Wednesday, August 28, 2013


Okay fiiiiine.

This is how it is gunna roll.

After an initial improvement in symptoms, I am slowly drifting back to the edges of the thyroid brain fog/increased anxiety/irritability.

Just in time for the annual heralding aura for the onset of the SAD symptoms.


My mind is like some ancient forge of molten sludge. the ore is tainted with shadows and evil. What is burping up from my writers pail is dark. DARK.

My main goal right now is to stay on my feet and functioning until its time to re-draws labs. The longer I can hold out the better. Labs due October 1st. That's 33 days. To those asking "why not draw it now?" cause its 130$ and its only been 4 weeks since it was last drawn.

A. I don't have the money to redraw (no insurance remember?)
B. Thyroids are an evil EVIL little organs that don't give accurate lab results. Since my thyroid is a zombie (9/10th dead, 1/10th functioning) it can fluctuate on a daily basis. As in we could run my labs every day and get different results daily.
C. With my sensitivity to meds, I will not authorize dose changes until I have been on a dose 8 weeks. if being me wasn't hard enough already.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Rare flower

 I will add a *trigger warning* for abuse - only because that is ultimately what this piece is talking about deep down. A companion piece to the other "Bedtime stories" I used to tell on the message boards.


*opens my mental book*

Where were we...oh yes...

Once upon a time there was a girl
who looked a lot like you.
She was a beautiful soul,
she was a rare flower
in a crowded garden.

She was rooted deep in the rich dark soil.
Her petals were tightly curled and she had yet to bloom.

There were other flowers who grew around her. Sometimes they shoved her.
Sometimes they stood over her and blocked the sun.

When the rain came and harshly pounded the garden, the other flowers leaned away and held each other. Leaving her to be over powered by the heavy drops.

Her leaves were pale and weak.
She felt invisible and out of place.
Truth be known she was afraid to bloom.

She had seen what happened to the other flowers who risked it all and bloomed,
They had been picked and taken.

One spring day as the bees were busily skipping from flower to flower she heard laughter near her.

Shyly she turned and looked. It was a weed outside the garden fence. A rough and tumble prickly weed with strange white flowers.

Again the weed laughed. She looked around to see what the others flowers were going to do.
They were too busy preening in the sun to notice the stranger.

The weed stirred as a warm wind rustled through the garden.
"Come dance with me!" the weed chimed in a musical tone.

She drew up and shrank back. "I - I - I can't dance."

"Sing with me then!" the weed giggled.

 "I - I - I can't sing."

The weed stopped and leaned under the fence, "oh?"

She drooped and sighed. " 'fraid so."

"why?" probed the weed.

"I'm a flower, we don't dance or sing we...we...bloom and look pretty."

"Let me try that." said the weed and drew itself up straight. It flexed its muscles and made its little flowers twist. "Boooooring!" the weed cried and relaxed into its loose form.

She snickered before she could stop herself.

The weed smiled, "ah, that is what I need to get out of that garden."

The weed ducked under the fence and before she could utter a word, she was pulled from the ground roots and all.

"WAIT!" she called "I'm afraid..."

"Don't be silly" scoffed the weed. "I got you. Besides they are not seeing you and the pain you are in, those flowers are not supporting you."

She glanced down from her perch in the weeds prickly embrace. Everything looked so strange from this angle. "I am no longer afraid" she announced. "I feel stronger up here."

The weed wriggled and twisted like a happy dog, "OH I AM SO GLAD!"

"Actually I feel safe in your arms, cause if anyone tried to pick me they would get cut by your thorns." She said as she relaxed and pulled down inside the weeds canopy of thorny arms.

"Ouch!" she squealed as a thorn tore her pale green stalk.

"Sorry" commented the weed, "I shall stand very still so not to hurt you."

And the weed did so. It grew tall and strong and dense, surrounding the flower and protecting her from the other flowers and from the people who came to pick the flowers.

But before long her stalk and leaves were covered in many scratches, even though the weed was careful, she would still bump against the sharp thorns.

