Pages

Monday, July 15, 2013

How Crazy Do I Look?

During conversation about the new DSM-5 coming out and such I commented that it frustrated me how, as criteria for certain Dx's, you have to "appear" a certain way to the doctor.

That got me thinking (not until 2 days later, because THANK YOU INSOMNIA!), what difference does it make?  I mean, I've worked very hard for many years to portray myself in a certain way.  I work very hard to maintain that portrayal.  So hard, that it's near impossible to deviate from this script that I have for myself.  If I change anything about it I completely fall apart.  And I don't want to fall apart, so why would I risk it?

Well, not for some stupid Dx. that's for damn sure.  The doctor can think I'm normal all day, it makes me feel less crazy.  Plus, I know the day will come when it's a little unsettling that I'm talking about such traumatic abusive situations from my past and laughing while I do.  Because not laughing, means crying.  And I don't cry in public.  Ever.

But what about outside the doctor's office?  I mean, who else would notice?  Well, from what I can tell, no one.  But is that the problem?  Apparently, to some extent, yes.  Since I hide myself so well, even from those closest to me (except my husband), it leaves them with no idea of HOW crazy I am.  All they know is that I'm crazy enough to need hospitalization pretty frequently, but they have no idea why.  Which I always thought was a good thing.  It's personal and I'd like to keep it that way.

No one wants to hear about the voice that's yelling at me to move the chair because it's not in the right spot.  It should be over 3.5 inches!!!  No one else needs to hear that.  So when I very casually go over and use the chair to help me stretch my legs, and it just happens to end up to the left about 3.5 inches, no big.  No one needs to hear about the grey creature things that crawl all over me and dig in  my neck are stealing bits of my brain so that I can't remember anything.  I know they're not real, why would I say something?  I get very overwhelmed very easily.  So I avoid a lot of situations that seem completely harmless to most people.  Like using the ATM, talking on the phone, any type of drive through, etc.  They cause me immense amounts of stress and anxiety.

But by avoiding so many things, I also have a hard time actually having a life outside my own head.  I hide away for fear of so many things that, on a good day, I know are completely harmless and often times not even real.  For what?  So I can make people worry MORE than they otherwise would if they just knew that I'm overwhelmed and that's why I'm hiding in the bathroom?

Why am I so afraid to let anyone see me as anything but completely put together?  And to be more specific, why am I so afraid to let family see me as anything but completely put together?  Because I'm pretty sure my friends, and even people I'm not that close with have seen me break down at least once or twice.  But family?  I feel like I have to be so strong all the time.  It's already obvious that I'm physically broken, why do I have to show you how mentally broken I am on top of it? 

The simple answer is, of course, I don't.  I can continue doing exactly what I'm doing and nothing will change.  And I likely will for the large majority of my family.  But maybe it's time that I try to open up a little.  Time that I stop running away and hiding when I feel like I might not be able to keep it all together.   Maybe it's time that I actually ask for help when just talking for a moment would make things better.  Maybe I'll just say something when there's something that could easily be changed to make me not scared or anxious.  Maybe I'll try to open up for a change instead of frantically searching for pad locks.  Maybe, if you're special enough, I'll let you see how crazy I'm not.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Setbacks

So, I was really hoping to be consistently under 200 lbs by my birthday.  That gave me a month to lose 5 lbs.  Super simple goal.  I set a really easy one to start because I knew things would be rough at first and I didn't want a bit of weight gain to cause me to get upset if I couldn't reach it.

Well, I have 3 days until my birthday and I'm just going to have to accept that it's not going to happen.  There have been a couple days that I dropped under to 198/199, but for the most part I've been holding pretty steady at right around 201 lbs.

Other than being slightly frustrated that I couldn't get there, I'm not feeling like I failed.  After all, I never really had a fighting chance with all my injuries.  So, I guess, just holding steady and not gaining even though I've been exercising drastically less than I'm used to is something to be proud of.

Maybe.  I don't know.  I've also not been logging what I'm eating since I've not been able to exercise.  So I've probably not been eating nearly enough.  Just thinking about what I ate today, if I've been eating like this every day for a week, that would explain the lack of weight gain.  I need to pay more attention.  I stopped drinking diet drinks of any kind, so that helps a little with the calories.  But let's be honest, those are shit for calories and I probably shouldn't be relying on drinking juice or lemonade to cover half my daily calories.

