If you read my last post you know I'm struggling just a little. It's a silent struggle mostly - I'm not being vocal about it to friends or family. As far as everyone is concerned I'm A-OK. Maybe this isn't the best thing to do. Maybe I should speak up instead of silently suffering. It's just that, well, everyone wants me to be doing good and I don't want to let them down. TMS was the silver bullet to my depression - it worked. And to have my depression come back before I've even paid off treatment . . . well, I can't stand that scenario.
As of right now it's just little things. Like anger. I'm getting angry at stupid little things. And yes, I know, everyone does this from time to time. But it's becoming more frequent and consistent for me.
Sleeping. I'm starting to sleep entirely too much. Sleeping in, naps, you name it, I'm doing it. I wake up around 5am and feel awake. So what do I do? I go back to bed until 8 when I have to take my son to school. When I get home from that I tend to go back to bed until 10 or 11 before I get up and get ready for the day. If I don't know what to do with my time I'll nap. This happens every day I don't work. It's becoming obscene.
Negative thinking. Negative thinking and I go way back, back to my childhood where I never thought I was good enough. But when I've been feeling better I've been able to manage it pretty well. Well, not anymore. Negative thinking is taking over in a no-holds-barred match. It's like, if I can put a negative spin on something, I will. Now, keep in mind these thoughts are automatic - I'm not purposefully doing this. But they're there, and as much as I try to counter them they seem to be winning out.
Motivation and inspiration. My motivation for virtually anything is long gone. I'm still getting my butt to the gym, though not as regularly as I'd like, because of my lack of motivation. I also have no motivation to do things like keep my house clean or shower. Sometimes I have a hard time feeding myself because I just don't care. Part of me really wants to draw and paint because that's one thing I really enjoy. But I don't have inspiration for what to paint or the motivation to accomplish it. Just yesterday I sketched some jackrabbits and thought that maybe - just maybe - I'll come up with an idea for a painting I can do today. Well, that didn't happen. Here I sit, blogging, having slept in until 11am. No motivation. No inspiration.
Little things. Little things either piss me off or bring me close to tears (mind you, I haven't been able to cry since TMS). For example, I have a pilonidal cyst (a cyst on my tailbone). It's very painful - very painful. I'm having a hard time handling this. I feel overwhelmed and near my wits end because of this. Another example - I dropped my spoon this morning. I yelled, cussed and nearly cried. Because I dropped my spoon. Little things are getting to me. I just can't handle them.
Now for me, these all seem like warning signs of early depression. I so far don't feel depressed - at least how I feel when I am depressed. But it makes me think (and overthink) and worry that I'm in for a relapse. Sadly I don't have therapy again until Dec. 5th. Don't see my psychiatrist until Dec. 10th. So I guess I'mm winging it until then. :(
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
Tuesday, November 12, 2019
Tuesday 11/12/19
So let's be honest here: I'm kinda struggling. Not big time struggling. Not relapsing into depression (God I hope not). But struggling just the same. I'm tired. I'm more down. I'm not enjoying things. I have no motivation. For anything. I don't feel like me.
Part of the problem is work. I feel so burnt out. I'm not enjoying my job right now (to remind y'all, I'm a nurse and I help deliver babies). But yeah, I'm burnt out. We've had so many changes over the past few months that it's pretty overwhelming. I feel like I'm drowning in the change and I can't keep up. And we've been so. Damn. Busy. That in itself is exhausting. And it just sucks not enjoying your job, a job I used to love.
Another problem is my damn brain. It's like it developed muscle memory for being depressed and now I'm falling into the unhealthy cycle of depressive thinking. Negative thoughts abound, most of them not even conscious. Sleeping too much (I didn't get up until noon today), physically feeling worn and tired all the time (though I guess this could also be the fibromyalgia), anger, bitterness, and an overall negative outlook. Seriously brain, what the fuck? Why can't you get trapped in positive thinking? (I know the answer to that of course - I've been depressed my whole life - it's all my brain knows. Even with being bipolar, hypomania episodes are few and far between and short lived. My brain knows depression. Period.)
I hate feeling like this. It makes me worry that I'm going to fall back into depression, something I desperately don't want. Hubby reminded me that feeling burnt out is normal from time to time, that everyone feels that way at some point. Strangely, I didn't find that particularly comforting. Probably my depressive brain talking.
Stupid brain.
I need a vacation.
Part of the problem is work. I feel so burnt out. I'm not enjoying my job right now (to remind y'all, I'm a nurse and I help deliver babies). But yeah, I'm burnt out. We've had so many changes over the past few months that it's pretty overwhelming. I feel like I'm drowning in the change and I can't keep up. And we've been so. Damn. Busy. That in itself is exhausting. And it just sucks not enjoying your job, a job I used to love.
Another problem is my damn brain. It's like it developed muscle memory for being depressed and now I'm falling into the unhealthy cycle of depressive thinking. Negative thoughts abound, most of them not even conscious. Sleeping too much (I didn't get up until noon today), physically feeling worn and tired all the time (though I guess this could also be the fibromyalgia), anger, bitterness, and an overall negative outlook. Seriously brain, what the fuck? Why can't you get trapped in positive thinking? (I know the answer to that of course - I've been depressed my whole life - it's all my brain knows. Even with being bipolar, hypomania episodes are few and far between and short lived. My brain knows depression. Period.)
I hate feeling like this. It makes me worry that I'm going to fall back into depression, something I desperately don't want. Hubby reminded me that feeling burnt out is normal from time to time, that everyone feels that way at some point. Strangely, I didn't find that particularly comforting. Probably my depressive brain talking.
Stupid brain.
I need a vacation.
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
Tuesday 11/5/19
I'm sitting on the couch wanting to blog but not knowing what the hell to blog about. I'm currently frustrated. Frustrated beyond belief - I'm almost shaking. My anxiety is through the roof and I can't seem to get it under control.
So. Yeah. A few weeks ago hubby and I bought a 2004 Toyota Sequoia. It had all this work done to it, was owned by a Toyota master mechanic, and was supposed to be a good vehicle. Well, It's been in the shop the past 1.5 weeks having work done on the brakes (can't seem to get them working properly). We found out today that the frame had been damaged (bent and welded - poorly - back together). This essentially makes the vehicle unsafe to drive.
What. The actual. Fuck.
Now we're stuck with this gigantic fucking SUV that we paid $8,000 for and we can't do anything with it. I mean technically we could sell it but hubby and I don't feel okay with doing that knowing what we know about the frame.
Just . . . seriously.
In other news, I went to the doctor last week to have my left hip looked at. It's been causing me a lot of pain and has been getting progressively worse. My doc thinks that I have arthritis and that my tendons are too tight. She ordered X-rays, prescribed maloxicam and physical therapy. She said if after a month of physical therapy and meds my hip wasn't notably better we'd need to do a CT scan to check the soft tissue. I got the X-ray results back today: normal. No arthritis. Which is good, but means they don't really know what's causing my pain. Which is not good. So we're staying the course with meds and physical therapy and I follow up next month.
It's just frustrating. I thought the X-ray would give a definitive answer, we'd have a course of treatment and BOOM! It would be better. But instead we're blindly stabbing in the dark for something that might help. Don't get me wrong - I'm sure physical therapy will be helpful - I'm just frustrated.
So that's my post. An obnoxious rant about what's frustrating me at the moment. I was hoping by getting it out I'd feel a little bit better. I don't. I'm still shaking and I feel like crying. Maybe I should. Maybe that would help.
Cheers.
So. Yeah. A few weeks ago hubby and I bought a 2004 Toyota Sequoia. It had all this work done to it, was owned by a Toyota master mechanic, and was supposed to be a good vehicle. Well, It's been in the shop the past 1.5 weeks having work done on the brakes (can't seem to get them working properly). We found out today that the frame had been damaged (bent and welded - poorly - back together). This essentially makes the vehicle unsafe to drive.
What. The actual. Fuck.
Now we're stuck with this gigantic fucking SUV that we paid $8,000 for and we can't do anything with it. I mean technically we could sell it but hubby and I don't feel okay with doing that knowing what we know about the frame.
Just . . . seriously.
In other news, I went to the doctor last week to have my left hip looked at. It's been causing me a lot of pain and has been getting progressively worse. My doc thinks that I have arthritis and that my tendons are too tight. She ordered X-rays, prescribed maloxicam and physical therapy. She said if after a month of physical therapy and meds my hip wasn't notably better we'd need to do a CT scan to check the soft tissue. I got the X-ray results back today: normal. No arthritis. Which is good, but means they don't really know what's causing my pain. Which is not good. So we're staying the course with meds and physical therapy and I follow up next month.
It's just frustrating. I thought the X-ray would give a definitive answer, we'd have a course of treatment and BOOM! It would be better. But instead we're blindly stabbing in the dark for something that might help. Don't get me wrong - I'm sure physical therapy will be helpful - I'm just frustrated.
So that's my post. An obnoxious rant about what's frustrating me at the moment. I was hoping by getting it out I'd feel a little bit better. I don't. I'm still shaking and I feel like crying. Maybe I should. Maybe that would help.
Cheers.
Tuesday, October 22, 2019
Tuesday 10/22/19
The past 4 days have been pretty, um, annoying. My mood is not where it should be. I'll elaborate on that . . .
Last Friday I had a horrible day beating myself up because of my weight. So much so that I was in tears. I happened to glance in the mirror and really get a good look at how big I've gotten (I weigh in at 235 pounds, people), and I lost it. Every negative thought I've ever had came flooding back, making me feel worthless and useless. I did everything I could to counter these thoughts but in the end they won out.
Saturday I worked, primary nursery, meaning I would be doing all the deliveries myself. And it was busy (I did 6 deliveries - one a set of twins). I was bitter and angry and overwhelmed and tired and in pain and my mood was sinking fast. I tried desperately to keep my head above water, to tread faster and harder than I ever have. But the fact that I had to work so hard only made me more bitter and angry. I came home from work exhausted and utterly defeated (though I tried not to show it).
Sunday I worked, primary nursery again. And again it was busy and I did 5 deliveries by myself. I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't as bad as I was on Saturday, but I definitely wasn't myself. I was not quick to smile or laugh. I tended to shy away from conversation. I still felt angry and overwhelmed. When I got home, hubs said that on Monday I should do nothing. Just relax.
