I need to update my userpics and icons.

There was a hiccup in the week's schedule and I ended up with today off, without having asked for it. This means I have to go in Saturday, as I've already burnt through my PTO for the year. We get 40 hours, so it's a full week, but you HAVE to use it in 8 hour chunks, so it goes fast.

I had a delivery I was expecting today anyway, my Zelda themed 3DS XL. I wasn't sure if I was going to have to sign for it or not. It turns out NOT because I fell asleep on the sofa some time after 1pm, and woke up when Ringo about dropped the box on my face, with a chirpy helpful "I dunno what it is, but it has your name on it! 8D". That was about 4:30 when the bus drops him off.

After sorting myself out and waking up, I opened it, and it was my 3DS which I set to charging and downloading/installing the Link Between Worlds game that is part of the bundle. I still need to associate it with my Nintendo ID but I can't remember the password I chose and I don't want to screw it up on my red 3DS XL where the password is saved, so I decided I'd figure it out later. This does give me a DS that is not FULL of Ravelry (knitting forum) people from when I was playing Animal Crossing New Leaf (August to Halloween).

I also ordered new game cases yesterday? The ones I have don't accommodate 3ds game cartridges so I have those in my zip up carrying case, in a small plastic bag, which is less protection than I like for my games.

I'm really annoyed about working Saturday because I actually had plans, KNOWING that I had both days of the weekend off. This morning I was dressed for work and texted my ride only to find out that the store manager who has been in and out for medical reasons, has temporarily misplaced his keys, and was trying to get one or the other of the assistant managers to come let him into the store. At about an hour into what should have been my shift I texted him back saying that I would stay home today and work Saturday. I was pissed but between leaving work early yesterday (NECESSARY YES, not the point) and coming in late, I would have been WAY under hours and forced to work Saturday anyway if I want to pay my bills.

So after I texted and got the affirmative "K" (different rant, different time), I walked to the grocery store and picked up some necessary items for the apartment. I got something nibbly, either for lunch or dinner, and something substantial to be the other meal, and something for Ringo for his dinner, since Osaka asked me nicely to do that for her today.

I don't know if I'm aggravated because I stopped the new med (like withdrawal?) or if I'm just aggravated.

I did have a pleasant surprise in the evening. I'd been noodling around learning the map on the new Zelda game, and my phone rang, and it was my Mom. I think she said right away that nothing was wrong, and that she just wanted to talk to me, or check on me. Something in that vein, friendly, loving. I gathered she'd read my recent entries here, and I rambled on a bit. Several times I think. It's really hard to focus, when I try to focus it feels like tightening your hands around a wet noodle. It's slippery and moving, and the more you try to grip it, the more it wiggles out of your hands. Mom was really gracious, but I think she tends towards that. I don't remember much of her as a kid, because I don't remember very well in general, and Mom spent much of that time busy. Busy with Church, or crafts, and sometimes willing to interact, but always busy.

We talked about Church a bit, and I tried to articulate why I am not an active member of the LDS church but I think I failed badly, and may have been offensive. That was not my intent at all. We also talked about Mert, and how I bonded with my step-brother Logan when I went to Texas to be with Mom right after he(Mert) passed. I was expressing missing that quiet time with her, even that quiet time in an unfamiliar but safe-feeling place that I had while she was at work, and I was.. watching old TV shows, and skyping with Steve, and plotting doll purchases. I think I went manic like right at the end of that trip, because I remember which dolls I was looking at second hand on Den of Angels, and they are the ones that I ended up purchasing.

I keep thinking I have just enough Tax return that I could get another tiny, but.. I don't want to. I mean I'd LIKE to, but I don't have time to play with the ones I have, and mental health takes priority, physical health as well. All of my free time goes to commuting from one doctor to another. It's exhausting. I am so thankful that I have good health insurance. I'm so terrified that my struggle to get my bi-polar episodes evened out is going to cost me my job, my friends, my home.

I know that I am doing the right thing by having a set day that I go to the Dr (Wednesday!), and once we get my meds sorted that it will just be a maintenance thing, not a twice a month or more thing. I look forward to having my weekends back. And maybe even my creative passion. I want to want to sew, knit, draw, paint, any of it. I play video games but I DO enjoy creative pursuits. Or at least I used to. Where is the button to turn that back on?

More of the same.

So I had to leave work rather early today. A new medicine that I have been on about a week has a NASTY side effect, a couple of them actually, that made it dangerous for me to work. I generally take my meds without food before I leave for work, and then immediately hit up Kroger once I get to work, for some food, and a caffeinated beverage. I've also had to stock up on energy shots for the last week because my first dose of the day makes me violently ill if I don't eat fast enough, or violently ill despite eating, and then makes me vertigo-dizzy, and have this rapid passing out waking up cycle, which is upsetting, not okay for a work environment, and DANGEROUS with scissors or a box cutter in your hand.

