I've been writing this entry in my head all morning.

We went into work because we had pretty severe thunderstorms for a few days. It's been our experience, that when the weather's iffy, the vending machines can act up. Some of them suddenly refuse to accept money, others shut down with odd error messages, and others are happily empty because our people bought everything they contained.

Today, at work, it was a little of all of the above. However, first we had to get to work.

Yesterday, in my other blog, I engaged in some rather nasty gossip about a woman Ron knew. I realized I did so because I felt threatened. Today, on the way to work, we picked up another Metrolift using couple in our subdivision. They live in a nice big house and have a very new looking car.

She rarely uses the service - preferring to ride in the car. No harm in that. The slight tone of envy you detect is accurate. I admit that - I'm envious of people who have the means and ability to drive themselves around. I'd LOVE to do that, but my only consolation is the meager fact that I never had the ability to lose. I simply never had the ability. I don't actually KNOW what it's like.

One uncomfortable fact about Metrolift - most of the clients are overweight. The usual vehicle is a minivan - standard size, standard seating, for 5. Metrolift will stuff 4 overweight clients, a driver, and a "wheelchair" (in the back compartment) into said vehicle.

You never know who you'll ride with. Once I was crammed in next to an unclean guy with open sores on his arms. On two other occasions, Ron's ridden next to "slow" clients who were very touchy, feeling his arms and touching his face. One memorable "slow" woman actually grabbed at his crotch repeatedly, and we can't forget David, the steering wheel grabber. He likes to lunge at the steering wheel while the driver is in traffic.

But it's public transit. Since I usually ride the bus on my own, I'm used to it. You can have smelly guys, drunks, people with obvious mental illness, etc. It's just a fact of life. I have no choice in who's riding the bus. If they show up and they have the fare, they're riding.

Today, we picked up this couple in our subdivision. They were dressed for church. The other time, we just picked her up - taking her to dialysis. I know she is diabetic and in kidney failure. She weighed approximately 160 pounds, about 5 feet tall. She moved slowly but with better agility than Ron.

The driver, who is very tall, asked Ron to move behind him so "everyone would fit" - meaning the old lady would probably not fit behind his seat. Ron obliged.

The driver opened up the door and gestured at the seats. The lady began talking with animation. "I don't ride in the back!" What? "I don't ride in the back seat!" Why not? My husband does and he moves a lot worse than you! I might have offered to give up my front passenger seat - but she didn't need the seat. She just didn't want to ride in the back. She was perfectly capable of getting in.

The husband asked where he would sit, and the driver pointed to Ron. Next to him. The husband began objecting. I won't ride next to him! I don't want to be "pressed up" against him!

It's a good thing I didn't really grasp all this, or I would have gotten out and gotten into trouble. Oh, my husband isn't good enough to ride next to you? You're black! You, of all people, should understand how hateful you're being!

Ron is clean, well dressed, and well groomed. His hair is a bit flyaway, and he has a beard. What, was the guy afraid the beard was catching?

The driver had the unenviable task of calling dispatch and saying "The client refuses to ride in the back seat, and the husband won't sit next to my other client." It must be nice to be able to be so picky about your seatmates. I've never been able to say "No thanks."

The dispatcher had to say "They'll have a long wait, and I doubt someone else can make it before their appointment time." They didn't care. The thought of riding in the backseat, next to my (slim! Clean!) husband, was so repugnant they decided they'd rather miss church.

I engaged in some nasty gossip on the way to work, with the driver. I shouldn't have done it but I realize now I felt very insulted. We weren't good enough to ride with them? Also, I was bitter. It must be nice to be so picky. It must be real nice to go where you want to go, when you want to go, whenever you feel like it. It must be lovely not to have to walk a mile roundtrip in the rain because you wanted to get a potroast.

So we got to work and I helped Ron out with the stocking. Ron made a joke I didn't get and I told him so. He repeated it. Still don't get it. Then he got very derogatory and insulting towards me. I took offense, and he did. It ended up with him storming off screaming at me "Shut up, Bitch!" because I told him "That's not kind. If I did that when you asked me for help with reading something how would you feel?"

Even though I know the head injury is a factor in his temper/moods it doesn't help much. I sometimes think if he woke up completely ablebodied I'd leave him. I find it incredibly painful when he says "Well, a normal person would have..." and I tell him "But I'm NOT normal!"

I always end the discussion feeling like he's saying "It's not your fault, but it is. If you could be messed up all the time I could remember you have brain damage. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at God - or so I say, so I'm going to continue to castigate you because He allowed you to have brain damage."