Occasionally the gardener would try to remove her from the weed, but he couldn't reach her.

Once the flowers tried to help her out too, but she wouldn't go.

'I'm safe in here.' she would tell herself. 'Nothing hurts me in here.' 

She tried to bloom once. However the instant her petals started to uncurl they were sliced by the sharp thorns. She thought, 'I don't want to get hurt, so I will stay quiet in here and be still.'

And so she was.

She was so quiet and still that she started to wonder if she was dead.

"I want out." she said aloud one afternoon.

The weed bristled and tried to open so she could get down

"OUCH!" she squealed as the thorns bit her.

"Better just stay put." said the weed, "I can keep protecting you so nothing hurts you."

"You are hurting me". She said sadly. "we have never danced or sang...I want to go back to the garden, please."

The weed shrugged its shoulders. "Fine, but you will need to find your own way out."

She wandered aimlessly in the maze of thorny thistles, unable to find her way out. Each wrong path left her with new scratches and pokes.

Defeated she stopped and didn't try again.



Wait...what was that scratching?

She looked down and saw a fat Caterpillar inching its way up the weed.

"WHEW!" wheezed the caterpillar, as it reached her. "Now what the heck do you suppose you are doing up here my dear?"

"I am lost!" she sobbed.

"That you most definitely are. Come with me me I know the way down." He turned and started descending.

"The thorns..."

The pillar stopped and looked back at her. "they will hurt you as we make our way out." He told her. "There will be stretches were we can get around them, but you will not get out uninjured."

Dejected she slumped. "It sounds too hard."

"No harder than staying here and living like this." He smiled and and turned back to descending. "I will be right here, walking with you, offering support and a few legs when you need help."

She started to follow the Pillar.

"WHOA!!" she squeal as she slipped and fell. She closed her eyes and clung to the weed with all her might.

"I am right here." the pillar said softly. "You are doing fine. Slips are to be expected...stay focused on the result of our walk...not the walk."

She looked at the pillar with tears in her eyes. "I will get down."

"Good girl." He smiled and hugged her with all his legs. "Back to work, dear one, we have a long climb."

And they continued on their journey.

They spoke as they inched their way out. They talked about many things. She told him how mad at the other flowers she was for the way they treated her.

I"m going to give them a peice of my mind when I get out!" she stormed.

The pillar laughed, "so you shall." He gestured to his left.

She looked up to see that she was on the garden floor.

With mouth agape she turned back to the pillar..."We are out!"

But he was heading back into the weed core.

"We just got out!" she hollered after him. "Why are you going back in?"

Over his shoulder he hollered back, "You are not the only flower in there. I am going back for the others."

"but why?" she asked, awed at his words.

He paused and said quietly and gently. "Because...I know the way out."

She watched him out of sight and then turned to face the garden. She felt very good. She was covered in scars but she felt very strong and empowered. The journey had strengthened her and she had grown.

Across the rich dark soil she stomped. Right up to the other flowers. "HEY!!" she called.

Every bloom turned to her.

"I have a bone to pick with you! All of you ignored me! All of you stood over me and blocked the sun, shoved me, lean away and left me in the rain! You hurt me!"

She glared at them preparing for a fight.

The flowers gently took her and hugged her. "We have been so worried about you! We have missed you."

"We stood over you and blocked the sun so you wouldn't get burned." said some of them.

Others said, "We shoved you to correct your posture so you would grow up right."

"And we leaned away so you would get fresh water so you could grow into the rare flower you are."

"We love you." they all cried, hugging her again. "We are so sorry we didn't ever tell you."

She felt the anger slip away as her roots eased back into the soil.

"Some flowers need to hear that every day." she said "Everyday."

So they did.


Weeks later under their watchful eyes, they began to bloom.

As her petals opened and she felt the sun on them she began to let off the most beautiful fragrance.

When at last her inner face was exposed and smiling in the sun, her heart began to sing.

She heard foot steps approaching on the gravel path.