So I spoke with my manager J, who had given me a lift into work, explaining that I was having the same symptoms as yesterday but more severe. I saw my reflection. I looked ill. I could barely recognize or even see myself, as my eyes kept trying to roll back in my head as I stood in the bathroom trying to wash my hands.

After a short discussion, I carefully processed the days orders and clocked out. J drove me home, bless him. I was concerned about waiting at the bus stop with the erratic passing out.

Once I got home I immediately called my Psychiatrist's office and requested to speak with him. I was told he was in a session and I could be routed to his voicemail. I protested, that I would wait, they could put me on hold, explaining that I had tried to reach this doctor a week ago at his request, and had been completely unable to leave even a message for him, despite 15 attempts. I requested that if she was unwilling or unable to place me on hold, could she please write a note and pass it to him, regarding my latest medication and my concerns with serious side effects. I also clearly asked if it was *SAFE* to discontinue this medicine. The now cranky receptionist took down my name and phone number, and some portion of the message, and promptly hung up on me, before I could even thank her. I know she doesn't make the system, and I understand that they must be trained to be cautious of "demands" of psychiatric patients, but I was still a bit put off.

I was speaking with Faythe via skype (no video, need to fix that) while on the call and she was as confused and aggravated by the receptionist's attitude as I was.

I did receive a call, FOUR HOURS LATER, by someone other than my Doctor asking what my concerns via the medicine were. I repeated my symptoms, clearly and politely said that I would prefer to discuss DIRECTLY with my Dr, and answered her questions before I was politely hung up on. I don't understand how it can be so hard to say "Thank you and goodbye" or something to that effect. Truly this bothers me.

Finally, two and a half hours later, I received a call from Dr T, who had gotten a VERY garbled version of my message. He was his usual casual but polite self, and told me to stop taking the new medicine immediately. He then went over his notes to try and find a secondary medicine that I haven't tried yet. He mentioned one, then decided on a different one, saying it was like a Lamborghini, you have to try it to see if you like it. He has such a way with words sometimes. I'm really going to miss having him as my Psychiatrist.

He stressed that if I stop sleeping, I need to come in sooner than my next appointment which is next Wednesday. I told him that I would. And then he told me he had to go because he was hungry. I laughed and told him "Then go eat!".

I'm still manic, and have been, but the Lithium seems to help me to make responsible choices, so I'm not lost. I have splurged a bit with my tax return since I won't be using it for surgery, but I've thought each purchase through, thoroughly to see if it's something I will actually use and enjoy, and there have been a number of things I decided against, because they were impulse buys and I don't need them. That is HUGE for me, especially while manic.

I've purchased some Lego sets on clearance at %50 off or better at the Kroger next to work. I've purchased a Littlefee boy body for Innis. I've purchased the special Zelda 3DS XL bundle via Amazon which should arrive tomorrow. There is still some left, and everything else I've spent has been on groceries or lunch at work, reasonably priced.

Today.

Today was a really crappy day. I've had a number of those lately interspersed with normal to good days, but this day was spectacularly terrible.

I woke up, got dressed, gathered my filled out paperwork and water bottle, and caught the first bus in bitter cold. I made my connection for my second bus, and was informed by another passenger, as I was reassuring an older woman that our bus would be here soon, that my final connection left as the bus we were on pulled up.

That happens sometimes but I did NOT have time for it today, as I had two different doctor appointments back to back, at different clinics, the second of which I'd never been to.

Incidentally I had arranged with a friend and co-worker for them to take my to both appointments and I would buy them a nice lunch in between appointments, but they had to back out due to legitimate family reasons.

So I called a cab. I was lucky, there was one nearby, and I got to my appointment with Dr T (who is leaving this clinic soon T_T) on time and prepared. We discussed the changed medication which was not working (Paranoia, Aggression), and dropped that. He couldn't remember why he had prescribed it and I reminded him that I am MANIC, so he went through a short list and picked something we haven't tried yet. We're running out of things on that list. Soon I will get to try much of this again with a different doctor. I am not excited about that. I will miss Dr T, and I wish there were an appropriate and acceptable way to maintain contact, but I asked, and there isn't.

