Written previously, but freshly revised.


So maybe I don’t need fixing?  Maybe I’m perfectly normal except for a few bipolar episodes a month.  Maybe I’m perfectly normal except that relationships are hard to manage under the waves of my high and low bipolar episodes.  Unfortunately these episodes can last throughout the days, weeks, months and years.  These episodes are rapid, can appear without sudden warning and sometimes when I’m outside looking in, I wonder about the duality of everything, the possibility of borderline personality disorder and about the strife everywhere in life.

As a result six months later after ongoing therapy I told the psychiatrist I would finally be ready to give medication a try and to my surprise she wasn’t super elated about it.  I wonder if that meant anything aside from her not caring about making a difference in her position.  The first medication she prescribed was called Lamictal.  The interesting or unnerving thing about this medication is it’s actually considered an anti-epileptic (anticonvulsant) drug, if you can believe it.

This nutty psychiatrist prescribed Lamictal to me based on my bipolar disorder (to delay the episodes) and because she believed I could use additional assistance for weight loss.  In any case, I was determined to give this a shot, so I took it with dedication for 3 months.  Naturally, during the course, I went through many side effects and even if they lasted a mere day I wrote them all down.  It was 2 decades almost exactly since I’ve taken any medication.  Here’s how my brain and body reacted:

General sensation of always being sick
General weakness
Fatigue (Extreme)
Flu like symptoms
Unbalanced (Clumsiness, loss of balance control)
Forgetfulness (like experiencing memory loss)
Emotional Lability
Body Aches
Tender Breasts
Back pain
Loss of appetite
Stomach pain (Cramps)
Extra menstrual pain
Taste alteration (Either food taste better or disgusting)
Sweat increase
Ringing of ears
Body sacs (like Folliculitis)
Frequent urination
Constipation/Bloody Stool
Can’t remember dreams

At first all the side effects above were consistent for the first 2 weeks.  Then after the 2 weeks were up many of the side effects began to taper off as my body started to adjust without flu-like symptoms.  However, these are the side effects that remained on a regular basis:  An overwhelming desire to eat more Carbs than usual, extra Perspiration (even if I sat/stood still) and Headaches, Headaches, Headaches.  But WAIT!  There’s more.

In the beginning the one side effect that bothered me the most was the drowsiness; the feeling of perpetual sleepiness and overall weakness.  Every day I was completely exhausted.  During this sensible time, I was fighting with myself and wondering once again where my workout motivation disappeared to?  Lamictal exhausted my entire system where for an entire month I couldn’t even get a single workout in.

The most prominent side effect (for me) that I can’t even explain, (but I’m sure somewhere there’s a terminology for it) tampered with who I am as a person.  I’m not stupid enough to NOT believe changing or altering your brain/body’s chemistry wouldn’t affect your personality because it most certainly does.  To me, this is one of the scariest things about taking a psychiatric pill, aside from consciously knowing you’re putting something extremely foreign in your body.

Lamictal affected one of the most personal parts of who I am – I could no longer write.  I had zero desire for it.  I felt like an entirely different person because of this.   All my life I’ve written for school, tried my hand at screenplays, poetry, short stories and as you know blogging.  So I’m like how could this be?  No desire to write.

This was changing me in ways I wasn’t even ready for and I was doing my best to be objective about it.  I would try sitting down at the table, hand caressing pen to paper, so I can come up with a single sentence and nothing would come out.  It’s like the thought process couldn’t process a single thought.  It’s like words meant nothing to me anymore and neither did the desire to express myself.

I felt severely inept and like I didn’t have any emotional response when it came to writing which blew my fucking mind!  What kind of sorcery was this?  This was when I decided I didn’t want to be on Lamictal anymore.  It was a shock to my system that my brain and body reacted rather extreme.

So when I expressed to the nutty psychiatrist that Lamictal has changed me to the point where I don’t feel like myself anymore and I can’t even write anymore which is something I love doing, she says nonchalantly, “I never heard of this.  This doesn’t seem possible.  Let’s try something else.”

To be continued.


Breast Sweat!

Yeah, so sometimes I wonder how many men in the world like Tittie Sweat?

As I write this.. my lovely lad smells my stretched out white sleeping bra.  He’s as interesting as the familiar eye he’s giving me.  The look that knows what I know well:  Pet peeved!  I (normally) don’t like it when he or anyone tries or succeeds in taking a whiff of my sweat, never mind the breast sweat!  It’s intimate, private and grossly personal.  (Boy, do I have intimacy issues! ;)) Frankly it annoys the fuck out of me!   And this would probably be why he does it?  Just to aggravate my nerves with benevolent hilarity.

A good hour or hour and a half session of weight-lifting plus cardio will leave plenty of moisture underneath the savages of these breasts of mine.  Just a few hours ago on the elliptical I felt the perspiration squishing my bra to the underbelly of both these ladies.  It’s weird.  I take my shirt and slide it under the ill-disciplined gals to hurry and collect funky moisture.  Also the thought never crosses my mind when it comes to doing all this in public as I ogle the accumulation of dirty looks from certain (possibly deeply insecure) women and alongside dubious thought bubbles leaving from the heads of men.  Why are people so fucking nosy?  Why must they insist on watching me clear sweat away from my boobs?

What don’t I like about this lady sweat?.. besides the faint fragrant and the under-wire.  Oh, maybe the ring of water?  Invisible dirt/color forming?  And most likely the dead skin cells ensnared and being suffocated in what I’d like to call auto-pilot mode?  Gee, let me guess!  Wondering if I’m a filthy gal for handling things pretty well?  Or maybe it’s the self-conscious feeling of evaluating my own conscious Self?  Ah!  Not to mention if I’m not careful I break out in small rashes easily.  <Insert loud obnoxious sigh here!>

Maybe I should take it as a compliment?   My (on/off ) partner wanting every tang and sweat coming out of my pores, whether it’s from the funk skunk of my underarms to the mush sweat glistening behind the backs of my pliable knees.  Maybe it’s me?   But when you love something or someone you find their foul or their moments of natural perfume/cologne odor animalistic rather flavorful and exceedingly arousing.  I think there may be hidden magic in the unclean person too?  (Probably not in me though?)

Does anyone else smell their partner’s sweat whether it’s from the warmth of her breasts or the working days of his balls and find it to be cool, forgiving, lovely or moving?

Inquiring minds wants to know.