But I'm starting to be able to walk a little easier.  I walked around the apartment for like 5-10 minutes without too much pain today.  My arms are still useless, though.  It would have been much more convenient if I had broken a rib on the same side as the rotator cuff injury.  But no.  I had to spread out all the damage as much as possible.

So, I guess I should probably wait until I'm at least mostly healed before trying to make any legit weight loss plans.  It could take me a few months before my shoulder is back in working order, and I like weights and riding my bike.  Both will be nearly impossible until it's fully healed.

Realistically, I should probably put all weight loss dreams on hold until I'm fully healed.  Otherwise, I'm pretty likely to just make things worse.  If I happen to fall below 200 lbs, I'll be happy, but I guess I won't be doing anything to try and make that happen.  If anything, I'll probably be more likely to gain over the next month or two.  I need to start paying attention to my calorie intake and make sure it's high enough.  So eating more will likely make me gain weight.  But hopefully not. 

Friday, July 12, 2013

Are you content?

For a long time I was angry/frustrated/sad/whatever, because I felt I could never be happy.  I always felt like I was never going to be that 'normal' girl with a normal life doing normal life things.  For years this made my already depressed/anxious/paranoid/etc. personality that much worse.  It made living life, that much harder.

Always trying to strive for something that I KNEW would never be possible.  But why do we do it?  Why is it so hard to just be content?

When I remind myself that I should be striving, not for that perfectly happy and normal life, but to simply be content with the life I have at this moment, it makes living it a lot easier.

Yes, I want a job.  I want to love my job like I did before.  I want to drive on long road trips.  I want to go running!  I want to be happy more often than not.  I want to enter an arm wrestling competition!  I've always thought that would be so awesome to have a trophy for arm wrestling.  I want to sleep normal hours.  I want to not be in pain all the time.  I want to bend over to pick up that thing I just dropped and not worry about what I'm going to hit my head on when I stand up and pass out.  I want to walk up a flight of stairs by myself without crying at the end because my arthritis is angry.

But you know what?  Those things aren't going to happen.  You know what else, that whole happy thing, I think if you asked all the 'normal' people you can find they'll wish the same thing.  I feel like mania has killed my sense of what a baseline emotional state actually is.  There are days that when I look at them, and really think about it, were good days.  They were days that I really was happy, not just content.  But because emotions can't stay that high for extended periods of time outside mania, I often times don't realize that things were good.  That I really do have good days.

I spend so much of my time being upset that I'm hallucinating and being paranoid and anxious and scared, that I forget to equal that out with the awesome game I just played with my husband or the funny article I just read or that great conversation I just had with a friend.

But back to being content, are you?  I mean, your life is what it is.  Maybe it sucks, maybe it doesn't.  But even if your life sucks, you can still be content.  I think.  I mean, I feel like my life sucks.  I hate my life.  I absolutely HATE...well, certain small things about my life.  But 90% of them are medical, and the other 10% are a direct result of that 90%.

But I love my husband.  I enjoy playing games with friends on a regular basis.  I enjoy being able to read and learn as much as I want, which I couldn't do if I had a job.  Although, I still wish I could go back to school and finish my degree, right now I'm okay just learning whatever I feel like reading for the day.  I enjoy being able to drive sometimes.  Even if I can't do it very often, I can do it.  I love having friends that understand me and all my issues and don't give a shit.

Don't get me wrong, I have TERRIBLE days.  In fact, even really looking at my life in the best light, it's definitely been more bad than good.  A lot more.  But right now, in this moment, I feel content.  I feel like I'm trying my best to do everything in my power to make my life the best I can make it.  And what is that, if not content?

I want a different life.  I want a better life.  I want to be a better wife, I don't want to need to be taken care of.  I want to be able to take care of myself.  I want to be able to want to be taken care of without feeling guilty because I always need to be taken care of.  But that's not going to happen.  Not right now, at least.

All any of us can do is try.  It's hard, and painful, and overwhelming.  It's a lot of ups and downs.  And when you start to feel like it's more downs than ups, maybe that just means it's time to change something.  Even if that something is just the color of your sheets.  Taking control of anything and doing even something seemingly insignificant to improve how you feel in that moment can make a world of difference.

Sit back and stop thinking about all the bad things you've been dealing with.  Dedicate the next 5 minutes to nothing but the good things.  Think about them.  Remember them.  Write them down somewhere if it helps.  But don't let yourself get so stuck on the shitty things in your day to day that you can't even imagine being content.

Because the closest you'll ever get to happy, is to learn to be content.  No one is happy.  It's a fairy tale. 

