It's 6pm and I'm sitting here wanting to write but not knowing what to write. I'm feeling pretty low right now. I have been the past few days. I know it has to do with the complete disaster that was Christmas.
We celebrated on Christmas eve. Jeremy, Ayden and I, my brother, his wife and son, and my mother in law all went over to my mom's house for brunch and presents. My mom makes this amazing breakfast casserole that we all look forward to every year.
My mom is also an alcoholic.
So, going over to her house you never know if you're going to get drunk mom or sober mom.
We got drunk mom. It was only 11am.
I did my best to ignore her behavior and tried to enjoy myself. We ate, we opened presents, I was anxious and angry but kept it in check. I went upstairs with Jeremy, Ayden, and my brother, Ken. My mom was upstairs too and was acting even more tipsy than before.
"You know what?" my mom asked. "I'm thinking of leaving Bill (her husband)." She crossed her arms and started to get emotional. Ken and I looked at each other. Not again. Not this again. When my mom drinks she gets extremely emotional and does whatever she can to create drama and make herself the victim and center of attention.
"You're not doing this mom, not on Christmas. We don't want to hear it," Ken said. Ken looked at me. "I'm going to the garage to smoke. You wanna come with me?" I don't smoke, but we needed to talk. "Yes. Let's go." We went into the garage and Ken lit up. Moments later our mom came into the garage. So much for us talking in private. My mom lit a cigarette of her own and looked at us. "I'm interrupting something, aren't I?" she asked. Ken and I looked at each other. "Yes," we said. "You are."
"It's just that," my mom sniffled, "I'm thinking of leaving Bill."
"No. We're not doing this not today. You've been drinking and you're emotional and not thinking straight," Ken said.
"I haven't been drinking!" my mom hissed.
"Yes you have," I said. "It's obvious. Ken and I can both tell. Jeremy can tell. You're drunk."
My mom denied it.
We argued back and forth for at least 20 minutes, my brother and I pointing out how we knew she was drunk, pointing out how she had been drinking for as long as we can both remember, pointing out how she's an adult and she can drink if she wants but she has to realize that that means she's going to have a strained and limited relationship with us.
She started crying and said, "You know what? I've been drinking. I drink"
Ken and I were shocked. Never did I think we would get admittance out of her. She apologized and then referred to herself as a horrible mom. Ken and I told her we loved her and she wasn't a bad mom. She's always been there for us, she always helps us out, she's a good mom. We all hugged and she said she wanted to get help, she wanted to see a therapist. Ken and I told her we'd be there for her and would support her.
After a few more minutes we all composed ourselves and went back inside. Shortly after we all went home and things seemed good.
They weren't.
Here are the texts from my mom the next day, Christmas:
"Merry Christmas. Thank you for the wonderful gifts. And . . . for a memory, I am so deeply hurt. I told Bill about the discussion. I told him about my past. Why do you target me? Why? Billy was there for me, just because. Our hope was to give you some way ahead. And you turned on me. Ya know, I have cried nonstop. I told Billy everything. I don't know if you know this, he was with me all morning, helping. He was by my freaking side the entire day. He was so shocked by these allegations, he told me just to walk away. I can't do that. I have to have treatment for extreme low blood sugar. Yeah baby, health not good. It is not from drinking. And ya know what? I don't want to care anymore. I am so hurt, so hurt. And great, gotta call grandma and grandpa. Not to worry. I am so very hurt. But I will always love you. Merry Christmas. Here you go. No alcohol, no weed, no mental drugs. Gonna call Bryan and then my folks. You two are so fast to condemn. Think about it. As hurt as I am I will always love you. And you can talk to Bill. I am always with him. My crushed feelings will pass. There is no greater love than a mother's love for her child."
Yeah. Merry Christmas.She's blatantly taking a stab at Ken and I. No weed (Ken smokes weed to manage his depression and anxiety) and no mental drugs (I'm on 3 medications to manage my bipolar disorder). This was a shock. I was at work and I talked with Ken on the phone for an hour, going over this and our interaction with her the day before. We were both confused and angry.
I'm still confused and angry. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm dreaming about it. I can't sleep because of it. Jeremy is telling me to just ignore it - and I'm trying to - but I can't. I don't know how I should respond. I'm worried. My mom is the one who picks me up from ECT - what if she won't now because of this? What about interactions with her? They're going to be highly awkward and uncomfortable. What about interactions with Bill? He's going to think Ken and I are horrible people. I just don't know what to do.
On top of all of this I'm still having suicidal thoughts. The night before last I had an extremely vivid dream about slitting my wrists (I'm not going into detail here). It completely ruined my mood yesterday. I'm trying to be okay. I'm working out, I'm eating better, I'm painting happy pictures, and I still feel like I'm just barely keeping my head above water. It's like I'm drowning and everyone around me is breathing.
But there's a smile on my face for everyone. It's just another day.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
12/12/17
I should be at work right now, but I was put on delayed start until 1100. So I'm at home, already showered, ready to go, even though I know I won't be going in.
I hate when this happens, I feel so lost. I have no idea what to do. I'm just . . . lost. First thing this morning I thought I felt good. I got up early and exercised. But as the morning carries on I'm feeling worse. More down. More lost. I'm feeling trapped inside my own head. I keep thinking I'm going to get bad and end up in the hospital. I keep having suicidal thoughts. I keep wondering why I can't be manic. I keep wondering what really will happen when I get bad again. I want to cut.
I hate feeling like this. I just want to be normal and okay and it doesn't seem like I can be that way. I think M would say I still haven't accepted bipolar disorder. I think I've accepted it as much as I can. But then, I don't know.
I'm tired of this. I just want to sleep and forget about it.
I hate when this happens, I feel so lost. I have no idea what to do. I'm just . . . lost. First thing this morning I thought I felt good. I got up early and exercised. But as the morning carries on I'm feeling worse. More down. More lost. I'm feeling trapped inside my own head. I keep thinking I'm going to get bad and end up in the hospital. I keep having suicidal thoughts. I keep wondering why I can't be manic. I keep wondering what really will happen when I get bad again. I want to cut.
I hate feeling like this. I just want to be normal and okay and it doesn't seem like I can be that way. I think M would say I still haven't accepted bipolar disorder. I think I've accepted it as much as I can. But then, I don't know.
I'm tired of this. I just want to sleep and forget about it.
Sunday, December 10, 2017
12/10/17
I woke up this morning feeling down. Legit down. Definitely not myself. I sat drinking my coffee near tears. What the fuck is up with this?
Yesterday at work I had suicidal thoughts. Thoughts about the pointlessness of life. About how I'm just going to get depressed again. And again. I'll never escape it. So why bother? I thought about how. I pictured it so vividly. And then I stopped myself and tried to correct my thinking, tried to purge those horrible thoughts . . .
But they stuck around.
I ignored them. And then when I got off work I told hubby about them. I probably scared him because I'm supposed to be better. I've been better for a month - I'm not supposed to have these thoughts anymore.
And then I wake up this morning feeling down, feeling near tears, for absolutely no reason. And those thoughts? Yeah, they're still there. I'm doing my best to ignore them, to not acknowledge them, and to counter them when they break through.
I want to cut. That flash of pain and blood stop the thoughts. I have nothing here to cut with. That's on purpose of course, but right now it's making me angry.
Oh well. I exercised, I'm listening to music, I'm trying to distract myself. I'll get through this - I've gotten through much worse.
Yesterday at work I had suicidal thoughts. Thoughts about the pointlessness of life. About how I'm just going to get depressed again. And again. I'll never escape it. So why bother? I thought about how. I pictured it so vividly. And then I stopped myself and tried to correct my thinking, tried to purge those horrible thoughts . . .
But they stuck around.
I ignored them. And then when I got off work I told hubby about them. I probably scared him because I'm supposed to be better. I've been better for a month - I'm not supposed to have these thoughts anymore.
And then I wake up this morning feeling down, feeling near tears, for absolutely no reason. And those thoughts? Yeah, they're still there. I'm doing my best to ignore them, to not acknowledge them, and to counter them when they break through.
I want to cut. That flash of pain and blood stop the thoughts. I have nothing here to cut with. That's on purpose of course, but right now it's making me angry.