"They will pick me" she smiled sadly. "My life is over."

"No." whispered a butterfly, who just happened to strangely resemble one fat caterpillar, "They will pick you and your life will begin."

She closed her eyes as she felt the hand close around her stalk and pull.

When she opened her eyes she found herself staring

into the beautiful soul
of a rare face
in a crowded world,
Who just so happens to look a lot like you.


*closes my mental book*

looks around at the sleeping "flowers" in my garden.

*tucks each of you in*

*kisses your heads*

"love you"

night my friends, sweet dreams...

(C) P. Russell 5-26-2005

Sunday, August 18, 2013

A healing journey - Part 6 - Mama cat


On the farm there was one day that changed my whole life....and way of thinking. This is that day.

When I say I have been suicidal my whole life...I really do mean my WHOLE life. My first suicide attempt I was 3 or 4 years old. I honestly can't even count the times I attempted between ages 5 - 14.

I never wanted to learn to drive for the simple put in my hands yet another way to off my self.

My wills and suicide notes I wrote would fill 5 - 7 books.

The only reason I went into therapy was because KSS was born.

The only reason I didn't kill my selfs on my 23rd birthday is because of mama cat.

Journey with me a bit back into the past and lets peak into my diary...

October 18 1989

Session was rough. Richard and I clashed horribly. By the pm I decided I
hated him and was going to call him and tell him I quit therapy and then
holler a few obscenities at him. Here is what I wrote:


1. to ensure our friendship.
2. I use you in some of my mental games.
3. I have progressed as far as I’m capable of going at this time.
4. as far as me and my mind go We could never be one. No way to repair the damage. I am
unreachable, just unreachable.

[ what happened at therapy was I was in a giddy mood and Richard asked if I 
had a set plan on my B-day to kill my self.
I laughed and said “I can’t tell you that, you may try to stop me” all the 
while wanting him to pry it out of me so he could rescue me. I needed him to 
rescue me.
He looked me in the eye and said, “if you choose to kill yourself I ‘m not 
going to chase after you and stop you.”]

October 19, 1989

in the am
I was going to call you and tell you , you were acting like a two year old,
but then so would I have been. My first impulse was to run (leave therapy)
second impulse was to hack my self up like “see I’m crazy”.
I HATE TO HEAR THE TRUTH. I started thinking who was talking me or the past me? It
was old me. Threatened that I may be able to heal.
in the pm
I rebelled against Richard because he was taking some of the illusion away
from my mental games. THE TRUTH HURTS! I heard what he meant even if he was
unaware of the points he was making. It was something I needed to hear. HE

I needed to hear that. It blows several of my mental games away.

October 23, 1989
I still want to be angry with Richard and fight with him. I want to give my
self a black eye just to see how the hypnotherapist will deal with it. Those
are mental games. I still don’t care whether or not I harm my self, it is
now scaring me that I don’t care. I’m afraid I will piss off Richard and he
won’t work with me anymore. But on the other hand I want to give my self two
black eyes. I really feel lost. I’m back to wanting to harm my self solely
for the pleasure of doing it and shocking other people.

A healing journey - Part 6 - Mama cat - trigger (and better get a couple of
Kleenex too)

Let me set up the story... 1989 I was going to kill my selves on my 23 rd
birthday.  I was dead set on offing my selves
on 11-14-1989. In October me and my roommate were visiting her daughter in
the drug district of our little town and as we were leaving we saw a
scraggly little cat, meowing for food. I knew my friend would take this cat
home and feed it. She had like 18 cats at the time. She was strapped for $$
and was having trouble feeding her children. I was in a really pissy mood
and told her, “leave her alone, she belongs to someone.”

She reached down and felt her bony back and looked at me.

I said, "let some one else save her, you’ve saved enough cats."

We left her there. I walked away from her with a cold black heart. I had
long ago turned my heart cold to the human race, this was a new low for me
to be so callous to an animal.

