude, I lost it frankly, and I feel fine." He was CONVINCED I had COPD which I didn't think I had, I was actually feeling BETTER, and then I did it and the doc called and told me I was "surprisingly not COPD," heh, but that I had pneumonia still. SO ALL this combined to make me say, "It's time to end laxative abuse." I was too ashamed to tell any of my docs, I told my pdoc who gave me some thoughts on crap, haha, but no actual referral. Then I told the DEAF doctor, while he was writing (he is also the LEAST favored PCP at my office) and as I finished he went, "Huh?" and I was like, FUCk.IT. Not doing it again. SO I finally told my real PCP and tried to explain it, it's complicated, but when I explained that I was having to take laxatives WHILE DETOXING from Suboxone (which at least for me, hell the first month, I was like, "This is my bottom. I am here only because Mr. A is taking care of me. I would be dead otherwise. I really need to fucking LET THIS BE IT." Anyway, with a patient kind of horror, he referred me to some Tucson gastro. I think it might be the same guy who saw me when I was shit-pregnant. Here's the thing, THERE are programs to help reduce laxatives and restore bulimics to normal function. It involves just DRASTIC hellish reductions, with five small meals a day, and requirements to SIT on the SHITTER for 15-minute intervals, and JUST THINK ABOUT SHITTING. It sounds HORRENDOUS, I'm not much of a morning eater there is NO WAY I will figure this shit out, on my own and force myself. I know it. I need a practitioner. But, most gastros just do colonoscopies and cancer shit, I may have to wind up at an ED facility outpatient or something, which I would HATE, I've worked in the ED world and I HATED it. Just... I'm not ED so I'll be all pissy at the anorexics who refuse their boost supplements and shit. MAN, eating boost supplements when I was heroin chic on Suboxone? Down to 112 lbs, healthy LOW for me is 120. They totally taste fine, though I prefer ensure. But, this is the starting point. He will probably send me somewhere else. ALSO, I'm kind of worried about how things will be when I am ABSORBING my meds, FULLY, and if I'll OD myself one night. I mentioned it to my pdoc, and he looked in agreement, but also there was a tinge of, "Anna, you are smart, I will be TOTALLY UNABLE to figure this out for you," along with a "take all your night benzos one by one." Which yes, is another thing I'd like to taper. With Mr. A being on disability and me working my ASS off for 7 years to maintain my family and CRAZY WEEKS, but I wanted my family safe, you know? It wasn't good, what me and pdoc (whom I love) where I'm going "It's either more benzos or the hospital," and him getting it, that I would self-immolate first. Good for him. I worked until I couldn't. It was also weird to be working at the Tribe's Meth/Suboxone clinic while detoxing suboxone, I kept thinking they'd notice I was detoxing and shit, and finally had to take some FMLA. I told the head guy who ran it (I suspect sincerely he is on methadone himself, he's an old combat vet, Vietnam, and he has PTSD not so nice to deal with at work AND home, and he was like, "Why are you doing that? You'll fail." and I was like, "Fuck you dude." Failure isn't my thing. WHICH REMINDS ME. I got expedited SSDI because I was on it in the past, and went back to work. They are SO NICE if you do that because they know you will if you can. I got it in .like 3 months, which is insane. Can also get on Medicare so means I can move, which is coming in about a year and a half. I got a crazy amount of $1900 which is kinda max for Tucson, and my PRIVATE disability co has to pay another $570 due to SSDI being assholes as far as GRANTING it, if you get SSDI the private company CANNOT argue, which we were doing awhile. I think my doc was like, "THANK GOD she crashed, so I can work on her meds, and she can LEARN to shit, again." I mean, he worked on my chart for weeks with his secretary, and it was really, REALLY nice of them. So, there's that. I might work at dollar general but not right away. I'm pretty fried really, it's tough. BUT, I know I can recover. Been in way worse situations than this. No. No dollar general. Actually, I used some of my saved retirement fund to buy a lap top as mine's 7 years old and dying I need Dragon so I can finish up, really, this tome here. It will be faster. Anycase, thank GOD. Uh, good luck with this entry. It's about self-care, so of course it sucks as I am WRITING it. Learning. Anna