Oh well. I exercised, I'm listening to music, I'm trying to distract myself. I'll get through this - I've gotten through much worse.
Friday, December 8, 2017
12/8/17
It's been about 4.5 weeks now that I've been on the Vraylar. Four and a half weeks of feeling "normal", of feeling "good". I've had a couple of dips though. Last weekend, Saturday, I cut. I was feeling down, off, not right. And I cut. Sunday I felt the same but I tried to hide it and play it off.I had an instance where I went downstairs and got on the spin bike to keep from screaming and destroying things. I ended up crying. Monday I had ECT and therapy and I was definitely off - but that's probably more the ECT than anything else.
The more I think about it though, the more I think I've truly been off all week. Just not feeling myself this week. A little down but not really - I don't feel depressed. I just don't feel like me. I'm hyper sensitive, quick to anger and just off. I don't know how else to describe it.
Yesterday and today all I want to do is stay in bed and hide away and sleep. Not be bothered by anyone or anything. I think hubby is a little worried as he's noticed it.
I'm hoping this means nothing. I'm hoping this is just a little blip in the big scheme of things feeling better. Because I deserve to feel better. So I'm trying not to let it worry me. I see Dr. M on Monday and will talk to him about it.
In the meantime I'm going to try not to worry and try to be "normal".
The more I think about it though, the more I think I've truly been off all week. Just not feeling myself this week. A little down but not really - I don't feel depressed. I just don't feel like me. I'm hyper sensitive, quick to anger and just off. I don't know how else to describe it.
Yesterday and today all I want to do is stay in bed and hide away and sleep. Not be bothered by anyone or anything. I think hubby is a little worried as he's noticed it.
I'm hoping this means nothing. I'm hoping this is just a little blip in the big scheme of things feeling better. Because I deserve to feel better. So I'm trying not to let it worry me. I see Dr. M on Monday and will talk to him about it.
In the meantime I'm going to try not to worry and try to be "normal".
Friday, December 1, 2017
12/1/17
It's December 1st and I believe I've been "stable" or "normal" for around 24ish days. Yay! It honestly feels so good to feel like myself again. In the throws of my last depression I didn't think it was possible. But here I am, feeling good and feeling "normal".
Today happens to be the anniversary of my dad's death. 17 years. I didn't think it would affect me but I've almost broken down several times today. I miss him so much. Hubby and I are going to go out for dessert to celebrate him.
Also, I've been more focused on working on my book. I didn't realize that I started it in 2013. Damn girl, get your shit together and write. I am. slowly. I'm still trying to figure out which direction I want it to take as it will have my artwork as well. I'll get there.
That's all I have right now, just a quick update.
Today happens to be the anniversary of my dad's death. 17 years. I didn't think it would affect me but I've almost broken down several times today. I miss him so much. Hubby and I are going to go out for dessert to celebrate him.
Also, I've been more focused on working on my book. I didn't realize that I started it in 2013. Damn girl, get your shit together and write. I am. slowly. I'm still trying to figure out which direction I want it to take as it will have my artwork as well. I'll get there.
That's all I have right now, just a quick update.
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
11/21/17
I'm sitting in the dark in my bedroom, trying to calm myself, trying to slow my heart, trying to slow my mind. My heart is pounding and I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins. My mind is racing, a hundred different thoughts a minute. It doesn't stop, it can't stop, why won't it stop?? Words and images over and over and over and my heart is in my throat and my hands they shake and I can't sit still but I can't move either. I try breathing slowly, deeply, like everyone tells you to but it doesn't help. Don't people know that doesn't work? But I try it anyway, anything to stop this feeling.
Breathe . . .
Breathe . . .
In . . . out . . . slowly.
Breathe . . .
It's not helping. This anxiety, it's not passing. Its grip is firm, it holds me fast. Heart pounding, mind racing, hands shaking, breath quickening. . .
So I write. I sit and write in the dark in my bedroom. Maybe it will help. Get it out. Put it in words.
I feel trapped. Trapped in my own body. Trapped in my own mind. How do I even handle this?
Breathe . . .
The computer screen is so bright in this darkness, like a beacon of hope . . . it's keeping me tethered in reality . . . barely.
Breathe . . .
My heart is starting to slow. My mind is starting to slow. The room is no longer closing in on me. I can breathe. Little by little I begin to return to normal. This is not a quick process mind you. Oh no. I've been at the computer for 30 minutes, typing and breathing and struggling and fighting my mind. But I'm doing it. I'm beating this mild anxiety attack. I'm lucky it was only mild.
Breathe.
Breathe . . .
Breathe . . .
In . . . out . . . slowly.
Breathe . . .
It's not helping. This anxiety, it's not passing. Its grip is firm, it holds me fast. Heart pounding, mind racing, hands shaking, breath quickening. . .
So I write. I sit and write in the dark in my bedroom. Maybe it will help. Get it out. Put it in words.
I feel trapped. Trapped in my own body. Trapped in my own mind. How do I even handle this?
Breathe . . .
The computer screen is so bright in this darkness, like a beacon of hope . . . it's keeping me tethered in reality . . . barely.
Breathe . . .
My heart is starting to slow. My mind is starting to slow. The room is no longer closing in on me. I can breathe. Little by little I begin to return to normal. This is not a quick process mind you. Oh no. I've been at the computer for 30 minutes, typing and breathing and struggling and fighting my mind. But I'm doing it. I'm beating this mild anxiety attack. I'm lucky it was only mild.
Breathe.
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
11/15/17
It's been awhile and there's been a pretty big change. Last week, on Monday the 6th I had ECT and therapy. Then on Tuesday the 7th I had an appointment with Dr. M and he changed up my meds. I'm weaning off of my Latuda (tonight will be my last night of it) and he started me on a new medication called Vraylar. And let me tell you, there's been a change in how I'm feeling. I mostly feel normal, good, fine. I've had some hypomania and some anger and anxiety, but for the most part I'm normal. No depression.
Now that I've gotten that out, I want to talk about what's also been going on. Namely, a ridiculous increase in hallucinations and a resurgence of delusions. So much fun. And wanting to smoke and cut. There's that too. (and I have cut)
Hallucinations! I see shadow figures almost everywhere, in my bedroom, in my bathroom, out and about. These include humanoid shadows and also animal shadows (mostly canid or bear). I've seen Cliff (old man), though not frequently. I saw a hovering car, bugs crawling all over the mirror and computer screen, and a large mouse which poof! Vanished. I know these are hallucinations and for the most part they aren't bothersome.
Delusions! The delusions are another story. And still, I know they're delusions but they often scare me. I'm convinced that there is going to be a man standing outside my truck door when I get home at night and he is going to grab me. I'm so anxious to leave my truck at night. I am convinced that something is going to grab me as I'm getting into bed the first time at night. I literally jump into bed to avoid being grabbed. And if I get up to pee? I'm fine. Nothing will grab me. It's only that first time getting into bed. When I shower in the morning and I wash my face I close my eyes to rinse off so soap and water doesn't get in them. Now I have to rinse as fast as I can and I actually scream and flail my arms around as I'm convinced there's someone there and they're going to grab me. I know that there's no one there, but my brain has convinced me otherwise. This is very much not fun.
And then wanting to cut and wanting to smoke . . . good God, seriously? I want to carve up my arm. I want to cut my wrist and see how much I bleed. This is not normal. And I want to smoke. I smoked 20 years ago but I'm craving it again. Even if it's just an E-cigarette. Weird.
I'm guessing I just need to give this med change more time, see how things go. I have ECT again Dec. 4th and see Dr. M in office again on Dec. 11th.
Now that I've gotten that out, I want to talk about what's also been going on. Namely, a ridiculous increase in hallucinations and a resurgence of delusions. So much fun. And wanting to smoke and cut. There's that too. (and I have cut)
Hallucinations! I see shadow figures almost everywhere, in my bedroom, in my bathroom, out and about. These include humanoid shadows and also animal shadows (mostly canid or bear). I've seen Cliff (old man), though not frequently. I saw a hovering car, bugs crawling all over the mirror and computer screen, and a large mouse which poof! Vanished. I know these are hallucinations and for the most part they aren't bothersome.
