it’s insanity; total insanity.

i am being tested.

got more results back;

i don’t have osteopenia (yay!) but my bone density is lower than expected for someone my age. “high risk for osteoporosis”, as the sheet says.

and that’s the good news.

as for my TTG? it jumped from 60 to A HUNDRED AND FUCKING FIFTY FUCKING FIVE. 155! and this is after i cut all gluten. and this is with NO *no* *N*O* cheats. the only times i’ve had gluten in the last 3 months since my last blood test i can count on one hand, and every single one of those times it was by accidentally ingesting food that was “made in a facility” with wheat. and those were all within the first week of being diagnosed, as i cut all those MIAF’s right away.

but apparently gluten can hide in things that aren’t even marked as containing gluten, or processed in a facility with gluten. dear gluten, fuck off & leave me alone. pretty please?

and what is worse than this? (ha, shall i make a list?)

in the last 6 weeks i’ve been diligently following my elimination diet, which has me cut absolutely everything except certain vegetables & fish/beef/bison. mostly because everything else i was/am reacting to. pork is gone, chicken is gone, turkey is gone. fruit is gone, nuts are gone, yeast is gone, egg is gone, forget about spices & seasonings. coffee is gone, tea is gone, chocolate is gone. sugar was gone a long time ago, as was dairy. soy has been gone for months now, too. anything that comes in a box is gone, anything that goes in the microwave is gone, anything with an ingredient list of more than ONE FUCKING THING is gone. oh, and did i mention yet 6 weeks ago i cut ALL GRAINS? no rice, no quinoa, no millet, no teff, no oats. no corn. no potato. NO RICE!! no cabbage/onion/garlic. no sulfates, no preservatives, no pesticides. nothing but organic whole foods. and only some of those. the list of things i don’t eat is really much longer than this. but i’m depressed enough already.

how the fuck can i have MORE GLUTEN eating like this, than when i was having the monthly-cheat of a gluteny muffin or cupcake or panini? or iced chocolate cake….

how was i healthier THEN than i am now, on this ridiculously restrictive diet!!? even more pressing: HOW AM I STILL HAVING GLUTEN?

is it because i inhale a little too deeply when i walk past subway?

is it because i stare a little too longingly at the bread commercials?

all my medications are circle stamped gluten free. everything in a package (except for my frozen vegetables & ground beef) say gluten free. are STAMPED gluten free.

IS IT BECAUSE I LIVE A BLOCK AWAY FROM A BAKERY!!?

maybe my vegetables are contaminated? is grainfed beef gluten-free? IS OXYGEN REALLY GLUTEN IN DISGUISE? the stupidest thing is i don’t even know if i’m joking. it sounds like i am, but sure doesn’t feel like it. at least i still have my sense of humour. and shitloads of gluten in my system. fuck!

now i think, maybe i am not actually reacting to every single food i’ve cut in my quest to find-foods-that-i-can-tolerate; maybe it’s… no, IT IS just the gluten. so, now, on the anniversary of the 6 weeks of which i have been on this ridiculously restrictive (did i say that already?) elimination diet……….. i find out that maybe an elimination diet isn’t the answer. or helpful at all. because the one thing i SHOULD be eliminating, is FUCKING GLUTEN.

dear gluten, i know you love me. and i loved you, for a long long time. but this relationship has become destructive & now i see you were never meant to be with me. i know it’s hard for you to hear this (or hear at all, as you’re a tiny molecule of deathness), but it’s over. or, it will be, as soon as i find out where the hell you’re hiding.
love,
me.

press repeat.

one step forward
fifty steps back
& not even
in the same direction.

autoimmune things are such a bitch.

to the pieces that are afraid

i remember screaming
overwhelmed by how incredible
i encountered life;

tears welling because my body couldn’t contain
all the beauty my eyes were taking in.

slap-stuck diagnosis, bipolar
because i range the full spectrum:
soaring —

sinking —
& getting stuck.

asked the other day
would i give it up?
would i change my world if i had the chance?
don’t need to think of my answer, i know it,
no,
because maybe i’m not bipolar, because bipolar is just a word
& i’m just me.

not otherwise specified.

i)

just eat
simple advice comes in pre-packaged chunks
a bite-sized piece that breaks off
can’t chew
my throat swells dry &
your words get stuck between my teeth.