And that's what I did.
On Monday I didn't get out of bed until 12:30pm. And I only got up because I had therapy at 2. It felt good to do nothing. It felt restorative. But I also felt guilty. Guilty because I had accomplished nothing. I took those feelings and went to therapy and vomited up everything that I had gone through and felt over the last 3 days. My therapist, M, said that I did good to stay in bed and that I might need another day of doing nothing. Which helped to relieve my feelings of guilt. He also reassured me that what I was feeling was normal and not a bipolar backslide (I had been worrying that all of this was going to lead to a depressive episode).
Today I'm feeling a bit better. I slept in a little, did the dishes, went to the post office, and did some reading. I'm more calm, less bitter, less angry.
I still need to lose some fucking weight though.
Last Friday I had a horrible day beating myself up because of my weight. So much so that I was in tears. I happened to glance in the mirror and really get a good look at how big I've gotten (I weigh in at 235 pounds, people), and I lost it. Every negative thought I've ever had came flooding back, making me feel worthless and useless. I did everything I could to counter these thoughts but in the end they won out.
Saturday I worked, primary nursery, meaning I would be doing all the deliveries myself. And it was busy (I did 6 deliveries - one a set of twins). I was bitter and angry and overwhelmed and tired and in pain and my mood was sinking fast. I tried desperately to keep my head above water, to tread faster and harder than I ever have. But the fact that I had to work so hard only made me more bitter and angry. I came home from work exhausted and utterly defeated (though I tried not to show it).
Sunday I worked, primary nursery again. And again it was busy and I did 5 deliveries by myself. I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't as bad as I was on Saturday, but I definitely wasn't myself. I was not quick to smile or laugh. I tended to shy away from conversation. I still felt angry and overwhelmed. When I got home, hubs said that on Monday I should do nothing. Just relax.
And that's what I did.
On Monday I didn't get out of bed until 12:30pm. And I only got up because I had therapy at 2. It felt good to do nothing. It felt restorative. But I also felt guilty. Guilty because I had accomplished nothing. I took those feelings and went to therapy and vomited up everything that I had gone through and felt over the last 3 days. My therapist, M, said that I did good to stay in bed and that I might need another day of doing nothing. Which helped to relieve my feelings of guilt. He also reassured me that what I was feeling was normal and not a bipolar backslide (I had been worrying that all of this was going to lead to a depressive episode).
Today I'm feeling a bit better. I slept in a little, did the dishes, went to the post office, and did some reading. I'm more calm, less bitter, less angry.
I still need to lose some fucking weight though.
Thursday, October 10, 2019
Thursday 10/10/19
I'm curled up on my couch in a hoodie with a big fluffy blanket wrapped around me. The heat is turned on but I'm still cold. That's not surprising though - it went from 75 degrees and sunny yesterday to 20 degrees and snowing today. That's not uncommon here in Colorado. My body isn't used to the cold.
Everything has been super uneventful. Seriously. Nothing exciting is happening at all. I'm working my two 12's a week, trying to stay productive on my days off (doesn't always happen), and get to the gym despite the pain I'm having. It's all rather boring. But that's a good thing I think. Usually when there's excitement with me it's the wrong kind.
I've been reading more, which is nice. Of course, I've been reading more because I don't have any inspiration for artwork. I want to draw and paint, I just don't know what I should draw and paint. I thought about joining an art challenge for the moth of October - called Inktober - but I couldn't come up with anything to draw after looking at the prompts. I felt overwhelmed. So I'm not doing it.
Mood wise I've been doing pretty darn good. Which is really amazing. I feel pretty great, actually. It's so weird not having my black cloud around. I don't want to sound too ambitious, but I'm hoping I get at least a year of this before my depression comes back. Wouldn't that be something? The most I usually get is a couple of months. But this time it feels different. I'm actually feeling - I'm not just flat or numb. So hopefully it will last.
Pain wise I'm about the same. Yesterday was a bad pain day where I was stiff and aching all over. Hubs and I went to the gym and tried to do legs. Well, he did legs, I tried. My knees hurt too bad to do much of anything. Stupid fibromyalgia.
Well, I don't really have much to write about right now. Probably I'll take a short nap and read. I'm going to try and write at least once a week, even if it's just boring mediocre stuff. So until next time . . .
Everything has been super uneventful. Seriously. Nothing exciting is happening at all. I'm working my two 12's a week, trying to stay productive on my days off (doesn't always happen), and get to the gym despite the pain I'm having. It's all rather boring. But that's a good thing I think. Usually when there's excitement with me it's the wrong kind.
I've been reading more, which is nice. Of course, I've been reading more because I don't have any inspiration for artwork. I want to draw and paint, I just don't know what I should draw and paint. I thought about joining an art challenge for the moth of October - called Inktober - but I couldn't come up with anything to draw after looking at the prompts. I felt overwhelmed. So I'm not doing it.
Mood wise I've been doing pretty darn good. Which is really amazing. I feel pretty great, actually. It's so weird not having my black cloud around. I don't want to sound too ambitious, but I'm hoping I get at least a year of this before my depression comes back. Wouldn't that be something? The most I usually get is a couple of months. But this time it feels different. I'm actually feeling - I'm not just flat or numb. So hopefully it will last.
Pain wise I'm about the same. Yesterday was a bad pain day where I was stiff and aching all over. Hubs and I went to the gym and tried to do legs. Well, he did legs, I tried. My knees hurt too bad to do much of anything. Stupid fibromyalgia.
Well, I don't really have much to write about right now. Probably I'll take a short nap and read. I'm going to try and write at least once a week, even if it's just boring mediocre stuff. So until next time . . .
Tuesday, October 1, 2019
Tuesday 10/1/19
So it's been a month since I last wrote (well, close enough), and I'm happy to say that my black cloud has dissipated. It's still there sometimes, when I'm by myself - or even in a group - lurking, waiting to take over. But, for the most part, it seems to be gone. And for this I'm grateful.
I went to my primary doc last week because I've been having joint pain. Let me be a little more specific: every joint except for my fingers and elbows have been hurting for the past 8 months and getting progressively worse over the last 2 months. And when I say hurting I mean H U R T I N G. Especially my hips and my wrists and thumbs. They ache. When I move I get sharp stabbing pain. I've also had random muscle soreness not congruent with working out. And we can't forget my headaches or fatigue (I actually went to my doc about 6 months ago because of the fatigue and he thought it was just my depression).
Well, now I have a diagnosis: Fibromyalgia.
Ugh. Yeah. Fibromyalgia. Joy. When he told me that my stomach dropped. Fibromyalgia is a chronic, lifelong illness that isn't very well understood or treated. Not necessarily the thing I want to hear. And it's weird, I immediately thought that I would have to reinvent myself. You know, as someone with both bipolar disorder and fibro.
But I don't really have to do that. I can still be me, just another version of me. One who's in pain from time to time. I don't know. I don't think that I've accepted that I have fibro. Maybe because I'm not as bad off as some other people are with it. I've been researching it like crazy and my symptoms certainly match those of fibro. If I'm in a flare right now - which my doc thinks I am - then it's tolerable. Will it always stay tolerable? Only time will tell. As of right now I've opted to go med free as I don't want to deal with more side effects (I deal with enough from my bipolar meds). I'm going to continue to research it and look for blogs to read. What I have started doing is taking more supplements. Glucosamine, collagen powder, turmeric, magnesium, and cinnamon. All have been touted to help fibromyalgia. We'll see.
So yeah. That's where I'm at. A new diagnosis that I don't want and haven't accepted. But I'll get there. Eventually.
I went to my primary doc last week because I've been having joint pain. Let me be a little more specific: every joint except for my fingers and elbows have been hurting for the past 8 months and getting progressively worse over the last 2 months. And when I say hurting I mean H U R T I N G. Especially my hips and my wrists and thumbs. They ache. When I move I get sharp stabbing pain. I've also had random muscle soreness not congruent with working out. And we can't forget my headaches or fatigue (I actually went to my doc about 6 months ago because of the fatigue and he thought it was just my depression).
Well, now I have a diagnosis: Fibromyalgia.
Ugh. Yeah. Fibromyalgia. Joy. When he told me that my stomach dropped. Fibromyalgia is a chronic, lifelong illness that isn't very well understood or treated. Not necessarily the thing I want to hear. And it's weird, I immediately thought that I would have to reinvent myself. You know, as someone with both bipolar disorder and fibro.
But I don't really have to do that. I can still be me, just another version of me. One who's in pain from time to time. I don't know. I don't think that I've accepted that I have fibro. Maybe because I'm not as bad off as some other people are with it. I've been researching it like crazy and my symptoms certainly match those of fibro. If I'm in a flare right now - which my doc thinks I am - then it's tolerable. Will it always stay tolerable? Only time will tell. As of right now I've opted to go med free as I don't want to deal with more side effects (I deal with enough from my bipolar meds). I'm going to continue to research it and look for blogs to read. What I have started doing is taking more supplements. Glucosamine, collagen powder, turmeric, magnesium, and cinnamon. All have been touted to help fibromyalgia. We'll see.
So yeah. That's where I'm at. A new diagnosis that I don't want and haven't accepted. But I'll get there. Eventually.
Wednesday, September 4, 2019
Wednesday 9/4/19
I look over my shoulder and there it is: the black cloud. The same cloud that's followed me my whole life is back and it's getting closer. I try to run from it to no avail - the cloud easily keeps up. It's not raining - not yet - but the rain is inevitable. It always comes, no matter how little sun I've had.
This is how I'm feeling right now. I'm almost finished with my TMS treatment. I have 3 more regular sessions to go before I start my taper (3 weeks of 2 treatments per week). And then that's it. I'll be done. And I have to say I've done quite well with it. My depression scale scores have dropped dramatically, I've been feeling better, smiling, laughing, talking, interacting. That existential dread that I used to feel in the mornings is gone. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.
So what's the problem then?
It's that black cloud. It's back. It's not hovering over me quite yet, but it's there. I can feel it. That little tickle on the back of my neck . . . it's there. Little nuances I'm picking up on. Negative thinking, feeling empty, questioning my existence. That damn cloud is moving ever closer.