Thursday, July 11, 2013

New wheelchair

Finally, I got up enough courage to ask for a new wheelchair.  Though, it did take my husband sitting next to me at the doctor violently waving a neon orange post-it at me (that was supposed to be a reminder to ask) to get me to bring it up.  I sat there for a good 30 seconds trying to ignore him and come up with a reason for why he was doing it, but couldn't, so I asked.

But whatever, embarrassment aside, it's done.  It's in the works.  I'm finally going to have a chair again!  I've been so miserable not being able to use my old one since I gained weight last year.  Though, now I'm just really nervous about what kind of chair I'll get.  I really liked my old one.  It was comfortable, light, and fit everywhere.  But now that I have Medicaid and not real insurance, I don't know what I'll be able to get.

The lady at Home Health Depot did help a bit by telling me that if my doctor were to add some of my other Dx's to the script for the chair that I could get a much better one.  So I called my doctor and he fixed it.  So hopefully I'll get one that I can actually use with some ease.  She also told me that the way Medicaid does things is they have it as a rental for the first 13 months, so if something changes, I can go in and possibly change chairs.  So that made me feel better about it.

Although, honestly, if it's not a great chair, I'll probably just work that much harder to lose another 50 lbs so I can just use my old chair.

But I don't know.  Just another thing to let my  mind obsess about, really.  Like I needed more.

I'm broken.

I always feel like because I have mental health issues, that any physical symptoms I have are most likely just me being paranoid or over exaggerating or something to that sort.  So much so, that I tend to feel like I'm not really as 'disabled' as I sometimes think I am.

There are numerous tangible medical tests to confirm that, yes, I am indeed as broken physically (if not more so) than I am mentally.  And yet, because I have those mental illnesses, I'm so scared that I'm just a hypochondriac (or that others will think I am) that I tend to take things too far in the opposite direction.

Nothing is ever wrong with me.  Ever.  Except when it's undeniable.  Like now.

I told you guys about how I fell off the chair being all clumsy like and ended up with a bruised femoral head a week or so ago.  Well, I fell again.  This time while riding my bike.  Luckily, my husband always makes me wear a helmet.  So no worries there.  But I did end up with...
  • sprained ankle
  • lumbar back sprain
  • hip (the other one) strain
  • rotator cuff injury (time will tell if imaging needs to be done)
  • broken rib
  • knee subluxation that caused sprain/strain
  • too many bruises/cuts/bug bites to count
We were on a bike trail and I fell off the edge and landed in rocks/twigs/etc.  Unfortunately, I also had a seizure, so I don't remember what happened or why I fell.  

Anyways, this brought me to the need to definitely get a new wheelchair.  Using a walker with an arm in a sling proves pointless, and my old chair is too small since I gained so much weight.  I found a place in town to get the chair.  I brought in the script, and they said that since my doctor only wrote the new (temporary) Dx's on the script, Medicaid would just give me a really crappy, heavy chair.  And since I needed a permanent one, I should probably have him fix it.

Which really got me feeling like I didn't need a new one.  I must be over-exaggerating, right?  I mean, I walked in here just fine.  Why do I need a wheelchair?

But the more I think about it, the more I hate that just because I have crazy bits I feel like I don't deserve to take care of the physical parts of me because it's "too much" to be wrong with one person.  It can't actually be happening.  But it is.  And I need to take care of me, even if I only need taken care of 50% of the time.

And I know I'm not the only one out there with a mental health issue that ignores physical problems just because it all seems to be too much and if it were real it would mean I was really THAT broken.

Well, guess what?  I'm fucking broken.  I'm a big ball of nothing but pieces.  There are days I cry for an hour before getting out of bed because it hurts that bad to move enough to get out of bed.  And there are days I cry for an hour before I get out of bed because it all seems so overwhelming that I'm afraid to get out of bed.  And sometimes, I just don't get out of bed at all because it's all too much to handle and I just can't do it.

I have no idea what the point of this post was.  I'm sure I had one when I started, but now I'm just frustrated about how I feel like I have to choose to be physically or mentally ill.  When I go anywhere and questions of health come up, I don't really feel the stigma of 'oh, I have psych issues' or 'oh, I have physical issues.'  But when I have to answer questions and my answers wrap around and fill up the back of the page because I have both, I definitely feel the stigma.  Even people making (seemingly) joking comments about how many boxes I checked, or how many medications I'm on (I'm hardly taking anything anymore!), it's all bullshit.  If I could take a multi-vitamin a day and call it good enough, believe me, I would do so in a heartbeat.  But not all of us are that lucky.  So fuck off and have a little compassion.

