It's been awhile between writings again, hasn't it? To be honest, there really isn't anything that exciting going on in my life. My hubby, son, and I went and cut down our Christmas tree yesterday, that's about as exciting as it gets.
I didn't really want to be writing this as I feel like a broken record. I'm saying the same thing again and again and it gets old. What is it I'm talking about? Depression. Yeah. It seems to be creeping back in. Right now I'm at the "not feeling" point. I'm not really experiencing emotions . . . except for anger. I'm really good at experiencing anger. Go me. I'm feeling withdrawn and empty and hollow and down. I feel like I'm the shell of the person I should be. I'm just kind of . . . lost. I'm trying not to be. I'm trying desperately not to be. I force myself to interact with coworkers at work. And not just interact - I put on the show that I'm okay by joking and laughing and being present. I just don't feel any of it, it all feels fake and insincere, and the whole time I'm secretly wishing I could be by myself. But I really fucking try. I've had coworkers and patients even comment on how I look "tired" or don't "seem myself". Yeah, well, you don't know the half of it.
At home I try to stay engaged and talk and joke but I just have a hard time. Hubby and son tend to be more forgiving and I can act like more of myself around them but I still try not to. I don't want to put them through another depression.
I've been having feelings of not wanting to exist. Not necessarily die, but rather not exist. Coupled with that are feelings of worthlessness and pointlessness. This has been going on a little over a week.
Now, I'm going to call this depression mild for now because it's not crippling and I'm managing it rather well I think. It's just that I don't want to have to manage it. I want to just be okay with an occasional bad day here and there. And I certainly don't want it to get worse, which is what I'm worried about.
But seriously - broken record. Does anyone even care about this? Any of my maybe 2 or 3 readers? Oh well, whatever.
Monday, December 12, 2016
Monday, November 28, 2016
Hello There!
Well hello everyone! (or at least to the maybe 3 people who actually read my blog :D ) So it's been awhile since I last posted, 20 days or so, and at the time of my last post I was still dealing with some depression. Well, I'm happy to say that it seems as though the depression has lifted - I'm doing mostly okay. Which is nice. One thing I've noticed that's annoying is that I can still have bipolar symptoms even when I'm not in a mood episode. And these can be pressing symptoms, strong symptoms. It's very frustrating to be having a good day and then suddenly BOOM I'm thinking about killing myself and feeling worthless. But I get through it. I'm just struggling to accept it.
I've been doing a couple of new things, new things that I think are helping me. One, I'm exercising consistently. Like, daily. Even days I work my 12 hour shifts I'm still getting something in. It's given me a more positive outlook. Two, I'm looking for God. Now, this might not seem like such a big deal until you realize that I'm not religious or spiritual at all. God has never been a part of my life. Well, I'm actively seeking Him out. Two of my coworkers each gave me a book: The Message from one (the New Testament written in every day language) and Darkness is My Only Companion from the other (a book specifically about finding God in the midst of bipolar disorder). I read a little from The Message every night before bed. I nearly finished Darkness in one day (it's really good).
Anyway, I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving. I was at work taking care of patients and hanging with some awesome coworkers.
I've been doing a couple of new things, new things that I think are helping me. One, I'm exercising consistently. Like, daily. Even days I work my 12 hour shifts I'm still getting something in. It's given me a more positive outlook. Two, I'm looking for God. Now, this might not seem like such a big deal until you realize that I'm not religious or spiritual at all. God has never been a part of my life. Well, I'm actively seeking Him out. Two of my coworkers each gave me a book: The Message from one (the New Testament written in every day language) and Darkness is My Only Companion from the other (a book specifically about finding God in the midst of bipolar disorder). I read a little from The Message every night before bed. I nearly finished Darkness in one day (it's really good).
Anyway, I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving. I was at work taking care of patients and hanging with some awesome coworkers.
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
Another Day
I had therapy today and I was glad that I had therapy today until I actually got to therapy. Why? Well, it was hard to talk. I felt really withdrawn and flat, like I didn't want to interact at all. And it felt like everything I was saying I've said before, at one point or another. It was just really hard.
M, my therapist, said he could tell just by looking at me in the lobby that I was more depressed. My body language and facial expressions gave it away I guess. And yet I could still muster up a smile or a chuckle during my session. M agreed with my pdoc Dr. M that this is probably a normal bipolar mood cycle. I'm in a trough and I'll eventually come back out of it - hopefully sooner rather than later. And what do I have to do to get through it? Push my way through like I have been doing. Just keep plowing through until I feel better.
That sounds logical, doesn't it? It's part of mood management. The problem, is that sometimes it's really hard. Like, end-up-in-the-hospital-because-I-can't-cope hard. That's what I'm worried about. And just making it day to day. Right now, and in my depressions, I feel as though I'm living just to breathe.
We'll see though. We'll see how it goes. M thinks I'll be feeling better when I see him in 2 weeks. We made a bet on it (a bet I don't mind losing).
M, my therapist, said he could tell just by looking at me in the lobby that I was more depressed. My body language and facial expressions gave it away I guess. And yet I could still muster up a smile or a chuckle during my session. M agreed with my pdoc Dr. M that this is probably a normal bipolar mood cycle. I'm in a trough and I'll eventually come back out of it - hopefully sooner rather than later. And what do I have to do to get through it? Push my way through like I have been doing. Just keep plowing through until I feel better.
That sounds logical, doesn't it? It's part of mood management. The problem, is that sometimes it's really hard. Like, end-up-in-the-hospital-because-I-can't-cope hard. That's what I'm worried about. And just making it day to day. Right now, and in my depressions, I feel as though I'm living just to breathe.
We'll see though. We'll see how it goes. M thinks I'll be feeling better when I see him in 2 weeks. We made a bet on it (a bet I don't mind losing).
Monday, November 7, 2016
Well Fuck
I've been getting progressively more depressed over the past month. It started off as mild symptoms, feeling down or feeling irritable. Nothing too bad. I was able to cope rather easily, manage my symptoms without too much effort. But then I started feeling more down. Feelings of hopelessness started creeping in. I felt worthless, everything felt pointless and coping became more and more difficult. I acknowledged okay - I'm in a mild depression. This is more than just feeling down. This is legit depression. And then it got even worse to where I was having suicidal thoughts, I started cutting again, and I truly felt like I couldn't continue on. I mean, how can I be expected to carry on when I feel like this? I've been struggling, I've been crying, I've been drowning. I feel trapped in my own head.
Today I had ECT and had an opportunity to talk with my pdoc. I told him about the worsening depression and asked what more I could do. He said, "we're doing it." I asked him about supplements and if they could possible cause the depression (I started 2 new supplements and I was hoping that maybe that could be the cause and I could just stop them and feel better). He said no. He's never heard of a supplement doing that. He told me this is probably just my normal cycling. It's part of having bipolar disorder. The meds I'm on and the ECT can hopefully keep the worst symptoms away but I'm still going to cycle. I'm still going to get depressed. I'm still going to have mania. But hopefully it won't last as long. A couple weeks instead of several months (or longer). Which, let's be honest, I knew this. But it fucking sucks. And it's really not fair.
Today, thankfully, I'm feeling a little better. Just a little down instead of horrible depressed and I thank God for that. Hopefully this will continue. *fingers crossed*
Today I had ECT and had an opportunity to talk with my pdoc. I told him about the worsening depression and asked what more I could do. He said, "we're doing it." I asked him about supplements and if they could possible cause the depression (I started 2 new supplements and I was hoping that maybe that could be the cause and I could just stop them and feel better). He said no. He's never heard of a supplement doing that. He told me this is probably just my normal cycling. It's part of having bipolar disorder. The meds I'm on and the ECT can hopefully keep the worst symptoms away but I'm still going to cycle. I'm still going to get depressed. I'm still going to have mania. But hopefully it won't last as long. A couple weeks instead of several months (or longer). Which, let's be honest, I knew this. But it fucking sucks. And it's really not fair.
Today, thankfully, I'm feeling a little better. Just a little down instead of horrible depressed and I thank God for that. Hopefully this will continue. *fingers crossed*
Tuesday, November 1, 2016
Mad World . . .
. . . and I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had . . .
When you have bipolar disorder, and you're stable, you can be going along just fine, everything going well, and then out of the blue for no reason what-so-ever BOOM you're depressed again. Maybe the feeling goes away in a couple hours, or a couple of days . . . or maybe it hangs out for a few weeks. Who knows. But then you're stable again and everything is right as rain. And then maybe the same thing happens with mania. And again, maybe it only lasts a few hours, or a few days, or maybe it's a bitch and hangs out for a few weeks. The thing to remember is that bipolar disorder is unpredictable and a mood change can happen at any time for any reason, regardless of how stable you think you are.
This is something I seem to be forgetting. Forgetting and not accepting. See, I've been in a funk the past few weeks. Fuck it, lets call it what it is: I've been mildly depressed for the past few weeks. I had been stable - what I've been calling "normal" (yes, with the quotes) - for almost 3 months before this hit. It started subtle enough, some lack of motivation, feelings of emptiness, feeling down. And then it progressed. I became more withdrawn, more quick to anger, and my motivation completely left me. Fast forward to me today: feelings of depression, emptiness, worthlessness, sadness, hopelessness. Anger and annoyance escalating to rage with little to no provocation. No motivation, ridiculously withdrawn, and stupidly exhausted. I want to sleep to escape. I want to cut and I have. And I've had generalized suicidal thoughts (nothing serious and nothing specific).
I guess I should point something out - something important. I'm nowhere near as depressed as I was before this period of stability. I'm not. And I thank my lucky stars for that because I don't know if I could survive depression that deep again. No, this is more mild. I can get through my day. I can talk with people, joke with people even. I can still muster up a genuine smile. The thing is, everything is work. I have to force it. At work, I don't want to talk to people. I don't want to take part in conversations. I want to hide away and be ignored. But I talk to people. I engage myself, I don't let myself hide. And it's so hard. It's tiring. But I do it.
See, I'm doing everything I've learned through CBT and DBT. I'm interacting, I'm writing, I'm drawing and painting (even though I mostly don't want to), I'm working out, I'm trying to eat healthy, I'm still doing things (even small things like jumping in a leaf pile because that's always fun). I'm doing everything I can to try and keep this depression from getting worse. I'm doing everything I can to try and end this depression. And to say I'm frustrated is an understatement. I'll be honest: I'm tired of dealing with bipolar disorder. I know I have to for the rest of my life and that's a bunch of bullshit.
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had . . .
When you have bipolar disorder, and you're stable, you can be going along just fine, everything going well, and then out of the blue for no reason what-so-ever BOOM you're depressed again. Maybe the feeling goes away in a couple hours, or a couple of days . . . or maybe it hangs out for a few weeks. Who knows. But then you're stable again and everything is right as rain. And then maybe the same thing happens with mania. And again, maybe it only lasts a few hours, or a few days, or maybe it's a bitch and hangs out for a few weeks. The thing to remember is that bipolar disorder is unpredictable and a mood change can happen at any time for any reason, regardless of how stable you think you are.
This is something I seem to be forgetting. Forgetting and not accepting. See, I've been in a funk the past few weeks. Fuck it, lets call it what it is: I've been mildly depressed for the past few weeks. I had been stable - what I've been calling "normal" (yes, with the quotes) - for almost 3 months before this hit. It started subtle enough, some lack of motivation, feelings of emptiness, feeling down. And then it progressed. I became more withdrawn, more quick to anger, and my motivation completely left me. Fast forward to me today: feelings of depression, emptiness, worthlessness, sadness, hopelessness. Anger and annoyance escalating to rage with little to no provocation. No motivation, ridiculously withdrawn, and stupidly exhausted. I want to sleep to escape. I want to cut and I have. And I've had generalized suicidal thoughts (nothing serious and nothing specific).
I guess I should point something out - something important. I'm nowhere near as depressed as I was before this period of stability. I'm not. And I thank my lucky stars for that because I don't know if I could survive depression that deep again. No, this is more mild. I can get through my day. I can talk with people, joke with people even. I can still muster up a genuine smile. The thing is, everything is work. I have to force it. At work, I don't want to talk to people. I don't want to take part in conversations. I want to hide away and be ignored. But I talk to people. I engage myself, I don't let myself hide. And it's so hard. It's tiring. But I do it.
See, I'm doing everything I've learned through CBT and DBT. I'm interacting, I'm writing, I'm drawing and painting (even though I mostly don't want to), I'm working out, I'm trying to eat healthy, I'm still doing things (even small things like jumping in a leaf pile because that's always fun). I'm doing everything I can to try and keep this depression from getting worse. I'm doing everything I can to try and end this depression. And to say I'm frustrated is an understatement. I'll be honest: I'm tired of dealing with bipolar disorder. I know I have to for the rest of my life and that's a bunch of bullshit.
Thursday, October 13, 2016
Day 89
Here it is, day 89 of "normal", and I'm feeling pretty stuck. Why, you ask? Motivation. Or, more accurately, my lack of motivation. That's right. I'm lacking motivation for nearly everything. No, that isn't an exaggeration.
I'll be honest - I don't really have the motivation to write this post. Seriously. I feel I need to though. I feel I need to write more frequently, even if it's just mundane shit. And so here I am, sitting on the couch with the laptop in my lap, one big sigh after the other.
See it's just that I'm lacking motivation for so many things. Exercise, eating healthy, reading, drawing, painting, cleaning, getting up in the morning. It's very frustrating because I want to be able to do things, I just don't seem to care if I don't. Wasn't on the spin bike for a full 20 minutes? Oh well. Doesn't matter. Didn't vacuum the downstairs? Whatever. We're not downstairs all that much anyway.
The lack of motivation and not really caring (in addition to some other symptoms) are all symptoms of depression. I had a little over a week where I was having some strong depressive symptoms again and I keep thinking that maybe this is just carry-over from that. Except that the lack of motivation started before my depressive dip.
I'm not really sure what to do. I don't know how to increase my motivation (motivational speeches, etc don't work).
It sucks though, and is damn annoying.
I'll be honest - I don't really have the motivation to write this post. Seriously. I feel I need to though. I feel I need to write more frequently, even if it's just mundane shit. And so here I am, sitting on the couch with the laptop in my lap, one big sigh after the other.