I cancelled my appt with Dr C (Psychologist). I went over the papers I brought home and it was much of the same "You can change ANYTHING with the power of your MIND" crap that my Father tried to cram down my throat most of my life. It immediately shuts me down. I need a Therapist who will listen, do some back and forth, and then if it doesn't seem to occur to me, explain why my reaction to stimulus is inappropriate or otherwise unacceptable. I have that kind of interaction with Dr T, but he is my meds management doctor, not my Therapist, and even if he were, he's leaving.

So after that, feeling anxious and a bit depressed, I called my second cab to get to the other doctor appointment. I arrived on time, handed over my filled out paperwork, signed the HIPPA form, and waited. After a bit I was taken by a polite nurse to a room with a TV and DVD player, as well as pamphlets on different services offered by the plastic surgeon. I had my first panic attack in that room. The nurse asked what I wanted, surgically speaking, I was frank, and told her that I wanted my breasts completely removed. She visibly flinched, but kept asking questions, then left me to watch a video on breast reduction surgery. I already know everything in that video, and I got to the hyperventilation point, after she left the room so I could watch it in privacy.

Then the video ended and I was in total silence, in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by video and pamphlets on breasts and breast health and I lost it. I started to cry, shake, wanted to vomit, praying for someone, anyone to open that door and take me somewhere else.

Then the Doctor came in, asked me questions about what I wanted to do, looked very confused, was very polite, took some notes and left. Then a nurse escorted me to an exam room, and instructed me to strip to the waist and put on the robe and wait for the Doctor so he could get a better idea of what he'd be working with. I was crying again before she had the door closed, but kept my breathing controlled. I stripped to the waist, put on the robe and waited, trying not to claw my arms up or rip out my hair. There is absolutely no way I could have gone to an appointment like this ALONE, without the anti-anxiety medicine I take twice daily.

After several minutes the Doctor and Nurse came back and pulled back the robe and showed them what I have. The Doctor didn't seem too worried about being able to do the surgery I described but he was concerned about the torn and scarred flesh that is just under the collar of where my binder rests. The skin under the breast he described as "like new" and he was concerned with the visible difference there would be from one side of the scar to the other. I told him I didn't care, that I just wanted them gone. I specifically said that I didn't even care if I had nipples, but I needed not to have breasts. He didn't like that, but he was polite.

Then he took pictures from several different angles, and instructed me to get dressed and we'd discuss what he would prefer to do surgically in a different room.  I was still really anxious, and I questioned a couple of different times if we could try to get my insurance to partially cover the cost because of the size of the breasts and the documented pain and back problems.

After I dressed, I was walked to a little office, where he and his wife(?) spoke with me about the proposed procedure, and when I asked a third time about insurance covering a portion, I was told they don't work with my insurance, so it might be better for me to try to find a covered surgeon through my normal doctor. I was in shock at first but I took the "estimate" paperwork, and called my third cab, this time to go home.

I probably should have gone to the pharmacy to fill the script from Dr T, but I NEEDED to talk to Steve. $50 in wasted cab money. I could have just walked back from the first Dr appt and only been out $10 for that first cab.

I did get to talk to Steve briefly (THANK YOU) before he had to go to bed, and Osaka's Mom, who is in town for Ringo's birthday (yesterday) was kind enough to walk my script to the pharmacy for me. It's just across the street but the weather has been crap and really I just wanted to crawl into the tiniest darkest hole I could find and die. I feel completely humiliated because I cannot afford $9200, and I was hoping that between insurance, my tax return, and a portion of my flex spending card, that I would be able to have this surgery this year, like maybe even before I turned 31. I also hate that in a well meaning doctor's office there are photos of my breasts from several angles, and one of my face just for the records.

On top of MY crappy day, Osaka's Mom's Mother passed away today. Osaka is devastated but trying to keep it contained until her Mother leaves on Sunday, because she was asked to. I think Osaka's Mom is sad but far more relieved as this has been a long sometimes painful experience for "Big Grandma" for a long time.

I'm struggling with trying to be supportive, and overcompensation FINE THEN I'LL FIX IT MYSELF on the Transition front. I am planning to have my name legally changed this year and I would like to go file the papers next week if possible.

Then once I have that official, I will see what all I need to petition the state of Texas to change my gender marker. My transition would be legally finished at that point, sans surgery. I will fight that fight when the time times. Everything else has fallen into place when it's the right time. I just need to keep my eyes open and watch for the signs.

This is Mania.

I know my medicine is working because I am in a full manic swing but I am still making responsible decisions. I was manic this time last year just a month or two before I got treatment, and made some really reckless financial decisions. I made sure rent was covered, and my bills, but I spent $2000 over the course of a month and a half, the money being my tax return, and most of two paychecks. I have Robbie and Avery on bodies finally as a result, and two minis, Shen, and Amelia to show for it, but at what cost?