Delusions! The delusions are another story. And still, I know they're delusions but they often scare me. I'm convinced that there is going to be a man standing outside my truck door when I get home at night and he is going to grab me. I'm so anxious to leave my truck at night. I am convinced that something is going to grab me as I'm getting into bed the first time at night. I literally jump into bed to avoid being grabbed. And if I get up to pee? I'm fine. Nothing will grab me. It's only that first time getting into bed. When I shower in the morning and I wash my face I close my eyes to rinse off so soap and water doesn't get in them. Now I have to rinse as fast as I can and I actually scream and flail my arms around as I'm convinced there's someone there and they're going to grab me. I know that there's no one there, but my brain has convinced me otherwise. This is very much not fun.
And then wanting to cut and wanting to smoke . . . good God, seriously? I want to carve up my arm. I want to cut my wrist and see how much I bleed. This is not normal. And I want to smoke. I smoked 20 years ago but I'm craving it again. Even if it's just an E-cigarette. Weird.
I'm guessing I just need to give this med change more time, see how things go. I have ECT again Dec. 4th and see Dr. M in office again on Dec. 11th.
Thursday, October 26, 2017
10/26/17
Last night I went to my bipolar support group and I actually talked. The facilitator, B, was talking about how so many of us seem to be mourning our past, our lost selves, longing for how the way things used to be, how we used to be. I don't think I've ever thought of things that way. I said:
I've never thought of it like that but I can see how it could be true, wanting things to be the way they were before my illness. What I'm having trouble with right now though is looking ahead to my future. Knowing that I have to deal with my illness for the rest of my life . . . knowing that I'm spending every day right now fighting with my brain, fighting with my thoughts, fighting not to kill myself and I have to do this for the rest of my life. Is it really worth it? Is this really a life I want to continue to live?
I started to cry, though I kept myself from breaking down completely. People offered up what they do to cope and it was actually comforting to know that I wasn't the only one struggling all the time with suicidal thoughts. Sadly, I didn't hear anything I haven't already tried. There was no new information. Group continued and at the end B and the other facilitator came to check on me and see how I was doing and if I needed to go to the hospital. I got hugs and B gave me his number in case I needed help.
When I got home I told my hubby about the meeting and started crying again (I spent most of the day yesterday crying). I didn't sleep well last night. Everything was turning over and over in my head. Between last night and this morning I came to realize something - I don't like myself. Like, I really don't like myself. I don't like how I look. I hate my body, I hate my weight, I hate my hair, I hate how no matter what I do I can't get rid of my acne, I hate how despite eating healthy and working out I can't seem to lose weight. I hate my anger. I hate how anxious I get in crowds. I hate my anxiety in general. I hate how withdrawn I am all the time and how difficult it is for me to connect with anyone. I hate that I'm only able to work part time. I hate the strain I put on my family and friends with my illness. I hate that my I make my hubby feel guilty. I hate that I am a burden. More than anything . . .
I FUCKING HATE MY BIPOLAR DISORDER.
I have this sneaking suspicion that I'm not going to be able to move forward until I can learn to love and accept myself. Sad thing is I have no idea how to do that. I'm so damn good at hating myself. I can start with positive affirmations I guess. Repeated every morning when I wake up. Maybe I'll actually start to believe them.
I am beautiful.
I am strong.
I am worth it.
I am enough.
That's all I have right now.
I've never thought of it like that but I can see how it could be true, wanting things to be the way they were before my illness. What I'm having trouble with right now though is looking ahead to my future. Knowing that I have to deal with my illness for the rest of my life . . . knowing that I'm spending every day right now fighting with my brain, fighting with my thoughts, fighting not to kill myself and I have to do this for the rest of my life. Is it really worth it? Is this really a life I want to continue to live?
I started to cry, though I kept myself from breaking down completely. People offered up what they do to cope and it was actually comforting to know that I wasn't the only one struggling all the time with suicidal thoughts. Sadly, I didn't hear anything I haven't already tried. There was no new information. Group continued and at the end B and the other facilitator came to check on me and see how I was doing and if I needed to go to the hospital. I got hugs and B gave me his number in case I needed help.
When I got home I told my hubby about the meeting and started crying again (I spent most of the day yesterday crying). I didn't sleep well last night. Everything was turning over and over in my head. Between last night and this morning I came to realize something - I don't like myself. Like, I really don't like myself. I don't like how I look. I hate my body, I hate my weight, I hate my hair, I hate how no matter what I do I can't get rid of my acne, I hate how despite eating healthy and working out I can't seem to lose weight. I hate my anger. I hate how anxious I get in crowds. I hate my anxiety in general. I hate how withdrawn I am all the time and how difficult it is for me to connect with anyone. I hate that I'm only able to work part time. I hate the strain I put on my family and friends with my illness. I hate that my I make my hubby feel guilty. I hate that I am a burden. More than anything . . .
I FUCKING HATE MY BIPOLAR DISORDER.
I have this sneaking suspicion that I'm not going to be able to move forward until I can learn to love and accept myself. Sad thing is I have no idea how to do that. I'm so damn good at hating myself. I can start with positive affirmations I guess. Repeated every morning when I wake up. Maybe I'll actually start to believe them.
I am beautiful.
I am strong.
I am worth it.
I am enough.
That's all I have right now.
Wednesday, October 25, 2017
10/25/17
I'm sitting on my couch wondering what I should do with my day. I haven't done anything all morning except drink coffee and scroll through social media. I should workout, I should, but I just can't seem to do it. I don't have the drive, the motivation, the energy. In my current state of mind I just don't care.
I'm near tears right now. So close to completely breaking down and crying. I'll be sitting here, empty and dead inside, but seemingly okay, and then BAM! Out of nowhere I'm hit with this wave of horrible feelings and thoughts. It's literally like this wave that violently washes over me, knocking me down, rendering me helpless and leaving me gasping for air. I suddenly feel worthless and hopeless, depressed and full of despair. I see no light, no color, only darkness. My mind races with terrible thoughts.
I am nothing. Nobody cares about me. I'm fat and disgusting. Noone would miss me if I'm gone. I'd be better off dead. I should really kill myself.
Over and over and over again. I see images of me slitting my wrists or downing all of my pills. My brain tells me my hubby and son would get over my death, they'd move on and be better off and happy. I try to silence these thoughts, stop them in their tracks. I counter them at every turn but it's no use. The thoughts and feelings win. I'm left sobbing and hurting and confused. I curl up in a ball and try to sleep as sleep is my only escape. I can't always sleep though. Maybe I'm at work when the wave hits, or the grocery store.
The past few days the wave has been coming more frequently. It is unrelentless. It is persistant. It is making me question my strength and my resolve. I don't want to feel like this anymore but I don't know what else to do. I know I don't really want to kill myself but I'm worried that my brain will convince me otherwise. I need help.
I'm near tears right now. So close to completely breaking down and crying. I'll be sitting here, empty and dead inside, but seemingly okay, and then BAM! Out of nowhere I'm hit with this wave of horrible feelings and thoughts. It's literally like this wave that violently washes over me, knocking me down, rendering me helpless and leaving me gasping for air. I suddenly feel worthless and hopeless, depressed and full of despair. I see no light, no color, only darkness. My mind races with terrible thoughts.
I am nothing. Nobody cares about me. I'm fat and disgusting. Noone would miss me if I'm gone. I'd be better off dead. I should really kill myself.
Over and over and over again. I see images of me slitting my wrists or downing all of my pills. My brain tells me my hubby and son would get over my death, they'd move on and be better off and happy. I try to silence these thoughts, stop them in their tracks. I counter them at every turn but it's no use. The thoughts and feelings win. I'm left sobbing and hurting and confused. I curl up in a ball and try to sleep as sleep is my only escape. I can't always sleep though. Maybe I'm at work when the wave hits, or the grocery store.
The past few days the wave has been coming more frequently. It is unrelentless. It is persistant. It is making me question my strength and my resolve. I don't want to feel like this anymore but I don't know what else to do. I know I don't really want to kill myself but I'm worried that my brain will convince me otherwise. I need help.