  10. Gearhead, that sounds simply AWESOME. Since I was last on this blog, I took FMLA cuz I was losing it with public mental health. Every. Fucking. Year there's another form and my DRAGON naturally speak (got Lithium neuropathy in fingers, toes, it sucks) no longer worked EXCEPT OUTSIDE business hours, and I got cited for late notes and was working 70 hour weeks and I was like FUCK IT. Then Mr. A burned the house. Not down. But I've been out of it for about 5 months, and we just got back. Only not all our shit is back because state farm and my mortgage company are being ASSHOLES. I have one suitcase I've been living out of, and I finally bought some $20 sneakers because I STILL have pneumonia from like 5 months ago and thought to read the sheet on my new abx which side effects include snapped tendons. SNAPPED. I've taken it about 2 years ago and DIDN'T read the sheet b/c what the FUCK with these new abx trying to KILL you, no wonder they try amoxcillen first, man, it's like... geez. Fortunately, I trust my body to handle about anything. Look, Tucson's a shitty little border town, we live nearest side to Mexico, (Nogales) this shit happens all the time. I DO have a face mask on currently. I am line editing my book and I can only cope with a few hours a day, because it's wretched. You're constantly like, "Why do I suck so hard as I writer? How could I POSSIBLY write 'need' and 'needed' in the same sentence and also reading grammar books for light fun. Don't even get me started with my AA homegroup. The sponsee I just took on dumped her b/f (also in that group) and there are homeless people behind the dumpster. The dude hates my ass, he associates my sponsoring her with her dumping him, which, NO, sponsors (at least me) DON'T TELL people to dump boyfriends. God. She just discussed it to the point that... .Anyway. We've had bomb threats, assaults, and this one really MENTAL GUY (brain injury) was just..... He had to be banned, and every now and then he stands across the street yelling bomb threats. But yea, the story's okay, but line editing just makes you feel like ASS. The horse was pleasant in comparison. Turned out the party shack guy like murdered 3 people in a drug deal gone bad. Heh. We're pretty rural. The weird thing was the apology but that was GREAT, really. Anna
  11. Okay, so kid and I were going to the grocery store, having a blathering conversation and I look over, and there’s a fucking LOOSE horse. I watch the kid, and I’m like, “Okay, we have to stop, alright?” The kid was all right with it, and I REALLY wanted to stop as a) that poor horse looked well-tended and I have owned horses in the past, and b) equines can fucking KILL people if they get hit. They’re like a deer and a moose, crossed. So, I pull over, climb out of the car, and approach said horse cautiously. I didn’t want to get bitten or kicked. The horse was pretty chill as I patted it, fed it, but was having NONE of my grabbing its halter to take it somewhere else. Had I a lead rope I probably could have done it, the horse was well trained. Across the street were some stables and I told my son to run in, to see if anyone could help, but there were a bunch of loose dogs. “You cool with horses?” I said to the kid. Then remembered he had riding lessons and all. He said he was more scared of the dogs than the horse, drove in, found no one. Returned, handed the kid my phone, saying, “Call animal control.” I could see that the horse was kinda at the end of his rope with me. Desperately casting my mind to what I had in the car I said: “And get me my cord.” “What cord?” I am severely deficient when dealing with stress, with words sometimes. “Um… the yellow cord. It’s five feet long. Connects my phone to my stereo.” Kid yelled back okay, which was enough for the horse. Kid was also scared to talk to Tucson Police dispatch. (PoIice trauma from being lassoed under much acid, and dragged. After I had arraigned kid, he was COVERED in road rash; it was a mess). I talked to dispatch, watched the horse vanishing to the wind, fuck, and thought, “I wish I had done that differently. The order of things.” I had no idea to call