You'd think health care professionals would understand, but they're the worst of the bunch.  Psych doctors always look at me like I'm crazy when I tell them I have pain issues or anything else.  They ask for consent to talk to my other doctors for "proof" that I'm actually fucking broken.  I was in a psych ward once and for 3 weeks I was falling down every 20 minutes.  Nurses, doctors, techs, all of them just assumed I was faking it and kept lecturing me or even ignoring me.  Finally, a cardiologist just happened to be down there dropping something off and saw me.  He came up to me to help me and as I came to a nurse told him I was just faking it.  I felt so hopeless for that 2 seconds before Dr. Clarence B. Amayun (I will never forget his name) stood up for me and told her very harshly that I was obviously not faking it because you can't fake color loss in your face due to a blood pressure drop.  That was the first time since the eye rolls of me faking it started that I felt even a little hope.

But that story aside, I tend to not even mention my psych issues to any specialists until it's necessary, like for medications, but even then, they're not nearly as suspicious of me making shit up as psych doctors are.  Psychiatrists should understand the stigma so many of us have to deal with on a daily basis.  I get people make shit up.  Fine.  I understand that you need to be able to get to the truth.  Fine.  But there are good and bad ways to go about this.  Don't make people feel worse for being sick.

Ugh.  But enough about that.  I'm just going to get angry and not be able to sleep at all, and I'd really like to be able to sleep at least a little bit since last night I hurt so bad I couldn't even climb in to bed.  I ended up in the living room all night trying my best to get comfortable when I was in so much pain from all my falls on top of normal pain that it just wasn't even worth it.

I hope tonight I have better luck.  Although, it's already after 3a and I've tried twice now to sleep with no success.  So hopefully this time will be better.  Maybe I'll make myself a cup of peppermint tea and try reading.  I'm reading Quiet Your Mind, and so far I'm not so sure about it.  I mean, it has a lot of good points, but at the same time, it seems very condescending.  I'll give it a bit more, but I think I'm going to give up on it.

Monday, July 8, 2013

Finding a doctor

I've had the same family doctor my entire adult life.  He's amazing.  The best doctor I've ever seen, and I've seen a LOT.  When I lost my job, I lost my insurance.  I kept seeing him and just paying out of pocket for a while, but that gets pretty expensive. 

So now I get to start the search for a new family doctor.  But the problem is, I have so many freaking weird/rare health issues that finding a new doctor is like teaching a kid to read.  My old doctor would do tons of research on my behalf to make sure he knew everything about all my weird disorders.  Even my psych issues he knew a ton about.  He was amazing, and I know I'm not going to find that in anyone else.

My anxiety just makes me want to say 'fuck it all, I quit.'  And I have, for a few weeks now.  But it's time to suck it up and just start looking.  I'm getting all my medical records from him (which could take a while since before they started logging everything digitally I had already filled 3 file folders), so I'm probably going to go through those pretty obsessively to make sure I even remember half the crap that I should be telling a new doctor.  Once I find a good one, I'll have my records faxed over.  But no reason to be faxing my records to 10 different doctors while I decide who I do and don't like.

Any suggestions on what criteria to use to find a good family doctor?

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Game Day

The first Saturday of every month, our town has a board game day at one of the libraries.  A local bakery donates pastries, cookies, and coffee.  It's really an awesome event.  Unfortunately, month after month something had come up last minute that kept me from going.

But not today!  Today I got to go.  I had a lot of fun.  I meant to pick up some other stuff at the library while I was there, but I forgot.  But back to the games.  We played a lot of random games.  Because it was raining so much today, not too many people showed up.  Only about 15-20.  But it was still a lot of fun.  I played mostly kids games.  I played King of Tokyo for the first time.  I had never even heard of it before.  But it's actually pretty fun for a quick 15-30 minute game. 

I also played Qwirkle with one of the kids that seemed sad he didn't have anyone to play with.  We kind of fudged on some of the rules because he had a hard time understanding some of them, but it was fun nonetheless.  I had looked at it before and was curious about it, and I think it's definitely worth a purchase.

Another new game I played was The Amazing Labyrinth.  It was okay, but I think it could have been a lot more fun had I been playing with people that were more strategic about winning and not just trying not to make kids cry.  haha.  It's a game where you can very easily screw up other players plans, but none of that happened because we were playing with a little kid and his grandmother.  I'd like to play it again sometime with more competitive people.