See it's just that I'm lacking motivation for so many things. Exercise, eating healthy, reading, drawing, painting, cleaning, getting up in the morning. It's very frustrating because I want to be able to do things, I just don't seem to care if I don't. Wasn't on the spin bike for a full 20 minutes? Oh well. Doesn't matter. Didn't vacuum the downstairs? Whatever. We're not downstairs all that much anyway.
The lack of motivation and not really caring (in addition to some other symptoms) are all symptoms of depression. I had a little over a week where I was having some strong depressive symptoms again and I keep thinking that maybe this is just carry-over from that. Except that the lack of motivation started before my depressive dip.
I'm not really sure what to do. I don't know how to increase my motivation (motivational speeches, etc don't work).
It sucks though, and is damn annoying.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Day 61
Would you look at that. We're up to day 61 of me being actually, legitimately stable. It's pretty amazing, really, when you consider I've spent the last 5 years either depressed or manic and not really anywhere in between. (It's been mostly depressed, by the way)
So anyway, I wasn't really sure how I wanted to start this, or if I even wanted to write it. I decided though that it's a part of me and writing it may help me along my journey of wellness. So yeah. Here goes.
Have you ever been on the website Tumblr? It's kind of a combination between a blog and twitter. Think of it as short, fast moving blogs that you scroll through. It can be a fun site. One thing that I didn't like was that there were people - quite a few of them - who were romanticizing mental illness. Not just mental illness, but every aspect of it - especially self harm and suicide. It was all made out to be beautiful, romantic, and tragic. Not informing the reader to seek help, but instead to shun those who don't see the beauty in your scars (what kind of bull crap is that??). I hated it.
Until I realized I'm kind of doing that myself.
Not shunning people, I'm not doing that. But maybe romanticizing my illness just a little. Maybe romanticizing suicide a little. See, normal is boring. It's meh. And I'm still learning how to navigate through being normal (I'm so used to depression). I've written before about feeling as though I'm missing something . . . I think what I'm missing is my extremes of moods. When I'm in an extreme mood, people pay attention to me. Definitely not everyone, and maybe not that many, but people do. It makes one feel important. So that even though you may be dead inside, you matter.
I don't know if that makes any sense. My therapist has asked me on at least two occasions if I was grieving the loss of my instability. Grieving the loss of my mood episode, essentially. I told him I don't know. I think part of me is. Not because I want to feel like shit. Fuck no, people! My depressions are horrible and life draining and I thank God daily that I don't feel like that anymore. But because I'm no longer receiving that attention. I'm no longer "special". I'm just another ordinary person. My bipolar makes me unique.
Does this make any sense? I don't want to be depressed, I don't want to feel like shit or get in trouble for my moods, but I want to be special. I want to be unique.
But the scary bit revolves around suicide. See, as of right now I see suicide as a viable way out. Not now, not right now, but later. I keep thinking, well, if I get depressed again in 5 or 10 or whatever years, I can just kill myself. I've had a couple of depression relapse scares during this current recovery and my mind immediately turned to suicide and I was worried that if I got worse I would actually attempt. I can't. One: I don't want to die, two: I have my husband and son to think about. Mainly #2 is what worries me and pains me the most. But I can't seem to stop these thoughts, no matter what I do.
I'm having a hard time organizing my thoughts about all of this. And my brain won't shut up either. Fuck.
So anyway, I wasn't really sure how I wanted to start this, or if I even wanted to write it. I decided though that it's a part of me and writing it may help me along my journey of wellness. So yeah. Here goes.
Have you ever been on the website Tumblr? It's kind of a combination between a blog and twitter. Think of it as short, fast moving blogs that you scroll through. It can be a fun site. One thing that I didn't like was that there were people - quite a few of them - who were romanticizing mental illness. Not just mental illness, but every aspect of it - especially self harm and suicide. It was all made out to be beautiful, romantic, and tragic. Not informing the reader to seek help, but instead to shun those who don't see the beauty in your scars (what kind of bull crap is that??). I hated it.
Until I realized I'm kind of doing that myself.
Not shunning people, I'm not doing that. But maybe romanticizing my illness just a little. Maybe romanticizing suicide a little. See, normal is boring. It's meh. And I'm still learning how to navigate through being normal (I'm so used to depression). I've written before about feeling as though I'm missing something . . . I think what I'm missing is my extremes of moods. When I'm in an extreme mood, people pay attention to me. Definitely not everyone, and maybe not that many, but people do. It makes one feel important. So that even though you may be dead inside, you matter.
I don't know if that makes any sense. My therapist has asked me on at least two occasions if I was grieving the loss of my instability. Grieving the loss of my mood episode, essentially. I told him I don't know. I think part of me is. Not because I want to feel like shit. Fuck no, people! My depressions are horrible and life draining and I thank God daily that I don't feel like that anymore. But because I'm no longer receiving that attention. I'm no longer "special". I'm just another ordinary person. My bipolar makes me unique.
Does this make any sense? I don't want to be depressed, I don't want to feel like shit or get in trouble for my moods, but I want to be special. I want to be unique.
But the scary bit revolves around suicide. See, as of right now I see suicide as a viable way out. Not now, not right now, but later. I keep thinking, well, if I get depressed again in 5 or 10 or whatever years, I can just kill myself. I've had a couple of depression relapse scares during this current recovery and my mind immediately turned to suicide and I was worried that if I got worse I would actually attempt. I can't. One: I don't want to die, two: I have my husband and son to think about. Mainly #2 is what worries me and pains me the most. But I can't seem to stop these thoughts, no matter what I do.
I'm having a hard time organizing my thoughts about all of this. And my brain won't shut up either. Fuck.
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
Day 52
I'm so lost today. Just so. Utterly. Lost. Today I am empty inside. Today I feel like things don't matter. Life doesn't matter. Everything is pointless and stupid and why should I bother trying? I want to not exist. I want to go to sleep and not wake up.
Now, imagine how bad off I would be if I was actually depressed right now. I'd be suicidal. But thankfully I'm not. Not really at least. The thoughts are there, but they carry no weight.
I woke up this morning feeling as though something was off. Something wasn't right. I had breakfast, went to the gym, and came home to enjoy a cup a coffee. As I sipped my coffee I stared off into space, negative feelings and melancholy swirly around me, taking over. I wrote in my mood journal, showered, and tried to shrug off the feelings, chalking them up to being overly tired the past few days.
But they continued. They grew. And no amount of positive thinking or mindfulness or ignoring made a difference. As per usual, I tried to figure out why I was feeling this way. What could have triggered it? I'll be honest - I don't know. Hubby and I did a lot over the weekend and I was around a lot of people. Could it be stress and tiredness from that? I was supposed to have ECT yesterday but didn't (it was postponed until next Monday). Is it that? Am I subconsciously worried about not having ECT when I was supposed to? Could it be that? All of the above? Something else entirely? I have no idea. All I know is that I don't want to feel like this. At all. Ever. No. It's horrible and I hate it and I want it to go away.
Please . . . just go away. I can't do this again.
And I find it kinda funny,
I find it kinda sad,
The dreams in which I'm dying,
Are the best I've ever had . . .
Now, imagine how bad off I would be if I was actually depressed right now. I'd be suicidal. But thankfully I'm not. Not really at least. The thoughts are there, but they carry no weight.
I woke up this morning feeling as though something was off. Something wasn't right. I had breakfast, went to the gym, and came home to enjoy a cup a coffee. As I sipped my coffee I stared off into space, negative feelings and melancholy swirly around me, taking over. I wrote in my mood journal, showered, and tried to shrug off the feelings, chalking them up to being overly tired the past few days.
But they continued. They grew. And no amount of positive thinking or mindfulness or ignoring made a difference. As per usual, I tried to figure out why I was feeling this way. What could have triggered it? I'll be honest - I don't know. Hubby and I did a lot over the weekend and I was around a lot of people. Could it be stress and tiredness from that? I was supposed to have ECT yesterday but didn't (it was postponed until next Monday). Is it that? Am I subconsciously worried about not having ECT when I was supposed to? Could it be that? All of the above? Something else entirely? I have no idea. All I know is that I don't want to feel like this. At all. Ever. No. It's horrible and I hate it and I want it to go away.
Please . . . just go away. I can't do this again.
And I find it kinda funny,
I find it kinda sad,
The dreams in which I'm dying,
Are the best I've ever had . . .
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Day 40
Wow. It's been a while since I last wrote. I'll be honest though, there isn't really anything exciting going on. Not really.
I've been trying to figure out how I feel, and this really is not an easy fucking task. Seriously. Because here's the thing - I'm not depressed. I'm not depressed. I'm just, normal, I guess.
But there's a problem with normal, and this is what I've been trying to figure out. See, I feel like something is missing. From my life. Like, something major, but I don't know what it is, only that it's gone.
And I still feel like I'm on the sidelines of my life. I'm just observing. Everything is passing me by, I feel left out out. And I'm pretty sure this shows at times. Like when I'm at work trying to take part in a conversation but I'm really just staring creepily at everyone while they're talking and I'm trying to nod and chuckle and look interested but I just look weird.
I go around at work and in life feeling withdrawn and reserved and quiet and not at all like myself. I have moments - don't get me wrong - where I'm more like myself. Where I come out of my shell and make jokes or act silly or, well, inappropriately because that's what I do . . . But those instances are few and far between. And I miss it.
I've been trying to get this all back. I've been trying like crazy to get it back. I go out of my way to make conversations at work. I'm making conversations with people I ordinarily wouldn't talk to (which makes me uncomfortable, honestly). I try making jokes, I try acting silly, but everything just falls flat (except for the towel penis incident).
People comment on how I seem so much more happy, more calm, more talkative, and like I'm doing so much better. And I guess yeah, I am. I mean, I'm not depressed, I'm purposefully trying to engage everyone in conversation, and I am doing so much better. I should just be fucking happy with this, right??
And yet I still feel empty. Hollow. I don't know what to do with myself. Literally and figuratively. I already spend one day a week volunteering with horses and disabled kids. I spend two days a week delivering babies. I paint . . . and then do fun stuff like clean the house. What the fuck more should I do . . .
Oh, and I also seem to have this whole anger thing. I'm very quick to anger and it's pretty volatile. Great fun.
So I don't know. Figuring this shit out is my ongoing project for now. In the background. I'm not letting it take center stage. My bipolar has been center stage for far too long so now it gets the back burner.
So yeah. There ya go.
I've been trying to figure out how I feel, and this really is not an easy fucking task. Seriously. Because here's the thing - I'm not depressed. I'm not depressed. I'm just, normal, I guess.
But there's a problem with normal, and this is what I've been trying to figure out. See, I feel like something is missing. From my life. Like, something major, but I don't know what it is, only that it's gone.
And I still feel like I'm on the sidelines of my life. I'm just observing. Everything is passing me by, I feel left out out. And I'm pretty sure this shows at times. Like when I'm at work trying to take part in a conversation but I'm really just staring creepily at everyone while they're talking and I'm trying to nod and chuckle and look interested but I just look weird.
I go around at work and in life feeling withdrawn and reserved and quiet and not at all like myself. I have moments - don't get me wrong - where I'm more like myself. Where I come out of my shell and make jokes or act silly or, well, inappropriately because that's what I do . . . But those instances are few and far between. And I miss it.
I've been trying to get this all back. I've been trying like crazy to get it back. I go out of my way to make conversations at work. I'm making conversations with people I ordinarily wouldn't talk to (which makes me uncomfortable, honestly). I try making jokes, I try acting silly, but everything just falls flat (except for the towel penis incident).
People comment on how I seem so much more happy, more calm, more talkative, and like I'm doing so much better. And I guess yeah, I am. I mean, I'm not depressed, I'm purposefully trying to engage everyone in conversation, and I am doing so much better. I should just be fucking happy with this, right??
And yet I still feel empty. Hollow. I don't know what to do with myself. Literally and figuratively. I already spend one day a week volunteering with horses and disabled kids. I spend two days a week delivering babies. I paint . . . and then do fun stuff like clean the house. What the fuck more should I do . . .
Oh, and I also seem to have this whole anger thing. I'm very quick to anger and it's pretty volatile. Great fun.
So I don't know. Figuring this shit out is my ongoing project for now. In the background. I'm not letting it take center stage. My bipolar has been center stage for far too long so now it gets the back burner.
So yeah. There ya go.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Day 17
I'm trying to figure out this stability stuff and I'm kind of struggling with that. I think I'm struggling because I'm having depressive symptoms. I had a couple of days last week where I was in full blown bipolar rage. Just. So. Angry. It was bad.
And now, well, the last couple of days, today included, I've been having suicidal thoughts. I've wanted to cut. And while I didn't necessarily feel depressed, I feel melancholy and withdrawn and distant.
I know that stability and recovery are a process. An ever going process that I'll always have to work at. Let's be honest - I say I know this, but I often forget it. I have to remember that I have bipolar disorder. I can be stable and doing well and then wake up to full blown depression or mania for no reason. I can't forget that.
I'm starting to think though that this melancholy is my "normal". This is just how I am. And it's better than I was when I was depressed. I should be thankful. I was just hoping there'd be something more. I don't like that I'm still questioning the purpose and meaning of life to the extent of having suicidal thoughts. And I'm not doing this shit on purpose. I try my best to counter or stop these thoughts.
I don't know. This is just frustrating.
And now, well, the last couple of days, today included, I've been having suicidal thoughts. I've wanted to cut. And while I didn't necessarily feel depressed, I feel melancholy and withdrawn and distant.
I know that stability and recovery are a process. An ever going process that I'll always have to work at. Let's be honest - I say I know this, but I often forget it. I have to remember that I have bipolar disorder. I can be stable and doing well and then wake up to full blown depression or mania for no reason. I can't forget that.
I'm starting to think though that this melancholy is my "normal". This is just how I am. And it's better than I was when I was depressed. I should be thankful. I was just hoping there'd be something more. I don't like that I'm still questioning the purpose and meaning of life to the extent of having suicidal thoughts. And I'm not doing this shit on purpose. I try my best to counter or stop these thoughts.
I don't know. This is just frustrating.