Monday, October 23, 2017
10/23/17
I've been struggling quite a bit with my recent depression and mixed episode or rapid cycling . . . whatever you want to call it. Mostly it's been the depression, as it always is. That damn depression . . .
It's been bad since September. Really bad I mean. Suicidal bad. Missing work bad.
I'm at this point where I step back and look at my illness, my bipolar disorder, and I see it for what it is: an illness that I'm going to have for the rest of my life. An illness that I'll never be symptom free from. I'll always have ups and downs at random and the goal of treatment is to keep these to a minimum or less intense or shorter in duration. But I'm always going to be fighting this illness. Always. And honestly, that's a hard pill to swallow. See, even on my days where I'm okay I still have symptoms. I still have depression. I still have anxiety. I still deal with the chaotic environment that is my mind.
People tell me that I'm strong, that I'll make it through, that I can do this. Those people are wrong. I'm not strong. I'm not living, people. I'm existing. I'm going through the motions. Everything is grey and dull and just . . . just pointless. Nothing matters, not really. It doesn't really matter if I'm dead or alive because nothing I do makes a difference. My hubby tells me that this is the depression lying to me. Maybe it is. But these thoughts circulate through my head every single fucking day. They're nearly constant. And don't worry - I'm a good girl and I counter them and actively fight them and use all the CBT and DBT techniques I've learned over the years. But it's tiring and I feel so empty and lost and hopeless. I'm trying guys, I really am. I'm trying to find happiness in the little things but I never truly feel happy - not really. Or it's so short livied that I wonder if it even really happened.
I don't know what more to do because I can't keep doing what I'm doing, not for long. I'm at the point now where I want to give up. Throw in the towel and stop fighting. This is getting to be too much. And I get to deal with it the rest of my life . . . why bother?
This is a pretty down post, I know. But this is where I'm at right now. I don't have ECT again until Nov. 6th and the earliest I could get in to see my psychiatrist is Nov. 16th . . . so I'm kind of fucked. And I'll be honest, I don't have much hope. I'm not sure I have any. But I keep pushing and I keep trying because I have my husband and son to think about. They're the only reason I'm still here.
It's been bad since September. Really bad I mean. Suicidal bad. Missing work bad.
I'm at this point where I step back and look at my illness, my bipolar disorder, and I see it for what it is: an illness that I'm going to have for the rest of my life. An illness that I'll never be symptom free from. I'll always have ups and downs at random and the goal of treatment is to keep these to a minimum or less intense or shorter in duration. But I'm always going to be fighting this illness. Always. And honestly, that's a hard pill to swallow. See, even on my days where I'm okay I still have symptoms. I still have depression. I still have anxiety. I still deal with the chaotic environment that is my mind.
People tell me that I'm strong, that I'll make it through, that I can do this. Those people are wrong. I'm not strong. I'm not living, people. I'm existing. I'm going through the motions. Everything is grey and dull and just . . . just pointless. Nothing matters, not really. It doesn't really matter if I'm dead or alive because nothing I do makes a difference. My hubby tells me that this is the depression lying to me. Maybe it is. But these thoughts circulate through my head every single fucking day. They're nearly constant. And don't worry - I'm a good girl and I counter them and actively fight them and use all the CBT and DBT techniques I've learned over the years. But it's tiring and I feel so empty and lost and hopeless. I'm trying guys, I really am. I'm trying to find happiness in the little things but I never truly feel happy - not really. Or it's so short livied that I wonder if it even really happened.
I don't know what more to do because I can't keep doing what I'm doing, not for long. I'm at the point now where I want to give up. Throw in the towel and stop fighting. This is getting to be too much. And I get to deal with it the rest of my life . . . why bother?
This is a pretty down post, I know. But this is where I'm at right now. I don't have ECT again until Nov. 6th and the earliest I could get in to see my psychiatrist is Nov. 16th . . . so I'm kind of fucked. And I'll be honest, I don't have much hope. I'm not sure I have any. But I keep pushing and I keep trying because I have my husband and son to think about. They're the only reason I'm still here.
Thursday, October 19, 2017
10/19/17
I'm in a bit of a rough spot right now and have been for the past several weeks. I went into a depression about a month and a half ago which lasted about 3 weeks. I seemed to be coming out of it, at least for a few days, but then BOOM I'm thrown into rapid cycling. I've been rapid cycling for alost 2 weeks now. The real shitty thing though? I'm not getting happy - meaning I'm not getting euphorically manic or hypomanic. No. Lucky me I get anxious, racing thoughts, and irrational anger. That's my reprieve from depression.
I'm feeling so lost and hopeless and empty. I feel as though nothing matters and everything is pointless. I feel like I'm a burden to everyone. I have intrusive negative thoughts that I constantly have to battle in my mind. I don't know what to do anymore. It doesn't seem like anything is helping. I take my meds, I have ECT, I go to therapy, I go to support group, talk to my hubby and friends, do all of the CBT and DBT stuff that I've learned over the years, listen to music, sleep, journal, exercise, eat healthy . . . what more can I do? My therapist thinks I'm delusional because of the thoughts I'm having. Great. I tried to make an appointment with my psychiatrist but the earliest I can get in is Nov. 16th. I was told if I need help sooner to go to the hospital. Seriously? That's what I'm trying to avoid.
I'm just at such a loss right now. I don't know what to say. It doesn't help that ECT took away my ability to write eloquently. Now I'm left stumbling over words, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess inside my head.
I'm feeling so lost and hopeless and empty. I feel as though nothing matters and everything is pointless. I feel like I'm a burden to everyone. I have intrusive negative thoughts that I constantly have to battle in my mind. I don't know what to do anymore. It doesn't seem like anything is helping. I take my meds, I have ECT, I go to therapy, I go to support group, talk to my hubby and friends, do all of the CBT and DBT stuff that I've learned over the years, listen to music, sleep, journal, exercise, eat healthy . . . what more can I do? My therapist thinks I'm delusional because of the thoughts I'm having. Great. I tried to make an appointment with my psychiatrist but the earliest I can get in is Nov. 16th. I was told if I need help sooner to go to the hospital. Seriously? That's what I'm trying to avoid.
I'm just at such a loss right now. I don't know what to say. It doesn't help that ECT took away my ability to write eloquently. Now I'm left stumbling over words, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess inside my head.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
9/19/17
Well, here we are again. I was hoping to be writing happy things after having ECT a week ago but sadly that isn't the case. I've gotten worse. Exponentially worse.
Let's start with ECT. I talked with Dr. M both at ECT and at my appointment with him that evening (Monday the 11th). He thinks I went too long between sessions (5 weeks) and that I'm also naturally cycling. Wait it out. Okay. You'll get better. And then, last Tuesday and Wednesday I did feel a little better. A little less down and withdrawn. Yay!
Except it wasn't yay. Not really. Friday morning I woke up knowing something was wrong. I was moving more slowly . . . feeling just . . . not right. I went to work and my mood went downhill. I was terribly withdrawn and depressed and dark. I sat in the nurses station staring at my arm, tracing a line where I was going to cut. Instead of cutting I told a coworker, who told the charge nurse (my best friend) and she had me call my husband. I went home early.
My friend told me that it appeared that I had been rapid cycling the past few weeks and that it was becoming more noticeable. Not only to her.
Great.
I went home and laid down, contemplating going to the hospital as my desire to hurt myself was so strong. My husband stayed with me and we opted to stay home. I called in sick on Sunday and we went to the mountains to try and beat the depression. Saturday? Depressed. Monday? Depressed. And today? Depressed.
This is the can't-get-out-of-bed-in-the-morning depressed. The is the not wanting to exist anymore depressed. This is the sobbing uncotrollably because I feel so shitty depressed. I don't know what to do. I'm doing everything I know to do. And I just don't know. I'm worried that I'm going to hurt myself.
There's so much I want to write, so much I wish I could convey, but I don't have the motivation to get it out. It's been ridiculously hard to write what I've already go written. I'm going to go lay down until I have to pick up my son from school. At least if I sleep I don't have to feel - it's like death but without the commitment.
Let's start with ECT. I talked with Dr. M both at ECT and at my appointment with him that evening (Monday the 11th). He thinks I went too long between sessions (5 weeks) and that I'm also naturally cycling. Wait it out. Okay. You'll get better. And then, last Tuesday and Wednesday I did feel a little better. A little less down and withdrawn. Yay!
