Monday, February 29, 2016

There's a Storm Brewing Up--I'm Not Sure I Care

It's shifting.

My mood.

I can feel it. 

I'm agitated as fuck and the depression is lurking just behind my eyes. 

I've had a headache all day even though I slept well last night. 

I really don't even give a shit about it today. What the fuck can be done anyway? More medication dose tweaking? My doctor can shove his medication ideas up his ass as far as I'm concerned. 

I called last week for a therapist referral and got nothing in return. I'm too agitated and snippy and pissed off to care enough to call again. The bitch on the other end wouldn't know what hit her. 

I downloaded a mood tracker. I have no fucking idea why. It'll be filled with nothing but red lines from anger and depression and paranoia and I DON'T GIVE A FUCK notes. 

When I'm too pissed off to cry, I know shit is about to get real. 

I have an appointment scheduled in two weeks. I don't give a fuck about it. I don't give a fuck about anything. Huh. Yeah...I really don't. 


Sunday, February 28, 2016

I'm Not a Peacemaker

Do you ever feel like someone is always asking you to tone it down and to sort of give everyone else a break for the sake of making peace?

I'm a firm believer in doing what's right for me in order to keep my mental health as even as possible. This might mean avoiding a social situation, taking a mental health day from work, spending the day in front of the TV and not showering, or cutting people out of my life (even if that isn't for the long-term). 

If my actions happen to cut through the feelings of others in the process, that isn't my intention. My intention is to take care of myself to the best of my ability. 

Everyone is going through something. That includes me. 

So I put this out there...

How about you give me a break? 

How about you bend? 

How about you find it within yourself to be kind and admit wrong doing? 

How about you take that first step?

I'm all about facing my fears over the last 3 months. I share my stories publicly in order to make others feel less alone. I put myself out there, not for attention, but to make others feel more human. 

I've called a national radio show to read my poetry and that's empowered me to audition for a local stand upon a stage and share my story in front of a group of strangers. 

If I've helped a single person in the process then suffering with this mental illness has been worth it. 

But no. I will not give everyone a break. Why? Because I am suffering and while I'm helping others, I'd like to be taken care of too. 

How does that sound?

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Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Your Local Pharmacist is an Excellent Resource

I'd like to take a moment to express the fact that your pharmacist is an excellent resource should you have any questions regarding your medications. Who better to tend to your concerns than the person who went to school for years to learn all about prescription drugs? 

I spent a few minutes with my pharmacist yesterday. I expressed my concerns about a new drug my doctor prescribed for me. The first side-effect that caught my eye was the ability to worsen suicidal ideation. For a person who thinks about death and dying every single day, it's probably not the right drug. 

I ended up in tears as I explained to him that while yes, I am a grown ass woman, but....I'm not sure having this in my home is a good idea. Not only could it make my already dark thoughts worse, it could be an easy out for me if left alone with these dark thoughts (the drug slows down your heart rate)

He immediately picked up the bottle from the counter and hugged it to his chest saying...It would be best to sleep on it. Speak to your doctor. It'll be here for two weeks if you decide you still need it. 

He saw it in my eyes. He went beyond my words, beyond my tears and into my mind. He knew it wouldn't be safe on his part to allow me to walk out of that building with those pills in my possession. 

I'm thankful to him for that.

I spent the remainder of the night cooking and pondering the WHY and WHAT of life....

Why should I keep going?
What's the point?
Work, sleep, pay bills, family, eat, work, sleep, pay bills, family, eat....
What the actual fuck?

This is lame as shit!

Am I aware that the majority of the pills I take can end my life if I take "enough". Yes, I am. This one in particular wouldn't have taken much. It would have been fool-proof. 

What's next?

I left a message this morning with my psychiatrist for an internal referral at his practice to speak with a therapist. I'm not into talk therapy, but someone--a perfect stranger, has to give me a list of all the reasons I should stick around. 

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Is it Akathisia or (Hypo) Mania

Yesterday was not a good day.

I checked in with my doctor to say my anxiety is still sky high and should we increase my medication once more as discussed at my last appointment. I felt like I knew the answer and was ready to start it up.

When he called me back, he actually told me to back down on it and to start taking Propranolol for Akathisia he assumed was ignited from this medication. As I've said before, I don't take medication just because my doctor tells me to. I research it first, check out reviews and then decide what to do.

Once I looked up this medication and saw that it's going to slow my heart rate down, make me dizzy if I get up too quickly and make my suicidal ideations worse, I'm thinking hell no. I made a plan to go to the pharmacy yesterday to speak with the pharmacist about the drug. When I called to see if it was ready and it wasn't, I put that off to do today. 