just look through the cupboards & find something you feel like
i feel like laughing,
something i feel like?
i feel like forgetting human function
floating above the clouds & eating half-a-meal
on my shrunken stomach
when the hunger strikes;
maybe tomorrow? maybe tomorrow night.
my too-small jeans are becoming too-big &

i feel like forgetting i exist.

my mathematics said what? (gluten IS addicting, but what’s worse than that it’s in EVERYTHING, even raw/precut/fresh local supermarket veg))

i did some math. i am really bad at math (probably because of my inability to think rationally ;), so i needed to use my phone calculator. but the numbers scared me so much more: blinking dull grey on an even-duller-grey background: 12.2.

my previously-written numbers were the same; my math wasn’t wrong; i had figured it — out just those numbers sounded so… off.

12.2. or 12.2%, should i say: the percentage of my body weight i’ve lost in the last 2 years. & 60% of that has been in the last 4 months.

because of celiac disease. seriously. & it scares me, so much. so, for lack of a better term, fuck this. this is my resolution, my confession; i confess to do all the following & i confess it will be hard as hell. but who am i kidding, i am the all-or-nothing type.

i’ve just pre-dated the next two months on my calender, for anniversaries,

of the weeks in which i will not consume ANY gluten:

• NOT by “this product is made in a facility that processes wheat”
• NOT by “this product may contain wheat”
• NOT by cross-contamination
• NOT by restaurants that don’t get how strict my gf needs are
• PROBABLY NOT by restaurants at all (let’s be honest, i have trust issues)
• NOT by “oh, i already opened this MadeInAFacility item, but i can’t waste it…”
• NOT by the “glutenfree!/made in a facility that contains wheat”
• NOT by “oh my look at how delicious that chocolate/cherry cupcake looks”
• NOT by “well, i haven’t cheated on my diet in 2 months & this questionable meal is convenient….”

and

• if it’s packaged without a GF circle badge, NOT BUYING
• if it’s a supermarket-style pre-wrapped, no label pre-meal, NOT BUYING
• if it’s been processed in any way prior, NOT BUYING

i am beyond tired of accidentally/sometimes intentionally glutenbombing myself on a weekly+ basis. i’m four days from FULLY GLUTEN FREE, but i cheated twice with whey last two days & my symptoms are still intense. i want this wheat, these gluten-toxins OUT of my body, so i can begin to physically repair 27 years of intestinal damage. i want to stop getting lax with my diet & thinking things “won’t hurt”. i am too sensitive for that bs; i physically can’t. it is destroying my body AND my mind. i want to eat at least 2500 calories a day, every single day. and i want to do it without feeling terrible after, far too stuffed. i want my moodswings to be permitted to happen completely separate from the physical symptoms i am experiencing due to my celiac disease.  in a lot of ways i’m lucky; celiac disease supersucks, but at least i can fix/repair my system by just not-eating-a-certain-thing(s). i’m grateful i don’t have anything that requires medication — we all know i have enough medication-needing-thingies without adding on another one. i realize healing will take time, but i’m especially impatient because i thought i had ‘started’ treating this back last august. to know that it’s only been one week is pretty shitty. i want to be able to do more physical exercise without getting short of breath so quick, i want to be able to run & dance again, i want to dance so badly. i guess i want to fix my anemia, fully-perma-fix, none of this perpetual-fixing with iron tablets that don’t really work & an intestinal system that won’t absorb worth, well, shit. i have my humour & the rest of my life & i am willing to wait, but i want these things more than anything.

heh, quite the change from hypomania’s ‘wanting new jeans’, which coincidentally i have, if only because i’ve lost weight.

a self-destructive mind to match my self-destructive body. (a tribute to autoimmune diseases & my diseased logic)

i am lemon yellow
& leaking from the wrists.

in battle by myself,
again,
i am trying to fight
the part of me
that thinks i can survive on tea & smoothies
because everything else
makes me sick.

