I’m a lithium princess again. That was my username for a while on MSN Messenger. I picked it when I was 17 or 18 and taking lithium. I thought it fit me better than Jadimo (a username on AOL that my dad picked out for me–it’s the first two letters of my names) or anything like that. When I had gastric bypass surgery, I was taken off of it because my surgeon didn’t want it to interfere with the surgery. My psychiatrist never put me back on it, though he recommended it several times. I always insisted that it didn’t do any good and that I didn’t need it. Well, my current psychiatrist has decided that my mood swings are too out of control to not be on it, so I’m back on it. It tastes absolutely horrible, and I hate that I have to have blood work in a week to check my levels. I know what it will say. It will say that there isn’t enough in my system. That’s what happened the first time I was on it. I never had enough in my system.

Anyway, I should have been a princess anyway, even without the lithium. I didn’t know it at the time, but my family descended from royalty, which is true for most Americans. I’m not, though, partly because my umpteenth great-grandfather (John of Gaunt) decided to have an affair with his servant. They had a few children together (including my ancestor – Joan Beaufort), and Parliament wouldn’t recognize the children as legitimate. Finally, he married the woman, and Parliament said they’d recognize the children, but that they couldn’t be considered royalty. There were some down the line who ended up being royalty, but that was because they married back into the line. (Royalty did that quite a bit.) Because of the royalty and nobility that my ancestors came from, they were from a lot of different places. Instead of just picking one place and saying, my family is from this place, I tried listing some of them on my basics page, under “if you go back far enough”. Of course, coming from royalty and from rich folks doesn’t make me royalty or rich. It just means my ancestors were. I also have ancestors who were con artists, alcoholics, and sociopaths. That doesn’t make me one of those either.

So, speaking of my “wacky” family. I thought I’d be a little open about some of the more outrageous family members:

My paternal grandfather (the one the protected entry is about). He was emotionally abusive and sociopath, but he was also a good liar. My other grandfather loved to listen to his lies because they were just so well thought out and sounded so good. He was in jail once for stealing cars for an “organized crime group”. He was an alcoholic, which may or may not have had anything to do with the time that he threatened to blow up a television station. He liked to assemble guns in the house, and after he died, my family found guns and gun parts in quite a few places, along with those books that have the hide-y holes in them.

Uncle Johnny (my paternal grandfather’s brother) was also a sociopath, and my mother only let me be around him once or twice in my life (because he smoked and cussed a lot). I got to see him before he died, and that’s the only time that I remember my mom letting me near him. (My dad was with me.) He was also a con artist. He had many aliases and many fake social security numbers. He liked marrying women, but never kept a wife. He was a gigalo and had many girlfriends. He also liked being in jail, and loved when he was in solitary. He liked that he got fed, got to exercise, and got to be left alone. I don’t know much more about him because, like I said, I wasn’t exactly allowed to be near him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had anything to do with mob, though.

Uncle Frank (my mom’s maternal grandmother’s brother) also liked to marry different women, mainly cousins (who happened to be sisters of one another). He also was a notorious drunk, and, according to my mom, he (along with pretty much all of his brothers) was a sociopath. There’s this story in my family about him. He used to go to Georgia and get drunk. Well, after one of his trips, he was no longer allowed to go to Georgia anymore. According to what I’ve been told, he killed someone there, and he couldn’t go back because he could get arrested.

And my great-grandmother, who is apparently the beginning of the line of mental health problems for my mom, grandmother and me, was not a sociopath. One of her sisters was killed by that sister’s husband. (They found the body by contacting a psychic.) When that man died, my great-grandmother wanted to pour gasoline into his grave and set him on fire. I think she may have even brought the gasoline with her, but she was talked out of setting him on fire.

