I have a doctor�s appointment today. I�m a little excited because I recently heard that the FDA has approved the combining of Prozac and Zyprexa for the treatment of Bipolar disorder. I�m going to ask my doctor about it. He�s family practice but he�s the only doctor I ever had that listened to me when I said there was something very wrong with me. I feel comfortable asking him about a possible addition to my treatment.
I�m dreading the appointment a little because I know he�s going to ask me if I�ve seen a psychiatrist yet. I haven�t been yet. Does anyone know how scary it is to go to a psychiatrist when you are bipolar? If any of you have some pointers, or encouragement let me know. I�m scared this psychiatrist, if I go, may try to commit me, in which case, I would go ballistic. Because I�m sane. Because my illness is not all that defines me. I work, I have a car, and I have friends. I�m not that bad off. I�m a functioning bipolar. I�m just a little wary of head doctors.
I don�t know if it�s because I�m bipolar, or if it�s because my self-esteem has dipped to an all-time low last year due to gaining all this weight, but my sense of self has really taken a dive which is rather obvious when you read about the exchange between my daughter and I last night.
Last night my daughter and I were watching �Seventh Heaven� and she asked me why the people with Down�s syndrome were �talking that way�. I was stymied. I finally told her, � Their brains are a little different from ours. Something happened differently in their brains when they were in their mommy�s tummies�. Then she asked me why something happened in their mommy�s tummies.
I told her, �That�s just the way God made them. He made them very special.�
She looked at me and said, �I was special too because God made me have no hair when I was a baby until I was two years old.� I nodded.
Then she said, �Mommy, how did God make you special?�
Good question. My tongue was tied. I really couldn�t think of a single thing that made me special or different. Nothing I felt proud of anyway.
I�m special because I hate dentists, psychiatrists, traffic, flying, highways and I have an irrational fear of burglars. I am afraid of tornadoes, alcoholics, and people with anger problems, big men, and anyone with any kind of police record.
I didn�t tell her that though.
I told her, �I�ll have to think about it..and I�ll let you know.� Crap. Time to make a list of my good qualities and present that to my daughter, along with a list of her good qualities.
It�s a sad day when I can�t think of reasons to like myself. I know I�m funny and a bit goofy sometimes, but other times I�m dreadfully boring and predictable. Plus, I have a bunch of irrational phobias. I hate crowds. I don�t like the mall at Christmas time, Santa is evil and overrated, we don�t have to visit him because he�ll be stopping by Christmas Eve. Yada, yada, yada. I find myself to be incredibly dull for the most part. I know fat people are supposed to be jolly and the life of the party, but that�s not me anymore.
I don�t want to pass on my poor sense of self to my daughter. God knows you need a healthy self-esteem to survive the perils of childhood. I guess it�s time to do some good old construction work on myself.
It�s list-making time.
10:02 - Tuesday, Jan. 13, 2004
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
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