‘trying to get better’ is my full time job & i
work all the overtime
for the paycheque i have yet to get.

on doctor’s orders i
cut out cane sugar, cut out gluten, cut out dairy, cut out starches, cut out beans,
cut out all the things that give me medical mood swings
& make me feel like shit.

permission to restrict? no problem
almost afraid to admit
justify my insane meal plans this time because
celiac disease
is such a convenient excuse.

disordered eating;
disordered mind
saying the only things anorexic about me are my
eating habits
& my BMI.
always questioned but escaping diagnosis
because i don’t try to lose weight &
i don’t think i’m fat
i just don’t think

i deserve to eat

but they never ask me that.

my doctor prescribes me 30 pounds;
she recommends 3,200 calories a day
my mouth coats with cotton
there is no fucking way —
she’d settle for 2,500
but while we’re wishing unlikelies
can she prescribe me wings? so i
can soar away from the world where even
1000 calories sounds like a challenge.

i’m just naturally underweight, my mind says
i was born with the ability to survive
on sunshine & well wishes & words.

scapegoat celiac perfect excuse for why
fasting feels fine;
& why it’s normal to me
to not be hungry, to stop long before i’m full, to restrict when i’m stressed;

& to always be stressed.

it’s not until i see pictures
when i’m unrecognizable —

knobby knees, arms like sticks & small clothes that don’t fit.

they say the camera adds ten pounds
but to me it takes away twenty;
always a shock to see on film
what i can’t in the mirror.

denial so tight i confuse it for skin.

i am stiff joints & shaky arms & stumbling,
i am feeling like a fraud but still
i am running until i see spots.

i am used to feeling
my heart fluttering when i’m sitting
tripping over it’s own beats &
trying to escape.

now i am justified
celiac disease provided permission
to scribble another fifty things on my can’t-eat-this list…
disgustingly proud, glorified for restricting suddenly being so healthy
after a positive TTG blood test.

cruel irony in that

i am autoimmune; most food makes
my body attack itself from the inside —
medically diagnosed self-destruction & i wonder how the hell
could my mind ever be fine.

seven months clean with only the occasional relapse; not bad for a 27 year addiction, right?

twenty seven years —
my daily disorder
my favorite disease
no cure; just endure.

i’d be the one getting bloated off one beer
blaming the carbonation while
foaming at the mouth.
take my addiction daily
at every meal;
take my misguided medication orally
swallow & let it destroy me
from the inside
passive suicide.

i’m unable
to understand how something so highly recommended
can be so dangerous —
as it smiles at me from across every counter
hidden within
every wrapper
comes prepackaged with lies & paper promises:
6-8 servings a day are strongly suggested
they say
take two of these with every meal
and don’t call me at all.

quitting cold turkey sandwiches nearly felt worse than quitting effexor in two weeks;
infecting my head with thoughts of pastries & things i haven’t had in years are suddenly everywhere —
spend till 3am shaking salivating staring at pictures of pancakes & crepes & croissants & muffins…..
writing a hundred gluten-free recipes until my hands cramp & my fingers turn blue
from ink & disappointment;
avoiding bakery aisles to stave off saline eyes
because the smell of bread
nearly sent me into DT’s.

sadly for me there was no self-help group for gluten addiction; there’s an overeaters-anonymous but no overwheaters support to coax me to drop the needle filled with macaroni & cheese.

i did it all my own, stubbornness beside me
seventy two hours & the worst was over.

now the diagnosis: celiac — the word sounds to me more like a car than the life-sentence
that drove me to the edge of insanity & back but
another medical excuse for mood swings & tiredness is
greatly appreciated; & after all i’ve already cleared for it
a spot in my garage.

despite my mistrust for doctors i must say: there’s
nothing like an incurable disease
to cure me.

three cheers for life-long conditions only taking 27 years to get diagnosed! (ha)

well, i was anticipating anemia. maybe something thyroidish. instead i got.. celiac disease. go figure. i knew i had some issue with gluten, so i had cut it out entirely about 9 months ago & felt immediately better. since then, i’ve had the occasional craving — leading to the inevitable cheating — and the brutal side effects that followed. but my ‘cheatings’ are usually only 1 small gluten-containing item, every 2-3 months. i was okay with suffering through the side effects (cramps, 5-months-pregnancy-bloat, anxiety, depression, even crazier mood swings for the following 3 days) but for the most part i’ve been avoiding gluten. or so i thought. turns out i’m STILL highly gluten-inflammatory (anything above 17.5 was ‘very severe’ & i’m at 60!! MD was visibly shocked when i told her i hadn’t had gluten recently). apparently my anemia was most likely caused by my inability to absorb nutrients due to the celiac. another piece for the puzzle! and another diagnosis to add to my pretty collection of life-long, incurable conditions.

otherwise, i’m completely perfectly healthy. so no more attributing my mental condition to anything physical (well, aside from the gluten-inflammatory response, i guess)!