Overall, I had a pretty fun day.  Plus, my husband colored my hair for me!  Granted, he picked black and I have been going red for close to 10 years now, but it looks pretty good.  And he really likes it, so that more than makes up for my uncertainty.

I was slightly screwed up that it was Saturday, as my sense of time is way out of whack because of having so many missing days.  So the list of things I had planned to get done today didn't get done and will have to wait until Monday.  But that's okay.  I can't do anything about it, so I'm not going to stress about it.

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Am I really who you say I am?

This morning I woke up on a bathroom floor in nothing but my underwear and a camisole.  I was confused.  My head was throbbing.  I didn't know where I was.  I didn't know who I was.  Nothing was familiar.

A naked man stepped out of the shower and asked if I was okay.  THERE WAS A STRANGE, WET, NAKED MAN STANDING OVER ME! No, I was not okay, I was terrified.  I sat up and tried to get a hold on my surroundings.  Maybe I had fallen and was just confused.  Once I looked around, things should look familiar and it'll come back to me.  Right?  I looked.  I looked at everything.  But it all came up blank.  I didn't recognize anything about where I was or the man that was staring at me.

This man told me he was my husband.  That we had been married for four years!  How could I not know my own husband?  I had no sense of my age.  I didn't remember grade school.  I didn't remember my life.  I didn't even remember my name or recognize my face in the mirror.  There are no words to describe the confusion, the loss of all sense of control, the extreme vulnerability, the lack of any sense of truth or reality.  I was barely able to speak.

Was I drugged?  Was I raped?  Was this man holding me captive?  Is he really my husband?  Was he just taking advantage of me?  Who am I?  Why is this happening to me?  I had so many questions, but I didn't even feel safe asking them.

He seemed nice enough.  After I was coherent enough to sit up and respond, he covered himself.  He was modest and respectful.  He kept a distance and didn't try to touch me in any way.  That helped calm the worst of my fears.

He tried to explain to me that I have seizures brought on by stress and had likely fallen from where I was sitting in the bathroom to the floor and hit my head.  He was calm and explained that this has happened before, that my memory would come back bit by bit as the day went on and that by tomorrow I would likely remember everything.  Everything, that is, except today. 

I sat on the floor in the bathroom as he finished his shower trying to remember anything, but nothing came.  Then we got dressed and went to the living room and talked for a bit.  I was hoping seeing the rest of the place would jog my memory in some way, but no.  I looked around.  I looked through drawers.  I looked in closets.  I looked at anything and everything I could get my hands on to give me some sort of clue as to who I was.  I saw photos of me that I didn't recognize.  Like I had a twin and someone was trying to convince me her life was mine.  I was overwhelmed.

Apparently I was planning on coloring my hair today, so I hadn't washed it recently.  But since that wasn't happening, I took a shower.  I felt weird looking through someone elses clothes to find something to wear.  Luckily, it was all my size, though much more color than I would have thought of myself choosing to wear.

After getting ready for the day, I walked around a bit and picked up.  The place was a mess!  He said it was because they were working on his computer the night before, but I feel that was only part of it.  Apparently I'm a horrible housekeeper, there was clutter everywhere!

I started getting hungry, so I offered to make lunch.  He explained to me that I have to eat gluten free because of some medical thing.  So after he explained to me what that meant, I was a little disappointed.  There was a box of Cheese-It's that looked pretty tasty.  But no big.  There were plenty of choices for me to make gluten free alternatives.

After lunch I had found a very worn looking bracelet on (what was apparently) my computer desk that read "Elann DeVoss / Seizure Disorder / emergency phone number" so that helped take away the last little bits of doubt I had about the situation.

I was thoroughly bored with this small apartment and wanted to explore.  After all, I had no idea where I was and everything was an adventure!

Unfortunately, after driving around for about 20 minutes or so, the most entertaining thing we could find was a less than mediocre mall.  He did try to warn me, but I thought for sure he was just so used to it all that it all just seemed that way.  But no.  He was right.  This town is even more boring than the apartment I felt stuck in.

We came back home, if you can call it that.  It still didn't look familiar.  It barely looked like the place we had left.  He randomly asked me questions about my life to see how much I was remembering.  He asked me who my brothers and sisters were, where I grew up, things like that.  I had a really hard time answering at first.  Brothers and sisters?  I have a family?  It had never even really crossed my  mind that I had a family!  I was so stuck on trying to remember MY name and MY life that I didn't even think about anyone else I might know.  After about half a day, I did remember the names of most of my sisters and brothers.  Though I apparently have a younger brother and a younger sister that I don't recall.  I remembered the address to the house I grew up in, though I still couldn't remember the name of the town I live in currently.  It was all so disjointed.  It still is. 