TPD and thought I could find the owner. If ONLY I’d done that first. So me and this neighbor dude who came out and also recognized the horse… We were kinda on the road, trying desperately to wave cars down and cause things to come to a halt. I am not a HORSE, so am aware of the fact that cars may not stop, so I need to be fucking careful. I thought about blocking the road with my car but worried I’d get cited by the police for something THEY DO ALL THE TIME, also insurance liability. I care, but…. Eh. So, as I was on the PHONE, the fucking horse LEAPED out in front of some car and mashed it severely. There're horses for you. I mean, they’re DENSE, and this one seemed to be a large quarter horse, with muscle. It scrambled away, and it looked like it got hit, but no bones were broken, it could take off. Meanwhile, I was busy SPRINTING up the road and through the cactus, (bad day to wear high heels) trying to corral desperately horse into the neighbor’s yard, because the horse was totally FUCKED now, there was to be no reasoning within it. We were being safe. In the meantime, the guy who hit the horse, as I was calling it in, my words included, “OH SHIT, it JUST got hit, GODDAMN it, hurry UP,” that guy was venting that he had no license. Dispatch asked me the color of the vehicle, and I said it was a gray SUV. He was lamenting this. On my way I told the guy, “Hey, I didn’t give dispatch your license plate, the choice is yours, dude. I’m running AWAY now. Guy stayed. Either it wasn’t his car, or he couldn’t drive it, or he wasn’t sure I was being honest. Seriously, I don’t have sympathy usually for nonlicensed drivers, and this man refused to pull over, but also, the horse fucking LEAPED out at him from behind a giant cactus, unicorn-like, there was nothing he could do. We corralled horse. I saw TPD arriving (thank goodness I’m smoking less), and asked the dude, “Is the horse secure?” “Yes, but I don’t know where he IS in the yard!” he yelled back. Neighbor was not a horse guy. He kept yelling asking the Spanish word for horse, like that would have chilled the horse out ANY. “Dude, don’t get near him!” I yelled back. “That horse is injured, let TPD take care of it.” So, I was running up the edge of the road toward the Sheriff, who blocked the road, then parked and started fucking yelling at me. I couldn’t hear it, but as I arrived, I heard. “Get the FUCK out of the road, you’re in the road, what if you get hit, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Yes. He said that. I had been ALL OVER that road, and trust me; I did NOT want to get killed. Running up the SIDE of the road, in the lane where you can SEE traffic, is like the SAFEST thing you can do, in heels. As soon as I understood, I started yelling back, “I’m SORRY!” and moved, more. I mean, cops in Tucson are evil, and I don’t mean to be a cop hater, but it’s all policing for profit here. The cop continued screaming at me. “I APOLOGIZE!” I yelled, again. I didn’t want to get shot, either. “You’re going to have to give me a minute,” he yelled, then entered his car, for heavy breathing, and a bit of bashing the steering wheel. He was a bit tantrummy. I wasn’t giving him the usual response. You don’t hear: “I APOLOGIZE,” that much I’d imagine after you are cursing a “suspect” or “criminal” or however cops think of people these days. Anyway, then he proceeded to RUN down the MIDDLE of the road, which was exactly what he accused me of doing. Blow me, sheriff. Really. This little minion appeared, who wanted to take my witness statement. I was pretty goddamned pissed by this time. “Are you the witness?” she asked. “I am the witness. Your sheriff was deplorable, and if he wants to get a witness statement out of me, he might need a subpoena, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t cooperate with that.” “Ma’am, sometimes when we clear the scene… it’s urgent.” “No need for cursing, and I’m not required to be a witness. I didn’t HAVE to stop. I didn’t have to RISK my life to try to help. That dude can call me and apologize, or I’m not saying anything.” ONLY, I looked over at the kid, he was gray, hiding out in the car (he has police PTSD from his acid trip), and I was like: “Fuck it.” So I gave my witness statement and left. We drove to Walmart, our original destination. We were cruising the