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Day 12
Weird that today is titled "day 12" when other days were higher up, yeah? Well, a lot of shit has happened since my last post. Like, I actually AM stable. Today is day 12 of being stable. And what does being stable look like for me?
I feel "normal", I guess. I don't really feel happy or sad, I just . . . am. It's kind of blah. Meh. No extreme moods, no hating myself, no wanting to die, no depression, no despair. So that's nice.
It feels very strange though. Everything I'm used to is gone. I almost don't know how to act or interact anymore. I feel awkward and small. I feel like I've lost part of myself. I feel like people don't trust me. I'm insignificant and pretty worthless at times. At least, I still feel that way.
I also feel like I'm walking on a tightrope. One misstep and I'll plummet into the abyss. Back into depression. Back where I was. I don't want to look down, I don't want to look back, I don't want to fall.
Today I felt myself waiver. I felt my foot slip just a little. How? My mood. I'm filled with impatient rage today (the type that is characteristic both in my depression and hypomania - not in feeling normal). I've felt like screaming and crying and throwing and breaking things. I don't really know how I've stopped myself (I have better self control than I give myself credit for I guess). I just want to go to bed. I want this day to be over. I'm just . . . I'm done. No more. And it's only 3pm.
I'd like to start writing more regularly, I just find it hard. Mainly thanks to ECT messing with my brain and making it difficult to form sentences. But maybe the more I do it, the easier it will get. Who knows. Maybe I'll shoot for once a week. Goals, people.
I feel "normal", I guess. I don't really feel happy or sad, I just . . . am. It's kind of blah. Meh. No extreme moods, no hating myself, no wanting to die, no depression, no despair. So that's nice.
It feels very strange though. Everything I'm used to is gone. I almost don't know how to act or interact anymore. I feel awkward and small. I feel like I've lost part of myself. I feel like people don't trust me. I'm insignificant and pretty worthless at times. At least, I still feel that way.
I also feel like I'm walking on a tightrope. One misstep and I'll plummet into the abyss. Back into depression. Back where I was. I don't want to look down, I don't want to look back, I don't want to fall.
Today I felt myself waiver. I felt my foot slip just a little. How? My mood. I'm filled with impatient rage today (the type that is characteristic both in my depression and hypomania - not in feeling normal). I've felt like screaming and crying and throwing and breaking things. I don't really know how I've stopped myself (I have better self control than I give myself credit for I guess). I just want to go to bed. I want this day to be over. I'm just . . . I'm done. No more. And it's only 3pm.
I'd like to start writing more regularly, I just find it hard. Mainly thanks to ECT messing with my brain and making it difficult to form sentences. But maybe the more I do it, the easier it will get. Who knows. Maybe I'll shoot for once a week. Goals, people.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
Day 66
I've had some rough days the past few days. And I mean rough. Like losing my shit and sobbing and pounding my head against the wall in the break room at work last Friday and almost completely giving up last night. My depression has been bad. My friend wanted to have me admitted on Friday but I . . . well, I basically talked her out of it. I was with my hubby all day Saturday and Sunday and then worked yesterday, the 4th. It was a very long day putting on my happy face, trying to convince everyone that I was alright. But I did it, and then broke down when I got home.
Anyway, today I saw both my therapist and psychiatrist. This morning my therapist, M, agreed that I probably needed to be in the hospital to keep me safe (the whole banging my head against the wall worried him). We agreed that I would see my psychiatrist first and then go from there. So I saw Dr. M and he said that he would prefer to have me at home if I could be safe there. My hubby and I talked with him, called M back and talked with him, and we all agreed that I could stay home as long as I could stay safe. Well, I can stay safe. And I will stay safe.
Dr. M is also doubling my Latuda dose and seemed confident that that would help the depression. I sure hope so, because I'm so fucking tired.
So yeah. I really don't feel like writing anymore.
Anyway, today I saw both my therapist and psychiatrist. This morning my therapist, M, agreed that I probably needed to be in the hospital to keep me safe (the whole banging my head against the wall worried him). We agreed that I would see my psychiatrist first and then go from there. So I saw Dr. M and he said that he would prefer to have me at home if I could be safe there. My hubby and I talked with him, called M back and talked with him, and we all agreed that I could stay home as long as I could stay safe. Well, I can stay safe. And I will stay safe.
Dr. M is also doubling my Latuda dose and seemed confident that that would help the depression. I sure hope so, because I'm so fucking tired.
So yeah. I really don't feel like writing anymore.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Day 61
I'm feeling awfully lost right now.
I had to take a break after typing that first sentence to cry. I'm so fucking empty and I feel like my pain is consuming me. It's overwhelming me. I don't feel like I'm in control right now. If I had something I could take right now . . . like my lithium . . . I would. Not enough to kill me - I don't think - but enough to make me out of it for a few days. I don't want to deal with how I'm feeling anymore. I'm trying. I'm trying everything. Fuck - I even went to karate tonight!
I want to write, but I don't know what to write. I worked today, from 7-1, it was my call shift. I was on the L&D side caring for post partum patients. The two patients I had were wonderful. Sweet, appreciative, and just nice people. I had good coworkers working. And still I was lost and empty. Still I struggled. Still I felt like breaking down. I came home at 1:30 to my son and we had lunch together. Then I went to lay down for a bit - nap - and escape my thoughts. Then came karate and then I made dinner.
And now crying. Oh, and I cut myself too. Three weeks without a cut and I fucking cut myself tonight. It was either that or put my fists through the wall. Which I still want to do.
I'm so frustrated. If I could just have more good days than bad. Is that too much to fucking ask? Just more good than bad? Apparently it is, considering how it doesn't happen.
I see Dr. M on Tuesday and I'm very curious to hear what he'll have to say about all of this. I'm worried he'll do nothing. Or say there's nothing he can do. Because truth is, I can't keep going on like this. I can't. It's too hard.
But you know what? Tomorrow is a new day, right? It'll be better. It has to be better. I'm going to bed.
I had to take a break after typing that first sentence to cry. I'm so fucking empty and I feel like my pain is consuming me. It's overwhelming me. I don't feel like I'm in control right now. If I had something I could take right now . . . like my lithium . . . I would. Not enough to kill me - I don't think - but enough to make me out of it for a few days. I don't want to deal with how I'm feeling anymore. I'm trying. I'm trying everything. Fuck - I even went to karate tonight!
I want to write, but I don't know what to write. I worked today, from 7-1, it was my call shift. I was on the L&D side caring for post partum patients. The two patients I had were wonderful. Sweet, appreciative, and just nice people. I had good coworkers working. And still I was lost and empty. Still I struggled. Still I felt like breaking down. I came home at 1:30 to my son and we had lunch together. Then I went to lay down for a bit - nap - and escape my thoughts. Then came karate and then I made dinner.
And now crying. Oh, and I cut myself too. Three weeks without a cut and I fucking cut myself tonight. It was either that or put my fists through the wall. Which I still want to do.
I'm so frustrated. If I could just have more good days than bad. Is that too much to fucking ask? Just more good than bad? Apparently it is, considering how it doesn't happen.
I see Dr. M on Tuesday and I'm very curious to hear what he'll have to say about all of this. I'm worried he'll do nothing. Or say there's nothing he can do. Because truth is, I can't keep going on like this. I can't. It's too hard.
But you know what? Tomorrow is a new day, right? It'll be better. It has to be better. I'm going to bed.
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Day 59
I'm sitting on my bed in my bedroom, headphones in, listening to Guster to drown out the sounds of Shark Week emanating from the living room (my son is watching Shark Week and is all excited about it). I'm depressed - but what's new? Aren't I always fucking depressed? It definitely seems that way.
But no, as it turns out, I had a few days over the weekend where I was hypomanic. I worked on Saturday (I'm an RN, remember) and I did something rather embarrassing: at lunchtime there were 6 or 7 of us in the break room. I proceeded to try and convince everyone to eat my ashes after I'm cremated when I die. I was going on and on. Everyone was laughing but looking a little uncomfortable. So I told them they could eat my corpse instead if that was better.
Uhhhhh, no.
Luckily I kept myself under control around my patients. I was only weird with coworkers.
Anyway, today I had therapy and I had to convince M that I didn't need to go to the hospital because of my suicidal thoughts. We revamped my safety plan, but I think he was feeling quite leery. He told me he'd beat me up if I killed myself. Buddy, you ain't the only one!
I'm not sure what the hospital would do for me other than keep me safe. So if I can keep myself safe at home, well . . .
And I am keeping myself safe. If I can get past the crisis point then I'm okay, I'll be okay, I'll live another day. And that's what I've been doing, day in, day out.
It's fucking tiring. And at times seems pointless.
Let's be honest, the only reason I'm still around is my hubby and son. If not for them . . .
But no, as it turns out, I had a few days over the weekend where I was hypomanic. I worked on Saturday (I'm an RN, remember) and I did something rather embarrassing: at lunchtime there were 6 or 7 of us in the break room. I proceeded to try and convince everyone to eat my ashes after I'm cremated when I die. I was going on and on. Everyone was laughing but looking a little uncomfortable. So I told them they could eat my corpse instead if that was better.
Uhhhhh, no.
Luckily I kept myself under control around my patients. I was only weird with coworkers.
Anyway, today I had therapy and I had to convince M that I didn't need to go to the hospital because of my suicidal thoughts. We revamped my safety plan, but I think he was feeling quite leery. He told me he'd beat me up if I killed myself. Buddy, you ain't the only one!
I'm not sure what the hospital would do for me other than keep me safe. So if I can keep myself safe at home, well . . .
And I am keeping myself safe. If I can get past the crisis point then I'm okay, I'll be okay, I'll live another day. And that's what I've been doing, day in, day out.
It's fucking tiring. And at times seems pointless.
Let's be honest, the only reason I'm still around is my hubby and son. If not for them . . .
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Day 52
Here I sit, down, withdrawn, angry, and confused. Yes, confused. I had therapy yesterday - finally - and I left emotionally drained and confused. The talk centered around my suicidal ideation and, lets be honest, I never realized how exhausting talking about suicide can be.
I should throw in a quick bit of background info: I talked to my psychiatrist last week before ECT about my suicidal ideation and he told me something that I really didn't want to hear. "Lynn, you're stable. You are considered stable. You're still going to cycle when you're stable and sometimes these cycles can be severe. The key to stability is that the cycles are shorter - maybe 2-3 days instead of 2-3 weeks or months." How horrible is that? He's basically telling me, hey, I know you're suicidal but it'll pass in a few days so just suck it up and deal with it. He doesn't like to do med changes outside of his office (I don't see him in office until July 5th) so he said he'd see me again in a couple weeks for ECT, in 3 in office, so we'd just see how I do and that would better dictate our next course of action.
Okay.
I've sat with that for a week now and it's still a tough pill to swallow. I told my therapist as much yesterday and he agreed with me . . . but also with my psychiatrist. Although he thinks we can do a better job managing it and that we should be able to get the suicidality under control.
The joys of being treatment resistant.
My therapist tried to come up with ideas of things I could do do help manage my moods, things I'm not already doing. I tried helping. We didn't come up with many because I'm already doing so much. So I need to continue doing what I'm doing and not allow myself to falter.
One thing I need to do is work on accepting this as my lot in life. I mean truly accepting the chronicity and severity of my bipolar disorder. Truly accepting that I may wake up any given morning desperately wanting to die, so depressed and miserable that I can't even pull myself out of bed to shower . . . only to wake up the next morning hypomanic, giddy with racing thoughts, having to watch everything I say, knowing that I can fly into a rage at the drop of a hat. And still have that be considered stable as long as I have a day or two with more mild symptoms.
My problem with this, besides the obvious, is that I like control in my life. I like stability. So I need something to control. I'm going to try and be healthy with this and work on my diet. Eating healthier and more natural. Working out more regularly. Maybe that will help. Hopefully that will help.
I have ECT and therapy next week, my in office appointment the next . . . we'll see how things go. A day at a time is all I can do.
I should throw in a quick bit of background info: I talked to my psychiatrist last week before ECT about my suicidal ideation and he told me something that I really didn't want to hear. "Lynn, you're stable. You are considered stable. You're still going to cycle when you're stable and sometimes these cycles can be severe. The key to stability is that the cycles are shorter - maybe 2-3 days instead of 2-3 weeks or months." How horrible is that? He's basically telling me, hey, I know you're suicidal but it'll pass in a few days so just suck it up and deal with it. He doesn't like to do med changes outside of his office (I don't see him in office until July 5th) so he said he'd see me again in a couple weeks for ECT, in 3 in office, so we'd just see how I do and that would better dictate our next course of action.
Okay.
I've sat with that for a week now and it's still a tough pill to swallow. I told my therapist as much yesterday and he agreed with me . . . but also with my psychiatrist. Although he thinks we can do a better job managing it and that we should be able to get the suicidality under control.
The joys of being treatment resistant.
My therapist tried to come up with ideas of things I could do do help manage my moods, things I'm not already doing. I tried helping. We didn't come up with many because I'm already doing so much. So I need to continue doing what I'm doing and not allow myself to falter.
One thing I need to do is work on accepting this as my lot in life. I mean truly accepting the chronicity and severity of my bipolar disorder. Truly accepting that I may wake up any given morning desperately wanting to die, so depressed and miserable that I can't even pull myself out of bed to shower . . . only to wake up the next morning hypomanic, giddy with racing thoughts, having to watch everything I say, knowing that I can fly into a rage at the drop of a hat. And still have that be considered stable as long as I have a day or two with more mild symptoms.
My problem with this, besides the obvious, is that I like control in my life. I like stability. So I need something to control. I'm going to try and be healthy with this and work on my diet. Eating healthier and more natural. Working out more regularly. Maybe that will help. Hopefully that will help.
I have ECT and therapy next week, my in office appointment the next . . . we'll see how things go. A day at a time is all I can do.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Day 41
I'm trapped in the darkness . . . lost in the shadows . . . I can see the light - I think - I just can't get to it. Instead, I'm left feeling my way, stumbling around blindly, hoping, praying, for a way out. The darkness is all consuming though, and even though I'm doing everything right, it has a strangle hold on me. And that little pin prick of light I see . . . it falters.