So, if I haven’t scared you off, then “big yay”. I’m not ashamed of my family. I don’t necessarily like what some of them have done. I didn’t like that some of my ancestors owned slaves. I didn’t like that some of my ancestors were alcoholics. I didn’t like that my grandfather was such a bad guy. I didn’t pick the hand I was dealt, so I’ve had to learn to live with it. Learning to live with some of the sins of my family’s past has been difficult. To know things that they did that were bad is really hard because you know that you come from them. You begin to wonder if you’ll be just like them. You begin to wonder that if they did something evil, then you’ll be evil, too.

I could bring this all up in therapy, which I’ve done in the past with some of it. I’ve actually talked about my family too much in therapy before. I tend to do it when I don’t want to talk about myself or work on my problems anymore. Besides, it’s entertaining…for me, at least.

So, what was this post about again? Oh yeah, my avoiding to talk about why I need the lithium to begin with. I was put on it because I told my doctor that I have this tendency to start a million projects and never finish them. I also told him about the near suicidal point last week. So, he noted that I had a major shift in moods in a short period of time, and decided that it was best to put me on lithium in addition to my other meds.

Oh, I watched Hotel Rwanda twice this week. It was a brilliant film. It left me feeling sad, heart-broken, and incredibly angry at the US and the rest of the world for not intervening to save the 1 million Tutsis who were slaughtered while the rest of the world just sat around and did nothing. I recommend that everyone should watch this movie.

Tom Cruise sucks more than he did before because of his idiotic stance on psychiatry. Did anyone else see any of the interview he had with Matt Lauer? He seems to think he’s the most “enlightened” person on the subject of psychiatry. He may know some things about psychiatry, but he seems to know NOTHING about mental illness. He’s a complete idiot when it comes to mental illness. Vitamins, exercise, family dinners, etc. don’t mean squat to someone who is desperately in need of medication and therapy. I wonder how many people will listen to him and go off their meds. His statements could lead to people killing themselves or other people. I hope that doesn’t happen, but if it does, I hope someone sues the pants off of him.

I’ve added a new theme to the lineup. It’s called Chemistry and features Julia Stiles and Luke Mably from The Prince and Me, which I also watched recently.

I’ve been told that I’m a good writer, and this entry may change some minds. I typically write the way that I think. I think in a narrative. Sometimes, the narrative gets jumbled and I jump from one topic to another and back again. This entry, though I didn’t intend it to do so, kinda represents that. This is how my conversations with other people go. I’ll bring up a topic, talk about it for a while, go to another subject, go back to the first topic, go to another subject, go back to the first topic, etc. About the only person who can follow my conversation patterns is, who would have guessed this, my mother. To listen to me, you have to be willing to put a puzzle together.

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Have you ever learned something horrible about someone you loved? Well, that’s what the previous “password protected” entry is about. I want all of my regulars to read it, so if you regularly read my blog and want to read the entry, then please let me know by posting a response to this entry. I’ll e-mail you the password. After you read that entry, you can comment, if you’d like. Just don’t go away. I’ve talked about my grandfather being a bad guy before and scared “friends” away. I don’t want that to happen this time. Also, to understand the next part of this entry, you’ll need to read the protected entry.

Last night, I think my mother thought that she would have to take me to the hospital. It started with being reminded about what’s in the protected entry and then was worsened my dad eating the rest of the rice we had for dinner. I had to make more rice so that I had something to eat when I took my Geodon. He didn’t know he did anything wrong, but it upset me. So, I got angry, which typically comes before my mood just takes a downfall. As I was waiting for my Minute Rice to get ready, I sat down on the floor of the kitchen and just began crying. Everything seemed to be falling apart, and I wanted to know why things weren’t getting better. I wanted to not be afraid and paranoid. I wanted to know if what my grandfather had been involved with (protected entry) had something to do with how many problems I’ve ended up having or if somehow it made me bad or evil. I wanted to know if I could be good if I came from someone so horrible. My mom, who was awake, went over all my good qualities and she said that if I wasn’t good, I wouldn’t worry about being good. That made me feel a little better, but I was still paranoid. I get worse when I’m in the dark, so I decided to sleep in the living room with the television on so that bad things wouldn’t happen to me.

I feel better today, but a part of me is still scared. A part of me will probably always be scared.