I'm working hard to keep it at bay. Countering my negative thoughts, filling my days with things I enjoy . . . I read a book called The Depression Cure by Stephen S Ilardi and I'm following his program to combat depression (I recommend reading the book - it's very interesting and makes a lot of sense). I'm keeping up with therapy and follow up appointments, going to my TMS classes, eating healthier and exercising more. What more can I do? No really - what more?
That black cloud keeps moving closer and the rain is inevitable. So why run? What good will it do? If the rain is going to come . . . well, it's going to come.
Perhaps this time I should learn to dance in it.
This is how I'm feeling right now. I'm almost finished with my TMS treatment. I have 3 more regular sessions to go before I start my taper (3 weeks of 2 treatments per week). And then that's it. I'll be done. And I have to say I've done quite well with it. My depression scale scores have dropped dramatically, I've been feeling better, smiling, laughing, talking, interacting. That existential dread that I used to feel in the mornings is gone. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.
So what's the problem then?
It's that black cloud. It's back. It's not hovering over me quite yet, but it's there. I can feel it. That little tickle on the back of my neck . . . it's there. Little nuances I'm picking up on. Negative thinking, feeling empty, questioning my existence. That damn cloud is moving ever closer.
I'm working hard to keep it at bay. Countering my negative thoughts, filling my days with things I enjoy . . . I read a book called The Depression Cure by Stephen S Ilardi and I'm following his program to combat depression (I recommend reading the book - it's very interesting and makes a lot of sense). I'm keeping up with therapy and follow up appointments, going to my TMS classes, eating healthier and exercising more. What more can I do? No really - what more?
That black cloud keeps moving closer and the rain is inevitable. So why run? What good will it do? If the rain is going to come . . . well, it's going to come.
Perhaps this time I should learn to dance in it.
Monday, August 19, 2019
Monday 8/19/19
It's been awhile since I last wrote and I'm happy to say I'm doing better. Today was my 16th TMS treatment and I'm already feeling the effects, I'm already getting better. Pretty amazing stuff!
With that being said, it's a very weird experience. Almost like I don't know how to act. I'm so used to being depressed that I'm not sure what "normal" looks like for me. You'd think it would come naturally, but for me, it doesn't.
I was getting ready for work yesterday and it dawned on me that I wasn't filled with existential dread. I didn't fear the day. I didn't feel hopeless and worthless and dead inside. Instead I felt hopeful. I felt as though I was ready to tackle anything. I felt, dare I say it, happy.
I don't really know what to do with this. I tend to over analyze everything and I'm trying not to do that here, lest I ruin it. I'm trying to just run with it, experience it, enjoy it. And thus far I haven't fucked it up so I guess I'm doing pretty good.
I have therapy on Thursday. I haven't seen M in 3 weeks so this will give me a chance to pick his brain. I really don't want to ruin this.
In other news, something I'm struggling with, is getting up in the morning and getting on the spin bike. It was my goal to do this while in treatment and I haven't been able to. Not even once. Which makes me feel horrible about myself and I'm worried that this is the little bit that will fuck everything up. Feels horrible about self = depression coming back. I don't know why I can't just get up in the morning. I don't know why I have to wait till the very last minute. I'm getting myself to the gym now but I need more. I need to lose weight. Not just for self esteem, but for health as well.
I'll get there I guess. I'm going to pick M's brain about this too.
That's all I got. Short post for today. But hey - happy.
With that being said, it's a very weird experience. Almost like I don't know how to act. I'm so used to being depressed that I'm not sure what "normal" looks like for me. You'd think it would come naturally, but for me, it doesn't.
I was getting ready for work yesterday and it dawned on me that I wasn't filled with existential dread. I didn't fear the day. I didn't feel hopeless and worthless and dead inside. Instead I felt hopeful. I felt as though I was ready to tackle anything. I felt, dare I say it, happy.
I don't really know what to do with this. I tend to over analyze everything and I'm trying not to do that here, lest I ruin it. I'm trying to just run with it, experience it, enjoy it. And thus far I haven't fucked it up so I guess I'm doing pretty good.
I have therapy on Thursday. I haven't seen M in 3 weeks so this will give me a chance to pick his brain. I really don't want to ruin this.
In other news, something I'm struggling with, is getting up in the morning and getting on the spin bike. It was my goal to do this while in treatment and I haven't been able to. Not even once. Which makes me feel horrible about myself and I'm worried that this is the little bit that will fuck everything up. Feels horrible about self = depression coming back. I don't know why I can't just get up in the morning. I don't know why I have to wait till the very last minute. I'm getting myself to the gym now but I need more. I need to lose weight. Not just for self esteem, but for health as well.
I'll get there I guess. I'm going to pick M's brain about this too.
That's all I got. Short post for today. But hey - happy.
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
Tuesday 8/6/19
I figured I should give an update, considering I'm 7 days into my TMS treatments.
So yeah. Seven days of TMS (I go 5 days a week, Mon - Fri, for 6 weeks, then 2 days a week for 3 weeks - 36 total treatments). And let me tell ya - it hurts. I should probably explain what happens. I go back into a small room that's nicely decorated and has a decent sized tv. In the middle is a reclining chair, pretty comfy actually. Behind the chair is a large piece of equipment - the magnet. I sit in the chair, leaned back and put in ear plugs. The nurse puts a custom fitted cap on me that has my measurements on it (it looks like a swim cap. Or jock strap. One of the two). The nurse positions a formable pillow around me to keep my head still and the large magnet is placed over my left frontal and temporal lobes. As of right now I'm pretty comfortable.
But then the magnetic pulses start. They come 3 pulses per second for about 6-7 seconds, then there's a pause of about 6-7 seconds before the next pulse starts. How does it feel? Tap on your head in the same spot as fast and as hard as you can. Not bad, right? Now imagine your fingers are metal and have needles coming out of the tips and you're tapping a bruise. That's what it feels like. Over and over again. Luckily, the treatment session only lasts for about 4 minutes. Any longer and I wouldn't be able to tolerate it. It truly is uncomfortable. Hell, who am I kidding, it hurts.
And I have 7 sessions under my belt, 29 more to go. Oy vey. HOWEVER, I think it's already starting to work. Hubby stated I seemed to be talking more and I worked this past weekend and had good days. Days where I was able to talk with coworkers and feel genuine. Days where I was able to laugh and not be faking it. That's something pretty huge. And makes the pain worth it.
I have follow up throughout treatment with the doctors and classes I go to every Wednesday night. They're very thorough. This is in addition to following up with my own psychiatrist and therapist. It's safe to say that I have a lot of support.
Anyway, that's all that's new with me. TMS. Starting to feel better. But it's huge news. More to come as I continue on this journey.
So yeah. Seven days of TMS (I go 5 days a week, Mon - Fri, for 6 weeks, then 2 days a week for 3 weeks - 36 total treatments). And let me tell ya - it hurts. I should probably explain what happens. I go back into a small room that's nicely decorated and has a decent sized tv. In the middle is a reclining chair, pretty comfy actually. Behind the chair is a large piece of equipment - the magnet. I sit in the chair, leaned back and put in ear plugs. The nurse puts a custom fitted cap on me that has my measurements on it (it looks like a swim cap. Or jock strap. One of the two). The nurse positions a formable pillow around me to keep my head still and the large magnet is placed over my left frontal and temporal lobes. As of right now I'm pretty comfortable.
But then the magnetic pulses start. They come 3 pulses per second for about 6-7 seconds, then there's a pause of about 6-7 seconds before the next pulse starts. How does it feel? Tap on your head in the same spot as fast and as hard as you can. Not bad, right? Now imagine your fingers are metal and have needles coming out of the tips and you're tapping a bruise. That's what it feels like. Over and over again. Luckily, the treatment session only lasts for about 4 minutes. Any longer and I wouldn't be able to tolerate it. It truly is uncomfortable. Hell, who am I kidding, it hurts.
And I have 7 sessions under my belt, 29 more to go. Oy vey. HOWEVER, I think it's already starting to work. Hubby stated I seemed to be talking more and I worked this past weekend and had good days. Days where I was able to talk with coworkers and feel genuine. Days where I was able to laugh and not be faking it. That's something pretty huge. And makes the pain worth it.
I have follow up throughout treatment with the doctors and classes I go to every Wednesday night. They're very thorough. This is in addition to following up with my own psychiatrist and therapist. It's safe to say that I have a lot of support.
Anyway, that's all that's new with me. TMS. Starting to feel better. But it's huge news. More to come as I continue on this journey.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Wednesday 7/24/19
It's been awhile again. And some things have happened. Yes. Things. Where to start. . . .
I start TMS next Monday, the 29th. I'll be having treatments five days a week for six weeks, followed by two treatments a week for three weeks. For a total of 36 treatments. I'm hopeful that this will work for me. I have to be hopeful as it's about the only hope I have. I will also going to group therapy on Wednesday nights to help with depression and the fallout of lessening symptoms. Yes, there is fallout from lessening symptoms - I mean, what do I do with my life when I'm not depressed? I've only really known depression. Who am I without it? The Southern Colorado TMS Center also does auricular acupuncture which they recommend for stress reduction. I'll probably give that a try. Why not, right? It might help and I need all the help I can get.
Next up, my psychiatrist had me tested for the MTHFR mutation. Which, of course, I have. Both copies of it. What does this mean? My body might not be able to metabolize folic acid which is necessary to make serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. So, to counter this, I get to take the activated form of folic acid (L-methylfolate) for the rest of my life. In theory, this will allow my body to produce more of its own neurotransmitters and help with the depression. There's only anecdotal evidence to support this, but I'll take it. My other little ray of hope. I've been on the supplement for a few days now. No changes as of yet, but these things usually take weeks.
Those are the two big things. In other news, I haven't been doing great. I've been the opposite of great, really. I'm struggling, I'm drowning, barely keeping my head above water. I'm trying to find joy in the little things - a new song I like, the smell of rain, bumblebee butts - anything I can latch onto. Anything to help get me through the day. I wake up ready for bed, ready for the solace of sleep. I've found myself napping more and more, showering (or at least washing my hair) less and less. I'm starting to eat less (which may not be a bad thing - I mean, I need to lose weight, haha). I don't care what I wear or what I look like. I barely put on makeup. And all of this makes me hate myself more. Which increases my depression. It's an ugly cycle.