aisles, separately. I told Mr. A briefly what happened. I was steamed. Anyway, about 20 minutes in, the SHERRIF called and OH my GOD, I was like “I’m going to be cited for jaywalking now.” BUT, I guess minion had passed along my concerns, and I LATER found out, that when I’d given contact info. I’d given my home phone, not cell, so every time “Officer So-and-so” called, he had a bad memory I guess, he kept forgetting digits, Mr. A made him give his badge and precinct number, because Mr. A is that way, but he was particularly annoyed. HOWEVER, the sheriff did call, apologize, and said he realized I wasn’t being that unsafe but just saw the neighbor guy on the road driving up almost get hit, so he was freaking out, he also apologized for the fact that officers do that, clear the scene, but he could have been more chill. I was like nicely, “Thanks, Sheriff, I just, I couldn’t just drive past that horse, knowing what could happen, I will try to be safer next—well, God, I hope there’s not the next time. I just love horses—“ “Me too,” the dude said. “So that you know, the horse is okay. No broken bones, just lacerations. Also, thank you, a lot of people wouldn’t have stopped.” I cannot believe that a TPD sheriff actually CALLED me back to apologize. I mean, I kind of set up the whole thing by being: “I can be a cooperative witness, or I can be a bitch,” in totally non-craven but polite way. Also, the dude did HEAR me apologize, which I think blew his mind. Maybe TPD are trying to maintain a more positive image, and yelling at women who are willing to stop for a horse, an UNKNOWN HORSE, and try to keep it safe, well, I know what to do, so eh. But yeah, that would be an awesome KGUN on your side, story (the shitty news channel 4 in our area). I HOPE I never fucking get on KGUN on your side, ever, it would be so depressing and embarrassing. So that happened. The kid and I were shaken up, and smoked all my cigarettes; we had to buy more. BUT MAN. Why are cops so annoying sometimes? Also, who gets cited? The guy with no license? Horse-owner letting their horse loose accidentally? It happens. Both? Man, the little minion was REALLY going for it with the no-license dude, she wanted to know if I knew his “Rate of speed.” I mean fuck. My answer was, “Ma’am, I have NO idea. I’m not a speedometer. A lot was going on. But BELIEVE me, even if it was 5 miles per hour, NO ONE could have avoided that horse; he was fucking…. He leaped out of that bush like he was suicidal. But also, had a confused look on his face when he got hit. That’s the thing with horses; they’re way WAY dumber than dogs, I mean, you can yell at a dog to get out of the road, and they will. BUT, horses, not so much. They’re just flight animals. Regardless, it was still a bummer, the whole thing. I guess at least I know what to do now, keep a horse quiet for about 30 minutes while having the kid call TPD directly. That would have worked. Also, grab my cord. That horse would have been fine with a leadrope, damnit. Oh well. Live and learn. We had an entire swat team at our house last night (at least 300 officers) vans, blockades, everything. Turns out the guy who built the “Party shack,” which was this incredibly weird shack for hanging out way high in the air, it was on TINY stilts, I kept thinking “What the fuck?” but eventually they (the city) came out and made him reinforce it, it was ridiculous. Anyway he went on some killing spree and murdered 3 people. Probably a drug thing. Have I mentioned there are so many things in Tucson I hate? I want to get back to the East Coast. Anna
  12. Thanks Teacup. Actually, one pack a day's pretty pathetic. It's only admirable in comparison to three packs a day. I really fucking just need to get consistent with a half pack, so I can quit. But hey, thanks. Anna