Two days later in a drenching rain storm we went back to see her daughter.
That cat was still there. I stood in the rain and she came to me and tried
to meow, but her voice was gone. I reached down and picked her up and I
could feel bare nipples, there were kittens somewhere. We started looking
and found six of the saddest kitties I have ever seen. We drove straight to
the vets but it was too late to save two of them.

Vet said two of the surviving kittens weren't from this mama cat, they were one to two weeks older. This little mama cat was trying to save no only her babies but someone elses too. We pooled out $$ and paid the bill and took the lot of them homes with us.

 Mama cat grew fat and her babies grew strong, she was
such a nurturing mother it melted my cold heart. I wanted to be one of her
kittens. Mama used to steal bread from the kitchen and hide it in her
basket...starvation had made her have a need to store up food. We could
never convince her that there would always be food for her.

In October I had a rough session with Richard my therapist. I was talking
about how excited I was that It was almost time to kill my selves and he
asked..."where are you going to kill you self?”

I said “I can’t tell you that”

He looked at me with a sad look and quietly said in a caring tone, " P,
I won't chase after you if you want to kill yourself.”

My parts went NUTS. I was so enraged that he wouldn't save me. He was
making me take responsibility for my selves and BOY did it piss me off.

I stewed for several days about this and wanted to run from therapy/kill my
selfs right then/holler at Richard and start a fight with him.

I was going to go to my next session and let him have it, but on Sunday night I was
walking through the house and mama was laying in the dining room washing one
of her babies, I came back a few minutes later and she looked to be asleep
cradling the sleeping kitten in her arms. She had a peaceful smile on her
face. I stopped to soak up the glow she was emitting, and saw that she
wasn't breathing. It all just hit me....spun me around. What I had just seen
reached me in a way that EVERYONE else on the planet had failed to do. I
guess the guardians who make the world go around, new that I wasn't human,
and in order for me to be reached they need to reach me with an animal.

I wrote the following in my journal:

October 24, 1989, 3:45 AM

Mama cat died Sunday night. I felt sad. I truly believe she died of pure
happiness. How can I be so blind? To not see that I was in heaven all this
time? Blind to the people who love and care about me? The S______, the
Acres, the animals. I give to them, they give to me. We exist we struggle,
we cry, we laugh and we love, nature and the animals and the children. I’m
not alone. Life is to be lived with them and not alone. Simple pleasures
first, petting cats, laughing with the dogs, riding the horses, brushing the
pig, building things with my bare hands and skill, painstakingly painting
murals. I give there at home. I can give else where. Big sister program. I
can let them support me when I need a little help and understanding just as
I support and help them when they need it. I’m going to live. Life is to be
lived. I want to see KSS grow up. I want to be able to help her grow. I want
to be a teacher and jump start young minds into racing speed and feel their
love of learning. I want to stop harming my skin, I want to heal and love
myself. I’m worthy of being loved. It’s time for the hurt to stop and the
smiles to begin. To quote Yoko Ono, “I see rainbows.”, and I’m going to
chase them. It’s not going to be easy but I’m going to try. No, I’m not
trying I’m doing! I’m going to refuse to be shackled to ancient pain. I
don’t want to be there in the past. I’ll accept what happened, I’ll work on
understanding how it affects me, but I don’t let it run my life.

This is what I want to say to Richard when I see him Wednesday.

Thank you for last Wednesday. Whether you’re aware of it or not I heard what
you were saying. With a few short sentences you ruined some of my favorite
mental games to play. I found myself angry all day Wednesday and Thurs. and
Friday. and Sat. I was angry at you. I tried to call you wed. night so I could
holler the hate I felt at you. I’m glad you weren't home. Thinking back on
my actions, I was so angry because I didn't want to hear the truth and you
had told it to me. Something clicked last wed. and I finally heard what ever
it was I needed to hear. Perhaps it was the care in your voice as you told
me you wouldn't chase after me if I choose to kill myself. Why does the
saying, “if you love something set it free” come to mind? I’m responsible
for all my own actions. I’m going to work hard at re-channeling the
negative/wasted energy to a good use. I know it’s not going to be easy, but
I've overcome obstacles before. To quote John Lennon, “I’m stepping out”.
I’m shedding old roles and creating a new P. one with feelings, one with
smiles for other people, one with a wanting to live. I’ll take with me what
I need from the old P and work on filling the gaps with the new things
I've learned and things I've yet to discover. Quote Paul McCartney “We must
learn to play the pipes of peace”. I’ll learn to be at peace with my body.
it and I have a lot to live for and we’re going to do it, to quote Ringo
Starr “with a little help from my friends”.

