12/27/18

Well, I survived Christmas. Isn't that nice? Sure it is. It's nice.

I survived, but I'm not doing great. No, sadly, I'm still empty and tired and drained and fake and close to tears more often than I'd like. It's really frustrating. I'm tired of it, so fucking tired of it, but I think this is truly my baseline. I think this is as good as it gets. I think I'm either this, or I'm worse. And seriously, that sucks.

I worked yesterday and it was ridiculously busy. We did 6 c-sections and 3 vaginal deliveries (normally we do 2 c-sections in a day). I was running around like crazy (for those of you who don't remember, I'm a nursery nurse at a busy birth center - so I attend all of the deliveries). It was physically tiring, yes, but more than that it was mentally exhausting. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere and not exist. It was like I couldn't cope. My facade of being okay started crumbling. I was struggling. I started binging on cookies and caramel popcorn (I'm an emotional eater and there was junk food everywhere). When I got home I had nothing left for my hubby or son. I was done. I wasn't very interactive. I went to bed.

And then I didn't sleep well because I was mulling over and over about how I wasn't very interactive with my family. Guilt. Beating myself up. Self hatred. All stuff I'm very good at. Too good at. So I lost quite a bit of sleep.

Today is a low day for me. Today I'm disgusted with myself. For my binging yesterday, for coming unraveled and not coping, for not giving my family the attention they deserve. I've been beating myself up today, contributing to my low feelings. Making them worse. I should be packing. We move in a week. And I did pack, a little. But I couldn't focus. I couldn't concentrate. My mind is a mess. So I packed 3 boxes and had to call it quits. Which makes me feel bad that I didn't do more. Making me feel worse. It's a downward spiral.

Maybe if the next 2-3 weeks were over. Maybe if we were moved and unpacked and settled and I was getting into a routine. Maybe then things would be okay. Maybe then I would feel better. Probably not, but maybe.    

Hang on, hang on
When all is shattered, when all your hope is gone
Who knows
How long
But there's a twilight, a nighttime, and a dawn
We break, we bend
With hand, in hand
When hope is gone
Just hang on, hang on
          -Guster

These lyrics are helping me get through. This song. Hang On . Because that's what I have to do . Hang on. I really have no other choice.

12/24/18

Wow. It's been awhile since I've written anything. Two weeks. And it's Christmas eve. Although it doesn't feel like Christmas at all. No, it just feels like any other day. Can't say I've gotten into the Christmas spirit this year. I pretty much blame my depression for that.

I had a therapy appointment last week. Ended up crying in therapy and then crying myself to sleep that night. Always so much fun.

I've been about the same as I was in my last blog post. Hovering just below the surface, unable to really feel much of anything except negative emotions here and there. There is a change though, I have been able to feel some positive emotions. They're not strong, and they're not long lived, but they have been there. I'm so thankful for that. Because I'm truly drowning here.

Now today, today I have been weird. I keep fluctuating between being mostly okay to being an anxious ball of worry. Why? Well, for one, it's Christmas eve which means church. I'm going to throw out there that I hate church. I feel like such an outcast there. I get nothing from the sermons. And all of the sit-stand-kneel, sit-stand-kneel is annoying as hell. My hubby goes every Sunday (he's Catholic, I'm . . . nothing) and he takes our son. I'm kind of the black sheep I guess. But I go with him Christmas eve if I'm not working. And I don't like it. And there's so many people and I don't do well with crowds. But I go. I just most certainly don't look forward to it. Quite the opposite - I dread it.

Here's the other thing. Hubby is in a men's group at the church and one of the guys invited us over to dinner tonight. And we're going. Why is this a problem? I won't know anyone there. For an introvert this is a nightmare. The longer I deal with this depression the more introverted I become - even around people I know. I'm quiet, I fade into the background. And let's be honest - I think I've forgotten how to have fun. I don't know what to talk about. I don't remember hardly any good stories about my work and the other main topic of my life is my bipolar disorder (which I don't really want to talk about with strangers). I don't know how to make conversations. I don't know how to engage people. I've bought 3 books on the subject but haven't even made it through one yet.

So I'm anxious. Anxious about church, anxious about this dinner party. And I feel overall down. I wish I didn't have to deal with this. With the anxiety, the depression, the bipolar, with myself.

I hope to god there will be alcohol there tonight. 

12/10/18

This post may not make much sense. I don't know. I just got home from seeing my psychiatrist and I have a whopping headache, right above my left eye. I can't concentrate.

Let's talk about my appointment with my psychiatrist Dr. M. I like Dr. M. I trust him. I think he does a  good job. But sometimes I don't think he really hears me. Like today. He told me that he thinks I'm doing better than I have been in a long time. That I'm not having extreme ups and downs. I still may be cycling, but I'm stable. I'm stable.

Which, you know what, that's true I guess. I'm not having extreme ups and downs. I'm manageable right now. But I am still cycling, mostly with depression. I'm swimming just below the surface, trying desperately to break through to gasp for air. But it's not happening. The surface is frozen solid and I'm trapped below, slowly losing my steam.

To most people I seem fine. I seem normal. Maybe even like my old self, albeit a little quiet. This is because I'm pretending. I'm putting up a facade that everything is okay. People expect it to be. So they look past the quietness, they look past the blank stares and the vacant look in my eyes. My hubby can tell, as can my close friends. But most people can't.

Most days I'm empty and emotionless. Numb. A husk of who I should be. I have a flat affect and I have to pretend to have feelings to fit in. I even pretend around my hubby because I don't want him to have to deal with me like that day in and day out. Sometimes, I'll even have real feelings. Sadly though, they're not good ones. They're hopelessness, despair, dread, sadness, guilt, and shame. All the feelings of "real" depression.

I explained this to Dr. M and he kind of dismissed it. He said that yes, I'm cycling, but to hang in there and it would get better. Hang in there and it will get better?? I've been in this current down cycle for 4 freaking months! When? When is it going to get better? Of course he can't answer that question. I asked about uppers and he said no. He was worried that 1. they could make me manic, and 2. they could make my depression worse.

Great.

Flailing desperately below the surface appears to be as good as it gets for me.

It'a a damn good thing I'm stubborn.  

12/7/18

Well hello there. There's not much new going on here. Our offer was accepted on the house and we're officially under contract. The inspection was yesterday and while it wasn't bad, it also wasn't great (and that's got me worried - what if we lose the house over it??). But we'll just have to see how it goes, right?

Mood wise . . . well . . . I'm not sure I really know. I've still been empty and hollow and flat and a husk. Any feelings I do have are muted. Stunted. I'm still pretending, pretending that I'm okay, that everything is alright. I'm putting on that mask, that facade for everyone. I think people are none the wiser. I don't think they suspect that I'm not doing well. I even put on the facade during therapy this week. I don't know why really. Maybe it was just habit. Maybe I wasn't in the mood to talk about my emotions. Maybe it was too hard. Maybe it was all of the above.

Today has been a rough day. I've managed to clean a little, do some laundry, and do a painting. All while fighting back tears. Let's be honest though, it's not terribly hard to fight back the tears. Why? Because there's no emotion behind them. I'm an empty husk, remember? But they're there none the less, threatening to come. And it's frustrating, really. Like, maybe if I could just cry I'd feel better.

At least I'm managing. I mean, I'm able to work. I kind of keep up the house. I've been painting - I took 2 custom orders. So I've been managing. Which means I don't have to be hospitalized. It's been almost a year since my last hospitalization - I don't want to go back.

I'm still having suicidal thoughts. Every. Single. Day. Even though I have good things going for me. Even though I'm managing. I'm still having those thoughts. I hate them. I wish they would go away. But I don't see that happening any time soon. Maybe the one doctor I fired was right - I'm going to be depressed and suicidal for the rest of my life and I need to learn how to deal with it. Now if that's not a depressing thought I don't know what is.

So anyway, there's where I'm at. Yep. 

11/30/18

I can't believe tomorrow is December. It's come up so fast. Christmas and then New Year's . . . man. I'm hoping 2019 will see us as home owners again. There's a good chance it will. Even so, I'm trying not to get my hopes up. We'll just have to see where the cards fall.

Yesterday and today have been especially dark. And it's weird because I wouldn't necessarily call myself "depressed". I don't really have the stereotypical symptoms of depression. So what am I feeling?

A whole lot of  nothing. I feel so empty. Numb. Flat. I constantly feel on the verge of crying but I can't because there's no emotion behind it. I'm indifferent to everything. I don't care. I hate feeling like this. It's just as bad, if not worse, than feeling depressed. I'm just this husk, this shell of a person. It's no way to be.

I've been pretending that I'm okay, that I'm doing better, because I think people are tired of me not doing well. My illness is hard on other people too - especially hubby and son. So I've been pretending and I think I've gotten pretty good at it again. My coworkers seem to think that I'm doing good. But if they just saw the vacant stare . . . or picked up on how quiet I am . . .

I have therapy next Wednesday. It's been 3 weeks and I'm looking forward to a session. I need one. Three weeks is the longest I've gone in awhile. But I've been managing. Pretending. Going about my life like I'm an actual, feeling adult.

I want this to stop. I want to actually feel. Even if it's bad feelings. At least that's something.

11/29/18

It's been awhile since I've written . . . 13 days or so. I have things I want to say and I can't seem to get them out. I can't seem to form a coherent thought. Which is so frustrating it's not even funny. So this is just a quick note to say that I'm still here, and I'm still struggling. I haven't been necessarily feeling outright depressed, but more empty. Empty is not fun. It's no place to be. I don't feel anything.