That money could have been set aside towards my chest surgery. It could have gone towards any number of things. And I was incapable of being swayed. My lovely boyfriend asked me if this was for sure what I wanted. My best friend asked me if I was sure I could afford to do this. I laughed at their concern, because I felt confident, invincible. Of course I could do this. Of course there was nothing wrong with these choices. They would see when I got my dolls, how happy they made me.

Except they didn't make me happy. I mean yes I was THRILLED to have my SD boys put together proper, and I was very happy with Amelia, because I've been wanting and MSD girl to dress and play with, but the Enn boy I bought wasn't EXACTLY what I expected, and that put me off him. I haven't touched Amelia since I dressed her and set a little one in her lap. I played with the Enn briefly as Finn (From Adventure Time) and then decided that was all wrong and re-shelled him Shen, as an OLD character from a comic I was drawing back in 2003.

This year I plan to use my tax return, and a portion of my medical flex spending account to pay for my chest surgery if I can. I won't know how much money I need until after my first consult, which is in a week, but if the out of pocket is under $3000, I should be able to manage it. I'm hoping insurance will cover a large portion due to the size and my 16+ years of back pain, which is well documented with the doctors I've seen.

I'm terrified of the actual consult, because I know I will need to take off my shirt and binder and show the surgeon exactly what he would be working with, and I hate taking them off even to shower, let alone to show someone. I hate my chest. I've hated it since the damned things sprouted up overnight when I was about 14, and kept growing and growing and growing. I was furious. Boys don't have boobs. And while I couldn't articulate how and why I knew I was a boy despite my wrappings then, I can now.

I should specify the medicine doesn't stop the urges to spend, or do reckless things. It just makes it possible to THINK about what I'm doing, and the long and short term consequences of my actions. I still go "OOOOH I COULD BUY ALL THE LEGOS!!" but then I think about it, and go "Nope, need to pay rent, phone bill, storage bill, etc" and I make the right choice.

I also get bad urges, including self harm, and vivid imagery that seems to want to encourage those urges. This is in combination with paranoia, racing thoughts, inability to focus. And this is ON my meds. Mania sucks. Artistically it's wonderful, you can do so much, and you don't need to sleep, and there is nothing that can stop you from creating that perfect thing.

Except for when you crash. There's also the re-arranging the furniture at 3am because you've been up for 3 days and you need to do SOMETHING. When I lived with my Dad I would go on frantic cleaning sprees. I'd start in my room, and then try to quietly bag up all of his hoarded garbage while he was asleep, and then I'd sneak past his room and out to the dumpster, making several trips sometimes.

I also used to just leave. I'd walk to the nearby park, and if I still felt antsy, I'd walk farther to the Junior Highschool I attended, and sit on top of the jungle gym at the nearby Elementary school. Sometimes the police would cruise by, and I'd have to move on. I might walk home. I might stop in the neighborhood Mom lived in, and just stare at the apartment complex at night. Stars in my eyes it looked so strange, dark, mysterious, dangerous. I didn't dwell there often. Sometimes I would go to a house where I knew people who were awake, and I'd hang out for a couple of hours. I felt safe there until I didn't and then I might go home. One night I just sat on the sidewalk under a streetlamp, less than a block from Dad's apartment and just stared into the darkness, across seven empty lanes. A car stopped and the driver asked me if I was okay. I told him I was fine, and kept staring.

Those memories feel so distant, but I was doing just what I wanted. I have no impulse control. I never have. I didn't steal, and I wouldn't lie if Dad asked where I'd been. But he rarely asked. Most of the time he didn't seem to notice I'd been gone. I wonder if he even knew what I did when I was Manic then. He only seemed concerned when I was on the other end. Sleeping 12-16 hours at a go. Refusing social interaction. Ignoring everything but TV and videogames. I had the occasion phone call but this was before I ever had a cell phone. Most of those calls came later, at odd hours from Japan, from my friend David. He was usually drunk. I didn't ignore those calls though because I felt I owed him. We had dated briefly, but I wasn't really into it, so I broke it off, and apparently he had deep feelings that he only told me about years later. I just felt bad that he seemed abandoned by his friends, and I wasn't going to be another name on that list.

I can tell that I'm manic now because I WANT to buy $3000 worth of Legos, but I won't. I want to buy more BJDs, but I won't this year. This is the year I get my life sorted. I will not be making irresponsible financial decisions, because I finally admitted that I had a problem, and was re-diagnosed with bi-polar disorder. My meds may shift, but they work. I'm still me, but I'm capable of doing the right thing, consistently now. At least, that's what I'm aiming for.