  13. Untreated hypomania or mania leads to more depression. What goes up, must come down, usually with a crashing crater, unfortunately. I am so glad that you're feeling better than yesterday, but please call your doc. At least get an opinion, even if you don't end up changing meds. Also, rapid cycling is like the worst state ever in bipolarland. Hope it gradually settles out for you. Doesn't sound like you've found your magical medication combo yet! Which is KILLER! It's like winning the lottery and going to Disneyland. For me, it took the willingness to give up my teeth for lithium (this never happens, I am the queen of odd side effects, but lithium ate my teeth and my thyroid). It was BEYOND worth it, and my kidneys are fine that's what matters. In about 9 years I have been totally EYTHMIC. Stressed sometimes, thought I was depressed due to lack of energy, but I have pneumonia. This is sometimes the things we need to give up to get stable. I don't miss hypomania. I knew what came next. STABILITY== the bomb. I don't know if you are there yet/old enough yet, but please consider what may happen once the shiny butterflies go away. Not trying to pick on you, actually quite worried about you. Anna
  14. Good morning. I’m going to try and keep this relentlessly positive. TRY. No promises. Anyway, over the past several days I’ve been coughing up stuff that is REALLY weird colored. Blood colored, I like to think. And I wonder, as I eat Jolly Ranchers nonstop (dry mouth, yeah I know the alternatives), if like, THAT is causing it. Doesn’t really make sense though, right, I mean, none of it’s BLUE. It’s all blood colored. I’ve been dismissing it because I have pretty deplorable self-care except when it comes to my psych meds and that’s ONLY because I hate psych hospitals, and I don’t want to fuck my family up. So yeah, that’s happening. You’d think I’d be on the way to Urgent Care right? No, Tucson sucks so hard with that, I’d have to go WAAAY across town to the one decent hospital and I have no clue what they’re like, even. I don’t feel like I’m dying, even if that IS blood. I kept it, it hasn’t turned dark brown as blood does when it dries, so encouraging. I hope I can talk to my doc about this tomorrow w/o an appointment. I shall go in early. If not, maybe I’ll go to Urgent Care. It’s just at 42, with everything I’ve lived, unless a limb’s falling off, it’s REALLY something that can wait. Mr. A’s always been that way (though he does know when to go in) and I always thought it was Appalachia, but now I’m thinking it may be age? IDK. I did yoga fine, only now I realize I’m not out of shape, I’m just winded. Heh. Surely if you can do an hour and a half of yoga HARD yoga, you’re not on death’s door, right. I mean. Now that I am not doing the Anna approach to smoking i.e. CHAIN-SMOKING, it’s interesting to see what kinds of things make me CRAVE, my answer before would have been “everything.” But now that I am down to ALMOST half-a-pack USUALLY, I can now identify situations. It’s interesting. STRESS is definitely a trigger. Between the bees and my inability to properly use my “tools” on my car, I was pretty smoky. A social situation except with the kid, because he always steals my cigs and also uses an E-cig. I usually pack an extra cig for him but I might stop doing that, given that he’ll take even my last cigarette as I drive him on some errand, as long as he checks and says, “Okay, you have your e-cig, fine,” after I point out that *I* am trying to smoke less, and that the child is like Michael Phelps when it comes to lung proficiency due to all the weed. That kid can PUFF. So seeing my brother though, like that grates on me. Health Issues. I am going to put this under a general category, including health insurance crap (ironic that a day of United Health and HR “helping me” led to smoking with extreme prejudice). But also, if I’m sick, I want to smoke MORE. I realize that’s awful and all, but man do I ever want to. It’s some self-soothing device. Though, I must say, even at my worst, I am no longer at 3 packs or more a day. Even on my bad days, it’s probably a pack, at most. I’m trying REALLY hard to work on this shit, but it’s sometimes painfully difficult. I had a bad day yesterday, and I’m determined to have a better one today. I have to meet with my little sponsee who I find endlessly entertaining she’s like the me version of Suboxone who’s trying to come off, if only I were less educated. NOT less smart, she’s pretty smart. So I’ll have to plan for that, not to mention I am going grocery shopping with the kid. It seems cruel that I have to go grocery shopping TWICE, but usually when I go, it’s not workable for kid, and vice versa. Plus I don’t want to drag him around while I find 500 items. Has anyone had Walmart made to ready pizza? Is it spicy? I’m trying to find out just how Mexicanized