That's not entirely true. I feel anger and anxiety. Those two emotions are ever present.

I've gotten better again at faking happiness, so that people are none the wiser as to what's really going on. But it's hard not to feel. I don't like it. 

11/16/18

How many times I wished for change,
Gave up, gave in and called it fate,
Repeating all of the same mistakes,
Wasn't ready for what I'd find.
Whatever it is that turned the knife,
It was a long, long night . . .
      -Guster, Long Night


This rings so true for me. In several aspects of my life, but most notably dealing with my bipolar disorder and my weight. In both these areas I wished for change countless times. I've given up, given in, only to start fighting again which leads to giving up again. I have repeated the same mistakes, over and over again, despite therapy, despite knowing what to do (just eat healthy and exercise, seriously wtf), and despite having support at every turn. I don't think I've been ready for what I'd find (stability and possible weight loss) for God knows what reason. I don't know.

Although that's not an entirely true statement. Weight loss doesn't scare me. Failing to lose weight is what scares me. What if I give it my all and I still don't lose? What then? I'm a big, fat failure. And that scares me into doing nothing and sabotaging myself. I've been picking up on my sabotaging, my binge eating (although my binges are small, they certainly add up). My lack of energy, enthusiasm, and motivation to do anything exercise related. Couple all of this with being on 3 medications that cause weight gain and you have a recipe for disaster.

I don't know what it was that turned the knife but I'm finally so sick of how I look and how I feel that I'm finally doing something about it. Finally. After 3 years of constant weight gain (75 pounds to be exact) I'm finally ready to do something about it.

I bet you thought this post was going to be about my bipolar, my depression, right? Sorry, not today love. I need to write about my weight. I need to get it out there. I need to be accountable and I feel getting it "down on paper" will help with that.

So what am I going to do differently?  Well, for starters, I'm going to drastically cut down on refined sugar. My therapist suggested that I try the paleo diet but after researching it I know I can't be that drastic with my dietary changes. I'll fail. So I'm cutting down on sugar. I'm giving up soda - including diet soda, which was always my go to at work. I'm increasing the amount of fruits and veggies I eat, which shouldn't be too hard considering I already eat a lot as it is. I'm going to focus on eating whole foods rather than prepackaged processed foods, even though they are more convenient. Which means more nuts and seeds for snacks. I'm not giving up dairy because I love cheese so much, but I will be cutting down on it.

For movement I am going to try and go to the gym at least 3 days a week. Now that I'm over my blasted cold I plan on doing at least 20 minutes of cardio in addition to weight lifting. Cardio will have to start out slow for me as I am dreadfully out of shape. I ordered these workout DVDs that are 15 minute HIIT workouts that I intend to start doing 3 mornings a week. I would also like to start riding my spin bike again. All of this will start off slowly and build over time because 1. it sounds like a hell of a lot and 2. I'm so damn out of shape it's ridiculous. But that's the plan.

I'm not hoping to lose weight quickly. You know what? Fuck it. That's a lie. I would love to lose weight quickly but I know it's not going to happen that way. So slow weight loss it is. Slow and steady wins the race, right? So that's what we're hoping for.

What we're also hoping for is for my bipolar to cooperate. Because when I get really depressed it's like I can't work out. I can't even get out of bed sometimes, how am I going to get to the gym? And when I'm depressed? I eat. I try not to, but I eat. I eat to fill the void. Not a good setup for weight loss.

But this is where I'm at. Something turned the knife and I'm going to do this despite my depression and despite myself. I'm going to finally lose weight. Period.

11/6/18

Would you look at that! I blogged yesterday and I'm blogging again today. It's not very often that that happens. I usually have at least a couple of days in between.

Anyway, hubby asked me something last night that I really didn't know how to answer. I actually, kind of, well, lied. Only kind of though. I didn't totally lie, I guess. Of course, kind of lying is probably the same as regular lying when you really think about it.

So. Yeah. Hubby asked me if I had any optimism towards the future. And I answered him yes, not all the time but sometimes. The truth? The truth is that I really don't have any optimism towards the future. Well, maybe there are rare instances where I do. That's why my answer was only kind of a lie.

Him asking me that got me thinking though. How do I really feel about the future. I thought about it all night. I've been thinking about it today. And my view of the future is just so damn negative. It's hard for me to see any good in the future. And the sad thing is that I have an amazing husband, a wonderful son, and awesome friends, all of whom love me and care deeply about me. But all I see is chaos, depression, and uncertainty in my future.

See, I get to worry about all of the "normal" things (work, bills, retirement, the house, etc), but my bipolar disorder blows everything out of proportion and I overthink it to the extreme. Then I have to worry about my bipolar disorder itself (will my meds keep working, am I going to get worse, how will my memory be, will I eventually kill myself). This is all very depressing and exhausting and one of the reasons I try not to even think about the future. I try to stay in the present moment, in the here and now. It helps me get through my worst days and it helps keep good days good.

But seriously though. How horrible is this to have such a dreary outlook on the future? And I try not to! I really do! I try so hard to counter my negative thoughts with positive ones (in every aspect of my life), but it just doesn't seem to stick. My positive thoughts aren't strong enough to overpower the negative. I think that's just how I'm built. I think negativity is ingrained in my personality, which makes everything so much harder.

So. There you go. My "kind of" lie. 

11/5/18

I'm not sure, but maybe, just maybe, this current bout of depression is winding down. I'm hoping this is the case. I'm praying this is the case. Because that would be so amazing. So amazing to feel like myself again. So amazing to not be suicidal all the time. So amazing to have energy and some motivation. So amazing to not feel like crap.

But wait - is it all that amazing?

Surprisingly, the answer is yes and no. No? But . . . that doesn't make sense. How would feeling better not be good? Seriously.

Well, that's not an easy question to answer. And, honestly, I'm not sure the answer is going to make sense.

Let's start with this: I've been ruled by depression and mania (to a much lesser extent) for over 9 years. For over 9 years my life has been complete and total chaos. Severe emotional turmoil is what I know. So being stable, ie not being depressed, is something foreign to me. I don't know how to act. I don't know what to say or do. I don't know who the real me is. This is scary. And there is a sense of loss - loss of the familiar.

Next, there's the attention. I get more attention when I'm in an episode. Which, let's face it, feels good. Especially since when I'm not in an episode I seem to just fade into the background. I'm more or less just there. So having more people check up on me, ask how I'm doing, offer help, and pay attention to me feels nice and I miss that when I'm stable.

If we want to get technical and scientific, we can look at my upbringing. I grew up in an alcoholic home. Life was chaotic and unpredictable. I was always striving to be perfect, always looking for reassurance and praise from wherever I could get it. What does this translate to? I'm intimately familiar with chaos and therefor may subconsciously seek it out - even if I don't want it. Being "normal" is not something I know, and am therefor uncomfortable with it. It's almost as if I want to be depressed or manic, even if I really don't. And seeking out praise and reassurance? That equates to the attention I'm getting from people while in an episode.

Let's look at some recent history. I was depressed from last February through June. I started feeling better the end of June, into July. While I was grateful I was finally feeling better, there was that sense of confusion and loss. I didn't know how to act or what to do with myself. I was just starting to get the hang of it in September when depression starting setting in again. And you know what? There was almost this feeling of relief when I felt those first pangs of darkness. Because I know depression. I know who I am when I'm depressed. And I get to have attention again.

Now lets get real here - how fucked up is that?? Seriously now! How freaking fucked up is all of that? I'm writing this and I just don't get it. Not to mention that I'm ashamed of it. Because it is fucked up. I can't beat myself up over this though, that won't do any good. I need to examine it, accept it, and move on. That's going to be my goal.

Wish me luck.

10/30/18

Look at that. It's the day before Halloween. My favorite holiday. Normally I would be excited - getting my costume ready, putting up the last minute decorations for the trick-or-treaters . . . But this year I don't care. Why?

Depression.

I've been depressed again for the past month and it keeps getting worse. It keeps getting deeper and darker and more all encompassing. I feel like Hell warmed over. Honestly, probably not even that good.

I'm really struggling right now. I keep telling myself that I'm not as depressed as I think I am, as I feel I am. Really, I'm not that depressed. But then I'm driving home from work (early, because I couldn't handle being there), and I think the logical thing to do is to go home and take a boatload of pills so I can just end it all. And I'm so indifferent to this thought that it makes me realize that I am as depressed as I think I am. I mean, thinking about killing myself garnered the same emotional response as thinking about taking a crap! How fucked up is that??

Here's the thing: fighting depression is exhausting. It is straight up, fucking exhausting. And I have to fight it every day. Every. Single. Day. Cognitively I know I'll get through it. I always have in the past. I make it through. It's just that I never know how long a particular bout of depression will last. Will it be 3 weeks or 3 months? Who knows. And that's the hard part - even though I know I'll get through it, it doesn't feel like I will. It feels like it will last forever, no end in sight. And that just adds to the exhaustion. And then when it finally does pass, I know, in the back of my head, that it will be back, it's just a matter of time.

That's a problem for me. Knowing that I'll be battling my depression for the rest of my life. It gives me such a bleak outlook. And it makes me tired. So tired. I don't know how much longer I can keep up the fight. It would be so much easier to give in . . . give up . . .

I think about this all the time. Because I am so tired. I've told people before that one of the things that keeps me going is knowing that I can still end it at any point. Which is very morbid, I know, but it's the truth.

