Cracked Head Blog

I was ragged this morning. Going to Wal-Mart, Lowe’s, and Winn Dixie on less than enough sleep was tedious. I managed not to snap at Mom or anybody else. Normally we’d have started the run around 7 but since I’m not getting to sleep until midnight these days it was later. Still the stores weren’t crowded. I spent the rest of the morning playing the guitar and reading. (That’s right, reading, as in a book!)

After a two plus hour nap I felt restored. Read for an hour and played for two or so. I think the singing is coming along. I also hunted up my Dremel Tool, which I probably hadn’t used in at least five years and probably more. The case was right where it was supposed to be. The actual tool was buried under years worth of crap in a utility room. I just dropped it where it was when I was done and forgot all about it. An impossibility in early lives. Typical in more recent ones. Normally I would have lost my mind when I couldn’t put my hand on it instantly. Didn’t bother me much today. I just looked for a little and luckily it wasn’t as lost as it could have been.

Tonight I think I’ll restring my guitar, which I hate doing with a passion. Maybe read some more or even blog a little. Doesn’t feel like the world is about to crush me today. Somewhat surprising considering the previous two. Maybe there’s something to this bipolar diagnosis after all. (More on the later.)

My newest bud, thestranger, is struggling with depression, especially the stigma attached. Acceptance is different for everybody. We have to decide how open to be with others about our challenges. In my experience, or rather observation, if you have anything to protect then being especially open probably isn’t a good idea. Ignorance is still pervasive and some assholes love labeling people as week or damaged. Any thoughts? Share them here or shoot over and say hi to the new guy.

It’s been a pretty rough morning and early afternoon. I’ve just been tired, bored, and cranky. Wanted to sleep the bitch into the books but couldn’t. Finally I broke down and took a shower. I seem to feel a little better and plan on a brief outing in an hour or so.

Lilly has an appointment with the dermatologist next Saturday. Apparently he’s swamped. The receptionist first told me he was full and wanted to know how bad Lilly actually was. I would have thought that my calling for the first time in two and half years or more would have made it self-evident that she was doing pretty damn bad. Anyway, she seems to be a little better today, at least compared to last night. The good thing about the dermatologist is that he actually identifies the particular bug and prescribes the antibiotic thus indicated. The regular vet just crap shoots it, sort of like our shrinks with our psychotropic meds. It’s gone on too fucking long. I sick of giving them pills twice a day. While I’ll almost certainly wind up at least as busy after seeing the specialist, I’ll see improvement.

Anyway, it’s blazing hot and I’m trying to settle in for a long, depressed weekend. A movie tomorrow afternoon may be mandatory. Perhaps Sunday too. In past lives films sometimes had the power to transform my mood, at least temporarily. Maybe that old trick will work once again?

So I turned in around 9 last night. Was very tired and was hopeful I’d get a good night’s sleep. While I did get to sleep, I never fell into a deep sleep. I dreamed and tossed and turned for 11 hours. The only dream I remember was trying to track Rudy down so we could smoke crack. This morning I’m tired and irritable to boot.

Sometimes I just can’t help but wonder about my mother. Last night I asked her if she’d let Roscoe out of my room in the mornings so he wouldn’t paw and lick me awake long before I was ready to get up. She said she thought I wanted to get up early. I said I did but that I wasn’t able to get to sleep until very late. A little while later she wanted to know if the psychiatrist might could so something about my not sleeping. I told her again that I was sleeping just fine, just not on the schedule I preferred. She seemed to understand.

And she let Roscoe out before he could start in on me. The icing on the cake was that she let Lilly in a few minutes later. Never mind that I’d told her Lilly was barred after the great bed wetting episode. An hour of so later when I got up to pee and eject Lilly Mom met me in the hall and said she let Lilly in my room because she wouldn’t stop crying. So she let her in my room to disturb me? Is Mom just that stupid or is there some sort of passive-aggressive or other insanity going on with her? Actually this was fairly predictable and typical of the kind of shit she does. I’ll try and start making a note of her antics for your amusement and my relief.

Giving three dogs a total of five baths, cleaning up the bathroom afterward, washing their towels and bedding, cooking supper, then cleaning up the kitchen constitutes much more than a full day for me these days. Lilly looks terrible. Mercifully she doesn’t seem to feel bad. Regardless, she’s going back to the specialist. I’ll probably haul her big ass to the regular vet tomorrow unless she looks a whole lot better. Hopefully I’ll be more functional, early, tomorrow and can do what I need to where she’s concerned.