our grocery stores have become. Fear not, I went to Food City for years after we came here, because the produce was Mexican and awesome, but that was one especially Mexican store. They had amazing shit in there, like had I wanted to, I could have both purchased and asked staff how to make Menudo. GOD, that was one major issue at my work, every time there was a pot luck that offal soup was there, and homemade, so I’d have to pretend to enjoy eating some. That sucked. However, I’ve only had Walmart ready to eat pizza once (this doesn’t seem to need explanation) maybe it’s always been spicy. My son told me that Tucson is “Ground Zero” for Mexican-ism, which may explain my horror and dismay. I mean, I like Mexicans that speak English, can behave appropriately (this means obeying Westerner rules for personal space do not crawl UP my ass waiting in line, don’t beg for money for the bus and if I offer to drive you someplace act like I’m attacking you, DON’T offer to wash my windshield, that type of stuff), and don’t break the law THAT EVILLY. I mean it would be unfair, since I know ALL people commit on average a felony a day (some study. I like to think that there are a bunch of Church people and I’m stealing up all their felonies). I’m talking CAPITAL crimes like murder, etc., whatnot. I’ll give you an example. NPR did a show where they were saying Mexican prisoners were shipped all over, which made it hard to liaison with their lawyers. So far, so unfair RIGHT? BUT, the Mexican dude they chose to interview had received *3 DUIs* and was licenseless. HOW he didn’t get deported already is beyond me, maybe b/c he knocked up some chick. Which becomes relevant later. AS, he was CAUGHT a 4th time for SPEEDING with no license, AND he said his poor pregnant wife need cough medicine and couldn’t get it, even though she was working full time and hadn’t taken time off, AND yes, there was DXM in the car, but also beer. To hear this guy whining about his situation: annoying. I think that was when I started screaming: “Come here illegally, all you want! Just, DON’T be a dick about it! Follow the rules to the best of your ability! Don’t be an idiot! I defy you to tell me the guy didn’t know the driving rules. HE had 3 DUIs!!!!!! It kinda undercut NPR’s argument, because I was all like, “I hope that guy never finds his lawyer.” Also, “This is the best example you got?” So yes, when I become a radical-anti-Mexican, and I’m usually not, it’s just a clashing of cultures I think. Yes, back home, shopping, it’s normal to crawl inside my asshole, and here it’s not. Ground Zero. SO. I was thinking I was becoming an extreme racist and people hater and to some extent that may be true, I’m not going to say as a white chick I know all the fuck about institutionalized racism BUT. When I stayed home with the kid and I was my mom’s housekeeper, I’d take the kid to the park and I would ALWAYS hang with the nannies, who welcomed me with open arms, I looked young, they thought I was an au-pair, and I CERTAINLY wasn’t about hanging with the RICH stay at home moms, (we’re talking Senator’s wives) they were brutal. These mostly Mexican or at least Latino women were great. I felt so bad for them b/c they came to be nannies, leaving their own kids behind. It didn’t matter if my kid called me “Mommy,” that was not at all unusual with the nannies. And they took REALLY good care of the children they were paid for, whilst mournfully talking about how they were saving to go home in 2 years. No green card for them, that means TAXES! That’s the show that NPR should have done, but huh. I’m sure Hillary Clinton keeps illegal Mexicans around to change her diapers for her. I bet she isn’t getting them naturalized. So… acculturation? Just, too much Mexico? I mean, it makes no sense I adore the African-American culture and I grew up with it, and all, but it just suits me so much better. Even if it was NWA, I’d rather listen to that in hell than Mexican…. Stuff. Don’t know what to call it. I think it’s acculturation. I mean, the AA culture certainly has acculturated, to its current format. Which is pretty damn entertaining, regardless of what you think of it. You can’t say black people don’t do some pretty awesome SHIT. You’d think I’d be nicer about it because I grew up in like, 7 countries. But, no. Because my parents