In case you haven't guessed it, I would appear to be in full blown depression again. It's been coming, slowly, over the past few weeks, and now its here, pressing, smothering, and all consuming. And it's not just that I feel "sad" or "down". Oh no. I feel as though life is no longer worth living. I want to kill myself and I have a plan. I feel hopeless and worthless and lost and empty and like I'm a burden on everyone around me. I don't feel joy or happiness - I try, I really fucking try - but I just . . . don't.
The frustrating part is that Im doing everything I should be doing. I take my meds, I go to therapy, I go to ECT, I still go to work, go to karate, interact with my friends, I don't isolate (even though I desperately want to), and I do everything CBT and DBT that I know how to do. I don't know what more to do. I feel like a failure. I feel like I'm letting people down, docs included (and then I counter those negative thoughts with things like, but you're not a failure, look how far you've come, you're strong and stubborn and you can do this!). And I don't see any trigger to this current depression. Nothing.
It's exhausting being me right now. My mind is a whirlwind of negative thoughts, a third to half of them suicidal. I feel as though I'm drowning in my thoughts, caught just below the surface, scrambling desperately to get my head above water but never quite making it. I try to ignore the thoughts, push them away. Or I acknowledge them, counter them, and move on. Or I discount them. Or, or, or . . . I'm in a constant argument with my own mind and that is fucking exhausting. You never know, until you have to do it yourself. Something good may happen - let's say my son makes me laugh - and I think yay! Something good! Oh really? my mind counters. You realize this won't last, don't you? You're still depressed. Your life still isn't worth living. You're always going to be like this. I stare off into space a minute, my mood dropping from my little break, as I scramble to counter what just flew threw my head. That's not true, I tell it. My husband and son make my life worth living. My friends, my job, my family . . . hell, my damn dog makes my life worth living. I think of good times, picture them in my head. Sometimes I write a gratitude list. Yeah. You keep telling yourself that.
I tell myself that it's just the depression talking, just the bipolar. That's not me. That's not how I am. And it's not. When I'm stable, when I'm not depressed, I don't have thoughts like that. I don't really even think about being bipolar. I feel so fucking different when I'm not depressed. That's how I know it's just the depression . . . but knowing that and telling myself that doesn't make it any easier to counter the negative thoughts, because, honestly, they're so fucking convincing.
One thing that scares me . . . I had a psychiatric PA I was seeing (before my current doc) tell me, "You're just going to be depressed and suicidal for the rest of your life and you need to learn how to deal with it." Number one, what the actual fuck, and number two, what the actual fuck?! That's not something you tell you're depressed, suicidal patient. But then, it makes me think: we can't seem to get my depression under control. If we do, it's for a very short period before it comes back. So what if there's some truth to that? But see, I can't think about it because that leads to a cascade of negative, suicidal thoughts. But it scares the ever living shit out of me. Because fuck man, what if that's true?
I don't ever bring that up in therapy or to my current doc because I'm worried they'll agree with it. I'm also worried that I've failed them, let them down, because I can't seem to fucking stay stable. I'm worried that they'll drop me as a patient, wash their hands of me, because I can't stay well.
I think I'm still struggling with what it truly means for me to be bipolar. I mean, maybe I get 12 days stable, then 20 or so with some mild depression and anger, and then I get the complete shit show for 2 or 3 weeks before going back to relatively stable. Maybe that's how bipolar works for me. Maybe a long period of stability just isn't in the cards for me. Which fuck, wouldn't that suck? Because when I'm low, I'm fucking low. I mean, I'm suicidal, I'm cutting, I'm withdrawn, I don't want to do things (though I force myself to), I'm no fun to be around, I'm a raging bitch . . . It's no way to live.
But that's negative thinking. Counter that shit.
Butterflies and sparrows and little bunnies . . .
In case you haven't guessed it, I would appear to be in full blown depression again. It's been coming, slowly, over the past few weeks, and now its here, pressing, smothering, and all consuming. And it's not just that I feel "sad" or "down". Oh no. I feel as though life is no longer worth living. I want to kill myself and I have a plan. I feel hopeless and worthless and lost and empty and like I'm a burden on everyone around me. I don't feel joy or happiness - I try, I really fucking try - but I just . . . don't.
The frustrating part is that Im doing everything I should be doing. I take my meds, I go to therapy, I go to ECT, I still go to work, go to karate, interact with my friends, I don't isolate (even though I desperately want to), and I do everything CBT and DBT that I know how to do. I don't know what more to do. I feel like a failure. I feel like I'm letting people down, docs included (and then I counter those negative thoughts with things like, but you're not a failure, look how far you've come, you're strong and stubborn and you can do this!). And I don't see any trigger to this current depression. Nothing.
It's exhausting being me right now. My mind is a whirlwind of negative thoughts, a third to half of them suicidal. I feel as though I'm drowning in my thoughts, caught just below the surface, scrambling desperately to get my head above water but never quite making it. I try to ignore the thoughts, push them away. Or I acknowledge them, counter them, and move on. Or I discount them. Or, or, or . . . I'm in a constant argument with my own mind and that is fucking exhausting. You never know, until you have to do it yourself. Something good may happen - let's say my son makes me laugh - and I think yay! Something good! Oh really? my mind counters. You realize this won't last, don't you? You're still depressed. Your life still isn't worth living. You're always going to be like this. I stare off into space a minute, my mood dropping from my little break, as I scramble to counter what just flew threw my head. That's not true, I tell it. My husband and son make my life worth living. My friends, my job, my family . . . hell, my damn dog makes my life worth living. I think of good times, picture them in my head. Sometimes I write a gratitude list. Yeah. You keep telling yourself that.
I tell myself that it's just the depression talking, just the bipolar. That's not me. That's not how I am. And it's not. When I'm stable, when I'm not depressed, I don't have thoughts like that. I don't really even think about being bipolar. I feel so fucking different when I'm not depressed. That's how I know it's just the depression . . . but knowing that and telling myself that doesn't make it any easier to counter the negative thoughts, because, honestly, they're so fucking convincing.
One thing that scares me . . . I had a psychiatric PA I was seeing (before my current doc) tell me, "You're just going to be depressed and suicidal for the rest of your life and you need to learn how to deal with it." Number one, what the actual fuck, and number two, what the actual fuck?! That's not something you tell you're depressed, suicidal patient. But then, it makes me think: we can't seem to get my depression under control. If we do, it's for a very short period before it comes back. So what if there's some truth to that? But see, I can't think about it because that leads to a cascade of negative, suicidal thoughts. But it scares the ever living shit out of me. Because fuck man, what if that's true?
I don't ever bring that up in therapy or to my current doc because I'm worried they'll agree with it. I'm also worried that I've failed them, let them down, because I can't seem to fucking stay stable. I'm worried that they'll drop me as a patient, wash their hands of me, because I can't stay well.
I think I'm still struggling with what it truly means for me to be bipolar. I mean, maybe I get 12 days stable, then 20 or so with some mild depression and anger, and then I get the complete shit show for 2 or 3 weeks before going back to relatively stable. Maybe that's how bipolar works for me. Maybe a long period of stability just isn't in the cards for me. Which fuck, wouldn't that suck? Because when I'm low, I'm fucking low. I mean, I'm suicidal, I'm cutting, I'm withdrawn, I don't want to do things (though I force myself to), I'm no fun to be around, I'm a raging bitch . . . It's no way to live.
But that's negative thinking. Counter that shit.
Butterflies and sparrows and little bunnies . . .
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Day 37
Well. Today is day 37 "stable". "Stable". What a joke. I hate my version of "stable". Where I still struggle. Where I still have thoughts of suicide . . .
. . . which I did this morning. I was thinking about slitting my wrists, since I don't have access to any of my meds (hubby keeps them locked up). Rather than act on it I immediately told hubby what I was thinking and we talked about it.
I still want to cut though. God damn I want to cut.
Today, yesterday, and Friday have all been very difficult. They have been very rough. My mood has been, well, bad. And not just bad - I've been depressed, I've been irrationally angry, I've been lost. It is, quite frankly, not fucking fair.
On Friday I worked and I was irrationally angry (and then, of course, we were crazy busy to boot). I was doing a lot of counting in my head so that I wouldn't say something inappropriate (although several times I slipped and I did). At one point a pulse ox wasn't working right so I threw it on the ground and stomped on it while cussing loudly. I was snippy and rude to most everyone and I didn't enjoy any aspect of my job (delivering babies, in case you forgot).
On Saturday I woke up and knew it was going to be a bad day. I cried in the morning and wanted to give up right then and there. But I'm stubborn, you know, so I worked out and then hubby and I took our son to the penny arcade and out to eat. But I was snippy and quick to anger and overall just a big 'ol bitch. But I made it through the day.
Today has been more of the same. And I'm done with it. I'm really just so. Fucking. Tired of it all.
There's my rant for the day. Fuck I want to cut.
. . . which I did this morning. I was thinking about slitting my wrists, since I don't have access to any of my meds (hubby keeps them locked up). Rather than act on it I immediately told hubby what I was thinking and we talked about it.
I still want to cut though. God damn I want to cut.
Today, yesterday, and Friday have all been very difficult. They have been very rough. My mood has been, well, bad. And not just bad - I've been depressed, I've been irrationally angry, I've been lost. It is, quite frankly, not fucking fair.
On Friday I worked and I was irrationally angry (and then, of course, we were crazy busy to boot). I was doing a lot of counting in my head so that I wouldn't say something inappropriate (although several times I slipped and I did). At one point a pulse ox wasn't working right so I threw it on the ground and stomped on it while cussing loudly. I was snippy and rude to most everyone and I didn't enjoy any aspect of my job (delivering babies, in case you forgot).
On Saturday I woke up and knew it was going to be a bad day. I cried in the morning and wanted to give up right then and there. But I'm stubborn, you know, so I worked out and then hubby and I took our son to the penny arcade and out to eat. But I was snippy and quick to anger and overall just a big 'ol bitch. But I made it through the day.
Today has been more of the same. And I'm done with it. I'm really just so. Fucking. Tired of it all.
There's my rant for the day. Fuck I want to cut.
Monday, May 23, 2016
Day 24
Today has been an annoying day. The kind of day that has me questioning how well I really am, questioning if another episode is starting.
I woke up this morning, sun shining, birds chirping, and actually feeling rested. I looked at my watch to see that it was only 6:30. No. I wanted to sleep in this morning! I rolled over in bed, turning away from the window, but that didn't help. It was too bright and the chorus of birds was too loud. Fine, fine, I'll get up then.
I sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast, thinking about what I needed to accomplish today. Gym, laundry, take my son to therapy, finish a painting . . . Not too much, really. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had no motivation for any of it. Well, you don't have to go to the gym. You can workout at home. Do a 30 minute Insanity video - boom. Done. That sounded reasonable. But I still needed to psych myself up. I got on Ifunny, then Facebook. My mood was worsening though. Ok. You can go lay down for a little bit then. After all, it's only 7:30.
I crawled back into bed, pulling the covers over my head to block out the light and I set the alarm on my phone for 8, just in case. And I was just dozing off when the alarm went off. I hit the snooze. Then I hit the snooze again. And then I just turned it off. See, I couldn't pull myself out of bed. I just . . . couldn't. I didn't want to be awake. I didn't want to face the day and deal with how I was feeling. I finally got up at 9:15, only because I had to - I had to shower and go pick up my son from his grandma's so I could take him from therapy. Otherwise, I'm not sure I would have gotten out of bed.
Yes. So. I picked up my son, took him to therapy, and then we went home and had lunch. My plan was to finish a painting that I have sketched out of a blue jay. Instead, I sat at the table for an hour alternately doodling butterflies and staring off into space. So I went into the bedroom and laid down. What I wanted to do was curl into a ball and not exist. Or to be made unconscious at least until tomorrow. But no, I can't do that. So I napped instead. I didn't plan on napping long, only an hour. That hour turned into almost 2. Then I tried reading for a little bit but I couldn't concentrate.
So here I am, writing this. I feel like crap today. I feel depressed, down, empty, and like everything is pointless. I have no motivation and I can't muster up caring about, well, anything. Here's the shitty thing though - I don't feel as bad as I did a couple of months ago. Wait a minute! Shouldn't that be good? You feel better! That should be good! And yes, I guess, it should be good. But here's the thing - I'm stable but I still feel like crap. I'm okay, but I don't feel like I can participate in life. And that's the thing, too - I think this is how my life is going to be now. That even when I'm stable, even when I'm doing well, I'm going to have days where for no reason I plummet into a depression (conversely I guess, I could go into hypomania but that rarely happens).
This is frustrating!! A day I had things planned to do and all I accomplished was laying in bed. And then, then, I can't help but think about whether or not this is the start of an episode or a random day. I try not to think about it, I really do, but I can't seem to help it.
I should probably work to accept this new reality of mine. That would probably benefit me. It's just a difficult thing to do.
Ugh.
I woke up this morning, sun shining, birds chirping, and actually feeling rested. I looked at my watch to see that it was only 6:30. No. I wanted to sleep in this morning! I rolled over in bed, turning away from the window, but that didn't help. It was too bright and the chorus of birds was too loud. Fine, fine, I'll get up then.
I sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast, thinking about what I needed to accomplish today. Gym, laundry, take my son to therapy, finish a painting . . . Not too much, really. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had no motivation for any of it. Well, you don't have to go to the gym. You can workout at home. Do a 30 minute Insanity video - boom. Done. That sounded reasonable. But I still needed to psych myself up. I got on Ifunny, then Facebook. My mood was worsening though. Ok. You can go lay down for a little bit then. After all, it's only 7:30.
I crawled back into bed, pulling the covers over my head to block out the light and I set the alarm on my phone for 8, just in case. And I was just dozing off when the alarm went off. I hit the snooze. Then I hit the snooze again. And then I just turned it off. See, I couldn't pull myself out of bed. I just . . . couldn't. I didn't want to be awake. I didn't want to face the day and deal with how I was feeling. I finally got up at 9:15, only because I had to - I had to shower and go pick up my son from his grandma's so I could take him from therapy. Otherwise, I'm not sure I would have gotten out of bed.
