And so we ride the merry-go-round again. This time, the new star of the show is the anti-psychotic aripiprazole, with a side helping of lamotrigine, lithium, olanzapine, bupropion, and propranolol. I feel like a walking pill bottle.
But it’s working. I can’t do much, because I get tired very easily, but I’m wanting to get up and do stuff. I made a salad a couple of days ago, one that can last a week in the fridge, to have when the rest of the family are having fish & chips or things similarly bad for my waistline. It’s the first thing I’ve felt like doing in three months.
The weight that olanzapine gifted me is starting to come off slowly, but the hunger isn’t. I’ve just had to accept that I’m going to be hungry all the time. I have controlled portions of food and then that’s it, because I can’t trust my body to tell me when I’ve had enough. I can utterly gorge myself and still feel hungry, so I can’t use that signal to tell me when to stop.
This time around, the hunger has come with an obsession about food and eating. I hear sounds, smell smells, or even read about a food and I crave it, RIGHT NOW. The crackle of crumpling paper sounds a bit like chippy packets, and suddenly I want chips. Thick cut sour cream and chive, to be specific. Stuff like that happens all the time. I’m tormented by food. But the other part of the obsession makes me feel incredibly guilty about eating. I feel like I’m just blowing up like a toy orca, and I’m afraid of it continuing. I’m still not well enough to go to the gym, which adds to the obsession. I must not eat bad food, I must not eat too much food, or I will end up looking like the Michelin man.
My days are still not great, and I have a new slew of problems to face, but the drugs are starting to help. There is some hope.