Putting off getting to the pharmacy (I didn't get a text that my medication was ready until 8:30pm) really fucked with my head last night. I was suddenly feeling quite depressed and was crying uncontrollably. I decided to call in my other refills since I was going to the pharmacy anyway and it hit me in that  moment what a fuck up I am. I threw the bottles across the room like a small child having a fit and went to sleep. 

I've made myself productive so far today but now my mind is wandering back to Propranolol. When a person thinks about death every single day and comes across an "easy out" such as this drug, it makes for difficult concentration. It seems like a reckless act on my doctor's part.

This article explains a little bit of the reasoning behind the prescribed Propranolol and eases my mind a touch but....

Will I need to be treated like a child and have my husband dispense the drug for me?

Can I be trusted if he doesn't and I'm having a bad day? 

How quickly would it stop my heart?

So you see my predicament. I'll be heading over there at the end of the day to have a little chat with the pharmacist. I'm crossing my fingers that people like me approach her daily so she doesn't think I'm a complete idiot or will she turn me in if I leave with the pills? 

This is just way too much to think about.


Monday, February 22, 2016

Sincerity--A Narrative Poem

I know I normally deliver narrative poetry a little on the morbid side (such as my haunted doll or strolling through a cemetery) of the spectrum but...buckle up buttercup I'm spreading fuckery (have you seen that squirrel on the inter-webs?) today!

I've stepped out of my comfort zone with the following piece and I'm happy with the way it turned out. I'd love some feedback!

* * * 


i stand before you in autumn’s chilled breath
with endless solid roots
yet pieces beginning to fade
your sleek olive hue relenting
transitioning from fire to ash

bare bones covered in delicate cotton white
standing firm against our great mother’s temper
branches dense with weight
strands of lights illuminate your twists and turns
delicate twigs shiver against milky frost

pea-sized specks take formation
reviving and thickening
preparing for the days of delivering shade      
fresh showers shifting through the cracks
leaving behind the essence of new life

your once empty caverns rejuvenated
an abundance of emeralds glistening in the sunlight
i lay beneath you and place my hand upon your caramel crux
looking skyward your leaves sway in the wind
composing a melody

whether it is to climb and retreat
to lie beneath and glare
to jump into your remains and shriek
your sincerity is timeless

Pamela Gold 2016

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Repression--A Narrative Poem

Everyone interprets poetry in their own way. Some take the words and make it into something taking place in their own life in that moment.

What do you take away from this one?

* * *


she gazes to her left
her first sight is all sky
an angered filled grey
patches of blue in its shadow
shifting into a seated position
outlines of mountains appear
a vibrant scene cascading the ocean below
water lapping its way forward
an unseen force pulling it from behind
sounds of purity drifting in from the window
she stands
back cracking
limbs in misery
feet howling for relief
she shuffles to the window
stopping one foot prior
her lower half remains planted
her upper half bows forward
chasing after hints of life
her pain surging
this her only solace from the torture yet to come
the purity of the abyss below
almost bleaching her distress
the chains fan out behind her
cuffs biting into her skin
the persistent swelling
footsteps climb the stairs behind the splintered wooden door       
floorboards vibrating
the key turns the knob
unlatching his anger
spilling from his solid expression
he yanks
drags her back
removing another link
further spraining her reach
the calm is dissolved
just in time to create another grotesque secret

Pamela Gold 2/2016

* * *

I starting writing this when my anxiety was at a level so high, I became paranoid. I didn't finish it because I wasn't sure what was going to happen to her (me). I wasn't sure if she would find a way out of those chains and jump out of the window or if she would just keep riding the anxiety train and see what stop would take her off. I rode the train further, but haven't gotten off yet. My anxiety is still at an all time high but I'm working through it.

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Anxiety Laced Dreams

"I just don't want you to be in your car thinking that you're driving when you're sitting on the side of the road!" 
--Jack's thought on Marijuana for Anxiety (said while laughing)

I had an appointment yesterday. So many things came to the surface and I have some situational bullshit being thrown into the mix that is interfering with my mental health. 

I'll just get the above out of the way....why is health insurance so fucking expensive? 

Since I moved to Colorado, I've been lucky enough that my kids and husband have been covered by the State at no charge to us. I've been working for a kick ass company for close to a year now and I'm finally being paid my worth after all these years in the business. According to the State of Colorado, it's too much money for them to continue helping me with my family's insurance (I get mine through my employer). My proposed question to them is...Where the fuck do you think I'm going to find an extra $800 per month to put them on my insurance?

Monday, February 15, 2016

Do you know...?

Do you know what it feels like to be so tired that your vision is blurred and you see double?

Do you know what it feels like to want to go to sleep with both eyes shut without feeling worry?

Do you know what it feels like to actually sleep with one eye open?

Do you know what it feels like to be alone in a room with a group of people in the next and you begin to shake because they must be talking about you?

Do you know what it feels like to be in the above situation and confront those people only to find out they were talking about their weekend? 