Except it wasn't yay. Not really. Friday morning I woke up knowing something was wrong. I was moving more slowly . . . feeling just . . . not right. I went to work and my mood went downhill. I was terribly withdrawn and depressed and dark. I sat in the nurses station staring at my arm, tracing a line where I was going to cut. Instead of cutting I told a coworker, who told the charge nurse (my best friend) and she had me call my husband. I went home early.
My friend told me that it appeared that I had been rapid cycling the past few weeks and that it was becoming more noticeable. Not only to her.
Great.
I went home and laid down, contemplating going to the hospital as my desire to hurt myself was so strong. My husband stayed with me and we opted to stay home. I called in sick on Sunday and we went to the mountains to try and beat the depression. Saturday? Depressed. Monday? Depressed. And today? Depressed.
This is the can't-get-out-of-bed-in-the-morning depressed. The is the not wanting to exist anymore depressed. This is the sobbing uncotrollably because I feel so shitty depressed. I don't know what to do. I'm doing everything I know to do. And I just don't know. I'm worried that I'm going to hurt myself.
There's so much I want to write, so much I wish I could convey, but I don't have the motivation to get it out. It's been ridiculously hard to write what I've already go written. I'm going to go lay down until I have to pick up my son from school. At least if I sleep I don't have to feel - it's like death but without the commitment.
Thursday, September 7, 2017
9/7/17
I'm not sure how to start this as I'm not too sure what all I want to write about. I've been going through a depressive episode again, but this one has lasted a little longer. I started getting symptoms around Aug. 18 and they got progressively worse. I had several days where I had very strong suicidal ideation. More days than not it's taken everything I had just to get out of bed. I've struggled to get things done around the house, I've struggled at work, I've just struggled. And yesterday and today I've felt a little bit better and I hope I'm coming out of it. The thing is . . . I don't feel good. Like, I don't feel happy and okay. I feel down and flat and withdrawn. Not as bad as depression but still bad in its own way. It still makes it difficult to get things done. It makes it difficult to interact with people and do my job. It makes it difficult to be present with my family.
I had therapy yesterday and was reminded that yes indeed, I'm doing everything right. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I'm even doing more since I've become so involved in fitness and betering my physical health. There's really not much more I can do. *big sigh* I have ECT coming up on Monday and I see my psychiatrist Monday evening . . . we'll see what he has to say about it. My guess is deal with it, but more nicely put. That I'm cycling, but this is normal, that I'm better than I have been in the past. Which is true. But it sucks. At any rate, all I can do is push forward and not give up, right?
I had therapy yesterday and was reminded that yes indeed, I'm doing everything right. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I'm even doing more since I've become so involved in fitness and betering my physical health. There's really not much more I can do. *big sigh* I have ECT coming up on Monday and I see my psychiatrist Monday evening . . . we'll see what he has to say about it. My guess is deal with it, but more nicely put. That I'm cycling, but this is normal, that I'm better than I have been in the past. Which is true. But it sucks. At any rate, all I can do is push forward and not give up, right?
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
7/5/17
I get my best thoughts/ideas in the shower. Does this happen to anyone else? But then I sit down to write them and *poof* they're gone. Which is frustrating to say the least.
I've still been feeling off. Still been feeling empty and flat and withdrawn and fake and exhausted and done with everything. Only it seems to be getting more pronounced. More . . . pressing. See, I feel like this husk of a person. On the outside I look normal, functional, whole. But on the inside there's nothing there. The bits and pieces that are supposed to make you human are missing. I don't really feel anything, except for anger. Something that should make me happy leaves me sitting there feeling nothing and empty with a painted on smile so I don't alert anyone to what's really going on.
But I'm not depressed.
That's the thing. I don't feel like how I do when I'm depressed. No. I'm stuck in this no man's land of nothingness where I can't feel real emotions. (except for anger - I can feel anger like nobody's business).
I don't know what to do with this. Hubs says I get like this sometimes and it passes. My psychiatrist says it's part of being bipolar and hopefully I'll come out of it. But it's been awhile y'all. Five or 6 weeks. And it's not getting better, it's getting worse.
All I want is to have a normal range of emotions! Is that too much to ask for?! (I mean apparently it is because I can't seem to get there).
I don't like feeling like this. It's like I'm missing out on my own life. I'm a bystander. I'm on the sidelines, watching everything pass me by. This is no way to live.
I've still been feeling off. Still been feeling empty and flat and withdrawn and fake and exhausted and done with everything. Only it seems to be getting more pronounced. More . . . pressing. See, I feel like this husk of a person. On the outside I look normal, functional, whole. But on the inside there's nothing there. The bits and pieces that are supposed to make you human are missing. I don't really feel anything, except for anger. Something that should make me happy leaves me sitting there feeling nothing and empty with a painted on smile so I don't alert anyone to what's really going on.
But I'm not depressed.
That's the thing. I don't feel like how I do when I'm depressed. No. I'm stuck in this no man's land of nothingness where I can't feel real emotions. (except for anger - I can feel anger like nobody's business).
I don't know what to do with this. Hubs says I get like this sometimes and it passes. My psychiatrist says it's part of being bipolar and hopefully I'll come out of it. But it's been awhile y'all. Five or 6 weeks. And it's not getting better, it's getting worse.
All I want is to have a normal range of emotions! Is that too much to ask for?! (I mean apparently it is because I can't seem to get there).
I don't like feeling like this. It's like I'm missing out on my own life. I'm a bystander. I'm on the sidelines, watching everything pass me by. This is no way to live.
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Bothering Me
I have a feeling this post is going to be random and all over the place and not make much sense and you can thank my ECT for that as it's taken away my ability to write eloquently. No, I'm serious. I've been doing ECT for 2 years now and since I started my ability to write has slowly dwindled. I had a different blog where I wrote about my bipolar and my writing was magical at times. It was moving and gripping and drew you in. I wrote poetry. Writing came naturally to me. Now I struggle to write a few sentences about my day. The words get jumbled up in my head until I can hardly make sense of them. They come out all wrong and out of order sometimes. I misuse metaphors and symbolism (or at best I use them poorly). I struggle through each blog post, knowing that they are dry and boring.
Why does this matter? Because I want to write a book. I want to write a book of how it really is to have bipolar disorder. I want it to be witty and funny and heartwarming and real. I want to bring humor into even the shittiest of times. I want people to laugh and cry and learn something about bipolar disorder. And I feel that now, with my inability to write, I'm not going to be able to do this.
To top all of this off, the ECT has taken away my memories. Not all of them - but a lot of them. There's so much my hubby brings up that I just can't remember. My childhood, my son's childhood . . . gone. I forget how to get places - places I've to hundreds of times. I'm trying to learn Spanish - I'm not retaining any of it. Studying for my BLS re-certification - nope. It doesn't stick. Memory loss is a side effect of ECT, I just didn't expect it to hit me so hard. And most likely this memory loss is permanent because I've been doing ECT for so long (and my psychiatrist doesn't see me stopping anytime soon . . . or ever).
All of this is very frustrating. I guess that's it. It's taken me over 30 minutes to write this.
Why does this matter? Because I want to write a book. I want to write a book of how it really is to have bipolar disorder. I want it to be witty and funny and heartwarming and real. I want to bring humor into even the shittiest of times. I want people to laugh and cry and learn something about bipolar disorder. And I feel that now, with my inability to write, I'm not going to be able to do this.
To top all of this off, the ECT has taken away my memories. Not all of them - but a lot of them. There's so much my hubby brings up that I just can't remember. My childhood, my son's childhood . . . gone. I forget how to get places - places I've to hundreds of times. I'm trying to learn Spanish - I'm not retaining any of it. Studying for my BLS re-certification - nope. It doesn't stick. Memory loss is a side effect of ECT, I just didn't expect it to hit me so hard. And most likely this memory loss is permanent because I've been doing ECT for so long (and my psychiatrist doesn't see me stopping anytime soon . . . or ever).
All of this is very frustrating. I guess that's it. It's taken me over 30 minutes to write this.
