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I started this blog a long time ago when I was very depressed and upset, with no clear idea what I wanted to do with it.  Just bitch to the world about how much it sucks to have bipolar disorder?  What good is that?  No good, no good at all.  I know there are resources out there.  I took Dialectical Behavioral Therapy and learned lots of great skills.  There’s a weekly post-DBT meeting I could be going to if I could stand to leave the house.

I read a friend’s blog recently, a new one she’d started that was intended to provide a service to its readers.  She admitted starting the blog was scary, was concerned about making mistakes, but was going to try it anyhow.  Part of me wanted this blog to do that, too, provide a service to readers.  My friend’s an artist, and her courage got me to thinking that I should go ahead and try this again.

But who the heck to reach out to?  Because of other social/work connections, I don’t want “just anyone” reading this blog, which raises the question why do it at all?  At this time, no one reads it, so it doesn’t matter.

I could start with what I’m taking: Nighttime meds (Seroquel 100 mg, Mirtazapine, Clonazepam), and Daytime meds (Lamotrigine 150 mg, Clonazepam), for bipolar disorder and anxiety.

Yesterday I added 10 mg amitriptyline at bedtime.  This was not for depression, although it’s an antidepressant.  It was prescribed to me for migraine prevention by a neurologist over a week ago, but I wouldn’t start it until getting the ok from my psych doctor. All I need is for a new antidepressant added to everything else to exacerbate my problems and the side effects of the medications through interaction. But the the psych doc finally gave the ok, because the dose is so low.

Today I woke up late, from unpleasant dreams I could not seem to get clear of, with a migraine starting. So I took Excedrin Migraine with my am meds.  Once up I had to hurry hurry hurry and was really cheerful, which is unusual for the early morning.  I thought perhaps the amitriptyline had a positive effect?  After I got back from dropping off the kids at the bus stop, the aura started up again, and I got really dizzy and felt like I was going to pass out.  The feeling lasted a long time and seemed to be getting worse.  I kept on with feeding the horses anyway, wondering if I would just drop dead.  I had to stay out there and keep an eye on the horses.  I was so worried about each and every one.  My solicitude is purely anxiety-driven.  I have no identifiable reason to think I need to worry about any of them.

Ever since R, my favorite rescue horse, died on Jan. 21, I’ve been unable see beauty when I look at the horses.  All I can see out there is a herd of potentially dead animals.  And every management decision, whether to turn this one out, bring that one in, feed grass hay or wheat hay, has become a huge, nail-biting dilemma.  It’s paralyzing.  This has happened to me on every occasion a horse in my life has passed away.  It was especially bad with T, last April.  I had planned to bring her in the previous night but didn’t.  Before morning, the freak accident had occurred with the fence wire, that ultimately cost her life, after weeks of round-the-clock care and involving four veterinarians with different ideas and approaches.  And that last morning, she made it perfectly clear that she did not WANT to be euthanized, even though she was suffering and crippled, which made the euthanasia even harder.

R went in his own time, comfortably, from old age and not from an accident.  For the first time, I haven’t second-guessed myself or found anything to blame myself for about a creature’s life or death.  Despite this, I don’t know if doing the horse rescue is worth it any more.  I can’t keep going through this.  I need someone to talk to about it.  But who?????  Who in rescue or the horse business can I discuss these feelings with without fear of being judged???  “Weighed, measured, and found wanting”?!

And am I just being paranoid?  How big a role is my bipolar disorder playing in my view of how others view me?  I have to assume it’s playing some role.  A significant other in my life always (yes, the correct word is, in fact, “always”) tells me my worries are “ridiculous”, “silly”, or “stupid”, and not to talk to anyone about them.  This is extremely unhelpful for me.

I am working on letting this person’s words roll off my back, and also trying not to voice my worries when this person is around.  After all, I know my worries aren’t stupid.  My inner compass is still true, even if my steering is imperfect!

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