I'm really hoping the L-methylfolate and TMS help. I need them to. They have to - there's no other choice.
I start TMS next Monday, the 29th. I'll be having treatments five days a week for six weeks, followed by two treatments a week for three weeks. For a total of 36 treatments. I'm hopeful that this will work for me. I have to be hopeful as it's about the only hope I have. I will also going to group therapy on Wednesday nights to help with depression and the fallout of lessening symptoms. Yes, there is fallout from lessening symptoms - I mean, what do I do with my life when I'm not depressed? I've only really known depression. Who am I without it? The Southern Colorado TMS Center also does auricular acupuncture which they recommend for stress reduction. I'll probably give that a try. Why not, right? It might help and I need all the help I can get.
Next up, my psychiatrist had me tested for the MTHFR mutation. Which, of course, I have. Both copies of it. What does this mean? My body might not be able to metabolize folic acid which is necessary to make serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. So, to counter this, I get to take the activated form of folic acid (L-methylfolate) for the rest of my life. In theory, this will allow my body to produce more of its own neurotransmitters and help with the depression. There's only anecdotal evidence to support this, but I'll take it. My other little ray of hope. I've been on the supplement for a few days now. No changes as of yet, but these things usually take weeks.
Those are the two big things. In other news, I haven't been doing great. I've been the opposite of great, really. I'm struggling, I'm drowning, barely keeping my head above water. I'm trying to find joy in the little things - a new song I like, the smell of rain, bumblebee butts - anything I can latch onto. Anything to help get me through the day. I wake up ready for bed, ready for the solace of sleep. I've found myself napping more and more, showering (or at least washing my hair) less and less. I'm starting to eat less (which may not be a bad thing - I mean, I need to lose weight, haha). I don't care what I wear or what I look like. I barely put on makeup. And all of this makes me hate myself more. Which increases my depression. It's an ugly cycle.
I'm really hoping the L-methylfolate and TMS help. I need them to. They have to - there's no other choice.
Monday, July 8, 2019
Monday 7/8/19
I was supposed to have therapy today. At noon. But my therapist forgot, somehow, and I didn't get to have my session. I sat in the waiting room with no receptionist, classical music blaring, until 12:36 - the time that I called my therapist, M, and left him a message that I had been there, apparently there was a miscommunication of sorts, and that I was leaving. I asked him to call me back so we could reschedule.
And I left.
And I didn't realize how much I needed therapy today until I didn't have it. I didn't realize how much I was struggling and needed to talk until I left M's office in tears. The slightest mishap breaking me down.
All I want to do anymore is sleep. I wake up looking forward to bedtime and that's it. I nap every day I don't work so that I can escape reality and my crummy feelings. Because sleep is like death without the commitment. It's my only escape.
I'm starting the process to be "approved" for TMS. I talked to D today and she sent me the paperwork I need to fill out and turn in. This causes a problem for me. It makes all my self-doubt, self-hate and self-worth issues scream even louder. I can't hum to myself and ignore the cacophony. No, I'm bombarded with a level of self loathing you can't even imagine, which brings my mood down even lower than before.
Why is this? Why don't I feel worthy of treatment? I know that I'm scared. Scared of what stable and well will look like. I've always been scared of that. When you've lived your entire life with depression . . . well, remission is terrifying. Is this why I don't feel worthy?
I'm also scared that I'll fail, that treatment won't work for me. And where will I be then? Because I can't keep living like this. I can't. This is no way to live.
Hubby has this grand plan that I'll start TMS, I'll get back in the gym, and I'll get better and lose weight and everything will be all hunky-dory. And I'm scared that I'll fail him. I don't even deserve treatment, let alone having it work well for me. I'm worried it won't work. That I won't get back in the gym. That I won't get better and/or lose weight.
I'm worried that everything will fall to pieces and I'll be left worse off than I am now because I will have lost my only shred of hope.
Damn I wish I could have had therapy today.
M did call me back, by the way, and apologized. He said I could smack him. And I might take him up on that because I have to wait another week to see him.
In the meantime I guess I keep plugging through, picking myself up by the boot straps. I just wish I knew how to keep doing that.
And I left.
And I didn't realize how much I needed therapy today until I didn't have it. I didn't realize how much I was struggling and needed to talk until I left M's office in tears. The slightest mishap breaking me down.
All I want to do anymore is sleep. I wake up looking forward to bedtime and that's it. I nap every day I don't work so that I can escape reality and my crummy feelings. Because sleep is like death without the commitment. It's my only escape.
I'm starting the process to be "approved" for TMS. I talked to D today and she sent me the paperwork I need to fill out and turn in. This causes a problem for me. It makes all my self-doubt, self-hate and self-worth issues scream even louder. I can't hum to myself and ignore the cacophony. No, I'm bombarded with a level of self loathing you can't even imagine, which brings my mood down even lower than before.
Why is this? Why don't I feel worthy of treatment? I know that I'm scared. Scared of what stable and well will look like. I've always been scared of that. When you've lived your entire life with depression . . . well, remission is terrifying. Is this why I don't feel worthy?
I'm also scared that I'll fail, that treatment won't work for me. And where will I be then? Because I can't keep living like this. I can't. This is no way to live.
Hubby has this grand plan that I'll start TMS, I'll get back in the gym, and I'll get better and lose weight and everything will be all hunky-dory. And I'm scared that I'll fail him. I don't even deserve treatment, let alone having it work well for me. I'm worried it won't work. That I won't get back in the gym. That I won't get better and/or lose weight.
I'm worried that everything will fall to pieces and I'll be left worse off than I am now because I will have lost my only shred of hope.
Damn I wish I could have had therapy today.
M did call me back, by the way, and apologized. He said I could smack him. And I might take him up on that because I have to wait another week to see him.
In the meantime I guess I keep plugging through, picking myself up by the boot straps. I just wish I knew how to keep doing that.
Thursday, July 4, 2019
Thursday 7/4/19
It's the 4th of July. Whoopie. I'm sitting on the couch listening to music, waiting for hubby's mom and brother to come over. So why not blog, right?
I actually feel like writing though. I feel like I need to get stuff out. I'm just not sure I can do it in a manner that makes sense.
Lets start with TMS. I met with Dr. H again on Tuesday. Hubby came. Dr. H informed me that he had spoken to my psychiatrist (Dr. M) and Dr. M believes my appropriate diagnosis is bipolar disorder. Meaning he won't change my diagnosis to depression in order for me to be approved for TMS. I understand. That would be fraud. But it sucks. Because, as Dr. H informed us, there is a 99.9% chance that insurance will NOT approve me for TMS. Then starts the appeal process. Dr. H said that I would not be approved at the 2nd tier of the process, but there's a small chance I could be approved at the 3rd tier when my case would be sent to a independent reviewer. This would take around 6 months. Six. Fucking. Months. Apparently the FDA is working on possibly approving bipolar disorder for TMS which would mean that my insurance would have to cover me. But again, that's 6 months to a year out and it's not guaranteed.
You have no idea how horrible I felt, sitting there listening to this news. My heart dropped. I felt hopeless and helpless.
Dr. H then began to tell us about another option: paying for TMS out of pocket. I put my head down. I know we can't afford this. But hubby asked, "How much?" Are you ready? $400 per treatment and the standard is 36 treatments. That's $14,400. Tears welled up in my eyes. Now, granted, that's not as much as I thought it was going to cost, but it's still $14,400 we don't have.
"If you're paying out of pocket we cut the cost in half," Dr. H said. "And we can set up a payment plan." Hubby sounded interested and started asking questions. I zoned out, head spinning, knowing that my hopes had been ripped from my hands.
We left, me in tears, so much so that hubby said he would drive us home. He said we would figure it out. Figure what out? I'm going to be denied coverage and we can't afford to pay out of pocket. I felt like screaming. Hubby started talking about our money in savings, about trying to sell more of my paintings, of starting a GoFundMe. He has all these ideas about how we could make it work. How yes, we truly can afford to pay out of pocket. He told me yesterday that he wants me to call Dr. H on Monday to get everything set up for me starting treatment.
He wants me to start treatment.
Here's where we come to the second thing I want to talk about: how I don't feel as though I'm worthy of going through treatment. I don't think I should. I'm already a burden, a drain, and now I'm going to be a financial burden. Again. Me being a financial burden is why we lost our house 4.5 years ago. I don't want a repeat. I don't want our family to struggle because of me.
This is eating me up inside. I truly don't think I'm worth the money. I don't think I'm worth the time or effort. I'm not worth it. This is me thinking I'd be better off dead. That everyone would be better off with me dead. I don't know how to reconcile this thinking. If I go through treatment with this mindset I'm sure to fail. I'm trying to counter all my negativity with positive thoughts. I'm trying not to catastrophize. I'm trying to remember all the good in my life, but these thoughts persist. I don't know what to do. I don't know why I don't feel worthy. I don't know why I feel as though I'm rubbish. I don't know why and I don't know what to do about it.
I have therapy coming up on Monday and my therapist definitely has his work cut out for him. I need to get this all sorted out. I need help. I need help.
I actually feel like writing though. I feel like I need to get stuff out. I'm just not sure I can do it in a manner that makes sense.
Lets start with TMS. I met with Dr. H again on Tuesday. Hubby came. Dr. H informed me that he had spoken to my psychiatrist (Dr. M) and Dr. M believes my appropriate diagnosis is bipolar disorder. Meaning he won't change my diagnosis to depression in order for me to be approved for TMS. I understand. That would be fraud. But it sucks. Because, as Dr. H informed us, there is a 99.9% chance that insurance will NOT approve me for TMS. Then starts the appeal process. Dr. H said that I would not be approved at the 2nd tier of the process, but there's a small chance I could be approved at the 3rd tier when my case would be sent to a independent reviewer. This would take around 6 months. Six. Fucking. Months. Apparently the FDA is working on possibly approving bipolar disorder for TMS which would mean that my insurance would have to cover me. But again, that's 6 months to a year out and it's not guaranteed.
You have no idea how horrible I felt, sitting there listening to this news. My heart dropped. I felt hopeless and helpless.