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Anxiety Disorder -- The Most Common Mental Illness in the United States

Anxiety is a general term for several disorders that cause nervousness, fear, apprehension, and worrying. These disorders affect how we feel and behave, and they can manifest real physical symptoms.

According to the National Institute of Mental Health (NAMI), anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the United States, affecting 40 million adults in the U.S. age 18 and older, which is 18% of the population.

I have three triggers that send my anxiety over the edge. You'll find me huddled in a corner breathing deep until the medication kicks in when these instances are unavoidable.


Small talk.

Grocery shopping.

In this moment, I'm waiting for my husband to deliver the gift of silence to me. He's taking our boys to the movies. It's the greatest gift I could receive. Well, I wouldn't shy away from kitchen gadgets or a new vacuum either. I'm that type of girl. Three hours of blissful quiet is phenomenal.

So yes, my children trigger my anxiety with their noise quite often. They're kids and are going to make noise, but they seem to understand what over the top noise does to me, and they generally respect that.

Saturday, February 13, 2016

Paranoia--What the actual fuck, man?

The sun is creeping over the floor boards in the most perfect shadow casting direction. The weather is warm, an Indian Summer type of day. I am seated in my chair on the balcony of my home, sipping coffee, as the wind whips through the alley below.

Today I am calm. 

Since beginning my new medication I have experienced laughter, determination, fear, tears, insomnia, a dabble of depression and paranoia. 

I can openly admit that I'm riding the roller coaster that is rapid cycling with hypo-mania at its peaks.

I've spent a ton of money this past week. I'm wearing $500 Georgio Armani framed glasses that I convinced myself I needed to have after my eye exam. It's a brilliant experience, though, being able to see in high defintion. I've purchased clothes, shoes, more shoes, more clothes and a plethora of Bath & Body Works. I've spent at least $1,000 I do not have all while riding this wave of freedom. 

After work a few days ago I took my family to dinner. We hit up the local barbecue joint and I dug into a rack of sauce slathered ribs with a mountain of creamy coleslaw, and beans on the side. 

Sunday, February 7, 2016

The Hospital--There's Never a Good Time to Go

A week ago, I was at the lowest I've ever been. It was do or die for me. Three straight months of severe depression. I headed to my psychiatrist appointment with the mindset that I'd give whatever medication he suggested a solid try. I knew (know) that what I want in my life is not to actually die but to live without having to try so hard to want to be here.

The appointment was strange, unlike the others. He had a stack of papers in his lap and he began reading to me.

They were my words read out loud. How I was feeling each time I was in for a visit or emailed him with a question or concern. I sat there reliving my past for an endless amount of time. He combined my past with the present. I was honest with him because I was numb. I had so many feelings mixed up inside of me that it was hard to feel on the outside anymore.

When he was finished, we didn't shift from the comfortable couch to his desk where we discuss medication like normal. He looked me in the eye and asked...What do you want to do?

I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. Wasn't this his job? To fix me?

You want to put me in the hospital...

Jack is a tricky son of a bitch. He always makes me say shit, such as this, in my own voice. It's the whole reverse psychology thing. If I say it, I can't get upset at him. If I say it, it's because I realize it to be true. If I say it, I can't call him an asshole.

I sat there, still and quiet, pondering my options. There's never a good time to be admitted. I had work stuff happening, an office move coming up, my husband and son were sick, what would they eat while I was gone, do they have clean clothes, and so on...

But he was right. I needed drastic measures to pull me out of this walking coma.

I left with the knowledge that he trusted me on that day not to do anything stupid. He was going to call a facility, where he had a psychiatrist friend on staff, and get back to me soon. I went home to break the news then viciously began doing things around the house.

I was angry. I was emotional. I was not ready for this.

Several hours later, I called him and left a message, begging for another chance...Please, let's just try one more medication, just one more. I'll even go back on Lithium. I just need one more shot at this. If it fails, I'll go. Please...

Time stood still as I bustled about, waiting for the phone to ring. I was paranoid as fuck. Every time I heard sirens (I live in Denver), I knew it was for me. "They" were coming to take me away. Involuntary hospital admittance is no fucking joke.

He finally called and apologized for the delay saying...It was jammed full here all morning. I knew I wasn't the only one losing my shit so I was relieved that it wasn't because he was calling the men in white to take me away in front of my family and neighbors.

The timing will never be right, Pamela.

That night I started a new drug. An expensive as fuck drug. I don't know if it was the drug that pulled me out of my haze within the next three days or my fear of being committed. Probably a combination of the two.

There's nothing completely wrong with going to the hospital. Aside from all the shit you're leaving behind at home to be there, in my experience(s), it's not so bad. The biggest problem I was faced this time was I didn't know how to be social and I didn't want to deal with the process of learning the schedule. I would have jumped at the chance to be in a bed for three days, heavily injected with medication to pull me out of this depression, then join in on the norm for a few more days, but that wasn't an option. What I needed was to be alone but begin to recover.