I’m spent. Turning in early since I can’t really do much else. I read a little of an interesting novel one of you turned me on to but it’s very busy, character wise, and I’m having trouble keeping them straight. If I turn in now, and can sleep, I’ll have nine and half hours of trap time by 6 am. If I’m in the midst of my little depressive bursts, it won’t matter how much I sleep, it’ll never be enough. Fortunately there just happening two or three days a week right now. I wonder if that’s some facet bipoloar. In past lives when I got depressed it took days or weeks to set in and weeks, months, or even years to run it’s course. Do people go from clinically depressed to bipolar? Do I even remember the past correctly? Shit.

I got Lilly and Roscoe bathed. It took a little over an hour. Needless to say I’m tired. Trying to bathe an 80 pound basset hound is more work than I’m ever up for, especially if she has to have a second, medicated bath. Dollar may have to tough it out until tomorrow or even the weekend. At least she doesn’t stink. As much as I love my dogs at times like this I think I’ll be glad when I don’t have them around any more. They are so much trouble and expensive. Nothing to it when I’m on top of my second-rate game. But when I’m not, it’s just more than I want or even can deal with. (I still haven’t given them their morning antibiotics and it’s after 2 pm.)

UPDATE: All done with dogs, at least for now. All I have to do now is cleanup  the bathroom, unload the dishwasher, and cook something for supper. Doesn’t seem as daunting as earlier in the day, which is another pattern I’m noticing.

Not sure why but I’m very tired today. I slept for eight hours last night and I’ve already had a two hour nap this morning. Still I don’t think I’m ready for life. I noticed last night that I was getting irritable. It’s carried over. Lately I’ve come to think that I get irritable when sleep deprived. Not this time. Could the four appointments earlier in the week be responsible? The combined time for all was less than eight hours. Goings not my thing though.

Luckily I don’t have anything to do that can’t wait. I really need to bathe the dogs but one more stinky day couldn’t hurt. Actually it might since they’re all battling skin problems. They may have to tough it out though. None of them are especially thrilled with the prospects of cleanliness anyway. Still, I’ll feel better when it’s over and they will too. Maybe after lunch. Way after.

UPDATE: I wrote the following in the mood tracking journal I’ve started for bipolar group; “Am I actually tired or am I getting depressed or is there even a difference?” It seems to fit with this post. It doesn’t seem possible that I could be facing a depressive episode, considering how nice the last three days have been. For the most part, though, my depression operates independently of everything my life may throw at it. It has a life of its own.

It’s been a nice day at the ranch. I didn’t get much work done but I did practice singing and Mom and I walked for about 45 minutes. Blew off bathing the dogs. That’s a must do tomorrow. Two of them will require two baths. One for the dog dirt. One for the yeast. It’ll take well over an hour and I’ll be spent afterward.

At any rate, things have returned to normal here. No relatives threatening to pop up from out of town. Grandmama is doing well. So we’re just one big happy family. I’m not particularly excited about tomorrow but I’m not completely dreading it either. Lately that’s about as well as can be expected. (Damn that movie ruined the expression “as good as it gets”.)

My therapist seems to want to me to want to talk about my stormy childhood relationship with my mother. I have no problem with that but I don’t quite understand what she wants me to do. So far she’s serving as a sort of comrade/sounding board but it’s possible things may start to get interesting in the coming months. I told her I wasn’t big on that pop psych John Bradshaw shit. I can’t imagine any of that making me anything but a different flavor of fucked up. I’m going to try and steer her more towards coping strategies for the now in as much as there’s no fixing things that would have needed addressing in another time when they were actually happening. Of course I’ll try whatever she wants. I just hope to avoid spending months and months not healing but dwelling on the shame that binds me.

It’s dust mites. The treatment is a much cleaner environment, a nasal spray, and an antihistamine. The test was a piece of cake. 45 tiny pokes on the underside of my arms.

I’m really surprised I’m not allergic to stuff outside. I suppose I have a touch of hay fever periodically and since I’m already sick from the dust I mistakenly identify the offending allergen as pollen.

I go back in one month. She’s referred me to an ENT for the obstruction that hinders my breathing when I sleep on my back. Additionally, she thinks all the ear pain I’ve had over the years is TMJ, some sort of jaw joint problem. She said my ears looked fine and that if it was allergy or sinus related both of them would hurt instead of just one and that some sort of crisis would have happened long ago. So I’ve picked up another ailment. It’s one I can live with though, most of the time.

UPDATE: I’ve canceled the ENT appointment. TMJ and whatever else are things I can live with right now. I don’t need the stress of another ailment and the incumbent series of trips to the doctors offices.