Luckily I have my hubby and my son who stand behind me and keep me going. If not for them . . . well . . .  I'm sure you get the idea. I'm very thankful for them.

Now if I can just make it through this current bout of depression . . .

10/17/18

There's something that worries me that I've been thinking more and more about. Something that keeps me awake at night. Something that my mind keeps creeping back to over and over. Something that, no matter how hard I try, I keep ruminating over.

I'm wondering what's going to happen with me in the future. And I'm not talking about in the next year or two - no. I'm talking 10 or more years from now. I'm thinking about where will we be living, will I still be working, where will I be working, will A still be living at home . . . I think about do J and I have enough for retirement, are we still going to be renting, or will we own a house at that point?

All valid points to think/worry about. But then I also worry about how much worse my bipolar is going to be. And if I'm actually going to make it another 10 years dealing with this illness. I look at how I am now, and how I feel like I'm failing. I look at my memory issues I have now and how those are getting progressively worse. I look at how I struggle. I look at how frequently I have suicidal thoughts and I worry. I worry that I'm not going to make it. I worry because one of the things that keeps me going is knowing that I could end it at any point . . .

What a horrible thought.

But it's true.

I worry about losing my job. We can't afford not to have my income and it's through my job that we have health insurance. Without health insurance we can't afford my medications let alone my ECT treatments. What would I do then? Not to mention that my job gives me a sense of self and a sense of purpose.

I'm not even sure how to write about all of this. About how much I worry. I don't think I can adequately get it out. It's jumbled up inside my head, whirling and twirling and jostling for attention, taking up so much space and energy and driving me batty.

I've been sitting here staring at the screen for about 10 minutes, trying to think of something else to write, something else to say. But I can't think of anything. My mind is a mess right now. Hell, my mind is a mess most of the time. Today though, it's particularly bad. Oh well. I guess this will do for now. 

10/15/18

Well, here I am, a week post-ECT, and I seem to have leveled out. Right back into my depression that I was in before I had ECT. I had my post-ECT high for about 2 days and then the irritability and depression came back, stronger than ever.

I'm sitting here in bed, in the middle of the day (it's 1:45pm right now), wondering how and why it got so bad and wondering what to do with myself. I have stuff I want to write about, truly, but I can't seem to get the thoughts out of my head. I feel sluggish and cloudy.

I'm leaving on Friday for Texas to go to my sister's house. Her baby shower is this weekend. I'm driving down there with my stepmom. I want to be there for my sister but I'm not looking forward to this trip. I just think it's going to be really hard because of my current state. Driving down with M I'm not worried about, it's really the actual baby shower. A big 'ol party full of people I don't know all talking and laughing and having a good time while I feel like death warmed over . . . I'm not looking forward to it. Hopefully there will be alcohol. Funny - I don't drink except for instances like this. Which thankfully don't happen often.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll be fine, and I get to see my sister and my stepmom, whom I both love dearly.

I really can't think straight. My mind is a jumbled mess. I can't hold on to a single thought for more than a few seconds before it's replaced with something else. I can't write right now. I just can't do it. Maybe I'll try again later.

10/11/18

I was supposed to work today but I was put on call this morning. Or, more accurately, I was put on delayed start. Which I was fine with, honestly, I've been exhausted all week. I took Ayden to school, drank my coffee, and started his sheets in the wash. Then?

Nap time.

I slept for a good hour and a half and woke up groggy. And still extremely irritable. I've been irritable all day. I literally woke up like that. And to make matters worse, my mom wanted to talk. Usually if I could catch her before 4 or 5 I was alright. But now . . . now I need to catch her before 11. Why?

My mom is an alcoholic.

So of course at 12:30 she's been drinking. And not just starting off, either. No, she's at the slurring her words, repeating herself several times level.  And do you know what that does? It intensifies my anger. I tried to stay calm and collected, just listened as she rambled, but underneath I was fuming.  Thankfully, my coworker called me to release me from call so I was able to use that as an excuse to get off the phone with my mom.

Seriously, thank the baby DeJesus because I can't stand that woman when she's been drinking.

So anyway, I had ECT on Monday, and Jer said on Tuesday I seemed to be in my post-ECT high. He says that always happens after I get ECT. Then I level out. I seem to be leveling out now. I feel flat and I have my ridiculous irritability. Which is super annoying.

I had therapy yesterday and my therapist agrees with Jer's assessment. So we'll just have to wait and see what my mood does over the next few days. Did ECT help? Or was it a quick band aid? I have a feeling that it was a quick band aid. I think it helps keep the mania at bay, I think it lessens the depth of my depressions, but if I'm in one, it has yet to make it go away.

I decided to try 6 weeks between ECT appointments again, see how I do. I don't think this current depression was brought on by going 6 weeks - I think the timing is coincidental. But we'll see. Dr. M wasn't too pleased with my choice but he's not the one getting zapped. If I could get treatment out to every 8 weeks, that would be phenomenal. *Fingers crossed* 

10/5/18

It's 10:52am. I'm sitting on my couch staring at the screen trying to come up with something to write. See, If I write what I'm feeling, this post will be pretty damn negative. But I can't come up with anything positive to write. I'm kind of stuck.

I've been pretty crappy since my last post. I've worked twice and had to convince everyone that I was fine. I've been overwhelmed, I've cried . . . the usual depression stuff. I can officially say that I'm depressed. There's no more pussy footing around it. I'm depressed. I'm so depressed that I don't really have an appetite so I haven't really been eating much. Which has caused me to lose 3 pounds in the last week.

Yay! Weight loss!

I'd much rather not be depressed.

I've had the support of my husband, my friends, and my coworkers. They've all been great. It's just that I can't seem to pull myself out of this slump. I'm trying to stay positive and not catastrophize and counter all of my negative thoughts . . . but it's not helping. I'm still depressed. I still want to curl up in a ball and not exist. I think about killing myself every day - these are the hardest thoughts to counter. They're so strong and so insistent. And I don't know what else to do. I guess just plow through, head down and stubborn. It's all I can do.






I hate this so much.

10/1/18

It's kind of hard to believe it's October already. It's starting to feel like fall here in Colorado - brisk temperatures, the leaves are changing, pumpkin spice lattes can be found everywhere . . . It's my favorite time of year.

What's also hard to believe is that I kind of want to die. I know I don't really want to - it's just my brain lying to me - but I'm experiencing those familiar feelings of hopelessness and despair. Feeling that everything is pointless.  Feeling hollow and empty. So empty I hurt. So empty that I can't even cry, though my body tries desperately to do so. So empty that I want to cut again just so I can feel something.

I'm not in a good place and I think it's becoming more evident. I don't know about home, but at work people have noticed me withdrawing more. People have noticed that I've become more quiet. People are asking about it. And a couple people - people I've confided in - know how bad I am.

I don't want to be this bad again. I was feeling so good for almost 3 full months. I was finally getting used to being okay.

And now I'm not again.

.
.
.

Anyway, I'm starting a 90 day challenge. Have you heard of Rachel Hollis? She's the author of the book Girl, Wash Your Face, and an amazing speaker/motivator. She's putting on a 90 day challenge to help women reach their goals - or at least make progress towards them - before the new year. So I joined. My main goal being to lose weight but I plan on using her advice and motivation to help me with my mood wherever I can.

Hopefully this will help.

9/25/18

It's my birthday today. Can you sense the excitement? Don't worry if you can't - it's not there. And it's not because "oh no I'm a year older"! Honestly that doesn't phase me at all. No, it's because I'm still feeling depressed.

You know, depressed isn't really the right word. When I think of me being depressed, I think of sobbing and wanting to die and cutting myself and utter, bleak hopelessness. I'm not there yet. I'm, I don't know, more mild depression I guess. I feel down and flat and withdrawn and lost and yes, a little hopeless. I don't feel sad. I feel anhedonic. I really feel flat. I'm just kind of emotionless except for anger and annoyance.

I feel tired. Exhausted really. Keeping my mental health in check is hard work. Not to mention that I only average around 5 hours of sleep a night (thank you brain and bladder). The exhaustion isn't just physical though - it's mostly mental and emotional, which sleep doesn't fix (although you best believe I try to fix it with sleep - I nap all the fucking time).

So today is my 9th day of feeling like crap again. After almost 3 months of being stable. Which leads me to believe that I'm heading into another episode. I'm trying not to believe that. Hubby is trying to get me not to believe that. My coworkers and friends are trying to get me not to believe that. But secretly? I believe that.

I'm trying to stay positive and counter and crush all of my negative thoughts. I'm trying to remind myself that I was stable and happy before, I can be that way again. I'm trying to stay busy and do things that I usually enjoy doing. I'm reading my positive affirmations. And you know what?

It's not working.

I'm just sort of . . . stuck. I don't know what to do other than ride this out and hope it doesn't last or get worse. What more can I do?

Anyway, happy birthday to me.

9/17/18

I'm not feeling good today. Not physically, but mentally/emotionally not good. Which is especially annoying because I've been stable for almost 3 months now.

I think I know partially what's going on. See, I'm really feeling like a failure right now. In pretty much every aspect of my life. Home, work, personal . . . you name it, I feel like a failure.

Let's start with home life. Since I only work two days a week, I feel that it's my responsibility to keep up the house. You know, clean, do laundry, make dinners, all that fun stuff. Well, I don't. Not like I should, anyway. I cook on the nights that I don't work, and I keep up with laundry pretty good . . . but the rest of the cleaning . . . not so much. I feel it should be done once a week and I'm more of a once every 2 or 3 weeks kinda gal. And recently this has been making me feel bad but I still can't seem to get off my ass and do it.

