Financial Woes & Anxiety Attacks

Despite a win from Stanford last week against USC and a well-deserved A+ in my environmental studies movies class, I knew I had to lose out somewhere.

and that somewhere was my credit report.

Now, I have received a few F's in my day, mainly during my 'party rock, YOLO, DGAF about school' period of my life, but those were always of the academic variety. This is the first time I've ever gotten in F in a nonacademic sense...it honestly makes me feel like a failure as an adult. First goal of adulthood, build good credit. My progress towards said goal, nonexistent.

However, I will say that in my defense, the collections that I owe which are ruining my credit on a demonic, daily basis are all medical. They run back to about two and a half years ago, which coincidentally, was when all of my stomach problems started. I had probably six to ten hospital visits within that time period, all from stomach-related problems, and the majority of them pre-GP-diagnosis.

Essentially, I threw up blood pretty often, and as the sight of some fluid you DID NOT IMBIBE shows up in your toilet, it's time to get a needle in the arm and and enough ativan to calm an entire city in time of war.

I was not getting along well with my parents at this point, and due to my own lack of common sense, (I honestly, really have no common sense. I am book smart, attempt to be street smart, but never will I have common sense) I was sending all the bills for these hospital visits to myself, moved, and forgot all about said bills.

Now as I approach the need for financial aid and student loans, these bills have come back to bite me in the ass in a particularly fucked up way. I owe about a grand to several collection agencies. It is so frustrating, honestly, because if I had just sent the bills to my parents, I wouldn't be in the credit shithole I am deeply involved in now.

It's also frustrating because every hospital visit within this time period was a failed one. Not in the sense of basic medical care, I got rehydrated and sent home each time, but in that each time I was admitted, I was released with a different diagnosis. From GERD to possible ulcer, I would certainly be dead right now if I had all of the possible conditions I was diagnosed with.

My personal favorite wrong (and moronic) diagnosis was on March 24 of last year. Doctor comes in, looks at me, and tells me that marijuana was causing all of my stomach problems. It's a condition called 'cannabis hypermyesis syndrome,' which about 8 people on the entire planet have.

That diagnosis was clearly wrong but did get me on the path to finding my GP. So, I guess I'm lucky in that sense. However, the $300 I racked up for that fake diagnosis was not so much appreciated.

So, here I am as an adult, at 24, and I'm stuck and anxiety-ridden. How, when I cannot even work a part time job, am I going to pay off these bills so I can have a decent credit score? Will I even be allowed to take out a student loan?

Cue Panic Attack.

Productivity & The Snowball Effect

Today, with my new-found energy due to the so-far-faultless abilify, I actually had the ability to go out and take care of an errand or two. What i didn't expect was the snowball effect on this particular day, snowball here meant as 'ever increasing tasks to complete with an ever decreasing level of energy'. I do apologize for the graphical interpretation of my variable energy levels, but I have been on campus far too long today.

What started out as a simple task at Academic Advising turned into a two hour free for all drive-sprint around campus (i feel bad for the one cop who sat at the round-about at the entrance of campus who saw me drive by about 7 times within two hours, who gave me strange looks and an all knowing "i know your left tail light is out, just try taking a left, bitch" glare), which involved multiple instances of stair climbing, running 100+ yard sprints in order to avoid parking tickets (I did! At every place I parked! I never get this lucky, I have 97 parking tickets listed in the UC System!), and a necessity to remain in a good mood no matter what occurred.

I could feel my mood start to plummet at around 12:30, about an hour and a half into my UCSB unwanted cardio-excursion, but fortunately the abilify, or my own damned motivation to finish out my day so I could collapse in bed kept me up and going.

I hit the grocery store and headed home, prepared for a blissful afternoon of rewatching episodes of 'Awkward.' on MTV and doing crossword puzzles. This sad, wishful thinking of course sent me home with a horrific batch of karma, which led to another two full hours of cardio! (Not that I'm against exercise normally, I was a pool rat for a long, long period of my life, but at this point I have to fight to save calories, and losing them means another week of "no shopping for you until you fit a size 0 again")

Today's karma hit me as soon as I got home, wherein I quickly found out the toilet was clogged (We throw the dog's crap in the toilet if he goes in the house, with paper towels. BAD IDEA. Seriously, don't ever do this unless you want to spend a half hour of your life on your knees covered in lysol and toilet water.)

Being the shining example of brilliant common sense, my first response was to flush said devil toilet, and attempted plunging it. Hello, waves of toilet water cascading onto the bathroom floor.

And of course, once I got started scrubbing down the bathroom, I figured I might as well clean everything else that needed immediate attention-the dishes (which I have to do in the shower by the way, I don't have a kitchen sink in my shoebox apartment), the bunny's cage, the overflowing freezer full of ice which refuses to defrost. (I have to beat the shit out of the ice box with a hammer to get the fridge to shut sometimes.)

Hence, the snowball effect. And I think it's fair to say that this snowball decided to roll over me, roll back, and lay on top of me. Because I am dead. Three letter crossword clues are defeating me. The idea of getting up to get a gatorade? too far.