Now, onto the “boring” stuff. I saw my family doctor last week and he said my B12 and iron levels were good. I was a little shocked about the B12 level, until it clicked that I had just taken one dose 2 or 3 days before the test. I don’t remember if I’ve taken any since then. I know I should take it more often, but I hate taking it and I hate to remember to take it. I told him about my knees and about a rash that I have on my finger (it started before school got out). He said to ignore the cracking in my knees, but if the pain gets worse that he’ll send me to an orthopedist. I already have one, so if I have to go to one, I want to go see him. As for the rash, it’s not a rash. It’s eczema, which I already have on my head and a little patch on my chest between my breasts. I’m supposed to get some sort of cream, but since my parents have no money in the bank, I can’t get it. Oh well, I’ve lived with eczema on the other body parts, so I’ll live with it on my finger. He told me if I use lotion to moisturize it that that should help.

I’m still obsessing over the whole Disability thing. It seems like no matter what I’m doing, my mind always goes back to that. I want them to make an informed decision, but I want them to make a decision very soon. I want to know if when school starts back I should inform my teachers of my problems or not. Technically, I should probably do it anyway, but I’ve always been afraid I might sound like I’m trying to be treated like I’m special.

Oh, and for my advertising page:

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I had therapy yesterday, and it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. I smiled and played along, but my therapist was quite annoying yesterday. First, I told her that people watch me, which one would assume a Comprehensive Care therapist would recognize as paranoia. She started telling me, “Who cares what other people are doing? Who cares if they look?” I stopped her and rephrased the statement. I basically said, “People who aren’t really there watch me.” She then asked me (after telling me to talk to my pdoc about the paranoia ’cause she can’t do anything for it) if I knew what was behind this. I said, “It’s because I’m crazy.” She said, “No, you’re not crazy. It’s just part of your disease.” Look, I know that therapists aren’t usually inclined to calling patients crazy to their faces and try to keep them from calling themselves crazy, but she restated what I had just said in a more politically correct phrasing. She also wouldn’t let me call myself a bad person. She didn’t even ask me why I thought I was a bad, evil person. She just went into that whole “You’re a good person with a good heart and you’re so smart” thing that some therapists like to go into rather than listening to me talk about WHY I’m so evil and why I think I’m being punished for being bad/evil. That annoyed me. Another thing that annoyed me, was when I made a comment that was sarcastic and she told me not to be sarcastic. I looked at her and said, “My mother is sarcastic. My father is sarcastic. I’m going to be sarcastic.” She said something about how I didn’t have to be like them and that I could be my own person and be who I am. (I didn’t tell her that I don’t know who I am.) But the real kicker of the whole therapy session was when she suggested that I might want to move out of my house. I told her, “I’m not moving out. It’s my house.” She didn’t understand and asked me to explain, so I told her that the deed is in my name. She said that since my parents pay the mortgage that it’s their house and will be their house once they finish paying for it. Actually, it will be MY house until they decide that they want me to sign it back over to them. I was a good girl and didn’t argue this with her, though I was very tempted to. I was also tempted to take my shoes off and throw them at her, but she was too close and my mom was sitting in the chair next to me. At the end of my session, Gulshan said people either loved her or hated her. Well, I don’t hate anyone, but I certainly don’t love her.

Yes, my mother was in therapy with me yesterday. Why? Well, on Sunday, I got really bad again and was very depressed and anxious. I was ready to quit taking all of my psych meds because I didn’t think they were working. Klonopin isn’t easing my anxiety unless I take a double dose. Effexor isn’t ending the depression. Geodon isn’t stopping my paranoia and I have to take it near the time I take Klonopin if I want it to knock me out. Lamictal doesn’t seem to be doing anything at all. I did calm down and decide I would continue taking my medicines, but I was a bit touch and go for a while on Sunday. So, my mother went back to make sure I talked about these things with Gulshan. I didn’t tell Gulshan that I wanted to stop taking my meds, though. My mom was also back there to remind me to tell Gulshan that I was nervous about the whole disability thing, but Gulshan just glossed over that.