6/27/17
I've had an okay day today. I've actually had a pretty decent week. There's been nothing exciting, nothing note worthy . . . but I've been doing okay. We joined a new gym. The Y (I get a discount through my hospital - half off monthly dues). Yesterday I met with a personal trainer for an evaluation. She asked me all sorts of questions about working out and eating habits, etc, and did a body composition analysis. I found out I'm 46% fat. Ugh. How horrible is that?! She then did a mini workout with me and showed me different equipment and gave me ideas for future workouts. Then I did a workout after. Go me!
Today I was able to get up early and go to the gym and do a decent workout (which is unlike me - I've been slacking off big time lately). I was pretty proud of that. Did some artwork today (I've been slacking off big time with that, too), and even got reading done and a short nap. Not too bad.
The past couple of days I haven't felt as flat or withdrawn. I've felt more . . . human. I'm hoping this keeps up. Wouldn't that be nice?
Today I was able to get up early and go to the gym and do a decent workout (which is unlike me - I've been slacking off big time lately). I was pretty proud of that. Did some artwork today (I've been slacking off big time with that, too), and even got reading done and a short nap. Not too bad.
The past couple of days I haven't felt as flat or withdrawn. I've felt more . . . human. I'm hoping this keeps up. Wouldn't that be nice?
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
6/20/17
I've been doing this thing where I'm not depressed but I'm not really happy either. It's like, low level depression or something. Where I feel withdrawn, unmotivated, flat, and standoff-ish. There's a definite difference between this and depression. But there's also a definite difference between this and feeling good.
See, the days where I'm feeling good are few and far between. And I notice the difference. I even think to myself, "hey, I'm feeling good today!" My mood is effortless, I get more accomplished, I have motivation to do things. I interact more with people and I don't have to think about it. I wish I could feel like this every day
But what I've noticed, since I haven't been in full blown depression, is this grayness around me. It consumes me and follows me and makes everything difficult. Remember now - I'm not depressed. It's just this . . . fog that's everywhere. I wake up in the morning and I know I need to get up to workout. But I have no motivation so I lay in bed for up to another hour. I finally get up and get changed but I sit on the floor and stare at my shoes for 20 minutes before putting them on and finally working out. If I'm at home I don't do much - I have no motivation, I don't care, what does it matter anyway? If I'm at work I have to force interactions with coworkers as it's my natural inclination to hide and avoid and ignore. I feel a little down, I'm flat, withdrawn, and often snippy. I just don't feel good. I'm okay, I guess. I can function and get through my day, but not much brings me joy or makes me feel happy. I lie and pretend so others don't know. I also often find myself questioning life and its meaning - you know, why should I draw or paint? I'm just going to die anyway. (not a fun line of thinking).
I talked with my psychiatrist about this and he said that it's just part of bipolar disorder and that hopefully I'd come out of it - but that there was a chance that this is my new normal. That this is how I feel when I'm stable. How fucking shitty is that? Because this is draining. This is tiring. And it is not okay to not be okay.
I don't know what to do with this other than continue to push on. Continue to be stubborn and make my was as best I can. It really royally sucks though.
See, the days where I'm feeling good are few and far between. And I notice the difference. I even think to myself, "hey, I'm feeling good today!" My mood is effortless, I get more accomplished, I have motivation to do things. I interact more with people and I don't have to think about it. I wish I could feel like this every day
But what I've noticed, since I haven't been in full blown depression, is this grayness around me. It consumes me and follows me and makes everything difficult. Remember now - I'm not depressed. It's just this . . . fog that's everywhere. I wake up in the morning and I know I need to get up to workout. But I have no motivation so I lay in bed for up to another hour. I finally get up and get changed but I sit on the floor and stare at my shoes for 20 minutes before putting them on and finally working out. If I'm at home I don't do much - I have no motivation, I don't care, what does it matter anyway? If I'm at work I have to force interactions with coworkers as it's my natural inclination to hide and avoid and ignore. I feel a little down, I'm flat, withdrawn, and often snippy. I just don't feel good. I'm okay, I guess. I can function and get through my day, but not much brings me joy or makes me feel happy. I lie and pretend so others don't know. I also often find myself questioning life and its meaning - you know, why should I draw or paint? I'm just going to die anyway. (not a fun line of thinking).
I talked with my psychiatrist about this and he said that it's just part of bipolar disorder and that hopefully I'd come out of it - but that there was a chance that this is my new normal. That this is how I feel when I'm stable. How fucking shitty is that? Because this is draining. This is tiring. And it is not okay to not be okay.
I don't know what to do with this other than continue to push on. Continue to be stubborn and make my was as best I can. It really royally sucks though.
Monday, June 19, 2017
6/19/17
I've done very poorly at posting every week (my last post was the beginning of May). Oh well, I guess. My life has been rather boring, nothing exciting going on. I'm stable, so that's good. I went into an irritable hypomanic state for about a week when I was put on a medication for acne (I got off that med ASAP). That was not fun. At all. My hubby was calling me "she-hulk". Denver Comic Con is coming up in a little less than 2 weeks and that will be awesome!
Anyway, that's all I got right now, like I said - I'm boring and I haven't had motivation to write.
Anyway, that's all I got right now, like I said - I'm boring and I haven't had motivation to write.
Monday, May 1, 2017
5/1/17
I don't have much to write about today, there's not much going on. Really. It's pretty boring.
Today is day 5 on metformin and day 4 on my new probiotic. These two things make me hopeful that I can lose some weight. I've been consistently working out and I feel good about that. I'm eating better and avoiding all of the yummy snacks in the break room at work (go me! They're my weakness). I colored my hair today so it's a little bit darker. Not much, but a little.
My mood has been stable. I've had "normal" changes in mood (as opposed to more extreme bipolar mood swings), so I call that a win. Hopefully my stability will last longer than 4 months (my current record).
That's really all for today. I don't feel like writing.
Today is day 5 on metformin and day 4 on my new probiotic. These two things make me hopeful that I can lose some weight. I've been consistently working out and I feel good about that. I'm eating better and avoiding all of the yummy snacks in the break room at work (go me! They're my weakness). I colored my hair today so it's a little bit darker. Not much, but a little.
My mood has been stable. I've had "normal" changes in mood (as opposed to more extreme bipolar mood swings), so I call that a win. Hopefully my stability will last longer than 4 months (my current record).
That's really all for today. I don't feel like writing.
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
4/26/17
Well I had my appointments today, one with my therapist and one with my psychiatrist. They both went well.
I went into therapy wanting to talk about my apparent inability to accept my diagnosis of bipolar disorder. And we talked about this, and how I can accept it when I'm not in a mood episode but once I am in an episode, BOOM! I no longer can accept I'm bipolar. Everything becomes unfair, I can't possibly do this again, etc, etc. We discussed ways I can try to work my way around this, even though this thinking will surface most likely with every episode I go through (that's just the nature of depression).
We also talked about things I want to change and what I can do to change them, and the good things in my life. All of this was to remind me that I'm more than my illness, a fact that I often forget (especially with my most recent depressive episode).
Then came my appointment with Dr. M, for which I was nervous. We started by talking about my ECT, and how I'm doing with every 4 weeks and I told him about my recent depression. He seemed a little exasperated and told me that my case of bipolar is on of the most difficult and stubborn cases he's treated. He said it's obvious that we can only manage my episodes and try to keep them to a minimum but I will never be symptom free. I'll also probably never be free of ECT. Oh well. I then asked him about metformin for weight loss. I explained that over the last 10 months I've gained 50 pounds thanks to my meds and have been exercising and eating well and can't seem to lose any. Surprisingly he looked it up real quick, agreed that it might prove beneficial and wrote me a prescription. I was surprised by that, honestly. I figured he'd be a no go on the metformin but he was all for it. Fingers crossed it works!
Mood wise I've been pretty okay today, even, stable. And that's good! I was that way yesterday too. Hopefully this will continue, that would be awesome.
I went into therapy wanting to talk about my apparent inability to accept my diagnosis of bipolar disorder. And we talked about this, and how I can accept it when I'm not in a mood episode but once I am in an episode, BOOM! I no longer can accept I'm bipolar. Everything becomes unfair, I can't possibly do this again, etc, etc. We discussed ways I can try to work my way around this, even though this thinking will surface most likely with every episode I go through (that's just the nature of depression).
