Caution: Slippery When Wet

Crazy pill count:
AM .5 Ativan
afternoon .5 Ativan
PM 10 Zyprexa, 90 Cymbalta, .5 Ativan

I became reacquainted with an old friend yesterday - my kitchen floor. Man, has it been ages since I crumpled onto that tile, and boy, did I ever crumple.

Yesterday was hard.
Some days just are.
It's all par for the course.

Crazy pills...I love em. You know I do.
But that love doesn't come without a lot of stinkin' heartache.

Last week I unexpectedly developed an allergic reaction to my tried and trued friend, Lamictal. I have successfully been taking Lamictal on and off for ten years. Why on Jupiter would I develop an allergy to Lamictal ten years in?

Because.

Unfortunately we can develop an allergy to any substance at any time. Of course it is more common to have an allergic reaction at the onset of exposure, but there are no hard and fast rules when it comes to crazy pills. It's all outlined in The Joy of Being Bipolar: Everyday moods that destroy your day Chapter 100 The Joy of an Unexpected Rash. It's a real bummer, as Lamictal has been a great to help to me, but it is what it is.

Wowzers was I itchy!

Without my Lamictal I have been experiencing hell raising anxiety. Although I love my Ativan, like really love, it has a short half life and so I can feel it wearing off...the anxiety creeping back in before each dose. Dr. Crazy had me try a new crazy pill, Ativan's cousin, Valium. Valium has a much longer half life and so it can eliminate the "wearing off" feeling that can go along with Ativan.

But Valium came with it's own heartache. I awoke feeling hopeful as I swallowed my new pill, but I spent the morning feeling...odd. I didn't feel real, if that makes any sense. Of course it doesn't make sense so I'll try to explain. As I walked I couldn't feel my feet touch the ground. My head didn't feel attached to my body, and my hands felt fake. I kept dropping things, and when I bit my finger to make sure it was real, it didn't exactly hurt. I had the strange sensation that I was biting into doll hands. Creepy? Yes. But I kept trudging along despite the bizarre feeling that I was only a ghost.

How creepy is this dish of hand soap?!

As the afternoon neared, anxiety slowly tip-toed in. But soon I was caught among waves of pure panic. The anxiety was so intense my tongue went numb and I tasted pennies. I kept convincing myself I couldn't remember how to swallow. I couldn't breathe right. My fingers and toes were tingling. My chest was tight, my throat thick, and my heart raced rapidly as cool needles prickled the entire surface area of my body. My organs were buzzing, my ribs vibrating, and I was seeing dancing spots.

Panic, my friends, is no friend at all.

So what do we do when we are in this situation? When anxiety has swallowed us whole and we are stuck jostling inside the rumbling stomach of the panic attack beast?

First things first, we call our Dr. Crazy.
When I called Dr. Crazy he didn't answer. So what did I do?

I took an Ativan, as Dr. Crazy has instructed me to do in this type of situation, and then I did the next best thing. I collapsed on the kitchen floor and cried for a solid hour.

Why the kitchen floor? I have no clue. I really don't. But I find something about the solid strength of the hard tile beneath me comforting, and the coolness on my burning tear-stained cheeks soothing. Kind of like putting cool aloe from the refrigerator on a sunburn.

She seems seriously soothed by her aloe.

I'll tell you one thing. An entire hour of sobbing produces a heck of a lot of tears and I accumulated quite a little puddle on the kitchen floor. So much so I believe it could have been safety hazard. Ceramic tile is damn slippery when wet.

Do you like to cry on your kitchen floor, too, but worry about the safety of others? Have no fear. The Joy of Being Bipolar: Everyday moods that destroy your day now comes with a Wet Floor Sign! Rest assured you can cry your pretty little eyes out without putting any of your loved ones in danger.

Something to remember:
The experience of crazy pills won't always be easy.
We can develop an allergy to one we love.
We can try a new one we won't like how it makes us feel.
We can find ourselves, again, amidst a hard day, crumpled on the kitchen floor.

But we keep going.
We keep trying those pills.
We keep hoping for the best.
We keep doing the best we can.
We keep the hell going.

We try some crazy pills...we keep some...we ditch some.
And then we try again.
It's all par for the course in this fancy game of bipolar disorder.

Is it tiring? Damn straight. I won't lie to you. It's exhausting. But so is being bipolar. But we are. And we're gonna be. So let's decide to make the best of it. That's the thing. We get to choose. We always get to choose. So choose to keep going. Just keep that wet floor sign handy...

Until next time...