Dr. H then began to tell us about another option: paying for TMS out of pocket. I put my head down. I know we can't afford this. But hubby asked, "How much?" Are you ready? $400 per treatment and the standard is 36 treatments. That's $14,400. Tears welled up in my eyes. Now, granted, that's not as much as I thought it was going to cost, but it's still $14,400 we don't have.
"If you're paying out of pocket we cut the cost in half," Dr. H said. "And we can set up a payment plan." Hubby sounded interested and started asking questions. I zoned out, head spinning, knowing that my hopes had been ripped from my hands.
We left, me in tears, so much so that hubby said he would drive us home. He said we would figure it out. Figure what out? I'm going to be denied coverage and we can't afford to pay out of pocket. I felt like screaming. Hubby started talking about our money in savings, about trying to sell more of my paintings, of starting a GoFundMe. He has all these ideas about how we could make it work. How yes, we truly can afford to pay out of pocket. He told me yesterday that he wants me to call Dr. H on Monday to get everything set up for me starting treatment.
He wants me to start treatment.
Here's where we come to the second thing I want to talk about: how I don't feel as though I'm worthy of going through treatment. I don't think I should. I'm already a burden, a drain, and now I'm going to be a financial burden. Again. Me being a financial burden is why we lost our house 4.5 years ago. I don't want a repeat. I don't want our family to struggle because of me.
This is eating me up inside. I truly don't think I'm worth the money. I don't think I'm worth the time or effort. I'm not worth it. This is me thinking I'd be better off dead. That everyone would be better off with me dead. I don't know how to reconcile this thinking. If I go through treatment with this mindset I'm sure to fail. I'm trying to counter all my negativity with positive thoughts. I'm trying not to catastrophize. I'm trying to remember all the good in my life, but these thoughts persist. I don't know what to do. I don't know why I don't feel worthy. I don't know why I feel as though I'm rubbish. I don't know why and I don't know what to do about it.
I have therapy coming up on Monday and my therapist definitely has his work cut out for him. I need to get this all sorted out. I need help. I need help.
Thursday, June 27, 2019
6/27/19
This week has been a rough week.
I worked Monday and Wednesday and both days were busy. I'm having a hard time keeping up the facade at work that everything is okay. It's exhausting. The days are long (and not only because I work 12 hour shifts). I've wanted to cut but I haven't. Yesterday I broke down twice which is something I try so hard not to do at work. But it happened.
On Tuesday I had my appointment with the Southern Colorado TMS clinic. I was there for 2 hours and we went over what TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) is, the research behind it, and how it can help. I also had a medical intake. When Dr. H asked if I had any questions I said I only had one: when can I start? TMS is a treatment that has great success in treating depression with little to no side effects. It works by sending strong magnetic pulses to the regions of the brain identified as being responsible for depression. These magnetic pulses excite the neurons, activate them, and the repeated sessions act like muscle memory and the neurons learn how to remain activated. This is something I want to do.
Except I might not be able to.
See, insurance companies are like a bag of dicks and they obviously don't want to approve something if they can get out of it. TMS is FDA approved to treat major depression and generalized anxiety. What's my diagnosis? Bipolar disorder. So more than likely my insurance company will deny coverage for TMS based on that. Which let me tell you, sucks fucking balls. Because what is it that I deal with the most? Depression. I haven't had a hypomanic episode in about 4 years. But I deal with recurrent depression constantly. The longest period that I've been euthymic is 3 months. Then it's back to depression. But I'll probably be denied treatment based on a label. A fucking label.
So I cried. And I cried again that night at home. Dr. H said that he and his team would do what they can to get me approved and they were hopeful they could do it. Which gives me hope. Now if only I can hang onto that.
I had therapy today in which I cried also. I seem to be crying so much more lately. My depression feels as if it's getting worse day by day. My therapist could tell a difference in me compared to 2 weeks ago. That's not good. But what can you do? I'm trying.
I'm trying, I'm hanging onto hope. It's all I can do.
I worked Monday and Wednesday and both days were busy. I'm having a hard time keeping up the facade at work that everything is okay. It's exhausting. The days are long (and not only because I work 12 hour shifts). I've wanted to cut but I haven't. Yesterday I broke down twice which is something I try so hard not to do at work. But it happened.
On Tuesday I had my appointment with the Southern Colorado TMS clinic. I was there for 2 hours and we went over what TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) is, the research behind it, and how it can help. I also had a medical intake. When Dr. H asked if I had any questions I said I only had one: when can I start? TMS is a treatment that has great success in treating depression with little to no side effects. It works by sending strong magnetic pulses to the regions of the brain identified as being responsible for depression. These magnetic pulses excite the neurons, activate them, and the repeated sessions act like muscle memory and the neurons learn how to remain activated. This is something I want to do.
Except I might not be able to.
See, insurance companies are like a bag of dicks and they obviously don't want to approve something if they can get out of it. TMS is FDA approved to treat major depression and generalized anxiety. What's my diagnosis? Bipolar disorder. So more than likely my insurance company will deny coverage for TMS based on that. Which let me tell you, sucks fucking balls. Because what is it that I deal with the most? Depression. I haven't had a hypomanic episode in about 4 years. But I deal with recurrent depression constantly. The longest period that I've been euthymic is 3 months. Then it's back to depression. But I'll probably be denied treatment based on a label. A fucking label.
So I cried. And I cried again that night at home. Dr. H said that he and his team would do what they can to get me approved and they were hopeful they could do it. Which gives me hope. Now if only I can hang onto that.
I had therapy today in which I cried also. I seem to be crying so much more lately. My depression feels as if it's getting worse day by day. My therapist could tell a difference in me compared to 2 weeks ago. That's not good. But what can you do? I'm trying.
I'm trying, I'm hanging onto hope. It's all I can do.
Monday, June 17, 2019
6/17/19
How to start . . .
I'll jump right in I guess.
I saw Dr. M today about my depression. And it went how I was fearing it would go. I should probably expand on that.
I told him how I've been feeling. Empty, depressed, hopeless. I told him it has been relentless and ongoing for the past 5 or so weeks. Before he could say anything I told him I'd prefer not to do ECT again. He looked at me for a full minute before speaking.
"You've been on practically every medication. And countless combos of those meds. All I can really recommend is ECT."
My stomach dropped. I don't know why though - that's exactly what I expected he would say. ECT. Electroconvulsive therapy. I did it for 3 years. Yes, I had improvement with it, but I also have had substantial memory issues.
"What about EsKetamine?" I asked.
"Well, there aren't any clinics in Colorado offering EsKetamine. It's too new, there's too much red tape, and it's too expensive," he replied. "You can try a regular ketamine infusion, but the cost for the 3 week treatment is around $2000 - $3000. It works for some people in the short term but it's pricey."
I felt even more defeated. Close to tears.
"You can try TMS (trans cranial magnetic stimulation). Studies have shown it to be effective, just not as much so as ECT. It's 5 days a week for 6 weeks, so you wouldn't be able to work probably. I can give you Dr. F's information if you're interested. See, it's just that you're treatment resistant and the best course of action for that is ECT. I'm sorry, I know that's not what you want to hear."
No, no that's not what I want to hear. I asked about Deplin, activated folic acid. He said I could try it but it probably wouldn't help. I asked about Rexulti. Again, it probably wouldn't help. It would replace my Vraylar and that med is the one that's helped me the most. So he would prefer not to stop it.
I'm stuck people. I don't know what to do. Do I take 6 weeks off from work and try TMS? Do I go back to ECT? Do I do nothing and wait it out, hoping the depression will lift of its own? The problem with waiting is that my depression tends not to go away on its own. It tends to hang around and get worse.
This is a bunch of bullshit, really. I don't know what to do. I cried in the parking lot, I cried while driving, I cried when I got home. I don't know what to do.
Fuck.
I'll jump right in I guess.
I saw Dr. M today about my depression. And it went how I was fearing it would go. I should probably expand on that.
I told him how I've been feeling. Empty, depressed, hopeless. I told him it has been relentless and ongoing for the past 5 or so weeks. Before he could say anything I told him I'd prefer not to do ECT again. He looked at me for a full minute before speaking.
"You've been on practically every medication. And countless combos of those meds. All I can really recommend is ECT."
My stomach dropped. I don't know why though - that's exactly what I expected he would say. ECT. Electroconvulsive therapy. I did it for 3 years. Yes, I had improvement with it, but I also have had substantial memory issues.
"What about EsKetamine?" I asked.
"Well, there aren't any clinics in Colorado offering EsKetamine. It's too new, there's too much red tape, and it's too expensive," he replied. "You can try a regular ketamine infusion, but the cost for the 3 week treatment is around $2000 - $3000. It works for some people in the short term but it's pricey."
I felt even more defeated. Close to tears.
"You can try TMS (trans cranial magnetic stimulation). Studies have shown it to be effective, just not as much so as ECT. It's 5 days a week for 6 weeks, so you wouldn't be able to work probably. I can give you Dr. F's information if you're interested. See, it's just that you're treatment resistant and the best course of action for that is ECT. I'm sorry, I know that's not what you want to hear."
No, no that's not what I want to hear. I asked about Deplin, activated folic acid. He said I could try it but it probably wouldn't help. I asked about Rexulti. Again, it probably wouldn't help. It would replace my Vraylar and that med is the one that's helped me the most. So he would prefer not to stop it.
I'm stuck people. I don't know what to do. Do I take 6 weeks off from work and try TMS? Do I go back to ECT? Do I do nothing and wait it out, hoping the depression will lift of its own? The problem with waiting is that my depression tends not to go away on its own. It tends to hang around and get worse.
This is a bunch of bullshit, really. I don't know what to do. I cried in the parking lot, I cried while driving, I cried when I got home. I don't know what to do.
Fuck.
Friday, June 14, 2019
6/14/19
Staring at the walls . . . or off into space. It's what I do best it seems. It's all I do anymore it seems.
Why?
Well, because I'm so empty. I'm not sure I've ever felt this empty. Seriously. I've felt more depressed, but not more empty. There is truly nothing there. I can't believe how devoid of emotion I am. I'm a robot, going through the motions. Trying to pass as normal. I laugh but there's nothing behind it. It's fake. Forced. I can't even cry because there's nothing there. There's no emotion.
I hate this. I can't stand it. I want to curl up in a ball and not exist. I'm trying so hard to stay positive but I'm getting worse.