AGH. That's the kind of thing that makes me realize there is no medication in the world for the way I feel. Nothing. However, I have completely normal feelings, within normal parameters, because I do take my medication. I'm covered in bruises most of the time because my coordination is pretty impaired, and I tend to run into things, or run things into me.

He says it's difficult to love me, as he sits there in his clean clothes I laundered, eating the food I prepared, washing his hands in the sink I cleaned with the soap I bought, going to work because I help him, listening to the MP3 player I got for him, with the tunes I downloaded, complaining to God that he sent a lousy helper. I help him with everything. Horrifying things have happened, and all I did was assist him with a kind attitude.

I NEVER MAKE HIM FEEL LESS THAN BECAUSE HE IS DISABLED. NEVER. He says "You're different, Heather, I can't do that." He HAS to castigate me, and make me feel like crap, because I rarely ask him for clarification on something or say "I don't get it."

Huh.

Managing

Well, I'm pretty freaked out about Ron's impending surgery but I'm taking care of myself. I went to the thrift store today, one of my favorite things. I have my tunes, and LOTS of batteries. I listened to them all day. The tunes, not the batteries.

I even found a cute black formal the day Mom suggested I get a formal dress. Yes! It fits perfectly. I have 2 of those magical underthings that flattens out all the bread dough, making me look 15 pounds slimmer. Combine the two and WOW. Ron would not be ashamed to be seen with me. Of course, I'll keep looking. For $4.50 I can afford to change my mind.

Even my wedding gown cost me $5.30. The zipper broke, not due to my weight, the day of my wedding. Poor Ron thought I changed my mind about marrying him! Dad had to reassure him.

I got some new tunes. What are my current favorites?
Cry no more - Holy Culture
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wR4YuABGOjU

Kill Me, Heal Me (thanks Marianne!) by Skillet
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bz-Ibpl6W3M

Wake the Dead - Family Force 5
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Iczww9xnRg

My Perogative - Britney Spears (not expected, huh?)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euY4ES6b7Bw

Fanatics Raeggaton - 116 Clique (song starts at about minute 3)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwmmZvivMCM

That's it for now. I'm off to make some pumpkin pudding with whipped cream. Yum.

I'll be happy to answer any questions...

I'm listening to a new tune tonight. "Cry No More" by The Cross Movement. If Ron liked Gospel Rap, he'd love it.

I managed to restrain myself. Someone was talking about hating the taste of reheated food. Me, I'm just happy I have food to reheat! I wanted to make a really bitchy comment about "It must be nice to have enough money to sustain such a refined palate" but I didn't. I just said, I don't notice a taste and many times I had to eat food I didn't like, or go hungry. I hate chicken, for instance. When Ron and I first got married, we lived off of those 10 pound bags of chicken leg quarters, one a week, plus a bag of (ha ha) potatoes, also one a week. I left it at that.

It's true, though. So many people go hungry I try not to waste food. I'm nuking some formerly frozen pot roast and collard greens right now. The juice and the greens will add a lot to each other. Ah, beep beep.

Another issue that kind of bothers me. Oh, I'm losing weight. People are gossiping about me. I'm going to feed the gossip when they ask how I'm losing weight.

I don't think that's very kind. What if someone really wants to know how you do it? I mean, if you want to do that, fine. I can't tell you what to do.

But how did I learn about Atkins? A nice lady at work told me about it. I filed it away and when I was ready to lose, I did.

Oh, my. That's some GOOD pot roast! Oh, yum. I gotta make another one this weekend. Foodtown has some nice pot roasts.

Anyway, who am I to deny people the information that helped me?

A good example. If you read my other blog I'm repeating myself:
Today I went to Walmart. Ron wanted a meatloaf TV dinner. I'm wearing my size 12's and my medium tshirt. I heard one woman tell another "Don't worry about the carbs, it's the calories that matter." I started laughing - obnoxiously loud laughter. I laughed so hard I hit my head on the handle to the shopping cart.

They look at me, puzzled and alarmed. "I'm sorry, but I overheard you. Um. That's not true." What? I told them about my low carb success story. The first woman asked if I had ever tried low calorie dieting. I said, yes, it made me a very irritable bitch (pardon), and low-fat dieting caused me to gain 10 pounds a year, even with killer workouts. Their eyes got wide as I spoke with fervent passion about my misery on the low-calorie/low-fat/kill yourself working out diet lie. Then, I started low carb.. my voice warmed as I spoke with kindness about my Dear Doctor Atkins. How I lost 19 pounds, taking 3 medications that cause weight gain - one woman misunderstood me that I was taking some kind of diet pill, which I corrected. Taking 3 pills that cause weight gain, eating BACON! I waved at my portion of the shopping cart, loaded with broccoli, caulilflower, green beans, hard cheese, bacon, butter, and red meat. Delicious.