Fail.

Along with home life comes sex. We'll just lump it right in there, why not. Let me tell you a little something about being on high doses of antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and antidepressants: they take away your sex drive. Not only that, for the most part they've taken away my ability to have an orgasm. So, not only do I not want to have sex, I can't enjoy it when I actually do. I mean seriously, wtf. So this makes me feel awful for my hubby, who is still very much interested in love making. The solution? Let's be honest - there's not a good one. I give him blow jobs. It gets the job done but it's just not the same.

Fail.

Let's look at work. I have a good job. I'm an RN at a busy birth center. I help bring new life into this world. I actually really love my job. So what's the problem, you ask? I have my bachelors degree in nursing. I've thought about getting my masters and becoming a nurse practitioner. Either in neonatal or psychiatry. My problem is that since I've been doing ECT I can't retain any new information. I read something, and the minute I close the book it's gone. I don't remember it. There's also the added pressure and stress that would come with going to school and then with the new position that could potentially trigger an episode. As if that wasn't enough, right now we have several nurses on my unit getting their masters, one of them being one of my very close friends. This, honestly, makes me feel like crap. It makes me feel like such a failure because I can't do it too.

Not only that, I'm only working part time. I work two 12 hour shifts a week instead of three. I had to go part time almost 4 years ago because of my bipolar disorder, which had a huge impact on us financially. So much so that we lost our house. Our house we had built from the ground up and loved. We lost it because of me. And now, since I'm still only working part time, we probably won't be able to afford to buy another house. I feel like I should be doing more. I'm stable now, I should go back to full time. Everyone tells me no, don't do it, but I should be contributing more.

Fail.

How about my personal life. I lost several friendships due to my illness, and while I'm mostly over that, sometimes it still hurts. But let's talk about the present. I have my hubby and 2 good friends. That's it. I have my coworkers, but I don't hang out with them. I feel awkward and weird around them. I've been trying so hard lately to start conversations with them, join in conversations with them, to show interest, to be involved but I feel as though I don't fit in. I feel like an outsider. I feel as though I'm held at arms length. I also feel like my hubby doesn't have friends because of me. I mean, we lost all of our mutual friends thanks to me. But, I always wonder if he doesn't do things with former friends or make new friends because he's worried about me. That sounds very egotistical, I know, but I know he worries about me. So maybe he doesn't go play disc golf because he worries about me being alone.

Fail.

One last thing to wrap this up: my weight. Thanks to my meds I've gained around 80 pounds in the past 2-3 years. I feel so horrible and self conscious because of this. I feel disgusting and unattractive and tired and gross. I've been trying to lose weight and it doesn't come off. How does that make me feel? You guessed it - like a failure. I'm now seeing a dietitian and trying a new approach but I'm less than optimistic.

Fail.

All of this has been swimming around inside me for awhile now but really just came to a head today. I don't know why. But I hate it and I hate the way it's making me feel. I've been tearing up all day, feeling like I need to cry but I just can't. Maybe my hubby can talk some sense into me. One can hope. 

8/24/18

It's been almost a month since my last post. I find that it's harder for me to write when I'm feeling good.  And that's how I've been feeling - good. I'm stable, I'm even happy. It's weird to be feeling this way and it seems to be a little weird for the people around me (hubby mentioned he's not quite sure how to act with me being "normal"). I've had coworkers and friends tell me that I'm acting like my old self, which honestly, is nice to hear.

So what am I writing about today? I'm happy and doing well, so what, really, am I writing about?

Well, let's just say that being stable and well isn't all it's cracked up to be. To put it bluntly, I don't know what to do with myself. I really don't. I have more time during the day to do things since I'm not crippled with depression and I don't know what to do. It also doesn't help since I seem to have developed the habit of procrastination. I procrastinate and procrastinate, putting things off until I have no time to do them and then I have to come up with excuses as to why I didn't get shit done. This only happens when I'm at home mind you, I don't do this at work.

Let's take today for example. Rather than get up and workout, which is what I had planned to do, I laid around in bed. Uh oh! It's time to take my son to school, guess I can't workout. When I got home from taking Ayden to school, I had coffee and perused Instagram for a little bit. Only "a little bit" turned into an hour and an hour turned into an hour and a half. No! I need to clean the bathrooms! And do the dishes! And work on a drawing!

So what did I do?

I went upstairs and laid down for "a few minutes" (like half an hour). The only reason I woke up is because my hubby texted me. Okay. I gotta clean. But I don't want to and I'm coming up with every excuse as to why I can't do it today. I had this overwhelming feeling of NOT wanting to get it done. But I cleaned. And I congratulated myself on getting it done (even though I did a shitty job). And then I showered instead of cleaning the second bathroom. I made excuses. And hey - it was already 11:30 and I hadn't even showered yet!

But I didn't want to shower. And I didn't want to shave or wash my hair or put on makeup or do any of those things at all. I wanted to go and lay back down and take yet another nap.

Why the fuck is it I just want to sleep?? Instead of drawing or painting or reading or working out or  watching TV. All I want to do is sleep. Every day I'm off I take a nap and I will purposefully NOT do something so that I can sleep. This to me doesn't seem normal. This seems like depression behavior but I'm not depressed. I don't like it. I want to do the things I used to love like painting and reading. I want to be able to clean the house without constantly coming up with excuses not to do it.  I want to be able to actually work out and not just say I'm going to. Tomorrow.

Seriously! I don't know what my problem is! What's wrong with me? Why can't I just get shit done like normal people do?? I guess I'll be exploring this with my hubby and therapist instead of hiding it and making excuses.

7/27/18

It's raining again here in Colorado. It has been for the past several days, off and on. Which is nice. Cools it off. Which is, well, nice when you don't have air conditioning. It's coming down pretty good. Actually, it's safe to say that it's pouring. I'm sitting in bed sipping on homemade cold brew, which is delicious.

Today has been more of a depressive day. I woke up feeling this way for no apparent reason other than my brain is being an asshole. Which my brain is an asshole, most of the time. Okay, maybe not most of the time, but much of the time.

I've been having days here and there where I wake up depressed for no reason. One of the joys of bipolar disorder. But I wake up feeling depressed and some days it sticks around and some days it gets better throughout the day. Today it's sticking around. It's not a bad depression, but enough to be annoying. Enough to be noticed.

I leave for vacation next Wednesday, less than a week away, and I'm nervous about it, which is stupid. I'm worried that I'll forget something, or that I'll get depressed, that I won't have a good time and that I'll be a burden on my hubby and son. I'm worried about all the people and being overwhelmed. I'm worried about seeing family and what they'll think of me. It's stupid really, all this worry. And worrying just makes it worse. You know, a self fulfilling prophecy. I talked it all over with my therapist this week, which helped, but the worry is still there. And who knows - maybe completely up-heaving my routine and comfort level will be good for me. Maybe I need it. Maybe I need some unpredictability in my life. Hell, we haven't been on vacation for 3 years.

I have ECT on Monday (the 30th) so I'm hoping that this will keep the depression at bay whilst on vacation. One can hope, right?

I saw my dietitian again this week. We're working on how I eat and my thoughts surrounding food. Which is harder than it sounds. But I have 3 weeks to work on it before our next appointment. And the book Intuitive Eating that I'm reading. Hopefully I'll get there and my body will naturally start to lose weight. I've also been instructed to move more. Not necessarily traditional exercise, but to just move my body more. Alrighty. You got it.

So anyway, that's what's going on. It may be awhile until I write again as I don't know if I will again before vacation and I'm sure I won't while on vacation. 

7/19/18

It's been a whopping 7 days since I last posted. And honestly, there's not really been anything really exciting going on. I have some depressive symptoms encroaching but they aren't too bad, just annoying. Some anger and irritability, especially while driving . . . But overall things have been pretty boring.

Probably the most exciting thing is that I saw a dietitian. She's a more holistic/spiritual/whole body/doesn't-believe-in-diets type of dietitian. I really liked her. The first appointment was 90 minutes long and was a ton of me answering questions and talking about my issues and eating habits and stresses, etc. I'm hopeful that she can help me. She's basically a food psychologist. A therapist for your eating habits. If that makes sense.

Damn, you know what? I got nothing else right now. I'm not in the mood to write. So yeah, I'm going to call it done for today.

7/12/18

Well hello there all you fine people! (I'm talking to the one of you who may have accidentally stumbled upon this blog cause I know no one other than my hubby really read it . . .)

Anyway, I'm trying to keep up with writing every few days so here goes.

I had therapy today and it was kind of a weird session. Why weird? Because it was pretty much all positive. I'm actually in a pretty decent mood, a pretty good mood. So therapy was upbeat, you know, talk about the good things. I'm not used to that because so often I'm depressed. It was a breath of fresh air, it was nice.

My mood has been overall better since I had ECT on the 2nd. I've been more even, more upbeat, more quick to show genuine emotion. I still have periods where I feel flat or down, I'm still having suicidal thoughts, but overall I'm better than what I was. And for that I'm thankful. I'm hoping that this lasts. I have ECT again on the 30th, so right before I go on vacation - which will hopefully prove good.

In other news, I booked an appointment with a dietitian. I need some serious help to lose weight and both my primary doc and my pdoc have suggested I see one. So I decided to finally bite the bullet and make an appointment (to one my therapist recommended). The first appointment is 90 min long. We'll see how it goes.

Well guys, that's about all I got for right now. I'm calling it done for the day.