We also talked about things I want to change and what I can do to change them, and the good things in my life. All of this was to remind me that I'm more than my illness, a fact that I often forget (especially with my most recent depressive episode).
Then came my appointment with Dr. M, for which I was nervous. We started by talking about my ECT, and how I'm doing with every 4 weeks and I told him about my recent depression. He seemed a little exasperated and told me that my case of bipolar is on of the most difficult and stubborn cases he's treated. He said it's obvious that we can only manage my episodes and try to keep them to a minimum but I will never be symptom free. I'll also probably never be free of ECT. Oh well. I then asked him about metformin for weight loss. I explained that over the last 10 months I've gained 50 pounds thanks to my meds and have been exercising and eating well and can't seem to lose any. Surprisingly he looked it up real quick, agreed that it might prove beneficial and wrote me a prescription. I was surprised by that, honestly. I figured he'd be a no go on the metformin but he was all for it. Fingers crossed it works!
Mood wise I've been pretty okay today, even, stable. And that's good! I was that way yesterday too. Hopefully this will continue, that would be awesome.
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
4/25/17
I'm a bit stuck right now. I'm a bit stuck on something so fundamentally stupid that I should really have no problem getting over it. But here I am, stuck. What is it, you ask? Here, let me tell you.
I have bipolar disorder. A progressive, life long disorder characterized by extreme lows and highs of mood. I've had symptoms of it for probably 25 years but was only diagnosed 6 years ago. I've been on 23 different meds, have done CBT, DBT, group therapy, equine therapy, Al-Anon, meditation, acupuncture, ECT, and God knows what else to help manage it. And that's the thing - you manage it. That's it. There'e no cure. Currently I'm on 3 medications and do ECT once a month to manage my bipolar. But here's the catch - I can go into a mood episode at any time, for any reason. Or for no reason. It just happens. Despite my meds and ECT and exercising and eating healthy and vitamins and and and . . . And that's really fucking annoying. I'm doing everything right and I'm still battling my bipolar. But the thing is, I know this. That's just the nature of bipolar disorder. And I fucking know this.
But I'm not accepting it. At least I haven't been and I think that's part of my problem. I think I would do better in my depressions if I could accept this fact and move forward. I'm having a hard time with that though. See, the meds and the ECT help to keep me stable. And when I have a mood episode, they help to keep it hopefully not as intense and not as long lasting. I come out of my mood episode and I'm stable again. Until the next episode happens then we manage it, I get through it, and I move on again. This is how it works. This is how it will always work because that's just how bipolar is. And again, I know this. I'm just having a hard time accepting it. I see both my therapist and my psychiatrist tomorrow and I'm going to bring this up with both of them. I think having it reinforced by them will be helpful.
I hope.
I have bipolar disorder. A progressive, life long disorder characterized by extreme lows and highs of mood. I've had symptoms of it for probably 25 years but was only diagnosed 6 years ago. I've been on 23 different meds, have done CBT, DBT, group therapy, equine therapy, Al-Anon, meditation, acupuncture, ECT, and God knows what else to help manage it. And that's the thing - you manage it. That's it. There'e no cure. Currently I'm on 3 medications and do ECT once a month to manage my bipolar. But here's the catch - I can go into a mood episode at any time, for any reason. Or for no reason. It just happens. Despite my meds and ECT and exercising and eating healthy and vitamins and and and . . . And that's really fucking annoying. I'm doing everything right and I'm still battling my bipolar. But the thing is, I know this. That's just the nature of bipolar disorder. And I fucking know this.
But I'm not accepting it. At least I haven't been and I think that's part of my problem. I think I would do better in my depressions if I could accept this fact and move forward. I'm having a hard time with that though. See, the meds and the ECT help to keep me stable. And when I have a mood episode, they help to keep it hopefully not as intense and not as long lasting. I come out of my mood episode and I'm stable again. Until the next episode happens then we manage it, I get through it, and I move on again. This is how it works. This is how it will always work because that's just how bipolar is. And again, I know this. I'm just having a hard time accepting it. I see both my therapist and my psychiatrist tomorrow and I'm going to bring this up with both of them. I think having it reinforced by them will be helpful.
I hope.
Monday, April 24, 2017
4/24/17
I decided I'm going to try and write at least once a week. This once a week will probably happen on Mondays as I'm always off on Monday. We'll see how it goes.
Today I'm feeling pretty hollow and empty, just this empty shell of who I should be. There's no substance to me. The only thing I can say I'm feeling for certain is anxiety. Why anxiety? Well, I see my psychiatrist in office on Wednesday and this is making me anxious. There's a lot to talk about with my recent depressive episode and the fact that I'm trying to space out my ECT sessions. And also that I plan on talking to him about putting me on metformin to help me lose weight (the weight I gained from being on all my psych meds). So I'm nervous. I'm anxious. Especially because my pdoc is pretty rigid in his plan of care. So yeah.
I worked yesterday and actually had a good day. I had good patients, it wasn't overly busy, I worked with good peeps . . . and my mood was pretty okay. It was nice. If only every day could be like that.
Wow. I'm really at a loss for words. It's weird, I was reading over posts on my old blog and I had no trouble writing. I was posting all the time. And a lot of it is really well written. But now, now I struggle to say anything. Everything seems so stupid and inconsequential. There's no point to it. Except historically writing has helped me. Which is why I'm trying to do it now. But I just can't seem to do it. Maybe that will change as the weeks go on. I don't know.
I think I'm done for today though.
Today I'm feeling pretty hollow and empty, just this empty shell of who I should be. There's no substance to me. The only thing I can say I'm feeling for certain is anxiety. Why anxiety? Well, I see my psychiatrist in office on Wednesday and this is making me anxious. There's a lot to talk about with my recent depressive episode and the fact that I'm trying to space out my ECT sessions. And also that I plan on talking to him about putting me on metformin to help me lose weight (the weight I gained from being on all my psych meds). So I'm nervous. I'm anxious. Especially because my pdoc is pretty rigid in his plan of care. So yeah.
I worked yesterday and actually had a good day. I had good patients, it wasn't overly busy, I worked with good peeps . . . and my mood was pretty okay. It was nice. If only every day could be like that.
Wow. I'm really at a loss for words. It's weird, I was reading over posts on my old blog and I had no trouble writing. I was posting all the time. And a lot of it is really well written. But now, now I struggle to say anything. Everything seems so stupid and inconsequential. There's no point to it. Except historically writing has helped me. Which is why I'm trying to do it now. But I just can't seem to do it. Maybe that will change as the weeks go on. I don't know.
I think I'm done for today though.
Saturday, April 1, 2017
I'm Depressed Y'all
Well. It's been almost a full 2 months since I've written anything. I've had things to say, I just haven't said them. I haven't been inspired to write. But today I want to focus on what's bothering me now. And that's depression.
I'm in a trough right now, a deep depression. I don't even really know where to start. So here goes:
It started about 3-3.5 weeks ago, before my last ECT treatment. I started having symptoms of depression. They started out mild and then got worse after ECT (aren't they supposed to get better after ECT? Yeah, I thought so . . .). I kept downplaying them, ignoring them, hiding them. I was alright, this was no big thing. But they were so damn persistent. The negative thoughts became all encompassing, they started to take over. Suicidal thoughts crept in, vying for attention, slowly taking over. I let my hubby know, I let a couple of friends know. Just as a safeguard. Nothing serious, but this is going on, thought you should know. I continued to downplay it. I'd make it through.
Then last Saturday (the 25th) I was at work. And I was really struggling. I was so depressed. I was so empty and lost and withdrawn. My mind was complete chaos - negative thoughts, suicidal thoughts all crashing around, making it hard to concentrate, making it hard to breathe. I tried to keep up the facade. I tried interacting with patients, coworkers. I tried joking around. I tried. And then I lost it. I started crying. I started sobbing really. A coworker saw me and came over to help. She asked what was wrong. "I don't know if you know this," I said. "But I'm bipolar and I'm in a depressive episode and I'm having suicidal thoughts and I want to cut and I don't know what to do." She hugged me and told me to hold on. She went and told the charge nurse who called our manager. The charge nurse came up to me and hugged me and got me to calm down and suggested that I go home for the rest of the day. Even at my worst I've never been sent home. This was a first for me.