"So you're taking diet pills" pointed at my hand. "What's that? Is that low-carb?" I grinned at Ron's Banquet Meatloaf, corn, and mashed potato dinner. "Hell no, excuse me. It's for my husband. You couldn't pay me to eat this!"

They were "with" me, until the inevitable sugar question was asked. No, I don't eat sugar. No, I don't eat that. Or that. When I want a dessert I have some heavy whipping cream and fresh fruit. It's very good....but I'd lost them.

Well, I had told them that everyone who's trying to lose weight probably has that one trigger food they can't bear to give up. That food, I told them, is what makes you fat.

Are they going to low-carb? Probably not. Are they going to remember me? Damned right. Do they know how to lose weight safely? Yes.

So I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have about my way of eating. After all, someone did it for me.

Tornado Dreams

Do you ever have a recurring dream "Theme"? I have the airport dreams, the bird dreams, and the tornado dreams, just to name a few.

In the tornado dreams, I'm generally outside somewhere and a cataclysmic tornado is approaching. My reaction varies with every dream. Sometimes it qualifies as "nightmare" as I become utterly hysterical as the storm approaches and passes.

Other times, I greet the impending disaster with more aplomb, yelling at others to protect themselves and martialing everyone into ditches for protection. Hiding in a ditch, or culvert, is the best approach if you are outside and a tornado is approaching.

I finally looked up the dream interpretation of "tornado" dreams.

Tornado
Tornado is a violent storm in nature, and it may represent violent emotional storms in your dreams. If you have reoccurring tornado dreams consider the emotional changes in your life and also the amount of anger and rage that you may be currently experiencing. Tornadoes could also represent disruptions and upsets in you immediate environment and specific or current issues that may be overwhelming.

Well, I certainly have had a few "violent emotional storms" [giggle] in my day. I tend to take the "disruptions and upsets in your immediate enviroment...issues that may be overwhelming" issue.

After all, my husband is having surgery in just a few days. There's no such thing as minor surgery; risks are present. He could have a stroke, he could have a heart attack, God forbid, another allergic reaction to an antibiotic... etc. A lot of risks. Nothing I can to do prevent it, either. Well, I can pray. [shrug] I'm all for prayer, I'll take all the prayer we can get... but I'm basically helpless here.

No wonder I had another tornado dream last night. This time, I was actually indoors, sitting at a long wooden table, surrounded by others. I talked about disaster preparedness, and as the storm approached I got under the table. The others laughed at me for doing so, but I told them "I've been through a lot of these and I know what to do. You can do as you please, but I'm getting under the table."

The storm passed as I huddled, under the table, accompanied by a large dog. I heard screams from the others. As I emerged, the table had fewer people. They all told me they wished they'd gotten under the table and I preened a bit. I resumed my "disaster preparedness" talk, and I then spent some time with the dog. [shrug] Ron says I have amazingly detailed dreams... that his are very different.

Anyway, this dream was far better than my usual tornado dream. Most of them are horrible nightmares, even though I'm never harmed by the storm. Sometimes I'm trying to reach Ron, (we've been separated in the dream), or a family member. Sometimes I'm trying to save a child.

I've had a lot of bad things in my life. More than some, less than others. Most every "bad thing" has been completely unexpected and unpreventable. It just launches itself at us, and we deal with it as best we can. I'm reminded of the "Face Hugger" aliens (from the Alien franchise), how they launch themselves out of their pods at the victims. It's a similar feeling for me. By the time I've registered the horror of the oncoming nightmare, it's wrapped itself around my face and is trying to jam it's tube down my throat. Poor you! I couldn't find any good Youtube. [laugh]

Anyway, a small break for a [wink] unspecified reason, and I'm back. Life really is like the weather, you have no idea what's headed your way.

I'll just ride out this week, this year, this life, the best that I can.

When in doubt...

Occasionally I'll wonder if I'm manic or depressed. Am I? Maybe I need to take another lithium.

Whenever that happens, I have a rule. Do it. If I think I need another lithium, then I do. Don't wait, do it now.

So, I'm eating applesauce and cheese, and taking a quick-release lithium. I don't want to be a bitch if I can prevent it, and boy I feel like one today!

Mine is better...

We're all guilty of comparing ourselves to others. I know I do it.

I often post on message boards, in threads with a "support" theme. Two "threads" I read recently touched on some sensitivity for me.