I've got a great support system. Of people who do care about me, people I
can laugh with, cry with and live life with.

It saddens me that mama cat had to die for me to finally see. I MADE A
DIFFERENCE IN HER LIFE! I showed the whole world isn't crazy, mean, vicious,
ugly and so forth. And she overcame her horrible life and was content, happy
and able to pass the happiness on to others. We filled her self esteem cup
with love, nurturing and trust and it spilled over so others could benefit
from it. She died of happiness. When I’m old and grey and rocking in a
rocking chair on my porch, day dreaming of my great grandchildren and how
well they’re doing in school and how things are so different in the year
2050 then they were back in 1989 I wanna die just like mama cat, of


October 26, 1989

Yesterday was a great day.
I read Richard the bit I wrote about mama cat and my decision not to commit
suicide. I just started and read it rather fast. I didn't look up until I was done.
Richard was crying.
I felt like I had dropped this rusty chain I had been carrying around with
me. I feel free-er.


That was a long time ago, it wasn't an easy road to walk (healing). I fought
very hard to save my life. I’m very glad I did, very glad.

Saturday, August 17, 2013

What thyroid brain fog is like

I'm going to tell you 5 colors, remember them.


Green, purple, red, black and blue.

Got them?

No peaking ...

Okay, repeat back to me the five shapes I just told you.

....uh, nope those are colors, I gave you a list of shapes. Weren't you listening?

I am waiting.

can't tell me the shapes I just told you? hmmm...lets try something else then.

What is the name of the gold fish you had in 8th grade?

How about the dog with the 1/2 a tail that you owned when you lived on the house boat?

How about an easy one....tell me about the month long cruise you were on last summer?

yup, its like that. Its like having someone come in and purge sections of your memory from you. Its like suddenly developing Alzheimer's disease over night. Its frightening and disturbing to have pockets of air in your mind were memories should go.

Its a hellish place of no fun. It makes life much harder.

I finally couldn't take the generic thyroid medication anymore, it was causing massive anxiety and brain fog. To the point my judgement was impaired and I came really close to driving myself to the ER one night because I was so afraid of offing myself. The anxiety was crippling and disturbing my ability to work and think properly. I made several decisions in July that were detrimental and damaging to myself and others.

My labs were elevated indicating slight hypothyroidism. They pulled me off the generic and put me on synthroid.



The very next day, I was magically returned to the land of the living. I have not felt this good since the RAI in 2008.  I should have been put on this brand waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back when I gave the list of side effects to the endocrinologist.

He told me....the sudden appearance of crippling anxiety, the pain in my legs, the itchy patch across my back were ....and I quote...."all in my head."

When I argued with him and informed him that I had NONE of there symptoms before starting the levoxyl, he gave me a script for ativan.

....and I kept complaining on deaf ears for 2 more years before I just gave up.

I reset my inner sense of balance to a new base line. I made the madness I was enduring daily the new normal. I had to for my own sanity. I knew I had to take thyroid replacement for the rest of my life. I just shut the hell up and stopped complaining and reporting the side effects.

Three years post the RAI I went through a really rough stretch and boy did suicide look mighty inviting. I litterally felt like I was dragging a corpse around with me. I suffered needlessly. Too afraid to go to the doctor and tell him the symptoms. I knew it wasn't in my was in my neck!

The recall of the levoxyl has been the best thing for me.

Now I know....that for the last  *&&^!^%$##$%^&* FIVE years, I have been on the wrong medication.