I'm getting worse.
Three more days and I see Dr. M. I don't even know what to tell him. Well, I do, but I'm worried I won't get it out properly. I'm worried that I'll minimize what I'm going through. I'm worried that I won't get the help I need. I'm worried that he'll be so focused on ECT that he won't hear me. That last sentence is what scares me. I will not do ECT again. No. Not going to happen.
I feel like I have so much to write but I can't focus and get it out. My mind is blank and I fell like I'm beating a dead horse.
So yeah.
Why can't I be euphorically hypomanic? Just mildly. Come on brain, work with me here. We all know you do depression well. How 'bout some hypomania?
Fuck.
Why?
Well, because I'm so empty. I'm not sure I've ever felt this empty. Seriously. I've felt more depressed, but not more empty. There is truly nothing there. I can't believe how devoid of emotion I am. I'm a robot, going through the motions. Trying to pass as normal. I laugh but there's nothing behind it. It's fake. Forced. I can't even cry because there's nothing there. There's no emotion.
I hate this. I can't stand it. I want to curl up in a ball and not exist. I'm trying so hard to stay positive but I'm getting worse.
I'm getting worse.
Three more days and I see Dr. M. I don't even know what to tell him. Well, I do, but I'm worried I won't get it out properly. I'm worried that I'll minimize what I'm going through. I'm worried that I won't get the help I need. I'm worried that he'll be so focused on ECT that he won't hear me. That last sentence is what scares me. I will not do ECT again. No. Not going to happen.
I feel like I have so much to write but I can't focus and get it out. My mind is blank and I fell like I'm beating a dead horse.
So yeah.
Why can't I be euphorically hypomanic? Just mildly. Come on brain, work with me here. We all know you do depression well. How 'bout some hypomania?
Fuck.
Monday, June 10, 2019
6/10/19
Well. I had therapy today. And I talked about my depression and my light headedness and tremors and work. And maybe it helped a little? I'm not sure. The fact still remains though that I'm depressed.
I have no motivation to do anything. I got home from therapy and wanted to go to bed. I didn't. I went downstairs and did a couple of sketches. I drew a sparrow and some flowers. Go me. All trying to not go to bed. I had lunch. I put dinner in the crockpot.
I want to go to bed. Just sleep. Sleep for eternity.
So I'm writing. I'm trying to distract myself, kill time. Not sleep.
But we all know what's going to happen, don't we? When I'm done with this I'm going to go lay down. Because I can't. I just can't. I can't deal with this unrelenting emptiness. I wish I could cry. I think I'd feel better if I could cry. But I can't. There's no emotion there. It's gone. I'm just so empty. Void. Blank. Numb. There's nothing there.
I can't fucking FEEL.
And it makes me so tired. It's hard to keep up the facade that I'm okay. Even that I'm marginally okay witch is what I've been doing.
I can't do this.
I see Dr. M on the 17th. I know he's going to suggest ECT, which I can't do. I can't. My memory is jacked enough. Maybe ketamine. I don't know. I'll find out I guess.
Anyway, it's time to go lay down. /end rant
I have no motivation to do anything. I got home from therapy and wanted to go to bed. I didn't. I went downstairs and did a couple of sketches. I drew a sparrow and some flowers. Go me. All trying to not go to bed. I had lunch. I put dinner in the crockpot.
I want to go to bed. Just sleep. Sleep for eternity.
So I'm writing. I'm trying to distract myself, kill time. Not sleep.
But we all know what's going to happen, don't we? When I'm done with this I'm going to go lay down. Because I can't. I just can't. I can't deal with this unrelenting emptiness. I wish I could cry. I think I'd feel better if I could cry. But I can't. There's no emotion there. It's gone. I'm just so empty. Void. Blank. Numb. There's nothing there.
I can't fucking FEEL.
And it makes me so tired. It's hard to keep up the facade that I'm okay. Even that I'm marginally okay witch is what I've been doing.
I can't do this.
I see Dr. M on the 17th. I know he's going to suggest ECT, which I can't do. I can't. My memory is jacked enough. Maybe ketamine. I don't know. I'll find out I guess.
Anyway, it's time to go lay down. /end rant
Friday, June 7, 2019
6/7/19
It doesn't matter why. That's what I've decided. Did you read my last post? Maybe you should. See, I've been depressed since then (May 17th). And it doesn't really matter why. I don't think there's a reason anyway except my bipolar. No trigger, no cause. Just my brain being a bag of dicks.
I'm depressed. I'm empty. I'm hollow. I'm fake. I'm down, defeated, hopeless, and overwhelmed. I'm nothing.
All of the things and none of the things.
I feel I'm getting worse. Slowly but surely getting worse.
I went to the doctor on Wednesday (the 5th). On top of the depression I've been having dizzy/lightheaded spells and tremors in my hands and right leg. Fun right? Fucking laugh riot, let me tell ya. She truly believes that it is my lithium. That I'm having withdrawal symptoms (I'm subtherapeutic right now) and that I need to increase my dose. But to be safe I had an EKG, orthostatic blood pressures, a ton of blood work, and I get to wear a heart monitor for a month (no, not something like a FitBit - I have electrodes that attach to my chest and connect to a box with a button I push every time I have symptoms). And she wanted me to see my Pdoc ASAP. I already had an appointment with him on the 27th, but she wants me in sooner. Earliest I could get in is the 17th. That way we can discuss my depression and lithium.
I'm so tired right now. Not physically tired. Mentally. Emotionally tired. All I want to do is sleep to escape reality. See, sleep is like death but without the commitment. I don't have to deal with my feelings (or lack there of) while I'm asleep. And I've been sleeping more. Napping. Trying to stay in bed as late as I can in the mornings.
Withdrawing. I'm not interacting as much as I normally do. Some coworkers have noticed.
I'm trying. Fake it till ya make it, right? But it's getting hard anymore. It drains me so much. But still I try because what else am I going to do?
I'm depressed. I'm empty. I'm hollow. I'm fake. I'm down, defeated, hopeless, and overwhelmed. I'm nothing.
All of the things and none of the things.
I feel I'm getting worse. Slowly but surely getting worse.
I went to the doctor on Wednesday (the 5th). On top of the depression I've been having dizzy/lightheaded spells and tremors in my hands and right leg. Fun right? Fucking laugh riot, let me tell ya. She truly believes that it is my lithium. That I'm having withdrawal symptoms (I'm subtherapeutic right now) and that I need to increase my dose. But to be safe I had an EKG, orthostatic blood pressures, a ton of blood work, and I get to wear a heart monitor for a month (no, not something like a FitBit - I have electrodes that attach to my chest and connect to a box with a button I push every time I have symptoms). And she wanted me to see my Pdoc ASAP. I already had an appointment with him on the 27th, but she wants me in sooner. Earliest I could get in is the 17th. That way we can discuss my depression and lithium.
I'm so tired right now. Not physically tired. Mentally. Emotionally tired. All I want to do is sleep to escape reality. See, sleep is like death but without the commitment. I don't have to deal with my feelings (or lack there of) while I'm asleep. And I've been sleeping more. Napping. Trying to stay in bed as late as I can in the mornings.
Withdrawing. I'm not interacting as much as I normally do. Some coworkers have noticed.
I'm trying. Fake it till ya make it, right? But it's getting hard anymore. It drains me so much. But still I try because what else am I going to do?
Friday, May 17, 2019
5/17/19
I'm sitting in bed trying hard to cry. Yes, you read that right. I'm trying to cry.
Why?
Because I can't.
I have no emotional response right now. No emotions. I feel so empty and hollow and flat. Anhedonic. There's just nothing there. And I don't know what to do. I keep thinking that if maybe I can cry I'll feel better. I'll have an emotional release and I'll be able to feel again. But I. Can't. Cry.
I felt like this yesterday as well. It feels so . . . bad. I feel down and depressed but I also feel nothing at all. I was at work. Which is bad. It means I have access to sharp objects. And I cut. Only once. And for a split second I could feel. For a split second I could feel. The emptiness left me and I felt grounded.
But it was only for a second and then the emptiness came flooding back around me. I was alone again in a world of billions.
This is where I'm at again today. Alone and empty and scared. What if this continues? What if it gets worse? What if?
I don't want to go back to doing ECT, but I can't go on like this. My biggest fear is that this continues and my Pdoc won't support me trying different meds or methods to get better. He'll be all about ECT. And he'll give me an ultimatum: ECT or find another psychiatrist. I can't do that. I don't want another Pdoc. He knows me.
In this regard I'm probably worrying over nothing and I keep telling myself that. Because it does nothing to help my mood. It just makes me anxious and feel worse.
I hate feeling like this. I want to cut again. I want to cry. I want to put my fist through the wall. I want to not exist.
I don't know what to do.
What do I do?
Why?
Because I can't.
I have no emotional response right now. No emotions. I feel so empty and hollow and flat. Anhedonic. There's just nothing there. And I don't know what to do. I keep thinking that if maybe I can cry I'll feel better. I'll have an emotional release and I'll be able to feel again. But I. Can't. Cry.
I felt like this yesterday as well. It feels so . . . bad. I feel down and depressed but I also feel nothing at all. I was at work. Which is bad. It means I have access to sharp objects. And I cut. Only once. And for a split second I could feel. For a split second I could feel. The emptiness left me and I felt grounded.
But it was only for a second and then the emptiness came flooding back around me. I was alone again in a world of billions.
This is where I'm at again today. Alone and empty and scared. What if this continues? What if it gets worse? What if?
I don't want to go back to doing ECT, but I can't go on like this. My biggest fear is that this continues and my Pdoc won't support me trying different meds or methods to get better. He'll be all about ECT. And he'll give me an ultimatum: ECT or find another psychiatrist. I can't do that. I don't want another Pdoc. He knows me.
In this regard I'm probably worrying over nothing and I keep telling myself that. Because it does nothing to help my mood. It just makes me anxious and feel worse.
I hate feeling like this. I want to cut again. I want to cry. I want to put my fist through the wall. I want to not exist.
I don't know what to do.
What do I do?
Tuesday, May 14, 2019
5/14/19
Ugh. I'm feeling pretty down today. And it's pretty freaking annoying. The past few days I'd been feeling better and then today -BOOM - down again. I'm trying to figure out why.