Yes. So. I picked up my son, took him to therapy, and then we went home and had lunch. My plan was to finish a painting that I have sketched out of a blue jay. Instead, I sat at the table for an hour alternately doodling butterflies and staring off into space. So I went into the bedroom and laid down. What I wanted to do was curl into a ball and not exist. Or to be made unconscious at least until tomorrow. But no, I can't do that. So I napped instead. I didn't plan on napping long, only an hour. That hour turned into almost 2. Then I tried reading for a little bit but I couldn't concentrate.
So here I am, writing this. I feel like crap today. I feel depressed, down, empty, and like everything is pointless. I have no motivation and I can't muster up caring about, well, anything. Here's the shitty thing though - I don't feel as bad as I did a couple of months ago. Wait a minute! Shouldn't that be good? You feel better! That should be good! And yes, I guess, it should be good. But here's the thing - I'm stable but I still feel like crap. I'm okay, but I don't feel like I can participate in life. And that's the thing, too - I think this is how my life is going to be now. That even when I'm stable, even when I'm doing well, I'm going to have days where for no reason I plummet into a depression (conversely I guess, I could go into hypomania but that rarely happens).
This is frustrating!! A day I had things planned to do and all I accomplished was laying in bed. And then, then, I can't help but think about whether or not this is the start of an episode or a random day. I try not to think about it, I really do, but I can't seem to help it.
I should probably work to accept this new reality of mine. That would probably benefit me. It's just a difficult thing to do.
Ugh.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Day 23
Today hasn't been too bad I guess. I was on call for work and didn't get called in. That's always nice. So I got to sleep in and then hubby and I went to the flea market. I found a taxidermied wood duck that I of course had to own . . . I named him Badger. After the flea market was Costco and then grocery shopping. Good times, I know. I read for a bit while hubby played video games, we had a roll in the hay, and then dinner (Philly cheesesteak sandwiches). A pretty low key day, my mood was mostly even and okay, not too bad really.
And now I'm sitting here on the couch, hallucinating. Yes, you read that right - hallucinating. Someone keeps walking back and forth in the hallway. A non-real someone, obviously. That's okay though, I'm used to it. I know it's not real. Yesterday, in the movie theater (we went and saw Civil War), I was seeing orbs of light. My hallucinations tend to be random and don't seem to have a trigger. At least not one that I'm aware of. I've been getting them for about 2-2.5 years now. Something like that. Visual and auditory although the visual are much more frequent (auditory is pretty rare, actually).
I felt like I had more to say when I first logged on but now I'm thinking not. What a pointless post. Oh well.
And now I'm sitting here on the couch, hallucinating. Yes, you read that right - hallucinating. Someone keeps walking back and forth in the hallway. A non-real someone, obviously. That's okay though, I'm used to it. I know it's not real. Yesterday, in the movie theater (we went and saw Civil War), I was seeing orbs of light. My hallucinations tend to be random and don't seem to have a trigger. At least not one that I'm aware of. I've been getting them for about 2-2.5 years now. Something like that. Visual and auditory although the visual are much more frequent (auditory is pretty rare, actually).
I felt like I had more to say when I first logged on but now I'm thinking not. What a pointless post. Oh well.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Day 19
I was scheduled off today, but was on call for the first half of my shift, 7-1 (I'm an RN remember). I woke up when the alarm went off for my hubby at 5:15. 5:15!! Way too early when I don't have to work.
Except . . . I did have to work. As I was laying in bed my phone chimed a text message. Please be my friend L, please be my friend L. Nope. It was work. Informing me that they would need me to come in at 7. Dammit! *shakes fist* Oh well. Too bad I'm SICK though! (I mean, it's too bad I have to go to work when I'm sick, I didn't call in sick).
I got up, got in the shower and got ready for work. I still had sinus congestion, a whopping headache, and a little bit of a sore throat. No big deal though, right? Took some cold meds, took my son to school, and headed for work. When I got to work I tried to be as upbeat as possible, I tried chatting/joking with coworkers and being outgoing. I felt like I had to be as I felt very withdrawn. I could tell right off that I didn't want to interact with people today, so of course I forced myself to.
As I moved throughout the morning I became more aware of my mood: withdrawn, down, things don't matter, life is pointless, why bother trying . . . typical depressive symptoms. It got me thinking, am I feeling like this because I'm sick? Or am I having true depressive symptoms? Yesterday I missed karate and spent an awful lot of time either in bed or on the couch, all under the guise of not feeling good. Now, I truly didn't feel good, but I'm pretty damn sure I was playing up my cold so as to continue doing nothing. Why did I need to do nothing? Is it because I'm getting depressed again and the cold was a convenient scapegoat? Or was it really just the cold?
I wish I didn't have to think about this shit, but being bipolar makes that an impossibility. Shifts in mood or behavior have to be looked at as the possibility of a new mood episode starting. It's tiresome, quite honestly. My other thought was that being withdrawn is just part of who I am now. I guess only time will tell if that's true or not. I hope it's not.
But anyway, I actually had a pleasant day at work. I was able to stuff the depressive symptoms, I forced myself to interact, and I was only there until 12:30 (my patients were pretty awesome as well). I came home and I napped, picked my son up from school, and then have been lazy all evening. Which I think we all need sometimes. Oh, and I'm making BLTs for dinner, so that's a win right there.
That was probably a pretty boring post. Oh well, I don't really care.
Except . . . I did have to work. As I was laying in bed my phone chimed a text message. Please be my friend L, please be my friend L. Nope. It was work. Informing me that they would need me to come in at 7. Dammit! *shakes fist* Oh well. Too bad I'm SICK though! (I mean, it's too bad I have to go to work when I'm sick, I didn't call in sick).
I got up, got in the shower and got ready for work. I still had sinus congestion, a whopping headache, and a little bit of a sore throat. No big deal though, right? Took some cold meds, took my son to school, and headed for work. When I got to work I tried to be as upbeat as possible, I tried chatting/joking with coworkers and being outgoing. I felt like I had to be as I felt very withdrawn. I could tell right off that I didn't want to interact with people today, so of course I forced myself to.
As I moved throughout the morning I became more aware of my mood: withdrawn, down, things don't matter, life is pointless, why bother trying . . . typical depressive symptoms. It got me thinking, am I feeling like this because I'm sick? Or am I having true depressive symptoms? Yesterday I missed karate and spent an awful lot of time either in bed or on the couch, all under the guise of not feeling good. Now, I truly didn't feel good, but I'm pretty damn sure I was playing up my cold so as to continue doing nothing. Why did I need to do nothing? Is it because I'm getting depressed again and the cold was a convenient scapegoat? Or was it really just the cold?
I wish I didn't have to think about this shit, but being bipolar makes that an impossibility. Shifts in mood or behavior have to be looked at as the possibility of a new mood episode starting. It's tiresome, quite honestly. My other thought was that being withdrawn is just part of who I am now. I guess only time will tell if that's true or not. I hope it's not.
But anyway, I actually had a pleasant day at work. I was able to stuff the depressive symptoms, I forced myself to interact, and I was only there until 12:30 (my patients were pretty awesome as well). I came home and I napped, picked my son up from school, and then have been lazy all evening. Which I think we all need sometimes. Oh, and I'm making BLTs for dinner, so that's a win right there.
That was probably a pretty boring post. Oh well, I don't really care.
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Day 18
Well, today is day 18 of being "stable". That's right - you still notice the quotes? I'm still having difficulty with what I am. I'm having mood swings throughout the day, uncomfortable ones.
Yesterday, for example, hubby (J) and son (A) and I were sitting down to dinner. All of a sudden and out of the blue my mood plummeted, after being pretty okay all day. All through dinner I felt despair and as if life isn't worth living. After dinner, J laid down with me and tried to cheer me up. He tickled me, which made me laugh at first, but then I started sobbing for no real reason.
Today started okay, mood wasn't bad, took A to school and went out to the therapeutic riding center I volunteer at. I was only there a short period of time as classes were essentially cancelled (which was fine with me as I had a headache). I got my hair cut and colored and napped before picking A up from school. I felt very much like I was getting a cold. I skipped karate thanks to feeling sick, J and A still went. All this time my mood was mostly okay.
Until it wasn't.
They got home from karate and I felt like curling in a ball and not existing. I wanted to disappear. During dinner I felt the same way. I tried to chalk it up to having a cold, but I don't get these feelings when I have a cold - I get them when I'm depressed. It's too difficult to have to wake up every day and make it through the day, to find something worth living for. And I know I have things worth living for - I have my husband and my son for fuck's sake - but it's hard to hold onto that when you're not in control of your moods, when everything around you is so one dimensional and bleak.
Now luckily, luckily, these feelings aren't as strong as they were, not as strong as they were before I came upon this new found "stability". So I think I can manage, I think I can pull myself through.
At least that's what I tell myself.
It's just . . . all of this is so tiring.
Yesterday, for example, hubby (J) and son (A) and I were sitting down to dinner. All of a sudden and out of the blue my mood plummeted, after being pretty okay all day. All through dinner I felt despair and as if life isn't worth living. After dinner, J laid down with me and tried to cheer me up. He tickled me, which made me laugh at first, but then I started sobbing for no real reason.
Today started okay, mood wasn't bad, took A to school and went out to the therapeutic riding center I volunteer at. I was only there a short period of time as classes were essentially cancelled (which was fine with me as I had a headache). I got my hair cut and colored and napped before picking A up from school. I felt very much like I was getting a cold. I skipped karate thanks to feeling sick, J and A still went. All this time my mood was mostly okay.
Until it wasn't.
They got home from karate and I felt like curling in a ball and not existing. I wanted to disappear. During dinner I felt the same way. I tried to chalk it up to having a cold, but I don't get these feelings when I have a cold - I get them when I'm depressed. It's too difficult to have to wake up every day and make it through the day, to find something worth living for. And I know I have things worth living for - I have my husband and my son for fuck's sake - but it's hard to hold onto that when you're not in control of your moods, when everything around you is so one dimensional and bleak.
Now luckily, luckily, these feelings aren't as strong as they were, not as strong as they were before I came upon this new found "stability". So I think I can manage, I think I can pull myself through.
At least that's what I tell myself.
It's just . . . all of this is so tiring.
Saturday, May 14, 2016
Day 15
Today is day 15 of being "stable". Did you notice how I put the word stable in quotes? Yeah, that was on purpose. See, I was stable, up through day 11 or so. Now I'm not so sure.
I had 11 days or so of feeling pretty good. My moods were pretty even. I could even feel genuine happiness! My smiles weren't fake, I wasn't avoiding people at work, I interacted more with family. . . I felt okay. Hell, I felt amazing compared to where I was!
And then I started to feel off. I started to feel down. Anger crept in. I felt empty and withdrawn. Depressive symptoms. I immediately started to wonder if I was relapsing already. I can't be relapsing - it's only been 11-12 days! I try not to think about that - if I'm relapsing. It does me no good, only allows for negative thoughts. So I push those thoughts out of my head. They always creep back in, and I have to push them out again.
I think my brain/body is trying to tell me something. They're saying, Bitch, you have bipolar disorder and nothing is going to be easy. You're going to have to fight every day. Which is true, really. That's the nature of bipolar disorder. You can have symptoms crop up at any time for any reason. I had 11 days where I didn't really have to fight and now it seems that's changing.
I can tell you that I'm sick of this shit though. I mean seriously, what the fuck?? Why can't I just be stable?? Fuck you bipolar.
I had 11 days or so of feeling pretty good. My moods were pretty even. I could even feel genuine happiness! My smiles weren't fake, I wasn't avoiding people at work, I interacted more with family. . . I felt okay. Hell, I felt amazing compared to where I was!
And then I started to feel off. I started to feel down. Anger crept in. I felt empty and withdrawn. Depressive symptoms. I immediately started to wonder if I was relapsing already. I can't be relapsing - it's only been 11-12 days! I try not to think about that - if I'm relapsing. It does me no good, only allows for negative thoughts. So I push those thoughts out of my head. They always creep back in, and I have to push them out again.
I think my brain/body is trying to tell me something. They're saying, Bitch, you have bipolar disorder and nothing is going to be easy. You're going to have to fight every day. Which is true, really. That's the nature of bipolar disorder. You can have symptoms crop up at any time for any reason. I had 11 days where I didn't really have to fight and now it seems that's changing.
I can tell you that I'm sick of this shit though. I mean seriously, what the fuck?? Why can't I just be stable?? Fuck you bipolar.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Day 12
Today is day 12 (in a row!) of being stable. And this, my friends, is actually pretty fucking huge. Why? Twelve days of being stable out of the last four and a half years. Yep. You read that right. Twelve days out of the last 1,642 days.
But finally, some stability.
Now, you wouldn't believe how happy my therapist was to hear this news on Monday. My psychiatrist too. (I'm treatment resistant). Let's just say they were through the roof.
It's nice to feel okay, even, stable. . . happy even. It's a big difference. My hubby and son have noticed the change in me (my son especially), and I'm sure it's a nice change for them, too.
But really, I want to talk about today. Because today has been a bit weird. Today has been a bit off. I've wanted to cut. All day I've wanted to cut. And now, now I feel down, empty, and questioning whether my life truly has meaning. In other words, depressive symptoms. They're mild, and I'm hoping they stay that way, because I don't need to relapse already. Not after only 12 fucking days. Stupid fucking brain.
But finally, some stability.
Now, you wouldn't believe how happy my therapist was to hear this news on Monday. My psychiatrist too. (I'm treatment resistant). Let's just say they were through the roof.
It's nice to feel okay, even, stable. . . happy even. It's a big difference. My hubby and son have noticed the change in me (my son especially), and I'm sure it's a nice change for them, too.
But really, I want to talk about today. Because today has been a bit weird. Today has been a bit off. I've wanted to cut. All day I've wanted to cut. And now, now I feel down, empty, and questioning whether my life truly has meaning. In other words, depressive symptoms. They're mild, and I'm hoping they stay that way, because I don't need to relapse already. Not after only 12 fucking days. Stupid fucking brain.
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Six Days
Well, today is day 6 for feeling stable. You read that correct: stable. What does feeling stable consist of? I don't want to kill myself, for starters. Or cut. I'm not full of despair and hopelessness, and I actually kind of feel like how I think a person should feel.
Score one for the team.
This is great! This is awesome! Right? Right?