The first topic was antidepressants - always a hot topic. Does anyone need them? Who needs them? How long should you take them? Is it possible to avoid the use of an anti-d by controlling your diet and taking supplements?

I tend to detect a slight tinge of "I guess I'm better than you, because my depression was JUST TERRIBLE and I was able to control it by adding broccoli to my diet." Or they talk about bad side effects or the horrors of withdrawal, with a strong attitude (to me, again) of "If you really had it together you woudln't need this pharmaceutical crutch".

I thank God that my illness is so severe. I know, that, unmedicated, I will have a full blown psychotic break. I will hallucinate. I will have delusions and paranoia. I recall one obsession with building a fallout shelter in my home. I was obsessed with the impending terrorist attack, and had a very difficult time restraining myself from literally building a wall of stockpiled food and water to create a "safe room". Just one example.

Another, my desperate husband on his cell phone, talking to a social worker from Adult Protective Services. "Get me a nursing home. All I need is a bed and a toilet" - I was so violatile he was desperate to escape. I don't blame him, I'd have fled too.

Or the time I locked up all the knives and medications, I was that obsessed with harming myself. I wouldn't even walk on the overpass because I was obsessed with jumping.

For me, I have no choice. I must take medication - antipsychotics, antidepressants, and mood stabilizers. I feel I am probably somewhat unusual in talking so freely about my illness, even though I have IDIOTS who tell me I need to fast and pray, go off the medication, and my faith is lacking, that's why God won't heal me.

God needs me LIKE THIS. I accept that, I don't see why others have such a hard time with it. It's my life, I'll manage it the way I see fit. Faith in God, and medication, works quite well for me. Why mess with a winning team?

Now that my Risperdal's gone generic I save even more money, it's only $20 a month as opposed to $140. Lithium's always cheap, because it's a naturally occuring mineral. Lexapro? Not bad, about $20 a month also. Like I said, a winning team.

I'm very open about my illness and try to destigmatize it as much as possible. I really believe that diabetes and depression should be treated the same, but it's not. People with admitted mental illness are viewed as unstable and dangerous. People with mental illness, who are unmedicated, ARE. However, it's a huge difference between an unmedicated person with bipolar disorder, wreaking havoc everywhere they go, and a properly medicated, responsible individual.

My family saw me at my worst, growing up... well, nearly my worst. Ron saw me at my worst and still says he loves me - amazing. Anyway, we have a reunion cruise coming up in a few months. What a pleasant surprise I'll be to them. A whole different person.

I know Mom and Dad look forward to my calls (I am told this often) rather than dread them. They never said that, but I imagine they did. I was pretty awful to Mom in particular.

Onto my second subject, the infamous cheat day. Some low carbers advocate a cheat day, and act like "I don't have a problem eating off plan, YOU have a willpower problem if you can't get back on plan". I've decided that if I'm an addict, and I'm a sugar and carb addict, then I need to treat the illness as such and abstain from eating bad foods.

Rarely, I slip, and I immediately resume my normal habits, but I'd rather not slip at all. One item I will never touch is SUGAR. I'd rather get a migraine from eating sugar alcohols, or not eat sweets at all, than eat sugar. It's a very dangerous substance.

A study was done years ago that conclusively proved that sugar is more addictive than heroin. Imagine that!

I admire people who can beat depression without medication. I feel sorry for them, I feel they are making things harder than they need to be, but that's my opinion. They've got theirs, I've got mine.

I am a wonderful person who needs medication to run properly. That's fine! I need it. I need it just like a heart patient needs their medication, and it would be just as stupid for me to try to "prove" something by going unmedicated. I accept it, and I do my best not to resent people who tell me I am weak for taking my medication.

I am a person who knows her own body, per my doctor, thank you. I know that I have addiction issues with carbohydrates and I need to avoid certain forms of carbohydrate in order to run properly. Sugar, for instance, is mood poison. It makes everything worse.

If someone else can eat sugar and bad things occasionally with no repercussions, that's fine. Good for them. But don't tell me I am weak because I'd get readdicted. This is my body, and my way of eating. I'll manage my own body the way I see fit.

I've done a good job so far.

Today I had a migraine.

Today I had a migraine. Ugh.

Not the ideal way to spend my day off, but the only money I spent was just now when a little kid knocked on the door. I always hated selling candy when I was a kid, so I try to buy it.

Ron ought to enjoy his chocolate covered cashews.

I was pretty proud of myself. I was watching a Christmas episode of King of the Hill, and the song "Frosty the Snowman" played in the background. Maybe it was the overwhelming physical pain, but I was able to handle it well.