booknboob.com Blog

Believe it or not: even though I stayed in tonight, even though I planned on turning myself over to some serious family time, the boys went to bed early.  Again, I was left to my own devices.  I thought that maybe this time I should do something dirty.  (What that means exactly, I don’t know.)  But, I decided to work on my web site instead.  Oh, innocent me.

(Don’t be so approving, we’re clean out of money for alcohol and gas.  I had little choice but to play the school girl.)

Anyhow, it’s 11:45 and all is well.

The house is startlingly quiet, the cat is on my lap, and I just had a banana.

Oh, the thrill.

If it sounds like I’m changing my tune, like I am turning my back on the quiet, like I am eating all of my ’silence is to be revered’ jargon from last night, you’re wrong.  It’s just that my butt hurts.

Yes, again, my butt hurts.

I’ve been working on the Book n’ Boob main site for the past two hours and it has caused me great physical and psychological pain.  So, humor me, and check it out.  It’s far from being complete, but I haven’t given up on it yet.  I just need a logo and some money to sink into t-shirts and onesies, and, oh yeah, a real readership (not that you aren’t real, you are just small), and maybe some advertising dollars and– Voila!– I’ll be a millionaire.

Seriously, you should check out the site.  If you love me, you’ll post something on the forum.  (Yes, in other words, I’m begging you.)

So back to my butt ache.  I can’t fathom how people stand a desk job.  My eyes sting and my neck is about to crack off.  And, my butt. Seriously, it hurts.  It’s worse than traveling on an airplane.

But, I’ll take it.  I’ll tough it out.  I’ll brave the intense muscle aches if it means bringing you my voice.  I’m here.  For you.  Right now.

Enough of that.

In a recent post I said that I wanted to discuss my doctor visit.  I’d be happy to do that right now.

Basically, I went to see my general physician for my yearly touchy-feely and to discuss my labs and all that jazz.  Good news:  I’m in excellent (I mean really stellar and I’m not kidding) health.  Except for my metabolism which is a little sluggish.  Who knew?!?  But, that’s not what I wanted to discuss.

So, basically, we were discussing my current entourage of medications and my doctor was, well, appalled.  After my therapist and psychiatrist have spent a year and a half talking me into the idea that I am truly bipolar and I need my meds, I am now faced with a physician that doesn’t believe in the least bit that I am bipolar and believes that I drastically need to cut my meds.

This could be heaven or this could be hell.

(Excuse me a moment while I go get a pillow to sit on…  Okay, I’m back.  Ahhhhh.)

I don’t care about the label anymore.  I don’t care if I just have anxiety mixed with depression or if I have bipolar disorder.  But, I do care about the medication.  I’d rather not be on it.  I’d also rather not be feeling like shit all the time.

So, a dilemma ensues.

Do I go against my psychiatrist’s orders and cut back to one medication and see how things go?  Or, defy my general practitioner and continue on a truckload of meds that are riddled with possible side effects?

In the way I just typed that last sentence, I think you can tell which way I’m leaning.  I want to try it without the meds.  Correction: with less meds.
But I also don’t want to rock the boat.

Actually, what I really want, really, really, with a cherry on top, is not to have to make this decision in the first place.  I want normal.  Or at least content.

But, that’s not me.

Wait, let me take that back.

I am both normal and content.  It’s just that I don’t…  I don’t… what?  I was going to say that I don’t want the highs and lows.  But, that’s not true.

Of course, I don’t want to be locking myself in the bathroom with sobbing fits and morbid thoughts or believing that people are out to get me or having so much anxiety that I can’t feel my body parts.  But, I do want the highs and lows.  At least a little bit.  Because, according to this blog, I, long ago, dubbed my illness the “S.P.A.” (or smart person’s affliction) and I think it is, in part, the S.P.A., the ups and downs, that make me so creative.

And, I still have those ups and downs now.  Within reason.  In fact, I feel pretty damn good.

So, do I?  Do I rock the boat?

I don’t know.

I do know that I can’t sit any longer.  I just can’t.  But, I will be back tomorrow.

Think it over and get back to me.

Until tomorrow.  Thanks.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 27th, 2009 at 12:47 am and is filed under That Beautiful Bipolarity!. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.