were really smart about that shit, they just sent us forth into the culture we were in, most MEMORABLY in France when they just shoved me and my brother in a French speaking school and did not (to my memory) explain it. We wandered around, terrified and horrified, that first day. But after about 2 mo immersion, I spoke French. So yes, I was brutally abandoned to culture-learning, sometimes it was great, sometimes it was horrific. But my point? It can be done fairly rapidly if you put your mind to it. So, to move away from this minefield topic, and I DON’T sound like DONALD TRUMP I don’t want to build a WALL (the wall here near Tucson is a major FAIL) when I worked at some of the hospitals here there’d always be SOMEONE who arrived with a broken leg, accompanied by border patrol, and wasn’t allowed to leave until they could walk with a walker. That shit’s expensive, and I did one time ask a BP agent why they did it, and he sorrowfully said, “Well, if we just took them back they’d be in Mexican Prison and dead.” And this is EXACTLY the kind of humanitarianism that BP Agents SHOULD have. Every interaction I’ve had with BP has been awesome, and they are the FRONTEIR of this shit, I have no idea what their training is but it’s way better than police. ALSO, I’m not advocating groping Mexican persons genitals. I really am NOT advocating it because a) gross plan, any race, but b) I wish Trump would grope a Mexican Man’s genitals, because however the security detail or NOT that person would not STAND for that, regardless of how many die, until Trump was dead. So, except for Trump, the rest of you shouldn’t do it. It’s wrong. If I was into social media (I am not anymore, it’s too…. No. Not for me) well, I’d tweet that everyone should encourage TRUMP to grope a Mexican man’s genitals just to see what would happen. OKAY. I ain’t going to tell the Suboxone Story, too long and you may well hear about it just generally later as I SUFFER oh GOD. It’s COMING. I made the doctor appointment with the gastroenterologist to address my accidental but ongoing laxative abuse. Instead, I am going to talk about my little bro. I ADORE my little brother he’s my favorite in the family. Also my MOM’s favorite, apparently, she puts the max allowable in a Roth IRA for him (not the REST of us) and also he currently has my mom’s credit card to do with what he will. OMG. That is SO unfair. I had my mom’s credit card during my first manic episode for household expenses, and I spent like 1100.00, right? Not so much. She guilted me into giving her my violin because my little brother needed one AS PAYMENT. At the time I was too wacked to say, “No, I’ll work out some other way,” but basically my violin is work about $16 K now. It’s a resentment I really try to let go of now that I’m trying to get along with my mom and living amends and all. I do love my mom. She’s like Hillary Clinton lite though. Let me give you an example. Her second (now dead of cancer) husband wanted to leave the kid ONE of his many insurance policies, because they did grow up a bit together when he was little, and my MOM said, “Oh no, *I* will leave it to him in MY will, after I’m dead.” She has to HAVE everything, and she doles out money sure, but it’s always with strings. I really fucking feel like the Republican Speaker of the house for our family, and my mom’s goddam Hillary. I digress. Apologize. I’ve just been surrounded by people watching and talking politics, I can’t help it. So yeah, my bro was living in Philly, broke up with some girl, got depressed, called in sick too many times at Whole Foods, and my mom’s recommendation was to get on unemployment from Whole Foods which to be fair lots of people do because their call in policy sucks. HOWEVER, my mom also said that my brother needed a change of pace, and bought him a former DSL van and he did it up like a little RV. GOD I wish my mom would buy me an RV. I might ask for one for Christmas, come to think. NOW. Every time something would go wrong, like his RV broke down, brother would call and tell me about it. “You promised you wouldn’t call mom for money. You said you wanted the itinerant life. DON’T call her. Find work for a bit, and chill.” “Okay, you’re right,” bro would say. As I was hanging up the phone, bro was making anther phone call. “Mom, my van broke, I don’t