Michael Jackson was found not guilty. Good. I didn’t think he was guilty and I didn’t think the prosecution had a good enough case. They were depending on the testimony of a family of con artists. You can only cry wolf so many times before people stop believing you. I know some people think that Michael Jackson got off because he was a celebrity, but I don’t think that’s true from the things the jury members have said. Some say that it’s because he has money, which, in a way, is true. He could hire high quality attorneys who would actually fight to keep him out of jail. Yes, you can get high quality attorneys that are cheaper, but he had money so he went for the higher costing high quality people. And some people think he has to be a child molester because he’s different. A person can be strange or different and NOT be some kind of criminal. Besides, not all child molesters seem different. Perfectly “normal” people can be child molesters.

Oh, and one thing I didn’t understand about the people waiting outside the courthouse awaiting the verdict was that there was a sign that said something like “Jesus Lives. REPENT!” What the Hell was that for? Who’s supposed to do the repenting? Michael Jackson? The accuser? The attorneys? The judge? The fans? America in general? Who is supposed to repent? I also didn’t understand the fan who was releasing the doves. That seemed a bit over the top, but it definitely didn’t seem as apocalyptic and judgmental as the other person’s display.

Oh, I’ve revamped Taboo and I’ve hired new staff members. I’m hoping that by doing this things will run more smoothly. Now I need to go back to my neglected icon challenges and work on them, but I’m too tired to do that.

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I had my appointments today and my appointment with the ENT yesterday. I have another appointment tomorrow. I think I’m going to be appointmented out. Actually, I think I already am.

Yesterday’s appointment was a recheck on the whole ear infection thing. He wanted to see if it needed to be micro-suctioned, which it didn’t. He made me have a hearing test. Apparently, there’s a little conductive hearing loss in my right ear, but it’s supposed to get better. You know what’s strange? I could hear better out of my right ear than I could my left, even though he said my left had perfect hearing. Oh, and I think the results may have been skewed because I was reading the audiologist. I can’t always tell if what I’m hearing is really real, so I would hear sounds and, instead of just always raising my hand, I’d look and see if he was about to look up. If he was, then I’d raise my hand.

The psychologist appointment today went okay. My mom went back with me, which was okay with me. She did find out that I had had a plan to kill myself this past semester, which shocked her. She knew I’d had the suicidal thoughts, but not the plan. Anyway, the psychologist asked me some questions and right away knew I had panic attacks. He diagnosed me as Bipolar with psychotic, delusional, and paranoid tendencies and as having Panic Disorder with Agoraphobia. Well, I’d pretty much been diagnosed with those things before, so no big shock there.

My mom and I had some lunch right before I went for my second disability appointment. This next appointment was with an Internal Medicine doctor. I had to answer a whole new questionnaire. (I’d filled one out at the last appointment, too.) First, I had an eye exam. Without my glasses, my vision was crappy. With it, my vision was 20/15. I had to undress (except for underwear) and wear a gown, and wait for the doctor. He came in, and did the “exam”, which could’ve been done with my clothes on. He was supposed to check my range of motion, but he basically skipped out on part of that and just saw if I could perform certain tasks. I did them all, with a bit of pain for some. He looked for my GBS scars, and was amazed that they were barely visible. That was about it.

I did have to go to get X-Rays done on my left knee. In the waiting room, my mom said something about the signs being cock-eyed, and that reminded me of BtVS when Willow told Xander that ‘askew means cock-eyed’, so I brought that up. Finally, I got called back and had my 2 views done. I waited for a few minutes before I was told that one of my views had to be done again. Why? Well, my knees are a bit malformed. They don’t fit in the grooves, so they point out to the sides. This screwed up one X-Ray the first time, but the second was okay because she could manipulate it to come out right. When I got in the car, I told my mom that my knees were askew. See, the little Buffy reference did have a bit of a point. It wasn’t just some random thing thrown in so that I could talk about Buffy.