7/9/18

Do you know what's funny? I have therapy this Thursday (the 12th) and I'm not sure what I'm going to talk about. The last time I saw M I was still very much depressed. Then I had ECT last week and started feeling better. I even got a little hypomanic one day. Now I'm just flat. Though I'm trying not to be.

I had a few good days but now I'm back to being flat. I think I'm quicker to laugh than I was before, and I think I'm feeling more genuine emotion than I was before (although it's difficult for me to do so), but I'm still overall flat. I'm trying to get excited about things, like my communication books and CBT book I ordered.

You know what though? What's frustrating to no end? I'm still having suicidal thoughts. They're really bad today. Like, nearly constant today. I'm so sick of them. I'm so sick of picturing my death in detail. I'm so sick of picturing the aftermath, cause I do think about that too. It's really fucking annoying. I try countering the thoughts, I try thinking about something else and my mind always comes back to suicide. I'm not suicidal though - there's no intent right now. I'm not going to do anything. My mind is just an asshole and hates me.

I'm struggling with getting up in the mornings. Mainly the mornings I have off. I don't want to get up. I have no desire, no motivation. I'm slow moving. I don't get anything done. I just can't. I hate it. I know part of the problem is that I feel that things are pointless. So why get up? Nothing has any meaning or point to it . . .

Anyway, aside from the suicidal thoughts I think overall I'm better than I was before I had ECT last Monday. Something to be thankful for. And I am. I just wish I could get my drive back (especially for exercise) and quit it with the suicidal thoughts. Cause those can ruin a mood.

7/6/18

The last day that I wrote was Sunday and it's now Friday. It's been a long week actually. My dog is staring at me like I've done something wrong. It's a little disconcerting. Anyway, long week.

I had ECT on Monday and it really knocked me down. I spent most of the day sleeping and went to bed early. One thing I did notice was that my mood seemed improved on Monday (when I was awake . . .). I did talk with Dr. M about how my mood has been and asked what we could do. He said I could come in sooner for another ECT treatment if I needed it. Which was frustrating to say the least. But I only had about 4 minutes to talk to him so it's not like we could have a normal discussion. So I plan on keeping my September appointment and seeing how I do up until then. Then we'll have time to talk.

Tuesday my mood was definitely improved and was even a little elevated. It was so nice for a change to feel good and be giggly. You have no idea. I was maybe a little embarrassing in King Soopers. But that's okay because I felt so good.

Wednesday and Thursday I worked. Both days my mood held pretty steady if maybe just a little bit down. Well, Thursday was a little down, Wednesday I guess I was a little giggly, at least to start (there was a comment made about me being in a good mood). Both days were long and just dragged on and on. Like seriously, I didn't think they were going to end.

But I wasn't depressed. And that's huge.

And now today. I don't want to do anything. I have no motivation. I feel that everything is pointless and stupid. I'm empty. I'm not depressed, at least not how I was. An argument could be made that what I'm feeling is mild depression. I just want to sleep. Or curl up in a ball and not exist.

So what's new?

My brain is a damn stubborn organ. Stupid thing. It's annoying.

And those books I've been looking forward to? They were supposed to arrive on Tuesday. They still aren't here yet. The one thing I've been looking forward to, the thing that's been sustaining me . . . nope. Which is also annoying. Hopefully they'll come today. *fingers crossed*

Hallucinations now! I had tactile hallucinations yesterday: someone tapping on my shoulder or back (no one was there) and someone shaking the back of my chair (again, no one was there). This is in addition to the orbs of light and shadow figures and demons that I see. So that's fun.   

7/1/18

I don't really feel like writing but I'm trying to write something every couple of days or so. So here goes . . .

Just when I thought my hallucinations were tapering off they ramp themselves up again. I'm still seeing the usual shadow figures, demons, and orbs of light, but now I'm seeing something new and fun: dinner plate sized spiders crawling on the ceiling at night. Oh goody! Giant fucking spiders! I've seen them the past 3 nights. Every time I wake up to go to the bathroom (which is a lot because my bladder hates me) they're there. Crawling around being all creepy.

Now, most of the time my hallucinations don't bother me too much because I know they're just that - hallucinations. But these spiders man . . . God DAMN they creep me out! Even though I know they're not real. I don't like spiders and I certainly don't like ones the size of dinner plates. No. Fuck that shit.

In other news, my mood was overall a little better yesterday. I had periods where my mood dropped and I felt the familiar cloud over me and was flat and empty. But I also had periods where I was mostly okay. Which honestly was a breath of fresh air. And I actually felt excited  for something (I ordered some books on interpersonal communication and interpersonal psychology because I'm a dork and want to learn stuff). Now I have something to look forward to (you'd think going on vacation in August would be the thing I'm looking forward to but I'm anxious as hell about that trip).

Now today . . . today I'm not sure yet how I'm doing. I feel down and withdrawn and I don't want to do anything. I just want the day to be over. But I'm not really depressed. Not like I have been at least. I guess maybe a different level of depression? I don't know. I'm still looking forward to my books which is a good sign but I kinda want to not exist. That's not good. So I'm not sure.

I was hoping yesterday was a sign that maybe I'm coming out of my depressive episode, but today I'm not so sure. One day at a time, I need to not get my hopes up but also not be negative about it either. I'll get there. I'll get through this. And I'll have my awesome books to keep me busy.

6/27/18

This is going to be a bunch of rambling, I apologize for that.

I was supposed to work yesterday, post partum. Monday night when I went to bed I was praying to be put on delayed start as I wasn't sure I'd be able to work. Tuesday morning came and my alarm went off. I hit the snooze but laid awake dreading getting up. I was already feeling bad. But my phone chimed with a text message from the night charge - I was being put on delayed start until 10am. I nearly cried. I went back to bed until 7:30, got up and showered, went downstairs to get break fast and coffee.

At 9:15 I called in to see if I would be needed or redelayed. I got news I didn't want to hear. I was going into work at 11. My heart sank. I wasn't sure I could handle it. Well, no choice now, I'm going into work. I went downstairs to finish a painting I had started Monday and actually finished it. Got ready and left for work.

I felt like crap. Depressed and anxious. I honestly wasn't sure I'd be able to keep up the facade of being okay. I got my assignment, a new c-section and a new vaginal delivery, made sure my rooms were set up, and got report. And it was fine. Everything was fine.

Except that it wasn't.

I felt like I was interacting okay but I wasn't feeling anything. There was nothing there except emptiness. There was just . . . nothing. I felt flat and emotionless. I didn't care. Not about my patients and not about my coworkers. I tried. I tried.

Here's the thing. I tried interacting, and I think I was mostly convincing, but I didn't try too hard.

Wait, what?

Yeah. I didn't try too hard. See, I've been told that I try too hard and in my quest for perfection I end up making things worse. I end up spoiling my mood. Because I'm not going to be perfect. No one is. But I expect myself to be and then when I'm not I make things worse.

So, I tried, but not too hard, and I was mostly convincing although all I felt was empty and flat and withdrawn and depressed and horrible. There were even times I went into the break room and curled up in a ball on the couch because I just couldn't handle how I was feeling. I wanted to curl up in a ball and not exist. But I settled for the couch. Luckily no one walked in on me.

I wanted to cut so bad but I didn't. I'm both proud of myself for that but also upset with myself. Part of me feels I should have just cut and part of me knows that's not an effective coping mechanism. So I'm torn.

 I have therapy today for which I'm thankful because I really fucking need it. I feel like an hour isn't going to be enough time.

Anyway, I really don't know what to do anymore. I can't keep going on like this. I'm not that strong. This damn cloud won't leave me. And I don't. Know what. To do.

6/25/18

I said baby don't worry,
Cause it's all the same,
When we end the game . . .

The grey cloud has enveloped me today. And I'm struggling. It took me an hour to get out of bed this morning. I went downstairs and had breakfast and coffee and then I went back upstairs and got back in bed. For another hour. Just laying there. Then I got up and showered. I actually showered. I told myself I should be proud. I mean seriously. I didn't even want to get up to go pee.

But then it was back to bed, looking through Pinterest. Until my son came up to check on me and inform me that it was lunch time.

Yeah, whatever. Make it yourself.

That's what I thought. But I managed to get up and get lunch (which for me was a bowl of cereal because I have no appetite).

Now I'm just waiting for hubby to get home so we can go to the gym. Which he's probably going to have to force me to go because I don't want to do anything except lay in bed.

I don't want to go to the gym, I don't want to make dinner, I just want to curl in a ball and not exist. Can't I do that? At least until these bad feelings pass? I've had to fight back tears several times. I'm so tired of this. I broke down last night going to bed. Laying in bed in the dark crying. What fun. I'm really just so tired.

This needs to end.

I don't feel as strong as I was in the past. I'm trying to be. I'm trying not to let it show, I'm trying to be strong, but I don't feel it. I feel worn down. I feel like I can't keep up the facade.

I guess we'll find out.

6/22/18

I'm stuck. I'm walking around with this grey cloud above me. It's not just above me though. Sometimes this grey cloud envelopes me. Wraps around me and smothers me. 

When the cloud is above me I can function. I may be dead inside, but I can function. I can put on my fake smile, my fake laugh, and make believe that everything is alright. Why make believe? Because I truly feel dead inside. I feel empty, numb, flat, a husk of the person I should be. I'm anhedonic, if you want to get technical about it. Things that I used to enjoy mean nothing to me now (like drawing, painting, sewing, reading, hiking, playing with horses . . .). I'm just going through the motions. Every once in awhile I'll genuinely feel something . . . but those moments are few and far between. 

