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.

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.

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?

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 . . .