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 I hate how withdrawn I am all the time and how difficult it is for me to connect with anyone.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.
Thursday, October 26, 2017
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.
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