I get bored easily.  After being back at the apartment for about an hour or so, I got antsy and asked about friends or playing games or something.  So he grabbed a few boxes and told me to put my shoes on.  We went to a game store that we apparently frequent.  We played a game of Magic, which I somehow knew how to play.  As we were playing, I started remembering playing when I was a kid.  I even remembered the names of a few of the guys I used to play with.  Oh, and in case you were wondering, I totally won today.   But we couldn't stay long, with it being a holiday and the store not being very busy, the owner decided to close early.  So back home, again.

By now I was starting to remember a lot of instinctive-type things.  Things I wasn't necessarily aware I was remembering, but more like things that are just so natural to my every day life that he figured would come back easily when put in the right situation.  So he thought we could try playing a computer game I normally like.  He showed me League of Legends.  We played through a few games and I got the hang of it pretty quickly, like he thought.  I had to ask a few questions, but I feel like as I played it I remembered how to play it without having to really ask that many questions.

My eyes started hurting from staring at the screen for so long, mostly because I was forgetting to blink because I was so in to it.  So I stepped away and started messing with some other stuff.  I cleaned off the table that was covered in clean clothes that needed put away.  I washed a couple dishes that needed washed.  I found a dress shirt with a stain on the elbow that was apparently going to be made into a short sleeve shirt, so I worked on that until it was time for him to leave for work.  He drives a bus for the city and tonight he's having to drive a shuttle to and from the fireworks.

I'm writing this around 8pm, and I believe I had the seizure sometime around 10am.  I still don't feel connected to this body, to this life.  My husband assures me I have the same basic personality, and I do feel somehow connected to him.  Drawn to him.  Like I feel like I should know him and trust him.  It came out naturally when he left for work a little bit ago for me to tell him I love him and give him a kiss.  I didn't even realize what I was doing.  But after, I felt a little awkward.  Like I had just said "I love you" and kissed this man that I had only met hours earlier.  There was something very creepy about it that I can't really put my finger on.

I tried to get him to have someone come over to be with me.  I feel strange being alone right now.  Scared.  What if something were to happen?  I don't know that I would know what to do.  He showed me how to use my phone and who to call in case of an emergency, but being alone right now makes me very nervous.  I'm easily startled, and it's the 4th of July.  Fireworks are going off constantly.  I'm hearing strange sounds that I can't identify.  I'm seeing people from the corner of my eye, but when I look no one is there.  I'm hearing people talking that, at first, I thought might be coming from the other computer, but now I'm pretty sure they're just in my head.

What's worse yet, is if this is all caused by stress induced seizures, isn't leaving me home alone to freak out about all this a little dangerous?  What if I have another seizure and no one is here to explain this all to me?   What if I'm not sitting right here, able to read this, and I just wander off?  Where will I end up?  I need to not think about that.  I need to not cause myself any stress.  I need to relax.  Stress is what causes this to happen, so avoiding stress is what I need to do.

Maybe I will try to draw something.  Or build a card house.  My husband showed me Netflix before he left, maybe I'll find a good movie to watch.  I'm sure there are plenty of things I can find around here to entertain myself for the next couple hours, so that's what I'll do.  But I still have so many questions about my life.  He said I have hallucinations, and that several of the things that I experienced today were not really happening, but he never told me why.  What causes me to have hallucinations?  Why does having a seizure make me forget everything about me?  What do I do for a living?  How often does this happen?  There was a note next to my desk that said I had a seizure yesterday and to not leave the apartment.  He said it was from the other day, but does this happen a lot?  If I don't really remember days like today when I have seizures, and I have seizures like this even kind of regularly, how much of my life do I not remember?  The more I think about it the more it worries me.  Never knowing if I'm going to know who I am from day to day, how do I make plans?  Am I constantly having to cancel on people?  Would I even know to cancel?  Do my friends just think I'm really flaky and blow them off?  What about doctors?  They tend to charge for no-shows, how does that work?

***I wrote this while in a dissociative state as a letter to myself.  Myself when I know who I am, that is.  But I decided to share it with all of you.  Maybe you experience something similar and can relate.  Maybe not.  But getting my story out there and letting people know that it happens and it scares me and I'm surviving seems important right now.  So there you have it.