When the cloud envelopes me I have to fight to function. It doesn't come easy. I struggle. I break down. I cry. I have no motivation to do anything. Getting out of bed is a chore. Showering is a gigantic feat. It takes everything I have to put on my mask. God forbid I have to work on these days. I'm truly depressed. That grey cloud? It turns black. I have dark thoughts. Thoughts of suicide. I know that I don't really want to die but my fucked up brain tells me otherwise. And it's convincing. I spend my time laying in bed, staring off into space, staring at the wall or my hands or sleeping to escape. I can't concentrate to do anything. I pray for God to take me, to end the pain. 

Then the cloud lifts.

I'm given a reprieve from the worst of it. 

Or am I?

Because what I'm left with is the vacant nothingness and meaninglessness that makes up my life right now. No joy. No happiness. No escape from negative feelings despite my best efforts to remain positive. 

I've been dealing with this for at least 2 months pretty consistently. I have had about 3 manic days in the past 2 months (thank God for those days) but they don't last more than a day or part of a day. I seem to cycle every 3 months and May would have been month 3 (my last major depression was in February and resulted in a hospitalization). 

So is this what I'm dealing with? My normal cycling? And it's just lasting a long fucking time? And if so, does that mean I should ride it out? Just wait and hope it ends soon? Or should I seek a med change? The only thing is, with a med change, I know Dr. M doesn't want to go that route. He's already told me as much. He told me so after my depression in February. More ECT. I'm trying to lessen ECT and he's pushing for more. And I think it helps keep me stable overall. I do. But I pay the price for it with my memory and my continuing lack of creativity. 

So I'm stuck with this damn grey cloud. Either above me or around me it doesn't matter - both suck. 

6/18/18

Do you know how difficult it is to do cardio when you can't stop crying? I found out this morning. On my spin bike. I could only do 10 minutes because I was sobbing and I couldn't stop. The ugly cry but silent because my son was just upstairs and I didn't want him to see me, I didn't want him to know.

I meant to get up early this morning. I even had my alarm set. But I didn't. No, I laid in bed for an hour contemplating everything and nothing. Everything just seems so pointless. So I laid in bed. After that hour I finally got up, mainly because I had to use the bathroom. But I figured, well, I'm up, I might as well have breakfast and coffee.

So I did.

And I perused Instagram and Facebook. And I realized I wasn't feeling all that good. I realized today might be tough. I realized that despite my best efforts I wasn't going to make it to the gym this afternoon. I realized that if I was going to get my workout in I'd have to do it at home.

I psyched myself up, went downstairs, and got on the spin bike. The first 5 minutes were actually okay. See? You can do this! You got this!

Except . . . except the tears started falling. I wiped them away and pushed on. I'm working out dammit, we're not doing this.

My brain is an asshole though. It didn't listen. Instead it brought on the darkness. It bombarded me with an endless stream of negative thoughts. It caught me off guard and I was powerless against it.

So I cried. I sobbed. I fogged up my fucking glasses. I made my way to the bathroom to blow my nose and I tried countering the negative thoughts with good ones. Positive ones. Happy ones. Clancy, my brain, doesn't give up easily though. I sat down on the floor and stared at my hands for 20 minutes trying to gain control.

Finally . . . slowly . . . I was able to gain control. But the darkness was still there. That heavy, depressive feeling was still enveloping me.

And it has been all day.

Today is a tough one. 

6/14/18

I had therapy today, and I of course managed to cry, even though I was trying not to. I was telling Mike about how I've been feeling and about what Dr. M told me on Monday.

How I've been feeling: If I'm not feeling down and depressed, hopeless and pointless, I'm feeling like an empty, emotionless husk. I'm flat. I'm just going through the motions. I'm existing - not living. It's a horrible way to feel. It's like life is passing me by. I'm just observing, I'm not participating. I hate it.

And Dr. M told me that this is what stability looks like for me. I'm not having many big swings either up or down and that this is probably as good as it gets for me. How awful is that?? Yes, I'm mostly stable, but it's left me feeling completely flat lined and emotionless. That's no way to be. It's not how I want to feel.

But I don't know what to do. And Mike? He doesn't know what to do either. I told my hubby about this today and he was stumped as well. Why? Because I'm doing everything right. I'm doing everything I should be doing. And I still struggle. It's a bunch of bullshit.

Bullshit.

I'll keep doing the only thing I know how to do - keep plugging along. It's the only thing I can do. Keep trying to find happiness or joy or contentment or something wherever I can. Because if I can't find little snippets of that . . . well . . . I'm really fucked. So I'll keep plugging along and trying. 

6/12/18

I'm not sure how to start this post. I'm not even entirely sure what I want to say. So yeah, well, here goes . . .

I saw Dr. M yesterday in office for my med review. We do this about every 3 months. I go in, we discuss how I'm doing, review my meds, he renews my prescriptions if needed, and that's about it. Sometimes we talk about coffee or horses or work or all of the above (yesterday was coffee and work). But I had something else in mind I wanted to discuss. A couple of things, actually. Number one: my lithium. I've been having some swelling in my lower legs which my primary doc thinks is because of my lithium.Not that I'm toxic on it - my levels are normal - but swelling can be a side effect of lithium. And I saw my dermatologist yesterday morning for a skin scan and about my acne. She thinks my acne is because of my lithium. There's two strikes. Third strike? Lithium causes weight gain and weight retention and over the past 2 years I've gained 70 pounds. Seventy fucking pounds. I also have the increased thirst and urination as lithium side effects but those aren't as big. Anyway, I was inquiring as to possibly switching me from lithium because of all of this. You know, try a different mood stabilizer. Dr. M's response? "We have you stable on lithium. Why would I want to go and change that?" Which yes, that makes sense, I get it. But that doesn't mean I'm not disappointed.

I next asked him about getting a prescription for an "upper" like Nuvigil or Provigil for days I feel really crappy and down. And he said no. He thinks they'll just make me anxious. *hangs head in defeat*

Did you read my last blog post? I told Dr. M about how I've been feeling. About how when I'm not in a mood episode I feel empty and hollow. Like a shell of a person. Like I'm stuck in this mild depression where I have to fake that everything is okay. I'm putting on a mask. And he said he thinks that this is probably as good as it gets. We have my major mood episodes pretty much under control and that where I'm at right now . . . well . . . that's as good as it gets for me. That this is what stability looks like for me. Do you understand how horrible that is to hear? I'm still struggling and this is as good as it gets. I don't know what to do anymore. It makes me feel like, why try then? I can't get any better so why try? It reminds me of what a previous psychiatrist told me: "you'll always be depressed and suicidal so you better learn how to deal with it". Was she actually right? I stopped seeing her because of that comment and now it appears there was some truth to it. How fucking horrible. So what am I supposed to do with this? I already struggle with finding purpose in life and now my hope has basically been ripped out from under me.

Lost. That's where I'm at right now. And I don't like it. 

6/1/18

It's Friday, June 1st. A new day, a new month. How exciting. (Are you picking up on the sarcasm? I sure hope so . . .)

I've been having some weird thoughts and feelings the past few days. Thoughts and feelings that I'm not quite sure how to explain. But I'm going to try because I need to get this off my chest. I need to get it out of my head. 

I've been relatively stable for the past year. Except for being almost hospitalized March 2017, and actually being hospitalized this past February, I've been pretty stable. I've had a few dips here and there. Maybe they lasted one day, maybe they lasted 4 or 5 days, but they were short lived and not as intense. I've only had a few days where I've had symptoms of hypomania. So yeah, pretty stable.

But there's something I've discovered with stability. I still feel hollow. I still feel empty. I still feel lost. I still feel flat and withdrawn and generally down. It's like I'm stuck in a mild form of depression constantly. One that no matter what I do I can't break out of. My emotions all feel fake. I'm putting on a show. I smile and laugh while inside I'm secretly dying.

I guess I shouldn't say all my emotions feel fake. I feel anger. Irritability. Pain. Fear. Anxiety. Negative emotions? I've got those covered. It's the positive ones I can't seem to get. And no, it's not for lack of trying. I try. I fucking try. But they come out feeling fake. Like a mask.

Which is where the weird thoughts are coming into play. I almost wish I would go into a mood episode so I would actually feel something. So I wouldn't just be this husk of a person who's just going through the motions. I of course would much rather have a hypomanic episode. Preferably a euphoric one (not dysphoric - those suck). But I would take a depressive one. Because then at least I'm feeling something real, not just a false mask of my own doing.

Isn't this crazy? It's fucking crazy. I've spent the last 8 years of my life trying countless med combos, ECT, and therapy to try and get myself stable and now I want to throw it all away. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me? I have no idea . . .

Honestly, I've probably gone over this before in therapy. This very topic. Only I don't remember it (thanks, ECT). All I know is that my thoughts are a whirlwind of negativity and what ifs. Running through scenario after scenario of what could possibly happen. By the way? None of it is good. No, all of it is pretty shitty.

I don't know what to do anymore. I keep plugging along, day after day, putting on my mask, forcing myself to interact, forcing myself to appear that I'm feeling . . . Forcing myself to appear normal when my mind is truly a hurricane of confused negativity. What do I do? I'm trying so desperately not to self sabotage but I need to know . . . what do I do?  

5/27/18

It's almost 10pm. I'm sitting on my couch, home alone right now. I'm kinda feeling like crap. Not physically, but emotionally. Why? Well, my hubby is down the street at a block party with our neighbors. And, well, I'm not there.