The girl on Lavish apologized about her posts, which is okay, I guess. She wants the thread deleted, which I don’t think it should be. I think that that thread should stick around. Not to embarrass her, but to show that we have argued these points with someone, in case anyone wants to come in in the future and pick another argument about the same topics.

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Do you know who you are? Do you know where you begin and end? I don’t. I’ve had problems for so long that I don’t know what part of me is Janet and what part is one of the problems I have. I don’t know whether I have a temper or whether it’s the borderline in me that has the temper. All I know about myself is really superficial stuff. I don’t know that I’ll ever know who I am. I thought I knew, but the more I think about it, the more that I know that I don’t. Oh, and all this thinking about not knowing who I am has made me think of the day when we discussed mental health in Social Work. The professor, who had worked at the Mental Health Center, said that people shouldn’t be identified as the disease they have. Schizophrenics should be known as people who have Schizophrenia. As nice and lovey-dovey and inclusive as that sounds, it’s BS. If you have a disease that affects your mind, and your mind is your sense of self, then you become your disease instead of yourself.

I’ve been writing down things I need to bring up with the psychologist and the doctor on Tuesday. I’ve got a longer list for the psychologist than I do for the doctor. About all I have for the doctor is back pain, stomach problems, asthma (though it’s pretty much under control), and knee stiffness/heat/pain/cracking. He can’t prescribe me anything for the knee and back problems, and even if he could, he still couldn’t. I know that sounds confusing, but since I have stomach problems, I can’t take anti-inflammatories. I can’t even take the “easy on the stomach” ones because somehow they still mess with me. I don’t know which of the two “doctors” I should talk to about being tired all of the time. I know part of why I don’t do the whole sleep thing that well has to do with mental stuff, but I also know that feeling tired all the time can be a sign of something physical.

There’s a new conservative girl on Lavish who I’m enjoying. Not because she’s a nice person because I honestly don’t know if she is or not. I’m enjoying her because she’s picking apart liberals, so I’m helping to pick apart her statements. It’s very fun. I just love the argument that “people shouldn’t have to pay for social programs if they don’t want to”. I countered with “people shouldn’t have to pay for war(s) if they don’t want to” and “people shouldn’t have to pay for drilling in the arctic if they don’t want to”. She’s saying people are being illogical with her, but I don’t think anyone has been illogical with her. She defended Bush saying nuclear incorrectly, which I cannot forgive her for. He is President of this country (even though I don’t particularly like that fact) and as such he should be able to say the word “nuclear” properly. I don’t care that he’s human and can make mistakes. Mistakes are there for you to learn from and correct yourself and be a better person. If you can’t say nuclear properly, you shouldn’t be in charge of the military of a country that possesses nuclear weapons and wants to take away nuclear weapons from other countries. Oh, with the girl’s disregard for social programs and her insistance that poor people are leeches, not just people who manipulate the system. She claimed that 78% of the country is made of Conservatives, which is not true. If that were true, then Bush would’ve won with at least 70% (not all Conservatives would’ve voted for him) of the vote. And then there’s this (in response to my telling her never to go into a human service career, especially social work):

I would never go in to social work. I wouldn’t want to live on other people’s money like that. I’d be guilty as heck. And actually,the student’s wouldn’t eat me alive because they’re all probably a bunch of vegans. If you mean that in the sense that they’d beat me in a debate…no. They wouldn’t. Not logically anyway. It might seem as though they did, but their arguments would make no sense. The logo for human service careers should be a pig with little pigs suckling on it…for obvious reasons.

She wanted there to be no name-calling and mocking, and when I pointed out that this (especially the vegan comment and the pigs comment) was mocking human service people, and me, she claimed it wasn’t. Anyway, I was incredibly restrained in my discussing things with her. I didn’t call Bush or her an idiot once, no matter how many times I may have thought about it. I didn’t call either a bunch of names either, which I could have. I didn’t get hateful, though I wanted to. I think I deserve a cookie, or, at the very least, a gold star.

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