A small black cloud, the size of a mans fist

When I was a little girl, I’d look up at the clouds. I’d be worried and searching.. is it this cloud? Is it that one over there? Is that the size of a mans fist? In church I was told that when Jesus comes, everyone would see a small black cloud that gets brighter as it approaches,  so I’d be wondering if maybe it’s close enough to match the other clouds, what size of a cloud should I be looking for if it is the size of a mans fist when black, grows larger and brighter as it approaches? This was one of my first death related obsession.

I wasn’t excited for the second coming, I was fearing for my loved ones who weren’t baptized. I was fearing the fire and torture, the rapture and seeing my mother endure that.


Medicare Panic (pt.2)…and a bit about meds

As I sit here and prepare to write about this, I feel a tightening in my chest and my pulse begins to race. I’m so medicated that I am feeling the weight of the situation through the fluffy padding of prozac. I wonder if the possibility of heightened suicide risk from meds like these is because you can still clearly see how much things suck, but there’s less paralysis from anxiety and fear. Instead of feeling like I’m in a hurricane in the middle of a panic attack, I feel calm and collected as I think about just how bad things have become, and what an impossible challenge it will be to get where I want to be in life…

Suicidal? Well.. here’s the thing. It’s part of my OCD to obsess over death. Suicide and accidents being the main death obsessions. So it’s on my mind often. But when I’m stressed and feeling hopeless, suicide feels like an eventual inevitability. I’m not feeling so bad that I’m going to be impulsive. I’m not an impulsive person.

Now about medicare..

I went in to see a case worker about my questions, and to turn in my proof of address and all that stuff. Basically it’s this; Being on disability, I pay about $100 per month for my medicare. That leaves my monthly income at right around $652 from ssdi and I make about $30-$150 on top of that from a little side thing I do. That means I get $800 per month on a GOOD month. In order to qualify for help paying my share of the medical bills, I’d have to make under $726 (net)  per month!! THAT is what the government considers the POVERTY line! So according to their standards, since I make $800 on a good month, I should be able to pay for my living expenses, bills **PLUS** 20% of meds, 20% of therapy, 20% of psychiatrist, 20% of whatever it takes to fix my foot, 20% of gyno and birth control, and that DOESN’T include dental and my teeth are FUCKED.

I am in NO shape to hold a job! My PLAN was to get more stabilized on meds, focus on therapy and self improvement for a while and then focus on a career.

Now I’m going to have to get some shitty minimum wage job and deal with the stress of that with my unstable OCD and my horrible mood swings and recent suicidal thinking. Dealing with knowing I’m a crappy employee, and that they only have me there because of FMLA and discrimination laws.. Being at a job I hate that makes nesx to nothing while feeling that way is what I THOUGHT I was avoiding by getting approved for disability!! Isn’t that the whole point? I proved I am not currently fit to work, but now I have to get a job to pay medical bills?!

NOT having insurance, I went to a homeless free clinic for my meds, and a low cost therapist. The doc sees hundreds of people I’m sure, and their meds are limited.

I thought that with being on disability and getting medicare, I’d have better doctors and more therapy and more choice of meds… and thats whats been giving me HOPE for YEARS.. HOPE that I”d get better enough to be independent!

BUT NO… NOT TRUE! Now I have to choose from a list of doctors, and hope that they are on a sliding scale fee or willing to make payment arrangements. I’ll have to ask for help for the rest of my life! and I will have to choose from the cheapest generic meds.. the cheapest this the cheapest that.. asking for financial help.

I am so disappointed.

I feel like I’ve reached  the end of all the possible help for me.

It makes me feel absolutely hopeless and angry!

…Have to start somewhere.

FunctionHere’s my first blog post. I’m going to use this post like a journal entry regarding mental illness. I’ve needed to reevaluate my life, decide what path I’m going to take, accept my condition, and find some faith in myself. These things could be challenging to anyone, not just someone with my diagnosis. Bipolar 1, purely obsessive OCD, anxiety, depression, frequent suicidal thoughts and a tendency to get lost in fantasy to a point where I can be mildly delusional, though it seems like I only become psychotic and delusional when I’m not medicated. my meds are helping with that. But the downside is that I find it hard to clearly recall or describe those psychotic/delusional thoughts/feelings for my Dr. and therapist while I’m medicated. It all feels like recalling a bad dream. my meds are not working good enough for my anxiety. therapy has reveled that my life is entirely run by my anxieties, worries, what-if’s, apprehension, and wasting much of my time lost in obsessive thought. I can account for a fear of failure, but other people feel that, so why does it stop me from trying to achieve the things that are within reach? Maybe because when I fail or get let down I take it too hard. I seem to take everything too hard. Everything seems to be harder for me than for other people. I shouldn’t feel that way.