And yet I struggle. With what, you ask? I still just feel empty, hollow. I have no motivation or drive. And I feel like any second this all is going to come crashing down around me. And I don't know what to do about these feelings. It's frustrating, honestly.
I don't even know what to write right now.
Score one for the team.
This is great! This is awesome! Right? Right?
And yet I struggle. With what, you ask? I still just feel empty, hollow. I have no motivation or drive. And I feel like any second this all is going to come crashing down around me. And I don't know what to do about these feelings. It's frustrating, honestly.
I don't even know what to write right now.
Friday, April 22, 2016
Limbo
I'm stuck in this shitty kind of limbo. Not the fun kind of limbo where you're trying to get under a stick that's being lowered. . . No, a shitty, what-the-fuck-am-I-feeling kind of limbo.
Have I mentioned my meds were changed? Well, they were. My Prestiq was doubled 2 weeks ago. And some of my depressive symptoms have lessened a little bit. Fuck yeah!! Right? Right? Well, I don't know. I've been irritable. Okay, whatever. Increased anxiety. So? Yesterday I worked and I was hypomanic. Loud, inappropriate, racing thoughts, anxiety, distractibility, anger . . . while at work (remember I'm a nurse). It was not fun. Well, parts were fun because I was hypomanic. But mostly it was exhausting.
Today I don't know what I am. Anxious, racing thoughts . . . check. Feeling like I'm going to break down sobbing? Check. Self destructive behaviors? Check. Distractibility? Irritability? Check. Hallucinations? You bet! I've already cut. I want to cut more. But, more than that, I want to take pills. Like, my whole bottle of Benadryl (I have a 500 count bottle). Not because I'm suicidal - oh no - but because I want to see what will happen. I know what taking 15 does, lets take 50. How deep can I cut? What if I stabbed myself?
I mean seriously what the fuck??? I don't like how I feel and I don't like how I'm thinking. Fuck this shit.
Have I mentioned my meds were changed? Well, they were. My Prestiq was doubled 2 weeks ago. And some of my depressive symptoms have lessened a little bit. Fuck yeah!! Right? Right? Well, I don't know. I've been irritable. Okay, whatever. Increased anxiety. So? Yesterday I worked and I was hypomanic. Loud, inappropriate, racing thoughts, anxiety, distractibility, anger . . . while at work (remember I'm a nurse). It was not fun. Well, parts were fun because I was hypomanic. But mostly it was exhausting.
Today I don't know what I am. Anxious, racing thoughts . . . check. Feeling like I'm going to break down sobbing? Check. Self destructive behaviors? Check. Distractibility? Irritability? Check. Hallucinations? You bet! I've already cut. I want to cut more. But, more than that, I want to take pills. Like, my whole bottle of Benadryl (I have a 500 count bottle). Not because I'm suicidal - oh no - but because I want to see what will happen. I know what taking 15 does, lets take 50. How deep can I cut? What if I stabbed myself?
I mean seriously what the fuck??? I don't like how I feel and I don't like how I'm thinking. Fuck this shit.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Well I *Wanted* to Write . . .
I volunteer at a therapeutic riding center and this morning's group cancelled. So I'm at home right now and I really wanted to write something. You know, something profound about therapy yesterday, but I keep getting distracted.
By what, you ask?
Everything.
I'm getting distracted by everything. The snow outside, my appetite, chameleons, stuffed animals, text messages, going to karate tonight . . . Like literally fucking everything. I can't concentrate and my mind is racing and head pounding. It's annoying.
So maybe tonight? Maybe tomorrow? Hopefully soon.
By what, you ask?
Everything.
I'm getting distracted by everything. The snow outside, my appetite, chameleons, stuffed animals, text messages, going to karate tonight . . . Like literally fucking everything. I can't concentrate and my mind is racing and head pounding. It's annoying.
So maybe tonight? Maybe tomorrow? Hopefully soon.
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Maybe I've Changed . . .
Yesterday while I was at work my hubby transferred all of our pictures and music from our old laptops to the new one and backed it all up. A very time consuming task. So after I got home we spent some time looking through our pictures.
Pictures from when we first started dating, game nights with friends, our wedding, baby shower, our son (who is now 9) as a baby, his first Christmas and birthday . . . you get the idea.
And I noticed something - I look happy. Genuinely, sincerely, happy. I look like who I remember. I can literally see my personality shining through. There was depression back then, sure, but it was mild and short lived (it was awful before I met hubby). And yes, there was hypomania too, but it was also mild and short lived. The main thing that I could see is that I was happy.
It's funny that we should be looking at these pictures because this is something I've been thinking a lot about recently - will I ever be happy again? Will I ever be carefree and quick to smile, quick to laugh? Will I ever be me?
The answer, that most of me believes, is no. No I won't. Definitely not how I used to be. And maybe not even a fraction . . .
What a way to think. What a way to feel. And why? Why do I feel this way? This is what I've been thinking about. This is what's been plaguing me. See, I think that I've changed. That I've fundamentally changed over the last 4 to 5 years. I'm not the person I used to be, and I'll never be her again. Over the last 4 years I've been dealing with rapid cycling bipolar disorder that's resulted in extreme mood swings, crippling depression, 3 overdoses, frequent cutting, and 4 hospitalizations. Not to mention near constant suicidal ideation.
I take my meds, go to therapy, have ECT biweekly, do all of the DBT and CBT things that I should, read daily affirmations . . . I still work, I volunteer, I workout, I don't let myself withdraw and isolate . . . and yet, yet I continue to struggle. I'm not me. I'm not who I remember.
So what do I do? Mourn the loss of my old self? Mourning the loss of her means accepting who I am now. And I thought I had done that. But maybe not. I don't know. Because I see who I am now as someone who doesn't know happiness anymore and I don't really want to accept that. So what the fuck do I do?
What. The fuck. Do I do?
Pictures from when we first started dating, game nights with friends, our wedding, baby shower, our son (who is now 9) as a baby, his first Christmas and birthday . . . you get the idea.
And I noticed something - I look happy. Genuinely, sincerely, happy. I look like who I remember. I can literally see my personality shining through. There was depression back then, sure, but it was mild and short lived (it was awful before I met hubby). And yes, there was hypomania too, but it was also mild and short lived. The main thing that I could see is that I was happy.
It's funny that we should be looking at these pictures because this is something I've been thinking a lot about recently - will I ever be happy again? Will I ever be carefree and quick to smile, quick to laugh? Will I ever be me?
The answer, that most of me believes, is no. No I won't. Definitely not how I used to be. And maybe not even a fraction . . .
What a way to think. What a way to feel. And why? Why do I feel this way? This is what I've been thinking about. This is what's been plaguing me. See, I think that I've changed. That I've fundamentally changed over the last 4 to 5 years. I'm not the person I used to be, and I'll never be her again. Over the last 4 years I've been dealing with rapid cycling bipolar disorder that's resulted in extreme mood swings, crippling depression, 3 overdoses, frequent cutting, and 4 hospitalizations. Not to mention near constant suicidal ideation.
I take my meds, go to therapy, have ECT biweekly, do all of the DBT and CBT things that I should, read daily affirmations . . . I still work, I volunteer, I workout, I don't let myself withdraw and isolate . . . and yet, yet I continue to struggle. I'm not me. I'm not who I remember.
So what do I do? Mourn the loss of my old self? Mourning the loss of her means accepting who I am now. And I thought I had done that. But maybe not. I don't know. Because I see who I am now as someone who doesn't know happiness anymore and I don't really want to accept that. So what the fuck do I do?
What. The fuck. Do I do?
Friday, April 15, 2016
I'm Not Really Me
I'm not really myself right now. I'm not really even my depressed self right now. No, I'm more of an empty husk of the person I should be. All I am is a void, a barren wasteland of nothingness. I feel nothing (well, I guess that isn't entirely true - I can feel anger. But that's about all). I'm devoid of everything that makes me me. And I don't know where the fuck it went.
I'm not even sure I'm alive. I'm not even sure if I care if I'm alive. What does it really matter? I'm empty and flat and nothing and I can't even cry because I feel no emotion!
I'm trying. I went to the gym this morning and cleaned the house and talked with my mom on the phone . . . I might as well have been staring at the wall. That's what it all feels like. Nothing.
Fuck.
Everyone keeps asking if everything's okay,
The truth is that it's not,
But I don't know what to say . . .
I'm not even sure I'm alive. I'm not even sure if I care if I'm alive. What does it really matter? I'm empty and flat and nothing and I can't even cry because I feel no emotion!
I'm trying. I went to the gym this morning and cleaned the house and talked with my mom on the phone . . . I might as well have been staring at the wall. That's what it all feels like. Nothing.
Fuck.
Everyone keeps asking if everything's okay,
The truth is that it's not,
But I don't know what to say . . .
Friday, March 25, 2016
Fuck you Ted
I woke up this morning feeling depressed again. Feeling an overwhelming desire to not exist. I feel depressed . . . but I feel numb. I need to cry but I can't.
I don't know if I can accurately describe what I'm feeling.
I've been depressed for the last 3 weeks. Hopeless. Despair. Secretly wanting to die. I had ECT on Monday and was doing a little better on Monday and Tuesday. Then I had therapy on Wednesday and I was a little hypomanic, which, of course, my therapist picked up on right away. Even threatened me with hospitalization (both for the mania and previous depression). I wasn't happy, fun, euphoric hypomanic - no. I was irritable, agitated, anxious hypomanic. I was fidgety and a little snippy. Shaky and breathing rapidly. I was uncomfortable and wanted to curl in a ball. M is good though and was able to get me to laugh.
I worked yesterday and I was rapid cycling. Up, down, up, down all day long. Not to the far extremes - thank God - but up and down constantly none the less. The downs were more pronounced, the ups were short lived, and there was no in between. I'm a nurse, I work in a busy birth center, and I struggled all day to keep myself in check, to not be inappropriate, and to just make it through the fucking day.
And then today, because things can't possibly be easy, I wake up feeling depressed. I wake up with no motivation to do anything. I don't want to be out of bed, I don't want to be awake. I want to cut. I don't want to exist. I don't see why I should. I'm constantly dealing with this, I'm constantly in pain from the bipolar. . . I can't ever seem to just be okay. I can't ever just seem to be happy. So what's the point? I'll be dealing with this the rest of my life. I try not to think about that because that is overwhelming and daunting and depressive in and of itself.
Part of me doesn't want to do this anymore.
But I think of my hubby and son and know that I can't give up. I have to keep going for them. Even though today I want to go back to bed and not wake up.
Fuck this shit.
(Ted is what I named my depression, btw)
I don't know if I can accurately describe what I'm feeling.
I've been depressed for the last 3 weeks. Hopeless. Despair. Secretly wanting to die. I had ECT on Monday and was doing a little better on Monday and Tuesday. Then I had therapy on Wednesday and I was a little hypomanic, which, of course, my therapist picked up on right away. Even threatened me with hospitalization (both for the mania and previous depression). I wasn't happy, fun, euphoric hypomanic - no. I was irritable, agitated, anxious hypomanic. I was fidgety and a little snippy. Shaky and breathing rapidly. I was uncomfortable and wanted to curl in a ball. M is good though and was able to get me to laugh.
I worked yesterday and I was rapid cycling. Up, down, up, down all day long. Not to the far extremes - thank God - but up and down constantly none the less. The downs were more pronounced, the ups were short lived, and there was no in between. I'm a nurse, I work in a busy birth center, and I struggled all day to keep myself in check, to not be inappropriate, and to just make it through the fucking day.
And then today, because things can't possibly be easy, I wake up feeling depressed. I wake up with no motivation to do anything. I don't want to be out of bed, I don't want to be awake. I want to cut. I don't want to exist. I don't see why I should. I'm constantly dealing with this, I'm constantly in pain from the bipolar. . . I can't ever seem to just be okay. I can't ever just seem to be happy. So what's the point? I'll be dealing with this the rest of my life. I try not to think about that because that is overwhelming and daunting and depressive in and of itself.
Part of me doesn't want to do this anymore.
But I think of my hubby and son and know that I can't give up. I have to keep going for them. Even though today I want to go back to bed and not wake up.
Fuck this shit.
(Ted is what I named my depression, btw)
Friday, March 18, 2016
Cutting
Trigger Warning
Have I mentioned that I'm a cutter? I'm not sure that I have (and I'm too lazy to go back through my old posts right now). So anyway, I'm a cutter. I'm not nearly as bad as I could be - I only cut my left forearm and my thighs - and I don't cut all that often (until lately). But I'm a cutter.
Cutting has never really made any sense to me. I mean, why the fuck would you cut up your own flesh? What the fuck does that accomplish? I do it, and I'm still at a loss. Well, not entirely. I've been doing it long enough that I know what it does for me. But it's still a very strange thing, to take a blade to your own arm or leg, and it's something I've been thinking about a lot recently. Why have I been thinking about it? Because something has changed. I'm no longer cutting only for the relief it brings. Oh no. I'm cutting for the scars.
Yes, the scars.
This is what makes no sense to me. In the past when I've cut, it's been for the cut. It's been to feel the sting, the pain, to see the blood. That temporary rush would remind me I was alive or let me feel something when I felt nothing. It helped me cope with negative emotions. Afterwards there would be a little guilt (a very small amount) and I would do my best to hide the bandage - I didn't want people to know.
But not now. Now it's the opposite. Now I want people to notice. I want them to see my scars, my fresh wounds. I want them to know. And when I cut? I make sure it's deep enough to leave a scar. There's no more being careful. That's what I'm trying to figure out. Why this change. Because I'm almost becoming obsessed with it, wanting to cut more and more, and getting upset if a cut doesn't leave a noticeable enough scar (or no scar at all).
What I've come up with (really the only thing I've come up with), is this: cuts and scars on my arm are the only real visual representation of how much I struggle or am struggling. People can look at my arm and go 'wow, she must be having a rough time right now'. People seem to get that. And especially since I have been having a rough go of things right now (I've had suicidal thoughts more days than not over the past 3 weeks). But then I think, why does everyone need to know that? They don't. Is this just attention seeking behavior on my part? Look at me! I'm bipolar and depressed! Pay attention to me! I don't want that. I don't want to be that person. See, the people who I truly want to know how I'm doing, well, I tell them. They are good friends, my hubby, and coworkers I trust and whom I know I can rely on for the support I need. Joe Shmo at the 7-11 who sees my arm isn't going to support me or offer me anything of value (unless it compels him to give me my coffee and KitKat for free but I doubt it). So then what's the point?