I really need to invest in some type of drink delivery system for myself. Or, you know, clean more often than when a, something smells, or b, the toilet decides it has a mind of its own.

Either way, I'm dead on my feet. Here's to crossing fingers and a good karma debt-maybe i'll keep down my baby food tonight!

Hope...?

Today, I woke up today with somewhat of a new, well, more forgotten, feeling. Today, I woke up with a little bit of optimism. I don't know what it is, whether it's the pumpkin spice creamer in my coffee bringing fall along, the satisfaction of being able to pay another medical bill, [of which i have approximately a grand yet to still pay off, thank you ER fees] or the possibility of my grades from summer session B finally being released, i'm in a pretty good mood.

I'm hoping this means that the abilify that I've added to my current medical regime is working. Supposedly, once it starts working, a few days after beginning it (which is positively glorious, in terms of medical stabilizing time, my anti-depressant took like 8 weeks to settle in before I stopped acting like a hormonal psychopath), it's supposed to give you some energy in the morning, and boost whatever isn't working with your original anti-depressant. so, here i am, with a bit of hope.

Even though I barfed three times last night, (although in all fairness, after my second puke, it being 1am and nothing else open, my third puke due to dominos bread bites delivery was TOTALLY my fault. but they were so good, it was ok), I have a slight spring in my step today. I feel like possibilities have made themselves available in my eyes again, and i like it.

Even though my biggest plan today consists of cleaning out the bunny cage, it's something. don't knock on whatever sunshine i find, the idea makes me happy. Why? Because I actually have the desire to do SOMETHING.

I hope this is abilify's actions, and not just a random good day on my part. Crossing my fingers like you wouldn't believe--if this stabilizes my head out, I get to try a stomach med again! and maybe eat something besides turkey rice entrees that apparently my mother used to feed to the dog when he got sick!

Like I've been telling my parents, all I want for Christmas is to be able to eat a BLT again. Although this might not happen still, with all the medical aid available in the world, maybe I'll get to eat something besides my trusty gerber goodness for a chance this christmas.

Last Tuesday Night...

Last night was not a fun one in terms of GP. However, I have made a discovery that I think will help in terms of one of the three sessions of puking i did last night.

The discovery: If i take all my meds within the same thirty minute period and then try to eat, I will throw up, and I will throw up medicine at the end of said puke. For the record, that's the worst part of throwing up for me. Undigested food is nothing compared to the half-digested stomach acid/medication i get to puke.

Currently, my nightly routine is as follows.
1. Take anxiety and anti-nausea pill.
2. AT LEAST ONE HOUR LATER [thanks to new discovery] take anti-depressant, which also is helpful in that it increases appetite/stops nausea. I swear to god, I don't know how its even possible for me to throw up with THREE different medications in my system claiming to have 'anti-emetic' effects.
3. Wait a half hour for anti-depressant appetite to appear.
4. Attempt at eating.
5. Around 90% of the time, I puke every time.
6. Repeat attempted eating and puking until I finally can fall asleep.

As you can see, not the most pleasant cycle, and certainly not helpful in terms of my social ineptitude. This is where I am hoping having an actual stomach medication to un-paralyze my apparently retarded organ.

In all fairness though, I do some of this damage to myself, albeit unintentionally. Problem is, my stomach is essentially non-existent in terms of size, thanks partially to the anorexia of my past which continues to haunt me, as well as about two or so years of puking up everything i ate.

Of course I'm aware of this, but once I finally have an appetite, all I want to do is eat! So I stuff my face to the best of my ability, (keep in mind that used in this capacity, 'stuffing my face' equates to about 400 calories) and then suffer the consequences in the toilet bowl a half hour later. Almost a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts, no?

This is where, unfortunately, I'm banking on the stomach medication to help. If I have the ability to eat during the day, so that I'm not starving by 9pm, I think it'll greatly reduce my current state of barfing.

Unfortunately, due to the medications listed in the steps above that are still wreaking havoc on my poor brain, I don't get to have my reglan/domperidone for another month. And people wonder why I'm depressed?

And let me just say that as a side note, I have followed the guidelines for my nightly eating to a tee. Trust me, before I got officially diagnosed, I would eat whatever the hell I wanted (soup, sandwiches, cookies from ralphs that are amazing and that i'm going to greatly miss for the rest of my life) and then puke and give up for the day. I give myself major props for adopting and kind of actually enjoying my baby food diet.

I attempted to branch out last night and go 'buck wild,' as described by the boyfriend, and try some 'cup o noodles.' needless to say, this is why I puked MULTIPLE times last night and for all you out there with GP....BAD DECISION.

There really isn't a point, or message behind this post. I'm just in a rather whiny, pity-myself-because-jesus-christ-all-i-really-want-is-animal-style-fries-from-in-n-out-and-i'm-stuck-here-with-grape-juice mood, and felt this rant was appropriate. Plus, the boyfriend leaves for the weekend to go see his family, so I'm stuck here alone for the next few days. So thus i shall lament. [well, mostly lament. i am excited to have full, no-guilt control over the tv for the next few days].

Here's to a night free of puking!