My hubby stayed with me the rest of the day. He stayed with me all day Sunday. Monday, I worked again. I wanted to go, I wanted to try. I made it through the day but it was difficult and tiring. I spoke with my manager and let her know what was going on. Tuesday I was home and I didn't get much accomplished. Wednesday I had a mandatory meeting at work which was difficult to sit through. I kept thinking about cutting and dying.
On Thursday I had therapy and I told my therapist everything. All about my suicidal thoughts, my plan, cutting, being sent home, everything. And I narrowly avoided being sent to the hospital for an inpatient psychiatric stay. How did I avoid it you ask? I have an amazing relationship with my therapist and we trust each other. I called my hubby and the 3 of us came up with a safety plan. I also called my psychiatrist's office and sadly learned that he is out of the country until the 11th. So no help there. I see my therapist again on Monday.
Here's the thing: My therapist said it and I'm positive my psychiatrist would say it too. I'm in a bipolar trough. The purpose of my meds and the ECT is to keep me as stable as possible for as long as possible but this is part of the natural ebb and flow of bipolar disorder. I'm going to have ups and downs and hopefully the meds will keep those ups and downs more mild and shorter lasting.
And I get that. I do. But I still call bullshit. It's easy to sit back and say that when you're not the one going through it. But when you're sitting on the floor sobbing, wishing your life would end, you don't care if this is the natural rhythm of your disorder. You just want to feel better. And that's where I'm at. I just want to fucking feel better. I don't want to "ride this out". It's been 3 weeks already. It might be another 3 weeks. Or longer. People keep telling me I'm strong for pulling through this. I don't feel strong. I feel weak. I feel like giving up. I have to deal with this for the rest of my life. And I'm not sure I can do that.
I'm in a trough right now, a deep depression. I don't even really know where to start. So here goes:
It started about 3-3.5 weeks ago, before my last ECT treatment. I started having symptoms of depression. They started out mild and then got worse after ECT (aren't they supposed to get better after ECT? Yeah, I thought so . . .). I kept downplaying them, ignoring them, hiding them. I was alright, this was no big thing. But they were so damn persistent. The negative thoughts became all encompassing, they started to take over. Suicidal thoughts crept in, vying for attention, slowly taking over. I let my hubby know, I let a couple of friends know. Just as a safeguard. Nothing serious, but this is going on, thought you should know. I continued to downplay it. I'd make it through.
Then last Saturday (the 25th) I was at work. And I was really struggling. I was so depressed. I was so empty and lost and withdrawn. My mind was complete chaos - negative thoughts, suicidal thoughts all crashing around, making it hard to concentrate, making it hard to breathe. I tried to keep up the facade. I tried interacting with patients, coworkers. I tried joking around. I tried. And then I lost it. I started crying. I started sobbing really. A coworker saw me and came over to help. She asked what was wrong. "I don't know if you know this," I said. "But I'm bipolar and I'm in a depressive episode and I'm having suicidal thoughts and I want to cut and I don't know what to do." She hugged me and told me to hold on. She went and told the charge nurse who called our manager. The charge nurse came up to me and hugged me and got me to calm down and suggested that I go home for the rest of the day. Even at my worst I've never been sent home. This was a first for me.
My hubby stayed with me the rest of the day. He stayed with me all day Sunday. Monday, I worked again. I wanted to go, I wanted to try. I made it through the day but it was difficult and tiring. I spoke with my manager and let her know what was going on. Tuesday I was home and I didn't get much accomplished. Wednesday I had a mandatory meeting at work which was difficult to sit through. I kept thinking about cutting and dying.
On Thursday I had therapy and I told my therapist everything. All about my suicidal thoughts, my plan, cutting, being sent home, everything. And I narrowly avoided being sent to the hospital for an inpatient psychiatric stay. How did I avoid it you ask? I have an amazing relationship with my therapist and we trust each other. I called my hubby and the 3 of us came up with a safety plan. I also called my psychiatrist's office and sadly learned that he is out of the country until the 11th. So no help there. I see my therapist again on Monday.
Here's the thing: My therapist said it and I'm positive my psychiatrist would say it too. I'm in a bipolar trough. The purpose of my meds and the ECT is to keep me as stable as possible for as long as possible but this is part of the natural ebb and flow of bipolar disorder. I'm going to have ups and downs and hopefully the meds will keep those ups and downs more mild and shorter lasting.
And I get that. I do. But I still call bullshit. It's easy to sit back and say that when you're not the one going through it. But when you're sitting on the floor sobbing, wishing your life would end, you don't care if this is the natural rhythm of your disorder. You just want to feel better. And that's where I'm at. I just want to fucking feel better. I don't want to "ride this out". It's been 3 weeks already. It might be another 3 weeks. Or longer. People keep telling me I'm strong for pulling through this. I don't feel strong. I feel weak. I feel like giving up. I have to deal with this for the rest of my life. And I'm not sure I can do that.
Thursday, February 9, 2017
Explosions
I needed to write this because if I don't I seriously think I'm going to explode and that would just be messy and a pain in the ass to clean. I mean really.
Anyway, I'm going through a bit of a downswing but this is one of the few instances where I know why. Or at least I think I know why. Stress. Motherfucking stress. Well it's not all stress, but there's some damned motherfucking stress up in here. What kind of stress? I'm so glad you asked.
Moving.
That's right, hubby and I are moving. But this wasn't our choice, nooooo. Our landlord informed us that the owner of our house wanted to sell so we needed to move. Now, moving is stressful enough without having to scramble to find a place to live on a very narrow timeline. Good news is that we found a place (nicer than where we're at now) and our moving schedule fits within the timeline. Go us. But the stress and uncertainty has reeked havoc on my moods. I've found myself depressed, overwhelmed, anxious, withdrawn, angry, and wanting to hide away. I have no motivation. For anything. Even showering is a task I have to force myself to complete. I can honestly say that I'm fucking sick of it.
But this isn't the only thing, oh no. Right now I think I am at the lowest point in my life in regards to how I feel about myself. I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. My weight, how I look, my complexion, my hair, how I dress, how I do my makeup . . . the list goes on and on. I'm the heaviest right now that I've ever been. I know this is mostly thanks to my bipolar meds as all 3 of them cause weight gain, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm fat, my clothes don't fit right, and nothing I do seems to help. And that makes me feel like complete shit. And I beat myself up over everything which adds to the depression and makes me feel worse. I'm trying to eat healthy and work out but I have no fucking motivation. Seriously - some days I can barely get out of bed to take my son to school.
This is not helping me.
Anyway, I'm going through a bit of a downswing but this is one of the few instances where I know why. Or at least I think I know why. Stress. Motherfucking stress. Well it's not all stress, but there's some damned motherfucking stress up in here. What kind of stress? I'm so glad you asked.
Moving.
That's right, hubby and I are moving. But this wasn't our choice, nooooo. Our landlord informed us that the owner of our house wanted to sell so we needed to move. Now, moving is stressful enough without having to scramble to find a place to live on a very narrow timeline. Good news is that we found a place (nicer than where we're at now) and our moving schedule fits within the timeline. Go us. But the stress and uncertainty has reeked havoc on my moods. I've found myself depressed, overwhelmed, anxious, withdrawn, angry, and wanting to hide away. I have no motivation. For anything. Even showering is a task I have to force myself to complete. I can honestly say that I'm fucking sick of it.
But this isn't the only thing, oh no. Right now I think I am at the lowest point in my life in regards to how I feel about myself. I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. My weight, how I look, my complexion, my hair, how I dress, how I do my makeup . . . the list goes on and on. I'm the heaviest right now that I've ever been. I know this is mostly thanks to my bipolar meds as all 3 of them cause weight gain, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm fat, my clothes don't fit right, and nothing I do seems to help. And that makes me feel like complete shit. And I beat myself up over everything which adds to the depression and makes me feel worse. I'm trying to eat healthy and work out but I have no fucking motivation. Seriously - some days I can barely get out of bed to take my son to school.
This is not helping me.
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