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.

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.