I feel 100% better.

I, for the first time since June 2008, feel like me again.

At long last the thyroid nightmare is dissipating.

Friday, August 9, 2013

Beef Bend Road

(Update: after spending the summer in Psychotic-thyroid land, I am finally feeling like a human again. I am going back and posting all the blogs I started but didn't post due to not being able to clearly edit them. This was written in July)


Have given it a month and 1/2 and I can tell the generic thyroid medicine is not cutting it. I am all over the place emotionally. It has had an adverse effect on my mental health. I have made an appt to get help. If I don't I will not make it till the brand name medication returns.

I am bummed out because I DO NOT LIKE TAKING medications. And the thought of adding another makes me queezy.

Everything I try to write swings to the extreme edges of the pendulum. I am all over the place.

Having said that,

Would you like to hear a ghost story?


Oh you do? Well then *pulls up my hood and clicks on my flashlight under my chin*

Follow me...I think we can get there by candle light...

Up at the top of Oregon there is a road called Beef Bend Road. I have been on it once, and the writer in me loved the name and the sound it made when you say it. Beef Bend The sound plops like a portion into my writers pail and conjures up all sorts of interesting brews.

When I lived on the farm. There was a stretch of road that had a hard right turn on it. So sharp it was banked. Then the road was straight just long enough for you to get your speed back then it realigned your vertebrae with a banked hard left.

This little stretch was haunted.

in the middle of the straight portion on dark wintry nights there would be a single strand of dense fog that was just a car length wide laying across the road.

Like a curtain.

A bone chilling cold presence that would touch you as you drove through it if your windows were down... AND...touch you, even if they were not down.

It was like a rift between worlds a place where the enchanted earth-ways fractured and were ajar.

I renamed this little stretch of road Beef Bend.

It was an appropriately freaky scary movie type of night in mid October that I was summoms to work at 2:00 am to replace a sick worker.

I left the farm and headed to town in my old AMC Pacer.

Still sweeping the cobwebs out of my mind I yawned and sped up when I saw the right hand turn of my Beef Bend road approaching. (Um, yeah, I loved to sped though there when I was driving alone)

Hard right.


Huh? It took only a second for my mind to snap fully awake and register that the passenger door had clicked ajar as I took the corner.

My mind had just enough time to think..."Oh hell no I am not picking up any hitchhikers on this stretch..." before I entered the haunted fog.

That is when the passenger fasten seat belt light came on.

it came on.


lighting up the consul with a ominous light.

As my arrector pili's made all my hair stand on end, I gripped the steering and looked over out of the corner of my eye at the empty seat.

This time my mind said it aloud, "Oh hell no I am not picking up any hitchhikers on this stretch..."

light still on.

By this point I am hopelessly freaked the *&*%!^$ out.

"Alright fine!" I address the empty seat, "put on your seat belt or get out!"

Hard left.


Door closes.

...and the light goes out.

I sped into work and recanted my tale to my co-workers. As night shift workers we all enjoyed a good after midnight ghost story.

"I'm just glad they got out!" I laughed.

"Maybe...injected a coworker. "Maybe they just put on their seat belt."

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Gentle soul

Sometimes in life you get to meet someone that stands out in their kindness to others. Someone who's humor is a breath of fresh air, and the way they transverse life just leaves you wishing you could be more like them. Someone so humble that you feel blessed to be in their light.

And sometimes they are wearing a cat suit.

My sisters cat Puddy died yesterday. She was an exceptional soul.

I'm not just saying that. I have known a lot of cats. This one was different. She often had the most peaceful smile on her face.

You could play her like an accordion. Literally. Its one of my favorite movie clips that my sister showed me, they are "playing" her like an accordion to the music in the back ground. And Puddy is lovin' it, grinning like a fool.

 She just was an ever present part of life at my sisters. I am going to miss her little chirpy meow as she would bounce across the yard to come greet me.

Puddy's presence left this world a better place. May she ride in splendor in the night lands.