You may be thinking well why don't you just go there? Why aren't you there with him? Am I right? I'm probably right. Well, see, there's this little thing called social anxiety and I happen to have it (because apparently bipolar disorder wasn't enough). You know what really sucks though? I haven't always had social anxiety. It's only developed in the last few years (I think it's because of the bipolar disorder).

Social anxiety can be different for everyone. For me, I start by feeling anxious and overwhelmed. I suddenly lose my ability to talk to people. I can't remember names or events, I forget how to make small talk. I become quiet and withdrawn and tend to find an area where I'm able to be by myself. I feel awkward and stupid, depressed and anxious. I want nothing more than to leave the situation, to curl up in a ball and not exist, but often times I can't.

Take last night for example. We went to a friend's daughter's graduation party. Of course, to make things worse, it was after I worked a full 12 hour shift. But we go, and as we drive there, the closer we get, the more anxious I get. We arrive and I'm instantly overwhelmed by the size of the place and by the fact that I really don't know anyone other than our friend and his wife. I tried making small talk with a few people, I did, but I was at a loss for words so I went and sat down away from people. I did my best not to interact with anyone other than my hubby and our son. I did better than I thought I was going to do but it was all still just too much.

So back to tonight. Our neighbors invited us over to the block party. I was still exhausted from last night and couldn't imagine interacting with people and putting on the mask that I'm a normal person, so I opted to stay home. But staying home carries it's own drawbacks. See, now I feel left out. I feel like an outcast, like a loser, like I'm less than human. I feel empty and alone. I've had these feelings since our very good friends abandoned us because of my illness but the feelings become more pronounced in situations such as these. And I don't know what to do. I want human interaction but at the same time it's completely draining and exhausting and anxiety provoking to the point of making me want to curl  up into myself and die. So what do I do?

I guess this is something I really need to bring up with my therapist. The fact that I haven't before is pretty unbelievable. And kind of stupid on my part. Oh well. I know what our next session will be about. Too bad it's not for 2.5 weeks. 

5/21/18

Well hello there. I'm not quite sure how to write what I want to say. My brain is in a bit of a jumble right now. Racing thoughts, intrusive thoughts . . . it's a mess. Anyway, I was feeling a bit depressed again yesterday, just not right. I wanted to not exist and those feelings have carried over to today.

Yay. Go me.

But I had decided that I was going to do things today, namely, cleaning the house and working out before taking my son to school. I had decided last Friday that I would clean today, period. But when I woke up this morning all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Just sleep. Sleep as long as I possibly could before taking Ayden to school. What did I do? I got my lazy ass out of bed and got on my spin bike for 20 minutes. That, my friends, is a solid win.

But lets talk about the cleaning. On a normal day the task seems daunting. I mean, there's a lot to do. And on a normal day I would break things down into steps and do things one by one, checking them off of my list as I went along. But on a depressed day? Oh no. It seems I'm incapable of doing this, no matter how hard I might try. Everything seems so overwhelming that I want to just sit and stare at the wall.

See that's a thing I think people don't get about bipolar disorder. My brain functions differently when I'm depressed (when I'm manic too) than when I'm "normal" or stable. I can't control these changes (if I could, I would). When I'm depressed everything slows down. It takes me longer to process information. It's like walking through waist high mud. And incoming information has to compete with my negative self talk, not an easy task.

Today though, today I was on a mission. My ass got up and got on that spin bike. I was going to get shit done!

Or so I thought.

Well, I got a little bit done, but not as much as I wanted. Why? I was overwhelmed. My brain was working against me. I did about half of what I had planned. I'm hoping to do the rest on Thursday. Maybe my brain will cooperate with me then.

And I didn't really write everything I wanted to. Because my brain is an asshole.

5/19/18

So you know, I've been pretty stable over the last month, except when I haven't been. I've been mostly stable, with a couple little blips here and there.

Damn you know what? This is completely off subject but I'm sitting here on my couch and the heat just kicked on and it smells like my damn dog. Like my icky dog's scent is coming out of the vents. How gross is that? Now the whole house smells like my dog. Ugh.

Anyway, back to these blips.

I had one dysphoric hypomanic blip that only lasted a day. Thank goodness, cause I'm a real bitch when I'm like that. Then, last Saturday night I apparently forgot to take my pills. No big deal, right?

Wrong.

I worked on Sunday, Mother's Day, and I was horribly depressed. Like hiding, sobbing uncontrollably, cutting myself, suicidal thoughts . . . it was bad. All for forgetting to take my pills one freaking night. This whole past week I've been recovering from that little episode. And it's been harder than I thought. But I'm doing it, slowly but surely.

On a plus note, I've taken care of some really awesome patients. I'm thinking I'm going to start writing about them. We'll see how that goes.

4/20/18

Wow. It's been a month since my last post. It's been a mostly uneventful month too. Well, that's not entirely true. That was a lie, actually.

What's really been going on are mildish mixed episodes. Three or four days here, three or four days there . . . Mixed episodes are not fun. And mine weren't the fun euphoric type. No, mine were the racing thoughts, anxiety, and irrational anger type. I was a joy to be around (not really).

Yesterday, for example, I was cooking an egg. I set the spatula down on the edge of the pan. It slid off. I replaced it. It slid off again. So I cussed it out and threw it. Perfectly logical, right?

Right.

I've been having lots of icky down feelings too. Along with guilt (for being me) and paranoia. All in all it's been great fun. Or not. One of the two.

3/23/18

This isn't really the post I want to write. I want to write an uplifting happy post or a funny post or anything but this.

I'm so fucking angry right now. Just so full of anger and irritability and hate it's ridiculous. And not only that but anxiety and racing thoughts . . . paranoia. I'm not sleeping well. I seem to be in an irritability type hypomania. It's mild - thank God - but it's frustrating none the less.

I'm getting so pissed at every little thing. Pissed to the point I want to either destroy stuff or break down sobbing. I'm trying not to do either.

One of the things I'm pissed at is how I look. My size, my weight. I've gained so much weight because of my medications and I can't seem to lose it. At all. I HATE how I look. I can't stand it. So much so that I want to self harm. And the shitty thing is that I have no drive to workout. No motivation. I'm ready to give up and give in because of my fucking moods. I fucking hate this so much. I hate what I've become.

And I'm so paranoid that other people feel the same way, that other people hate me too. Or at the very least dislike me and only tolerate me because they have to. I think other people are mad at me. I know these are probably delusions but I can't stop feeling that they're true.

I really hate fucking feeling like this. And I don't know how to make it stop.

3/9/18

I wish I could eloquently describe how I've been feeling. When I sit down to write, everything gets scrambled in my head and I can't seem to get it out. It's a jumbled mess up there and nothing makes any sense. My mind has been racing again and my thoughts are confused and tangled and at war with one another. It makes writing nearly impossible.

But I'm going to try.

Since I got out of the hospital Feb. 12th I've been stuck in the annoying mild depression (save for 3 days of hypomania). It's the kind of depression where I feel hopeless and empty, down and dark, worthless and withdrawn. The emotions I exhibit are mostly faked - I don't feel much other than sadness, anger, or nothing. Mostly nothing.

I mostly feel nothing and it's so frustrating. This is the emptiness. I feel dead inside. I'm not a person. People have a range of emotions and I have nothing. I have a false smile, a laugh that is a hoax. I have to put on a facade in order to interact with people and it's exhausting. But it's what I have to do in order to fit in. God forbid people know I'm still depressed, still struggling.

That's not to say I can't feel real emotion. I'm good at feeling the sadness that accompanies my depression. I can certainly feel the anger as well. And, every once in awhile, I'll get a glimpse of how things could be. I'll laugh and for a split second feel truly happy. I'll hug my husband and feel content and at peace. Sadly, these feelings don't last but a moment and then they're gone. They're gone and my emptiness is back

I ask myself questions, like, is this as good as it gets? Is this emptiness and depression as good as it gets for me? I know the answer is no because I have felt better in the past. I have been stable and capable of emotions. I know the answer is no but it feels like it's yes. This depression is dragging on so long that I feel that this is as good as it gets and that I just have to deal with it. And how shitty is that? I mean seriously. Existing and living are not the same and right now I'm merely existing. I'm not living. This is not living. I go through the motions. I have no motivation, I have no drive. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning because the earlier I get up, the longer the day I have to struggle through.

And I don't know what more to do. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I'm doing everything right. I started yoga though, to see if it would help. Nothing so far. I'm going to revamp my diet - again - to see it that will help. I'm going to go to the gym more often. I'm really pushing the positive affirmations. Listening to music I love. The weather was gorgeous yesterday so I spent time outside. I take my meds, have ECT, see my therapist and psychiatrist regularly, go to a support group, I have a loving supportive family and friends, and job I love . . . so what do I do?

No one knows the answer and so I'm stuck. Stuck feeling nothing.

3/4/18

I should be at work right now but I discharged all of my patients so instead I'm at home, sitting in bed, trying not to cry (I'm failing). See, I'm struggling today. I'm having a hard time keeping my head above water. Everyone around me is talking and laughing and I can barely breathe.

I'm stuck in this mild depression. I'm not full of despair, it's not crippling, black, nothingness. But I'm an empty husk, a shell of who I should be. I don't have real emotions - they're all fake, a facade. My smiles are forced, my laugh a hoax. I'm trying my best but people saw through me today, including a patient's husband.

