God has a way of dealing with me when I start having pity parties about my side effects. Today's a classic example.
We didn't work today; we'll go in to work tomorrow. So it was just Walmart and home. I forgot to get a can of green chilis and some yeast (bread yeast). I was pretty frustrated with myself; but I was somewhat depressed and foggy. I was ranting inwardly about stupid side effects. Why me, Lord? What did I do? Now I have to go BACK to the store.
Ron reminded me that he was going to Starbucks. I can walk to a Randalls (a high-end grocery store) from Ron's Starbucks. He added me onto his trip and I took a nap once we got home. I woke up when my Lithium alarm went off 12:44 PM, time to take dose #2. I was lazy, though, and I didn't take it until 2 hours later. I believe in honesty; that was stupid but I won't lie. Especially in light of what happened later.
We got a good trip to the Starbucks and I sat with him for a little while. He's sad that they're done with the gingerbread loaf. I brought some of my lemon-c0conut drop cookies and Ron enjoyed eating them. I, stupidly, had eaten nothing for hours. I left and went to the grocery store.
Even though I STILL hadn't taken dose #2 of "Big L" (lithium), I felt distant and scattered. I tried some hand sanitizer at Bath and Body works and added a headache to the mix. Ugh. I wandered the same aisles over and over again, trying to remember: molasses, cream cheese icing, (I plan to attempt gingerbread cupcakes with icing for Ron), small can green chilis, and yeast (in case I want to try some yeast breads). It took about 20 minutes to get my items because I was foggy.
I bought a cheese danish and ate it when I got back to the Starbucks. I took some Tylenol for my headache and my dose of Lithium. About 30 minutes later, I felt like I had fallen down a hole, where everything is soft and cuddly. I used to be very anxious, but my bipolar stuff helps with that tremendously. I love my pills.
We got picked up about half an hour ago. The driver had some other clients. One was in a wheelchair and then we had a young woman (early 20's) with a baby and young boy. They were all related and I assume the client just had 3 "Companions" down on her trip. The driver got off the van and I gave her the candy out of sight of the other clients. I was really glad I'd done it that way later.
I was glad I'd taken the Tylenol because the wheelchair client had a definite aroma of urine and BO. Not fun, especially since I was practically seated in her lap. Her daughter, the young woman, was chattering.
I realized she was manic when I had to interrupt her to give directions. Once, she started to shush me and then realized she was in the wrong. So I'm riding along, torn between pity and disgust. This poor young woman, ignorant; mother of 4, pregnant with baby #5, unmarried. Unmedicated. I wondered if she knew she was bipolar and what the people in her life thought of her illness. They must realize she's ill. The woman spoke of how her daughter actually prefers living at her aunt's house to her own mother. Of course, I thought. If a child has a choice between two caregivers; one bipolar and unmedicated, and one who is "normal"... no question who they'd pick.
I never saw my own mother when she was very manic. She'd be more at the WHEE stage, not the compulsive stage. I watched this woman, barely taking a breath as she spoke, compulsively talking talking talking. Both Ron and I were dying to scream "SHUT UP!" When we got home Ron offered the driver a soda. "Oh, I'll have a Dr Pepper" she piped up. "It's only for drivers, I can't afford to give them to everyone." Ron replied. "But I'm pregnant!" "Sorry." The driver closed the door and drove away. I could have told him it would go like that, but I suspect he did it just so he could tell her "NO!". I'm glad she didn't see me give the driver candy. It is awful to watch a grown person begging but she would have. I would have said, if you're pregnant you shouldn't be drinking sodas or eating candy. They're not good for the baby, but I know you can't think that far when you're manic .
Look at all the crap I ate over the last couple years. I gained 50 pounds easily. Now I've got to deal with the consequences of the bad eating choices. Did I care at the time? No. Did I know I was hurting myself? Yes. Did I care? No.
That's why I've got a newfound appreciation for my pills. I need to respect them more. They are saving me from acting exactly like that woman (except for the pregnancies) on the van today. I'm just a couple of doses away from a major mania.
Thank you, God, for my pills.
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