Actually, I guess I lied. I have come up with something else: the scars are for me. A reminder of difficult times, of what I've gone through. Proof that I was strong enough not to put the blade to my wrist. I'm a fighter and these scars are my battle wounds. I do look at them. I run my fingers over them. And I'm not ashamed of them. But are they necessary? I know the shit I've gone through - do I really need a visual reminder of that? A visual reminder that other people are going to judge me for?
No. No I don't.
There's something else though. Something that I don't even want to admit to myself. Something that I actually haven't told anyone. Part of the reason why I cut is that I don't think people will believe I'm sick if I don't have something physical. I think people will blow me off if they don't also see the cuts. I could be telling them that I'm suicidal and need help but all that means nothing if they don't also see I'm self harming. I need the validation. And I guess part of me also wants something else: people to know I'm bipolar, see that I self harm, but say, 'see her? She's gone through all that but she's still working, still functioning. That's amazing.' Validation.
I fucking hate that about me.
I need to stop cutting, I just don't know if I can.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
. . .
I told hubby last night how I was feeling. How he and the boy are the only reasons I haven't killed myself. How I'm so fucking tired. How it's tiring and draining and just fucking stupid that I have to try so hard and struggle so much to be okay. Just to be okay. And most of the time? I'm not even okay. I told him how I don't know what to do anymore because I've done everything. Meds (23 different ones), traditional therapy, DBT, equine therapy, Al-Anon, different psychiatrists, referrals to experts, hospitalizations, time off from work, volunteer work (which I enjoy), still working with horses, ECT, karate, and now my butt is back in the gym. (Oh, and I've tried going the spiritual route. I have my own belief system. Reading the Bible annoys me. Going to church pisses me off. I have no desire to learn about religion.)
I'm sick of feeling how I do. I'm sick of feeling hopeless and helpless and like everything is pointless. I'm tired of constantly wanting to cut, of constantly thinking about suicide (against my will - I do everything I can to push those thoughts from my mind). I'm tired of feeling like a burden to my family.
I'm just really fucking tired. I just want to be okay without struggling so much. I want to enjoy life and my family.
I'm sick of feeling how I do. I'm sick of feeling hopeless and helpless and like everything is pointless. I'm tired of constantly wanting to cut, of constantly thinking about suicide (against my will - I do everything I can to push those thoughts from my mind). I'm tired of feeling like a burden to my family.
I'm just really fucking tired. I just want to be okay without struggling so much. I want to enjoy life and my family.
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Golly it's Been Awhile . . .
Well fuck. It's been quite awhile since I last wrote. This can be chalked up to one major reason: lack of motivation.
Let me give you some background.
I am, now, officially considered stable. I don't know for how long. 6, 10 weeks? Longer? Shorter? I'm not really sure. But see, my stable is different. My stable isn't what most people would necessarily consider stable. Why? Because I still cycle. I still have mood episodes. The catch is that they tend to be much shorter - hours to a day or two - and therefor more manageable. And this, according to my psychiatrist and therapist, is my normal. That I'm as stable as I'm going to be.
And what's gotten me stable? Med wise, lithium, Prestiq, and Latuda. But then the big guns, ECT (electroconvulsive therapy - shock treatments). The ECT is doing most of the work and I get zapped every other week (just got zapped yesterday in fact). My psychiatrist thinks I'll need ECT indefinitely. Do we know that for sure? Of course not. But that's how it's looking. And I'm okay with that, as long as it continues to work. Because it is allowing me to have some semblance of a life.
With all that being said, my short mood episodes can still be extreme. I've cut in the last month, felt dangerously suicidal, and have had anger so intense I was close to destroying a display in a store and hitting someone (irritable hypomania). And these episodes can happen at any time, for any reason.
But here's the annoying bit: this perpetual lack of motivation. It's not just for writing, oh no, it goes for my artwork, working out, cleaning the house. . . . It's pretty all consuming. As the last few weeks have gone by, I think the reason has become more apparent - underlying low grade depression. This has especially become apparent over the last week. I'm the queen of low grade depression. I've dealt with it my entire life - at least since 4th or 5th grade (I started cutting in 6th). So I know what I'm feeling.
And what I'm feeling is no bueno.
I wake up in the morning wanting to stay in bed, go back to sleep, because the day is too much for me to face. I shower, but I don't care if I do my hair or put on makeup. The motivation isn't there and I see no point to it (because there's no point to anything). On my days off I don't want to do anything (except maybe nap so I can wake up and feel better, which never happens). I try. I try and paint or clean or read. But it's so fucking hard because I just don't care. On days I work I don't want to talk, don't want to interact. I want to do my job and be left alone. But I force myself to talk, to joke, to act like myself. My close friends point out that they know something is off. But at least I try.
However, with the low grade depression I still can joke and interact and do my job well. I still can genuinely enjoy my hubby and son's company. And I'm typically not suicidal and don't get the urge to cut as much. So it's better than it could be. But it still fucking sucks. Because depression, no motivation, potential to get worse.
So anyway, I think that's all for now. It's been an obnoxious morning but I got a workout in (even though I almost broke down crying in the gym - thanks depression). There might have been more I was going to write, but I've lost it for now. I'll try and write more frequently.
Toodles.
Let me give you some background.
I am, now, officially considered stable. I don't know for how long. 6, 10 weeks? Longer? Shorter? I'm not really sure. But see, my stable is different. My stable isn't what most people would necessarily consider stable. Why? Because I still cycle. I still have mood episodes. The catch is that they tend to be much shorter - hours to a day or two - and therefor more manageable. And this, according to my psychiatrist and therapist, is my normal. That I'm as stable as I'm going to be.
And what's gotten me stable? Med wise, lithium, Prestiq, and Latuda. But then the big guns, ECT (electroconvulsive therapy - shock treatments). The ECT is doing most of the work and I get zapped every other week (just got zapped yesterday in fact). My psychiatrist thinks I'll need ECT indefinitely. Do we know that for sure? Of course not. But that's how it's looking. And I'm okay with that, as long as it continues to work. Because it is allowing me to have some semblance of a life.
With all that being said, my short mood episodes can still be extreme. I've cut in the last month, felt dangerously suicidal, and have had anger so intense I was close to destroying a display in a store and hitting someone (irritable hypomania). And these episodes can happen at any time, for any reason.
But here's the annoying bit: this perpetual lack of motivation. It's not just for writing, oh no, it goes for my artwork, working out, cleaning the house. . . . It's pretty all consuming. As the last few weeks have gone by, I think the reason has become more apparent - underlying low grade depression. This has especially become apparent over the last week. I'm the queen of low grade depression. I've dealt with it my entire life - at least since 4th or 5th grade (I started cutting in 6th). So I know what I'm feeling.
And what I'm feeling is no bueno.
I wake up in the morning wanting to stay in bed, go back to sleep, because the day is too much for me to face. I shower, but I don't care if I do my hair or put on makeup. The motivation isn't there and I see no point to it (because there's no point to anything). On my days off I don't want to do anything (except maybe nap so I can wake up and feel better, which never happens). I try. I try and paint or clean or read. But it's so fucking hard because I just don't care. On days I work I don't want to talk, don't want to interact. I want to do my job and be left alone. But I force myself to talk, to joke, to act like myself. My close friends point out that they know something is off. But at least I try.
However, with the low grade depression I still can joke and interact and do my job well. I still can genuinely enjoy my hubby and son's company. And I'm typically not suicidal and don't get the urge to cut as much. So it's better than it could be. But it still fucking sucks. Because depression, no motivation, potential to get worse.
So anyway, I think that's all for now. It's been an obnoxious morning but I got a workout in (even though I almost broke down crying in the gym - thanks depression). There might have been more I was going to write, but I've lost it for now. I'll try and write more frequently.
Toodles.
Thursday, February 4, 2016
I Always Have to Watch my Moods
It's morning and as I'm lying in bed I notice something: I don't want to get out of bed. I can't be awake right now, it's too much.
Why? Why is it too much? Are you just tired and feeling a little lazy? Or is it something else? Something . . . more . . . ?
I procrastinate, hit the snooze, think of excuses to stay in bed longer. But the truth is I need to get up. I have to get ready for work. So I do, slowly, feeling the weight of this oppressive cloud hanging over me. Surly it will lift . . .
I'm brewing coffee before I leave and manage to spill the creamer. Anger wells up inside of me and I feel like throwing the bottle of creamer across the kitchen and screaming.
This can't be normal anger can it? Is this anger proportional to what just happened or am I overreacting? Why the fuck am I so mad?
I'm at work and I'm charting, that oppressive cloud is still there and I'm feeling overwhelmed. Almost like I'm going to cry. Like things aren't worth it.
Stop it! You've been busy, had difficult patients, and are a little behind. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. Yes, but like I'm going to cry? Like things, life, isn't worth it? Is that normal?
I question my feelings and thoughts countless times a day. Hundreds of times probably. I question whether something I'm feeling or experiencing is "normal" or a result of my bipolar disorder. It is, quite frankly, exhausting. I've been told by my therapist, psychiatrist, husband, and friends not to do this. That it's a waste of my time and energy. However, I think this is one thing that helps keep me safe. Because, see, I can go into a mood episode at any moment for no reason at all. That's right. I don't need a real trigger or precipitating event. No, I can start feeling shitty out of the blue.
Now, having a trigger is more common - don't get me wrong - but my triggers can be pretty small. Like, not enough sleep. Or having my plans change. Seeing a random picture or image (an image of self harm, or a bunny in a certain pose, or a flower, or, or, or . . .), thinking someone is mad at me, getting angry over something (whether real or imagined), or countless other things. My triggers for mania tend to make less sense and sometimes involve a crowd (giving me a chance to grand stand).
The only thing I have going for me right now is that my mood episodes are relatively short lived. See, I'm kind of considered stable right now (crazy, I know). My mood episodes are lasting anywhere from 1 to 6 days (or so it seems), and are mostly depression (hypomania is lasting only for a few hours when it - rarely - shows up).
But that's the thing. The thing that actually really fucking frustrates me. The fact that I'm fucking stable and still having to struggle so much. Because the last 2 weeks? Mostly depressive mood episodes with a day here or there of feeling okay. And that really. Fucking. Sucks. To be doing okay one day and then wake up the next day feeling suicidal. And I have no control over it. It just fucking happens.
I'm having a much harder time with the depression right now. A much harder time warding off the negative thoughts, distorted thinking. I start to believe the lies my brain is telling me, despite my hubby and friend's best efforts of telling me otherwise. I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel - only darkness.
Whatever. This is my own personal hell of bipolar disorder. My own unique manifestation of the illness. I guess all I can hope for is that it doesn't get worse again.
Why? Why is it too much? Are you just tired and feeling a little lazy? Or is it something else? Something . . . more . . . ?
I procrastinate, hit the snooze, think of excuses to stay in bed longer. But the truth is I need to get up. I have to get ready for work. So I do, slowly, feeling the weight of this oppressive cloud hanging over me. Surly it will lift . . .
I'm brewing coffee before I leave and manage to spill the creamer. Anger wells up inside of me and I feel like throwing the bottle of creamer across the kitchen and screaming.
This can't be normal anger can it? Is this anger proportional to what just happened or am I overreacting? Why the fuck am I so mad?
I'm at work and I'm charting, that oppressive cloud is still there and I'm feeling overwhelmed. Almost like I'm going to cry. Like things aren't worth it.
Stop it! You've been busy, had difficult patients, and are a little behind. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. Yes, but like I'm going to cry? Like things, life, isn't worth it? Is that normal?
I question my feelings and thoughts countless times a day. Hundreds of times probably. I question whether something I'm feeling or experiencing is "normal" or a result of my bipolar disorder. It is, quite frankly, exhausting. I've been told by my therapist, psychiatrist, husband, and friends not to do this. That it's a waste of my time and energy. However, I think this is one thing that helps keep me safe. Because, see, I can go into a mood episode at any moment for no reason at all. That's right. I don't need a real trigger or precipitating event. No, I can start feeling shitty out of the blue.
Now, having a trigger is more common - don't get me wrong - but my triggers can be pretty small. Like, not enough sleep. Or having my plans change. Seeing a random picture or image (an image of self harm, or a bunny in a certain pose, or a flower, or, or, or . . .), thinking someone is mad at me, getting angry over something (whether real or imagined), or countless other things. My triggers for mania tend to make less sense and sometimes involve a crowd (giving me a chance to grand stand).
The only thing I have going for me right now is that my mood episodes are relatively short lived. See, I'm kind of considered stable right now (crazy, I know). My mood episodes are lasting anywhere from 1 to 6 days (or so it seems), and are mostly depression (hypomania is lasting only for a few hours when it - rarely - shows up).
But that's the thing. The thing that actually really fucking frustrates me. The fact that I'm fucking stable and still having to struggle so much. Because the last 2 weeks? Mostly depressive mood episodes with a day here or there of feeling okay. And that really. Fucking. Sucks. To be doing okay one day and then wake up the next day feeling suicidal. And I have no control over it. It just fucking happens.
I'm having a much harder time with the depression right now. A much harder time warding off the negative thoughts, distorted thinking. I start to believe the lies my brain is telling me, despite my hubby and friend's best efforts of telling me otherwise. I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel - only darkness.
Whatever. This is my own personal hell of bipolar disorder. My own unique manifestation of the illness. I guess all I can hope for is that it doesn't get worse again.
Monday, February 1, 2016
Okay. So . . . well. . .
I've had another hiccup, another bump in the road. I've had a depressive downswing that's lasted more than a day or two. Which is really fucking frustrating.
I had ECT last Monday (a week ago) and Tuesday I started feeling pretty down. Quick to anger. Overwhelmed. I didn't think much of it until Wednesday when at work I wanted to cut and kept having suicidal thoughts. The urge to cut (I never did cut) and suicidal thoughts continued throughout Friday. And they were strong y'all. What a horrible feeling. If you've never had to deal with suicidal thoughts, you're lucky. They suck. Literally. They suck the life out of you. Leave you feeling empty and hollow and drained, devoid of meaning and hope.