Let's talk about the good news though.
"Good" news.
We got another dog! Adopted her from a local rescue shelter. She is the sweetest, goofiest dog. We named her Moya. Which if you watch Farscape you'll get (our other dog is Zan). Anyway, we've been sorta looking for another dog for a month or so, checking the shelters here and there. On Saturday (today is Tuesday) we decided to go looking again just for goofs. We didn't expect that we would be coming home with a dog. But we took Moya on a walk and fell in love - my son especially. Long story short - she's ours!
So why the quotation marks around good above?
Well, getting a dog changes things up. It, in essence, throws my routine out the window. Things are different now. We need to get used to Moya and her quirks and mannerisms and she needs to get used to us and especially Zan (Zan is 16, deaf, and doesn't play well with others. Hell, she doesn't play at all). And the thing is, stupid as it may sound, this change up is hard for me to accept. Hard for me to deal with. Change is a hard concept for me to grasp. It terrifies me - even when it's something as simple as getting a dog. You'd think I'd be happy - and I am, I guess - but I'm kind of struggling with this.
And it makes me feel horrible and stupid that I'm struggling with this. Which, of course, makes me feel worse. Nothing like bringing self hate to the party, am I right??
This is probably why I feel down today. I'm dealing with all of this stupidity in my head.
I'll work through it. Everything will be fine.
Let's talk about the good news though.
"Good" news.
We got another dog! Adopted her from a local rescue shelter. She is the sweetest, goofiest dog. We named her Moya. Which if you watch Farscape you'll get (our other dog is Zan). Anyway, we've been sorta looking for another dog for a month or so, checking the shelters here and there. On Saturday (today is Tuesday) we decided to go looking again just for goofs. We didn't expect that we would be coming home with a dog. But we took Moya on a walk and fell in love - my son especially. Long story short - she's ours!
So why the quotation marks around good above?
Well, getting a dog changes things up. It, in essence, throws my routine out the window. Things are different now. We need to get used to Moya and her quirks and mannerisms and she needs to get used to us and especially Zan (Zan is 16, deaf, and doesn't play well with others. Hell, she doesn't play at all). And the thing is, stupid as it may sound, this change up is hard for me to accept. Hard for me to deal with. Change is a hard concept for me to grasp. It terrifies me - even when it's something as simple as getting a dog. You'd think I'd be happy - and I am, I guess - but I'm kind of struggling with this.
And it makes me feel horrible and stupid that I'm struggling with this. Which, of course, makes me feel worse. Nothing like bringing self hate to the party, am I right??
This is probably why I feel down today. I'm dealing with all of this stupidity in my head.
I'll work through it. Everything will be fine.
Wednesday, May 1, 2019
5/1/19
I want to write, I just don't know what to write about. I've been mildly depressed the past few weeks - some days more than mildly. Stuck as an emotionless husk (except for anger - I have lots of anger). And it just seems to be getting worse. I've even been having hallucinations again. I've gone months without those and now they're back.
I have therapy today at 2 and even though I'm depressed I don't know what I'm going to talk about. I mean, beat a dead horse much? I guess I can talk about body dysmorphia, seeing how I hate my fat and ugly self. So there's that. A topic! Go me!
I'm going to be having some new artwork soon. Hopefully. In maybe a different style than what I normally draw. I'm looking forward to that but am also scared because what if I fail? I get this crippling fear so much so that I don't even start. But I'm going to. I WILL! This week hopefully.
Wow. That's really it. I have no motivation to write or come up with anything even though I want to. Maybe I'll have more later. After therapy.
Who knows.
I'm out for now though.
I have therapy today at 2 and even though I'm depressed I don't know what I'm going to talk about. I mean, beat a dead horse much? I guess I can talk about body dysmorphia, seeing how I hate my fat and ugly self. So there's that. A topic! Go me!
I'm going to be having some new artwork soon. Hopefully. In maybe a different style than what I normally draw. I'm looking forward to that but am also scared because what if I fail? I get this crippling fear so much so that I don't even start. But I'm going to. I WILL! This week hopefully.
Wow. That's really it. I have no motivation to write or come up with anything even though I want to. Maybe I'll have more later. After therapy.
Who knows.
I'm out for now though.
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
4/10/19
So yeah. Sitting here on the couch listening to Guster, who happens to be my favorite band. Trying to lift my mood. I've been down the past several days. Just this overwhelming sense of melancholy. The darkness is calling, whispering in my ear, and I'm trying my best to ignore it. But damn if it's not persistent.
I believe I know the trigger. On of Ayden's rats died. And that was sad in and of itself, but it shattered Ayden. And seeing him so sad, so utterly devastated, broke my heart. I wish I could have taken the pain away from him. I can't, of course. So instead I created my own. This mild depression that won't leave.
And then my mom. I don't really need to say more than that. But, for those who don't know, my mom is an alcoholic, has been one since before I was born, and I have lots of issues with her and my childhood. Well, she decided to try and go behind my back and have me taken off all of my meds. Why? Because her dose of Prilosec was halved by her doctor. So apparently all meds are bad now. Especially mine. All I can do is shake my head and silently mouth "you fucking bitch how dare you."
I've been dealing with a lot the past 5-6 days. No wonder my mood has taken a turn for the worse. I can only hope that with some time it will pick back up. I can't let this become a downward spiral.
Repeat: I can't let this become a downward spiral.
I have therapy next week. Tuesday. I'm hoping I'm doing better by then. Praying I'm doing better by then. Because this little bit of mild depression? No. I can't do it. I can't. And I sure as hell can't get worse.
I'll be better. I will.
I believe I know the trigger. On of Ayden's rats died. And that was sad in and of itself, but it shattered Ayden. And seeing him so sad, so utterly devastated, broke my heart. I wish I could have taken the pain away from him. I can't, of course. So instead I created my own. This mild depression that won't leave.
And then my mom. I don't really need to say more than that. But, for those who don't know, my mom is an alcoholic, has been one since before I was born, and I have lots of issues with her and my childhood. Well, she decided to try and go behind my back and have me taken off all of my meds. Why? Because her dose of Prilosec was halved by her doctor. So apparently all meds are bad now. Especially mine. All I can do is shake my head and silently mouth "you fucking bitch how dare you."
I've been dealing with a lot the past 5-6 days. No wonder my mood has taken a turn for the worse. I can only hope that with some time it will pick back up. I can't let this become a downward spiral.
Repeat: I can't let this become a downward spiral.
I have therapy next week. Tuesday. I'm hoping I'm doing better by then. Praying I'm doing better by then. Because this little bit of mild depression? No. I can't do it. I can't. And I sure as hell can't get worse.
I'll be better. I will.
Friday, March 22, 2019
3/22/19
Well. I'm having a bit of a rough go of it today. Which is annoying. My mood is down - not depressed - but down. And all because my brain is an asshole and won't shut up. My brain likes being an asshole, and it's good at it. Too good at it. What's it doing . . .?
I was getting ready this morning and happened to really look at myself in the mirror. I look at myself in the mirror all the time but this morning . . . this morning was different. I was immediately filled with self loathing. I could see every flaw, every wrinkle, every fold of fat. I could see it all. The bags under my eyes, the dull grey color of my eyes, how my hair was just laying there, no volume, no real style. How ugly and fat I was.
You look hideous. You look old and worn out. You're fat. Are you even trying to lose weight because it looks like you're gaining more. You're so frumpy. You have no sense of style. How does Jeremy even still love you? Ayden is embarrassed by you. You have wrinkles every where I can see your pores you don't do anything with your hair look how your stomach hangs you look pale I'm surprised Jeremy hasn't leftyouyou'reworthlessyouhavenothingtogivewhydon'tyoujustkillyourself . . . . . .
All of the negative thoughts started running together. It was hard to even separate them. My eyes welled up with tears as I stood there looking at myself and listening to my brain barrage me. I couldn't move. I was frozen there, trying my best not to cry because Ayden was in his room next door. I didn't want him to hear me.
Even 6 months ago this would have gotten to me. This would have hit me hard. Now, that's not to say that it didn't hit me. On the contrary. My mood went south in a heartbeat. But the difference between now and 6 months ago is now I'm stable. Now I know how to counter these thoughts and practice self care. And that's what I did. I countered these thoughts. I told myself that I was beautiful in and out. That even though I was overweight and not where I want to be that didn't make Jeremy love me any less. And you know what?
It kind of helped.
That sounds stupid, doesn't it? I'm sure you were waiting for me to say that it worked. That I went about my day feeling happy with no more negative self talk. But that's simply not true. That's, sadly, not how my brain works. It has been barraging me with negative comments all day. So much so that I feel mentally exhausted. But I'm countering them. I'm keeping myself from going deeper. I'm writing about it in hopes that this will help.
Six months ago I would have felt like shit. Today I feel down and worn out, but definitely not like shit. So I'd say that's progress.
I was getting ready this morning and happened to really look at myself in the mirror. I look at myself in the mirror all the time but this morning . . . this morning was different. I was immediately filled with self loathing. I could see every flaw, every wrinkle, every fold of fat. I could see it all. The bags under my eyes, the dull grey color of my eyes, how my hair was just laying there, no volume, no real style. How ugly and fat I was.
You look hideous. You look old and worn out. You're fat. Are you even trying to lose weight because it looks like you're gaining more. You're so frumpy. You have no sense of style. How does Jeremy even still love you? Ayden is embarrassed by you. You have wrinkles every where I can see your pores you don't do anything with your hair look how your stomach hangs you look pale I'm surprised Jeremy hasn't leftyouyou'reworthlessyouhavenothingtogivewhydon'tyoujustkillyourself . . . . . .
All of the negative thoughts started running together. It was hard to even separate them. My eyes welled up with tears as I stood there looking at myself and listening to my brain barrage me. I couldn't move. I was frozen there, trying my best not to cry because Ayden was in his room next door. I didn't want him to hear me.
Even 6 months ago this would have gotten to me. This would have hit me hard. Now, that's not to say that it didn't hit me. On the contrary. My mood went south in a heartbeat. But the difference between now and 6 months ago is now I'm stable. Now I know how to counter these thoughts and practice self care. And that's what I did. I countered these thoughts. I told myself that I was beautiful in and out. That even though I was overweight and not where I want to be that didn't make Jeremy love me any less. And you know what?