I can go to the hospital but when I get home, nothing will have changed on the outside. Life will have gone on without me and the anxiety to catch back up is too much. All I'll be thinking about "in there" is what I should be doing "out here". I need to do this on the outside.

Instead I stayed at home and swallowed those pills. It was trial and error with the timing of taking them and being able to function. I forced myself to get back to work and fall back into routine.

Today I'm fine. I'm not good or great or on the ledge. I'm fine. Just fine. I'm a work in progress. I'll never be one of those people who is comfortable in any situation handed to me. I try not to worry about tomorrow. I need to focus on today. To just keep breathing.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Not My Usual Poetry

I wrote this poem for my husband on Valentine's Day in 2010. I didn't write this poem because I big puffy heart love V-Day. I wrote this poem because it's the most ridiculous day of the year (to me). I don't normally rhyme in my poetry, but this one has a nice ring to it...

| an ode to a most tremendous hubs |

roses are red
because they look too funny when blue
you are my most favoritist dick lord
even when you appear to not have a clue
i may not always show my love
but i promise it is always there
even when you feel the need to pee in front of me
like it is some kind of dare
i love you the most
when the unicorn horn is absent from your ass
your ability to laugh at my witty humor
is always a blast
to my dearest douche-bag
nobody else can compare
i love you all the way to texas
and i know you will always be there

This post is in response to the prompt: Write a poem to your love for Valentine’s Day.

Mama’s Losin’ It

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Photo Confessional -- Q&A With My Kids

A friend of mine posted a series of questions online the other day and gave the instructions to ask my/your kids the same questions, without any prompting, to see how they think.

At first, I was just going to ask my little mister, who is all of 6, but thought it would be unique to ask all three of my kids ages 6, 16 and 21 (GASP!). The result was laughter, quality time spent with my guys talking all about ME and each of them telling me they had fun while doing it.

I must preface this by stating I don't run a household where I mask who I am around my kids...fuck words and all.

1- What is something I always say to you?

  6 | You're my favorite love!
16 | Get off your phone!
21 | Why are your eyes always red?...then switched it to...Stop messing with your brother!

2- What makes me happy?

  6 | Hugs and kisses from me.
16 | Baking.
21 | Hugs and when I say I love you.

3- What makes me sad?

  6 | When I get mad at you.
16 | When me and my brothers aren't with you.
21 | What did my brothers say? Damn, from funny to serious...shit! ...When I wasn't doing good in school or not even going.

4- How do I make you laugh?

  6 | When we're playing Monopoly Deal and you get the birthday card and you throw it in the middle and yell...It's my birthday bitch!
16 | When we text each other those stupid, funny memes.
21 | When I call you on Friday or Saturday night while you're drinking your wine. It's funny as hell!

5- What was I like as a kid?

  6 | Shy.
16 | A delinquent.
21 | A troublemaker. I had to have learned it from someone!

6- How old am I?

  6 | 78. Is that true?
16 | 38.
21 | 37.

7- How tall am I?

  6 | ...counting something in his head while scanning me from head to toe...46 inches!
16 | 5'3"
21 | 5'5"

8- What's my favorite thing to do?

  6 | Play with me. Talk to me. Lay in bed with me.
16 | Bake, watch weird shows on Netflix, read, write, cook.
21 | Watch your shows on Netflix.

9- What do I do when you're not around?

  6 | Read and write.
16 | Watch weird shows on Netflix, read and write.
21 | How am I supposed to know if I'm not there? Probably read.

10- What am I really good at?

  6 | Writing poems. I liked listening to the poem you read on the radio that time.
16 | Writing, cooking, your job.
21 | A lot of things....putting something new on the table every night. Damn good food.

11- What am I not good at?

  6 | The Trouble game.
16 | Throwing balls and Frisbee. I'm sorry but you suck.
21 | Directions. I can't believe how lost we got on that hike in the mountains that time!

12- What do I do for a job?

  6 | Math. All day, math.
16 | Something with numbers.
21 | Sit at a computer and do a lot of shit with numbers. A paper pusher. Scratch all that, you're what we call in the army a desk jockey.

13- What's my favorite food?

  6 | Chinese.
16 | Chinese. And pasta, yo!
21 | Pork roll or pasta.

14- What do you like doing with me?

  6 | Board games and swimming.
16 | Watch weird shows on Netflix and play Monopoly Deal...then I told him what his brother said about the birthday card and he laughed louder than I heard him laugh in a long time.
21 | When we used to drive to and from places and we would talk and listen to music.

This was a super fun exercise in finding love and humor in the little things. I hope you do it too and come back to share the results.