I'm withdrawn and quiet and flat but I'm trying desperately not to be this way, hence the faking. Fake it till you make it, right? I mean, that's what I'm trying but it just doesn't seem to be working. This is pretty much how I've been feeling since I was discharged from Peak View, save for a few days of hypomania. This fucking mild depression.

And the shitty thing is that I want to cut and I want to die. I'm not suicidal mind you, not really. But I wouldn't mind just . . . dying. And I want to cut myself so bad, I want to carve up my arm. I haven't  so far but I don't know how long that will last.

So that's where I'm at. Annoyingly, mildly depressed. Lost and sad and empty and losing hope and I don't see a point to anything anymore. It's a shitty place to be. 

2/28/18

Well. I'm having a rough day today. I'm trying to get stuff accomplished and it's just not happening. The most I can say I got done is 20 minutes of yoga and a load of laundry. At least that's something.

My mood is pretty crappy today, pretty down. I can't seem to snap out of it, I can't seem to bring myself up. I was trying to work on my book and that seemed to make things worse. So I stopped. And now I'm sitting here on the couch unsure of what to do with myself. I don't even know what to type.

Oh well. Guess I'll read for a little bit and probably end up napping.

2/15/18

Ten days since my last post and a lot has happened. I was hospitalized for one. Well, that's the biggie. I was hospitalized from 2/8 through 2/12/18. Five days in Peak View. It was needed. I was severely depressed and suicidal. There were no med changes (I told them there that I didn't want my meds changed unless they consulted with my normal psychiatrist). I think being away from the normal stressors and responsibilities of life is what helped. The first two days were rough (Thursday and Friday) and I was pretty bad off. But by Saturday and Sunday I was starting to feel better. Well enough to be discharged on Monday (thank God).

And now I've been home a few days and I'm still feeling depressed. Yes, I know my depression isn't going to magically go away just because I was inpatient a few days but lets be honest - I was secretly hoping it would. I feel so empty and down. Not anywhere near where I was when I went in, but still pretty shitty.

And it's fucking annoying.

I saw my psychiatrist yesterday and he wants to increase the frequency of my ECT for a bit. Yay. I'm trying to get off of ECT, not do it more often. But, I also don't want to feel how I'm feeling. So yeah. I have ECT next Monday. And I guess we go from there.

I saw my therapist on Tuesday and we were trying to come up with strategies to keep me from getting as bad as I did. Sadly, we really didn't come up with anything. I'm already doing so much and as he says, I'm doing everything right. I'm a model patient. So I got some essential oils to try and I may try taking up yoga. The other thing he mentioned was medical massage. Some insurances may cover that so it's something to look into. I'm open to anything, really. I'm sick of feeling like this.

I'm going back to work this upcoming Sunday. Some may think that's too soon after what I went through, but I think it would be worse for me to just sit around at home. So I'm going to try going back and we'll see how it goes. 

That's about all I got right now. I'm writing about the hospitalization for my book so . . .

2/5/18

I'm sitting here on my couch as I write this, wishing I was in bed, asleep. I'm not tired, mind you, I just don't want to deal with how I'm feeling. See, sleep is like death but without the commitment. Though I'm longing for the commitment . . .

I'm feeling so empty and drained and hollow, like the husk of who I should be. There's just this void inside me where everything should be. I'm going through the motions of life without really feeling anything. I've been rather flat and withdrawn lately, although I'm trying desperately not to be. And I think I'm putting on a good show as everyone around me thinks I'm doing okay.

If only they knew . . .

The funny thing is is that I wouldn't necessarily call myself depressed right now. I'm not quite like how I usually am when I get depressed. Perhaps I'm on my way there, I don't know. This is more of a "confused-hanging-in-limbo" state. I have some symptoms of depression but I also seem rather stable still. Like, I want to die, but I know that's just my brain lying to me.

I don't know what to do with this state though. Nothing is enjoyable to me. Not reading or painting or writing . . . I don't want to do anything except lay in bed.

Jeremy says I do this. That I'm stable for 3-4 months and then I drop into a depression for several weeks to a month or two despite what meds I'm on, despite my ECT. Maybe he's right. Maybe this is just my natural pattern. Maybe I'm not in full blown depression because of the new med I'm on. I have no clue. All I know for certain is that I hate feeling like this. Why can't I be manic every 3-4 months? I call bullshit on this. Why can't I just be manic at all??

Despite any of this, all I know is that I'm struggling right now, regardless of what people think.

2/2/18

Well it's February. Groundhog's day, actually. Makes me think about the movie with Bill Murray where it's always February 2nd. It was a good flick.

Anyway, the past couple of days I can say I haven't been overtly depressed. That's good, right? Sadly though I've been pretty flat and withdrawn. I have to fake my emotions so people don't look at me weird. Because I'm supposed to have emotions. And right now I really don't. Every once and awhile I'll have a true emotion shine through but it's getting pretty few and far between.

Yesterday at work I was close to tears for so much of the day it was ridiculous. I felt overwhelmed. Like I just couldn't handle it. And I'm still having trouble sleeping. Night before last I only got around 3 hours (possibly less). Last night I slept a little better, thank God, but I still didn't sleep good. My mind won't stop racing.

I still have no motivation. For anything. I just want to stay in bed. Hide away. I'm seeing no point to living. I mean, I have my hubby and my son, and if it wasn't for them, well . . .

I hate feeling like this. I want it to stop. I just can't. Please.

1/29/18

My bipolar disorder has been being an asshole lately. A big one. After 80 or so days of stability my depression is creeping in, both subtly and not so subtly.

The past week and a half I've had no motivation to workout. Seems trivial, right? But with how gung ho I've been in the gym and on the spin bike the previous 3 weeks before that . . . well, it's noticeable.

Then there's the matter of sleep. I've been going to bed early every night because I just don't want to be awake anymore. And when I wake up, I don't want to get up. It takes everything in me to get out of bed. And when I do, all I want to do is go back to bed. I'm having a hard time falling and staying asleep as my mind is just racing. And the past week and a half there hasn't been a day I haven't wanted a nap (and as long as I wasn't at work I've been taking them).

And then how about actually feeling depressed. This past Friday (3 days ago) and yesterday I actually felt depressed. Yesterday it took everything I had not to completely lose my shit and break down (I partially lost my shit and cried a little but roped it in). Today I'm feeling down and I have no motivation for anything. I just want to curl up in a ball and not exist.

I don't want to feel this way. Why do I have to feel this way?

I'm trying my best to take things one day at a time and not catastrophize it. But that's hard to do . I'll keep trying though, because what else can I do?

1/23/18

Things have been weird lately. All around strange and I don't really know what to make of it. See, I've been stable now for 78 days. Can you believe that?? Seventy eight days with no depression or mania. My mood has been even. Normal. I've been normal.

And I don't know what to do with myself.

No really. I don't really know how to be normal anymore. I've been depressed or rapid cycling for so long that normalcy is foreign to me. Yes, even though it's almost been 3 full months.

I feel lost. I feel awkward. I feel like I'm learning how to interact with people all over again. And this is difficult because I'm still withdrawn. I'm trying not to be. I'm trying to put myself out there, chat with coworkers, ask questions, actively listen . . . but I still find myself being withdrawn, stumbling over my words, and feeling like a buffoon.

Large gatherings of people (more than, say,  4-5) make me uncomfortable and make me withdraw more. I feel like curling up in a ball and disappearing. It's hard for me to open up and interact in situations like this.

New situations confuse, frighten, and overwhelm me. I have the opportunity to go to a conference for free - I just have to volunteer some of my time. The thought of volunteering terrifies me. So much so that I'm not going.

I feel that through the course of my illness I've fundamentally changed. I'm not who I used to be. And I hate that.

And even though I'm stable there are still some, I don't know what to call them, bad things happening? I still hallucinate every day. Sometimes a lot, sometimes a little, but always every day. I'm still having suicidal thoughts most days that I have to fight and counter. I still want to cut and I have.

But who knows. Maybe this is just how I am now when I'm stable. A withdrawn, frightened, overwhelmed girl who hallucinates, cuts, and contemplates her own death.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure this is who I want to be. But I'm not really sure how to change. it. 

1/19/18

I'm feeling really weird. Off, not myself. I'm not sure I can even describe it. . . I feel distant, disconnected, like I'm not really here. Does that even make sense? I can be in a room of coworkers and I feel as though I'm in the background, being ignored. Like everything I'm doing is fake, like everything is a facade. I'm not the real me. I don't feel depressed, that's not it. I don't know what this is. But I certainly don't like it.





















I'm forgetting things. Little things that I should be doing. At work. Like calling the pediatrician for a HIR bili. Or charting that I emptied a catheter. Maybe just because I had ECT this week. Maybe it will get better again. I don't like this. At. All. 

1/10/18

Well, I just talked to my mom on the phone and it's like the whole Christmas fiasco never happened. Not that I'm surprised by this. My whole life it's always been cover it up, ignore it, nothing to see here . . .

It was 11:30am and it sounds like she had been drinking. Repeating herself over and over . . . yeah. She had been drinking. And for her wanting to know how I'm doing she sure as hell couldn't shut up about herself. On and on about herself, the same thing over and over. It's frustrating. I have shit I could talk about. Like the coloring book Jeremy and I made that we published ourselves. Like interesting stories about work. Like how I'm really doing. Like how Ayden and Jeremy are doing.

But no. She'd rather talk about herself.

I'm never going to change this. I shouldn't let it bother me but it has completely ruined my focus for the day. I'm trying to get it back.

Deep breaths, in and out.

.

.

.

.

So annoying.