the difference between delusions of grandeur & just, well, being grand? (a tribute to my favorite friend, Ms. D.Nial)

I am the textbook example of hypomania: I check all the boxes. And I’ve had one true mania, which was induced within 1 day of starting my-AD-from-hell, Effexor XR. 37.5mg sent me absolutely electric, although true to form, I didn’t realize it was an issue until after it was done & I was left bleeding out the pieces of my broken life. but at the time, it felt great. felt like I had taken 3 days worth of speed, but without the guilt trip of doing illicit, dangerous drugs. you mean, my doctor will just give me this? & I can walk around town not feeling like an intoxicated criminal? well, hook me up. & the side effects, well.. all medication have them. but this rush is worth it!

my loss of control that followed I blamed solely on the medication, because I’d never had an extreme like that before, well, at least not sober. my doctors agreed, & after skipping over things I personally didn’t think really mattered, I was diagnosed: bipolar ii. I hung out in the shade of that diagnosis for many months, convincing myself “at least it’s not bipolar i, it’s ii, which is a milder form, right?! totally almost like nothing!”, which somehow made me feel a little less like medication was necessary. I could control this on my own. after all, only my depressions were dangerous. my hypomanias were just fine. denial is kinda my thing.

plus I read up on bipolar i:

“People may feel out of control or unstoppable, or as if they have been “chosen” and are “on a special mission” or have other grandiose or delusional ideas.. ..At more extreme phases of bipolar I, a person in a manic state can begin to experience psychosis, or a break with reality, where thinking is affected along with mood.” -wiki, manic episode.

oh, well, that’s definitely not me. delusions? feeling like a god? psychosis? breaks from reality? I said, completely in denial. after all, my ups had never truly been dysfunctional — only my downs. on the upswing, I was just highly creative, very productive, with passionate energy & the ability to pull allnighters without blinking. yes, I was reckless as hell, but I was a teenager. yes, I had a shopping problem, but I had the money. my hypomanias were just icing. plus, they were so much fun. I’m sure you can relate.

perhaps it was denial. hell, this is coming from the girl who thought she could cure herself with a mixture of vitamins, minerals & getting to bed on time. forget the psychiatrists, I know best. but denial doesn’t just run deep, it drowns so there I lived, on the bottom of the ocean, for a while.

swimming towards the surface…

in dark rooms.

it is on it’s way;
as certain as dawn turns to dusk as do i —
my letters have already begun to stick around the edges
& stop making sense
they no longer run like water, drips from my finger tips
they stumble
from mud-filled hoses
& soon
will dry like dust
to be carried away with the storm that’s coming.

i wish someone could
carry me away
but instead

i begin to slide
watch as all my colors disappear
blinded by last blinks of bright lights
blotted out by black flies
washed away like raindrops on still wet watercolors,
gasping for breath,
i fade.

yesterday the urge
to paint on pale skin with blood & blades was overwhelming
moving possessed to the bathroom drawer,
stumbling in the hall,
digging my nails into white carpet & screaming
don’t let me do it
in an empty house.

i fall on bruised knees

as if
the world tilted
& i’ve lost my feet
clinging to glass floors
breaking nails in my scramble to clutch
reaching for something
that doesn’t exist.

my universe is
disappearing again
going black like the bottle of india ink
i spilt
staining white carpet
last time my world turned upside down.

i am sliding
towards the edge i can’t see with blind eyes
deaf to all but ringing in my ears &
the list i keep rehearsing:
all the lessons unlearnt
all the bills unpaid
all the dreams undone —

my words are stilted & stuttered
& i lose track of myself;

i once believed
i would outgrow the pain
but now i don’t believe at all —
all i find instead
is that the pain grows, too
until it fills my lungs & i can’t breathe
it
gets bigger with every passing x on the calender
until it blacks out the sky
& my whole world.

here i sit
sliding to the edge of the abyss
stuck in the purgatory of my mind
between the place i used to exist
& the place where i just barely.

my prescription for another chance sits
in a drawer for a year, waiting until the day when i feel brave enough
another year wasted to mind demons & disasters
watching the world i used to live in
crack around the edges, slip slowly
& fade like smoke.

tomorrow i am
diving off the bridge of denial, into the world of pharmaceuticals
weight gains, diabetes & cataracts,
bringing out the big guns because i am desperate enough now

to try out seroquel.
(wish me luck).