Follow your passion, cautiously!

In my psychiatrist's office there is a sign which says "Dream Big, Act Bigger".  We laughed about it as I commented that such advice is not appropriate for a  manic person. One of the most irritating aspects of being bipolar is the lack of confidence one can have in one's own sense of judgment about major life decisions.  It's just so easy to get caught by manic thinking patterns and lose touch with a more reasoned take on life.

I'm tired.  My job at the cabinet shop is wearing on me from two standpoints.  Yes, on the one hand I'm able to help build some rather impressive kitchens in huge homes for famous people (Michael Jordan e.g.)  But a lot of time I'm doing things like making the sticks that fill in the space between one cabinet and the other.  I'm the "Filler King".  It's hard to get passionate about such work.

And second, working ten hour days together with the commute just is grueling.  I'd like to be able to sleep beyond 3 in the morning.  (On a positive note, I'm actually sleeping better these days.)  The reality is that working sixty hours a week between the cabinet shop and the church, plus commuting 12 hours a week, leaves little time for anything else.  And I'm tired.

My mind just keeps going back to this dining set.  It epitomizes the kind of work I have done and am capable of doing.  I want to do that.  I want to feel good about my vocation. 

Together Karla and I are settling in with this decision to return to Olson's Woodworks.  We will proceed cautiously.  Having said that though, there will be a moment when we will need to simply be "all in" on the decision.  I simply can't gradually take on more work in my own shop, while still working at the other.  I don't have enough time in a week.

So the jump will happen.  I will be taking some withdrawals from my pensions account, Karla will sign up for her Social Security, and that will provide a safety net for us.  If the business thrives, no more pensions withdrawals will be necessary.  If it doesn't, we'll have enough to survive.

What do I need?  What purchases must I make to succeed?  And are those purchases really necessary or the fodder of manic thinking?  Having a truck for hauling materials would be handy.  But damn, they are expensive.  (My kids have offered use of theirs, so we'll probably hold off  on this one.)  There are a few woodworking tools that I need.  A thickness planer.  A chop saw.  But any such considerations will always be weighed against my manic pursuit of the CNC last time. 

Again, the lack of confidence in one's own judgment is one of the worst things about being bipolar.  We will see how things play out.

On another matter, my health is gradually improving.  Diagnosed over a month ago now with hypothyroidism I'm on the slow road to recovery.  I takes months for the medication to build up in the system to therapeutic levels, but I've noticed some improvement.  At the very least, I'm able to work a full week these days.  Thank God for simple improvements like that. 

My biggest question is how well will I feel with the new normal.  I look at the energy level of other sixty year olds and I hope.  "I'm far too young to feel so damn old." is my new mantra.  I hope things will get much better. 

The hip bone's connected to the thigh bone.

All things are interrelated.  Many connections we just don't understand.  Doing one thing affects another.

I have been having tests done as I'm not feeling well.  ECG.  Chest X-Ray.  Full blood work.  All that stuff.  And on it goes.  "We'll get to the bottom of this."  "Thanks, Doc."

Every joint hurts.  Every muscle aches, and is crampy.  I'm sometimes short of breath, which brings on a panic attack.  Exhaustion and fatigue are such that this last week I've not been able to finish my shift at work numerous times.  Blood pressure has been running as high as 190/130, and that while on my blood pressure meds.  Doubling the dose brought it down but only to about 150/100.  Still not good. I feel  old.

I have my suspicions what is going on.  My mother had zero thyroid function.  Three of my sisters and one brother have been diagnosed with hypothyroidism.  And last night I read that hypothyroidism is a potential side effect of Lamictal, the med I take for bipolar disorder.  Its also associated with being bipolar, though whether that's a direct correlation or the result of bipolar people being on either lamictal or lithium, both of which can cause hypothyroidism, is unknown.  At least that's what I read.

Taken together it makes me suspicious.  I've informed the Doctor.  He is testing for it.  One can only hope as the cure for that is quite easy in the long run.

All things are connected.

If this were true it would bring up another issue.  When identifying chemical dependency issues in my family of origin, Mom's drug use stands  out.  She would take her thyroid medication in the morning as a "pick me upper" and the take benadryl at night to relax and go to sleep.  All prescribed, mind you.  But nevertheless, dependent on drugs for mood and energy.

I don't like the extent to which I'm becoming that.  I think the tally is up to nine different meds and supplements on a daily basis.  Lamictal for bipolar.  Mirtazapine for depression.  Abilify to make both of those function better.  Rozerem for sleep.  Losartan for blood pressure.  Mobic for joint pain.  Gemfibrozil and fish oil for Cholesterol.  And a vitamin or two because the meds deplete certain vitamins in your body.

I can swallow quite a pile of drugs at one time.  There was a time when that would gag me.

But I'm extremely thankful for them.  I have no clue where I'd be without them.  Miserable or dead.

I hope it doesn't take too long for some positive results to come to the fore in the testing.  And of course, I hope it doesn't reveal something I truly don't want to know.  The lung X-ray, eg.  "In the name of due diligence we should do this. . ."  "Yes, I know, but let's hope my problem isn't lung cancer."  I actually have none of the most pronounced symptoms, but you never know.  But after smoking for as long as I did, I have to confess that every time the tests reveal I'm still cancer free I feel a bit like a kid who stole a cookie from the cookie jar and got away with it.

Well, enough of the lament for this morning.  I'm noticing my knuckles are achy and the muscles in my cheeks are tense.  The list goes on and on.  And so I await a diagnosis.