Wednesday and Friday my friend L (who I happened to be working with) talked me out of cutting (which was nice so that I wouldn't have to bother my hubby and make him worry - not that he'd mind, but I always feel a little guilty about that). I don't even remember Thursday without looking back through my mood journal (thanks, ECT). Saturday was a little better in that I had no suicidal thoughts, and Sunday better still (no suicidal thoughts and I had sex both Saturday and Sunday - and I can orgasm! That would help anyone's mood!).
I really struggled with this downswing and I've been trying to figure out why. Because here's the thing, here's the damned truth: this is how my bipolar is. Even when I'm stable I'm going to have these downswings for no reason. I get to struggle for absolutely no. Fucking. Reason. I've been trying to find a reason, find a cause to this and you know what?
There is none.
Nope. No reason. No pattern, no trigger. It just happened. It just is. And I need to just deal with it. And you know what? I can cope with that when I'm feeling a little better. I can cope with that when my head isn't filled with demons. But last week? When I felt like shit? I didn't know how I was possibly going to make it through.
But I did. I made it though. And I need to remember that I'm a bad ass motherfucker. And I can do this.
Seriously, fuck bipolar disorder.
I had ECT last Monday (a week ago) and Tuesday I started feeling pretty down. Quick to anger. Overwhelmed. I didn't think much of it until Wednesday when at work I wanted to cut and kept having suicidal thoughts. The urge to cut (I never did cut) and suicidal thoughts continued throughout Friday. And they were strong y'all. What a horrible feeling. If you've never had to deal with suicidal thoughts, you're lucky. They suck. Literally. They suck the life out of you. Leave you feeling empty and hollow and drained, devoid of meaning and hope.
Wednesday and Friday my friend L (who I happened to be working with) talked me out of cutting (which was nice so that I wouldn't have to bother my hubby and make him worry - not that he'd mind, but I always feel a little guilty about that). I don't even remember Thursday without looking back through my mood journal (thanks, ECT). Saturday was a little better in that I had no suicidal thoughts, and Sunday better still (no suicidal thoughts and I had sex both Saturday and Sunday - and I can orgasm! That would help anyone's mood!).
I really struggled with this downswing and I've been trying to figure out why. Because here's the thing, here's the damned truth: this is how my bipolar is. Even when I'm stable I'm going to have these downswings for no reason. I get to struggle for absolutely no. Fucking. Reason. I've been trying to find a reason, find a cause to this and you know what?
There is none.
Nope. No reason. No pattern, no trigger. It just happened. It just is. And I need to just deal with it. And you know what? I can cope with that when I'm feeling a little better. I can cope with that when my head isn't filled with demons. But last week? When I felt like shit? I didn't know how I was possibly going to make it through.
But I did. I made it though. And I need to remember that I'm a bad ass motherfucker. And I can do this.
Seriously, fuck bipolar disorder.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Normal . . .
. . . is boring.
No really. Normal is boring. At least when you're used to the constant crisis of bipolar disorder, being normal/stable/in remission is very boring.
I'm at home this morning, sitting on my couch, wondering what to do with myself. I feel like I need to be constantly doing something, constantly active/entertained/whatever. I don't know how to act or what to say or what to do. This is all very weird, people.
Everyone tells me that this is okay. Normal is good and okay. Boring is good and okay. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the heightened awareness that comes with mania or the deep emotion that comes with depression. Or if I said that part of me doesn't thrive on the chaos. . .
Stability is better though. Better for everyone. I can do so much more stable. I don't lose friends when I'm stable. Maybe I can get back to full time work . . .
Stability is good. Normal is good. This is okay, guys. I'll get used to it again.
Who am I trying to convince? You? Or me?
No really. Normal is boring. At least when you're used to the constant crisis of bipolar disorder, being normal/stable/in remission is very boring.
I'm at home this morning, sitting on my couch, wondering what to do with myself. I feel like I need to be constantly doing something, constantly active/entertained/whatever. I don't know how to act or what to say or what to do. This is all very weird, people.
Everyone tells me that this is okay. Normal is good and okay. Boring is good and okay. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the heightened awareness that comes with mania or the deep emotion that comes with depression. Or if I said that part of me doesn't thrive on the chaos. . .
Stability is better though. Better for everyone. I can do so much more stable. I don't lose friends when I'm stable. Maybe I can get back to full time work . . .
Stability is good. Normal is good. This is okay, guys. I'll get used to it again.
Who am I trying to convince? You? Or me?
Saturday, January 9, 2016
Some Stuff and Things
This week was kind of a busy week, what with seeing my therapist and my psychiatrist.
Therapy was good - difficult - but good. M thinks I'm making great progress and is proud of me for my revelation I finally had (more on that later). He's seeing definite positive change in me and thinks I'm doing the best I have been in the past 4 years he's been seeing me. Go me!
My appointment with my psychiatrist, Dr. M, was funny. Yes, funny. He had previously started me on Latuda and stopped my Seroquel, and he asked how it was going. I told him about my seroquel withdrawals (insomnia, rebound depression, hallucinations and delusions), but that they finally seem to be winding down (thank God). He asked how the Latuda was working for me. "Well, truthfully, I couldn't tell you if it's doing anything for the depression or if my starting to feel better is mainly the bilateral ECT. What I CAN tell you is that it's made it physically impossible for me to orgasm and has killed my libido." Dr. M threw his arms up in the air. "FANTASTIC! That's exactly what I hoped would happen! SUCCESS!" We both start laughing (me rather hysterically). "I'm joking, of course", he assured me. So he cut the dose in half, hoping to get some mood stabilizing effects while lessening the sexual side effects. Which is good because my poor husband. I could never have sex again and be fine with it. And I can't really give blow jobs because I have lock jaw/TMJ really bad and it fucking hurts.
So anyway, about my revelations. The other day (3-5 days ago, I don't remember) I had a day where I just felt kinda meh. I was just going about my day, running errands, whatever when it dawned on me - hey, this is probably how normal people feel. See, I wasn't experiencing extreme emotion, no anxiety, no delusions. I was having an average, normal day. And I realized, this is it. This is what I've been striving for. My mind isn't racing, I'm not rapid cycling, I'm not depressed/down/melancholy, I don't want to die, I'm not manic/hypomanic . . . This is it people!!! And the realization made me happy.
I told my hubby about it and he was all yeah - you expect life to be all smiling and giggling and super happy fun and all "la la la, look at me, weeeeeeeeeee, this is amazing!" (he's skipping and dancing around at this point). But he's right. I guess I've always expected that for me, being stable would be like being mildly, euphorically, hypomanic, which is just not realistic (sadly). And I FINALLY fucking realized it. It's only taken me for-fucking-ever (I'm 37 y'all).
That's what my therapist M was proud of - I finally realized this (he's only been drilling it into my head for 4 years, but whatever. I'm a slow learner I guess).
Another thing I've come to realize about bipolar disorder: I can be "stable" and "normal" and feeling "good/okay" and I might still have to struggle on any given day. Like yesterday at work. It was a good day. Busy (delivered 7 babies), but good. But I found myself having to escape, having to get away from the nurses station, because I couldn't deal with the noise/talking/people. I had to go hide in a quiet area with no one around for awhile. Walk aimlessly around the unit to decompress. And I realized something else: it's okay if I have to do that. I'm managing my mood. I have a mood disorder that can choose to rear its ugly head at any moment and if I have tactics to effectively manage my mood, well, that's good and that's okay and go me for being able to do that. That doesn't mean I like it. I mean FUCK - I'm supposed to be getting stable now, right? Why the fuck should I still struggle?? But sadly, that's part of the disorder and I'm going to be doing this for the rest of my life. I might as well accept it and come up with strategies to manage it.
Anyway, that's all I got right now. Hope all is well with you.
Therapy was good - difficult - but good. M thinks I'm making great progress and is proud of me for my revelation I finally had (more on that later). He's seeing definite positive change in me and thinks I'm doing the best I have been in the past 4 years he's been seeing me. Go me!
My appointment with my psychiatrist, Dr. M, was funny. Yes, funny. He had previously started me on Latuda and stopped my Seroquel, and he asked how it was going. I told him about my seroquel withdrawals (insomnia, rebound depression, hallucinations and delusions), but that they finally seem to be winding down (thank God). He asked how the Latuda was working for me. "Well, truthfully, I couldn't tell you if it's doing anything for the depression or if my starting to feel better is mainly the bilateral ECT. What I CAN tell you is that it's made it physically impossible for me to orgasm and has killed my libido." Dr. M threw his arms up in the air. "FANTASTIC! That's exactly what I hoped would happen! SUCCESS!" We both start laughing (me rather hysterically). "I'm joking, of course", he assured me. So he cut the dose in half, hoping to get some mood stabilizing effects while lessening the sexual side effects. Which is good because my poor husband. I could never have sex again and be fine with it. And I can't really give blow jobs because I have lock jaw/TMJ really bad and it fucking hurts.
So anyway, about my revelations. The other day (3-5 days ago, I don't remember) I had a day where I just felt kinda meh. I was just going about my day, running errands, whatever when it dawned on me - hey, this is probably how normal people feel. See, I wasn't experiencing extreme emotion, no anxiety, no delusions. I was having an average, normal day. And I realized, this is it. This is what I've been striving for. My mind isn't racing, I'm not rapid cycling, I'm not depressed/down/melancholy, I don't want to die, I'm not manic/hypomanic . . . This is it people!!! And the realization made me happy.
I told my hubby about it and he was all yeah - you expect life to be all smiling and giggling and super happy fun and all "la la la, look at me, weeeeeeeeeee, this is amazing!" (he's skipping and dancing around at this point). But he's right. I guess I've always expected that for me, being stable would be like being mildly, euphorically, hypomanic, which is just not realistic (sadly). And I FINALLY fucking realized it. It's only taken me for-fucking-ever (I'm 37 y'all).
That's what my therapist M was proud of - I finally realized this (he's only been drilling it into my head for 4 years, but whatever. I'm a slow learner I guess).
Another thing I've come to realize about bipolar disorder: I can be "stable" and "normal" and feeling "good/okay" and I might still have to struggle on any given day. Like yesterday at work. It was a good day. Busy (delivered 7 babies), but good. But I found myself having to escape, having to get away from the nurses station, because I couldn't deal with the noise/talking/people. I had to go hide in a quiet area with no one around for awhile. Walk aimlessly around the unit to decompress. And I realized something else: it's okay if I have to do that. I'm managing my mood. I have a mood disorder that can choose to rear its ugly head at any moment and if I have tactics to effectively manage my mood, well, that's good and that's okay and go me for being able to do that. That doesn't mean I like it. I mean FUCK - I'm supposed to be getting stable now, right? Why the fuck should I still struggle?? But sadly, that's part of the disorder and I'm going to be doing this for the rest of my life. I might as well accept it and come up with strategies to manage it.
Anyway, that's all I got right now. Hope all is well with you.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
I Guess I Had a Win
You'll notice that it's I "guess" I had a win. As in, "I'm not really sure if it should be construed as a win or not". As in, "well, I didn't completely lose my shit and that's really as good as it gets anymore".
I worked yesterday (I'm a nurse, remember) and I was steady all day. I was also working with a couple girls who I like well enough, but who can be very draining and annoying at times. And I certainly wasn't feeling on the ball yesterday morning. It felt like it was going to be a rough day. So I started the day doing what I force myself to do: interact with people. Yep. When all I want to do is hide and withdraw, I force myself to interact. I interject myself into conversations. I initiate conversations. I do the opposite of what I want to do. That kind of shit is supposed to help with depression.
Or so I'm told.
So I talked. With everyone. I forced myself to joke. I forced (and I mean forced) myself to laugh. I didn't isolate, I didn't withdraw. And here's the thing: I felt flat and withdrawn ALL. DAY. All day. Even in the middle of a conversation, in the middle of "laughing", I felt flat and withdrawn and fake. Which is frustrating, but that's depression for you. I could have had spiders all over me and I would have been like "oh. Spiders. Uh, get off, I guess?"
But I tried. I was able to have conversations, do my job, and not break down. I didn't even have to go off and hide yesterday (I've often found myself needing to go away to a quiet, private location to hide/decompress for a bit while at work). My therapist, M, would call this a win. He would call this effective mood management. And I guess it is, in a way. I didn't go off and hide, I didn't break down or lose my shit, I did my job, interacted with people, and appeared to be a normal, functioning adult.
I just didn't feel how I would like to (I don't want to feel flat and withdrawn - I want to feel normal and happy and myself). But I guess I'll get there, right? Eventually? Please tell me I'll get there.
I worked yesterday (I'm a nurse, remember) and I was steady all day. I was also working with a couple girls who I like well enough, but who can be very draining and annoying at times. And I certainly wasn't feeling on the ball yesterday morning. It felt like it was going to be a rough day. So I started the day doing what I force myself to do: interact with people. Yep. When all I want to do is hide and withdraw, I force myself to interact. I interject myself into conversations. I initiate conversations. I do the opposite of what I want to do. That kind of shit is supposed to help with depression.
Or so I'm told.
So I talked. With everyone. I forced myself to joke. I forced (and I mean forced) myself to laugh. I didn't isolate, I didn't withdraw. And here's the thing: I felt flat and withdrawn ALL. DAY. All day. Even in the middle of a conversation, in the middle of "laughing", I felt flat and withdrawn and fake. Which is frustrating, but that's depression for you. I could have had spiders all over me and I would have been like "oh. Spiders. Uh, get off, I guess?"
But I tried. I was able to have conversations, do my job, and not break down. I didn't even have to go off and hide yesterday (I've often found myself needing to go away to a quiet, private location to hide/decompress for a bit while at work). My therapist, M, would call this a win. He would call this effective mood management. And I guess it is, in a way. I didn't go off and hide, I didn't break down or lose my shit, I did my job, interacted with people, and appeared to be a normal, functioning adult.
I just didn't feel how I would like to (I don't want to feel flat and withdrawn - I want to feel normal and happy and myself). But I guess I'll get there, right? Eventually? Please tell me I'll get there.
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