know what to do.” MOM sends money. Anyway, bro wandered all around he was supposed to end up in San Francisco, doing uh, producing of music and whatever, BUT he hated it, and returned to Tucson. Where he ended up loitering in my mom’s Sufi Center (now off limits to Sufis except Sunday nights), and totally depressed, eventually. He had this job teaching violin (he’s an AWESOME teacher of everything, before things got nuts he was teaching me guitar, he’s EXCELLENT.) Anyway, so, wasn’t totally supporting himself, and had this chick thing for a year that never went anywhere and ended and so he was deeply, deeply depressed as he also got fired from his music job, but it was because he did something DUMB. The owners asked him to talk for five minutes to a potential violin student and he had somewhere NOT IMPORTANT to be, and he refused. This is because he was raised solely by my mom and doesn’t think he HAS to do shit. He said it felt like prostitution and I was like WE HAVE ALL BEEN THERE, SUCK IT UP. He doesn’t know how. He was depressed in general, and he’d been on Lexapro, no longer working. I suggested Welbutrin b/c I felt he needed some get up and go, only unfortunately he says it triggered panic attacks which it surely CAN do, only now he’s had them forever. This made him leery of medications; I’d already suggested Stablon which seems to be some sort of panacea against killing himself. BUT. Not enough. OK so my bro’s really freaked out by psych meds now. He got all thin so I explained refeeding and he actually DID that and exercise and shit and got marginally better, trying to figure out where he’d like to live and work, and I was like YAY! I mean, I don’t care if my mom spends all her money on my brother, it’s not like I expect much left over anyway, not the way SHE does shit. But more, she’s keeping him totally infantilized and dependent and CO-dependent. My mom can’t help it. IF SHE LET GO, my brother would be desperate enough to build a life, and do it. He went to Philly which was a disaster, and hey, I get it, he was staying with a former friend who acted totally NUTS. SHE HIT HIM. “Did you call the police?” I asked “No… I just figured they wouldn’t care if it was a woman.” “Dude, I don’t know how Philly is but damn, at Kid’s arraignment, half the people jailed were for women engaging in DV. At least, you’d have scared her.” I also queried why he didn’t go home, he said he looked at airline flights and didn’t do it. I INVITED him to call me for ADVICE in such situations, holy god. BUT, he was so bad he was ticking like Mr. A does, and I was thinking, “Oh God, little brother, I know you are all about finding the society for you. Not sure it exists. GOD, would he report me if I started him on low dose lithium, in his coffee.” And I was like, yes, that would be bad. I know my brother’s bipolar; we think similarly and have a great time. Probably type ii though I do also sometimes enjoy joining him in totally psychotic thinking. But it was SO DEPRESSING to see him like that, and man, I don’t know what to do. I wonder about emailing him about meds, but he’d probably take it badly. Gah. I HATE it. I LOVE my brother I want him to have a LIFE, and JESUS. At least I found him a good therapist, it’s not going to be enough. Should I? I mean, I feel like I’m trading my positive feelings I have for my brother vs. telling him the truth but surely someone has to? Am *I* enabling him because I feel bad? Also, goddamn kid got on Emsam and was DOING FANTASTIC only now ALLERGIC to the GOD-DAMN adhesive. He got back on Adderall for the ADHD but here is another situation I will have to deal with, once he’s down in the hole. My son has this state’s version of Medicaid. From what I can see, except for mental health, they’re awesome. I’m a bit jealous, since of course I pay out of pocket for his psychiatrist who he’s seen FOREVER. I mean, I can’t send him into the maw of Public Mental Health, his doc works SO WELL for him. Time to set aside another $150 to pay for the kid. Sigh. YOU know the ONLY member of my fucking family who had to do Public Mental health including a 6 week hospital stay because I had a sadist for a doctor and an outpt doc who wouldn’t listen? ME. God, I hate my family sometimes. Anway, chirpier? Eh, who cares. Gotta run, I do have shit to do. A few things. Anna