It kind of helped.
That sounds stupid, doesn't it? I'm sure you were waiting for me to say that it worked. That I went about my day feeling happy with no more negative self talk. But that's simply not true. That's, sadly, not how my brain works. It has been barraging me with negative comments all day. So much so that I feel mentally exhausted. But I'm countering them. I'm keeping myself from going deeper. I'm writing about it in hopes that this will help.
Six months ago I would have felt like shit. Today I feel down and worn out, but definitely not like shit. So I'd say that's progress.
Sunday, March 17, 2019
3/17/19
Man. It's been awhile since I've written anything again. I'm not sure what's up with that. But let's get right into it, shall we?
I'm having a little bit of a rough day today. It's not a bad day, not by any means, but it's definitely a little rough. I'm feeling a bit down and my mind is racing and I can't seem to focus on anything. Even sitting down to write this is proving difficult.
When I have days like this it's hard for me to remember that it's just a day. I immediately think that it must be the start of a new episode. That I'm going to get worse. That life as I know it - stability - is going to come crashing down around me. I try to remind myself that that's simply not the case and that it's just one day. But that doesn't seem to help. My mind races with doomsday scenarios and it tends to make my mood worse.
And you may remember from my last post that there's a part of me that wants this to happen (a very, very small part, but a part none the less). And this part rejoices and throws negative commentary at me, trying to instill a sense of hopelessness. Today that little ear worm is gaining strength.
And that pisses me off.
And not only that, I've been more flat lately. People at work have noticed as I've been more quiet. I'm just not . . . feeling. Not Like I had been. Not like I want to. That in and of itself is a downer. I need to be able to feel. What good is stability if I'm flat? If I'm anhedonic? I don't know, what do I know?
To counter this I've started taking a couple of supplements. L-tryptophan and D,L-phenylalanine. They're amino acids that convert to serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. They're supposed to help with depression. Now, technically I'm not depressed. I'm stable. I'm hoping, on the one hand, they help keep me stable. On the other hand, if they raise serotonin and dopamine, I'm hoping for maybe some hypomania. I know, I know. I shouldn't be playing around with crap like this. It's not necessarily safe. Or wise. But I just really want a wider range of emotion. I feel so muted. And I'm tired of it.
Last night and this morning were my first doses of the supplements. And so of course I feel down. I seem to have a bad track record with supplements. I plan on giving them at least a few days to see how I feel. Hopefully my next blog post will be more positive and uplifting.
I'm having a little bit of a rough day today. It's not a bad day, not by any means, but it's definitely a little rough. I'm feeling a bit down and my mind is racing and I can't seem to focus on anything. Even sitting down to write this is proving difficult.
When I have days like this it's hard for me to remember that it's just a day. I immediately think that it must be the start of a new episode. That I'm going to get worse. That life as I know it - stability - is going to come crashing down around me. I try to remind myself that that's simply not the case and that it's just one day. But that doesn't seem to help. My mind races with doomsday scenarios and it tends to make my mood worse.
And you may remember from my last post that there's a part of me that wants this to happen (a very, very small part, but a part none the less). And this part rejoices and throws negative commentary at me, trying to instill a sense of hopelessness. Today that little ear worm is gaining strength.
And that pisses me off.
And not only that, I've been more flat lately. People at work have noticed as I've been more quiet. I'm just not . . . feeling. Not Like I had been. Not like I want to. That in and of itself is a downer. I need to be able to feel. What good is stability if I'm flat? If I'm anhedonic? I don't know, what do I know?
To counter this I've started taking a couple of supplements. L-tryptophan and D,L-phenylalanine. They're amino acids that convert to serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. They're supposed to help with depression. Now, technically I'm not depressed. I'm stable. I'm hoping, on the one hand, they help keep me stable. On the other hand, if they raise serotonin and dopamine, I'm hoping for maybe some hypomania. I know, I know. I shouldn't be playing around with crap like this. It's not necessarily safe. Or wise. But I just really want a wider range of emotion. I feel so muted. And I'm tired of it.
Last night and this morning were my first doses of the supplements. And so of course I feel down. I seem to have a bad track record with supplements. I plan on giving them at least a few days to see how I feel. Hopefully my next blog post will be more positive and uplifting.
Monday, February 25, 2019
2/25/19
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does part of me want to be sick again? What kind of twisted, fucked up person am I??
No, seriously.
What. The actual. Fuck. Is wrong with me?
There is a small part of me that wants to be sick again. That wants to be hospitalized again. And I just . . . I don't understand it. At all. I can't even fathom wanting to be sick again. It's awful. It's horrible. And to actually want to be like that? Depressed again? Suicidal again? No. I don't get it.
It's actually very difficult for me to even write about this, to get it out there. I'm embarrassed of it. Ashamed of it. And it makes me feel guilty. Guilty because I've gone through so much and worked so hard to get stable and part of me wants to throw it all away. And for what? Attention?
Attention. That's about the only thing I can come up with. Because I do get more attention when I'm sick. But that attention? It's not worth my stability. So I don't know . . .
What else could it be . . . Familiarity? I am used to being depressed. I've spent most of my life depressed and let's be honest - stability is a little scary. I don't know how to act. I don't know what "normal" is.
But stability is so wonderful. It's so much better than the hell of depression. Stability is even better than hypomania (let's be honest - that's because I usually get irritable hypomania, not euphoric). Stability is necessary for my family, necessary for work, necessary for me.
So why? Why does part of me want to be sick again?
No, seriously.
What. The actual. Fuck. Is wrong with me?
There is a small part of me that wants to be sick again. That wants to be hospitalized again. And I just . . . I don't understand it. At all. I can't even fathom wanting to be sick again. It's awful. It's horrible. And to actually want to be like that? Depressed again? Suicidal again? No. I don't get it.
It's actually very difficult for me to even write about this, to get it out there. I'm embarrassed of it. Ashamed of it. And it makes me feel guilty. Guilty because I've gone through so much and worked so hard to get stable and part of me wants to throw it all away. And for what? Attention?
Attention. That's about the only thing I can come up with. Because I do get more attention when I'm sick. But that attention? It's not worth my stability. So I don't know . . .
What else could it be . . . Familiarity? I am used to being depressed. I've spent most of my life depressed and let's be honest - stability is a little scary. I don't know how to act. I don't know what "normal" is.
But stability is so wonderful. It's so much better than the hell of depression. Stability is even better than hypomania (let's be honest - that's because I usually get irritable hypomania, not euphoric). Stability is necessary for my family, necessary for work, necessary for me.
So why? Why does part of me want to be sick again?
Sunday, February 17, 2019
2/17/19
I'm sitting on the couch drinking tea, listening to music. I should be content. I should feel good. But I don't. I'm not sure what's going on other than I'm having an identity crisis of sorts. I guess. I really don't know.
I was putting on makeup this morning and took a really good look at myself. Y'all, I don't even recognize myself. I've gained so much weight - so much fucking weight - that I don't recognize myself anymore. I'm not who I used to be and it brought me to tears.
I feel so fat and disgusting and ugly right now it's not even funny. My self esteem is nonexistent. It makes me feel so low. I'm trying to make changes in my diet and physical activity to combat this but it's proven to be REALLY. FUCKING. HARD. I'm trying. My diet is actually pretty good. I need to get active though, I know this, but it's so hard when all you want to do is sleep. I've been so exhausted the past few months so it's been hard.
I'm trying.
And you know what? It's not just the weight (though that's the main thing), it's also the fact that I'm getting older. I'm 40 people and my face is changing. I have more wrinkles, I have grey hair. I think this is harder for me to swallow than I ever thought it would be. I just assumed I would age gracefully.
Apparently I'm not.
I was putting on makeup this morning and took a really good look at myself. Y'all, I don't even recognize myself. I've gained so much weight - so much fucking weight - that I don't recognize myself anymore. I'm not who I used to be and it brought me to tears.
I feel so fat and disgusting and ugly right now it's not even funny. My self esteem is nonexistent. It makes me feel so low. I'm trying to make changes in my diet and physical activity to combat this but it's proven to be REALLY. FUCKING. HARD. I'm trying. My diet is actually pretty good. I need to get active though, I know this, but it's so hard when all you want to do is sleep. I've been so exhausted the past few months so it's been hard.
I'm trying.
And you know what? It's not just the weight (though that's the main thing), it's also the fact that I'm getting older. I'm 40 people and my face is changing. I have more wrinkles, I have grey hair. I think this is harder for me to swallow than I ever thought it would be. I just assumed I would age gracefully.
Apparently I'm not.
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
2/13/19
Would you look at that, the day before Valentine's day. Isn't that special?
No, not really. It's really not. I never really got Valentine's day, other than it being a commercial holiday. Hubs and I don't celebrate it. Seems a waste of money.
Anyway, my low mood seems to be continuing. It's not bad, it's just . . . noticeable. I'm a little off, a little down, a little empty, a little bit not me. So there's that. And then I spoke to my mom this week. Or should I say I listened to her ramble on about nothing. She had been drinking already (it was 12:30pm when she called) and she was past tipsy but not quite drunk yet. It made me realize something. It made me realize how little I want to have anything to do with her. It made me realize how truly stressed out I get when she even texts me. It made me realize how angry and anxious hearing her voice makes me. It made me realize how futile it is trying to have a relationship with her.
And see, I've been trying to have a relationship with her. But it's just . . . it's not working. I'm really at the point where I can't stand the woman. She embarrasses me, she makes me angry and anxious and uncomfortable. And she's in such strong denial about her drinking that she could be pouring vodka into a glass and drinking it and still deny that she drinks alcohol. To say it's frustrating is a vast understatement.
I've been working on all this in therapy, have read the ACOA books (Adult Children of Alcoholics), been to ACOA meetings . . . I've talked with hubs and my friends about it and gotten advice from them. I don't know what else to do. I'm really at the point where I want to cut off all communication.
I can't, of course, do that because we have a loan through her. So there has to be some form of communication. Which, let's face it, I dread.
I guess this will be the topic of discussion in therapy next week. Joy.
No, not really. It's really not. I never really got Valentine's day, other than it being a commercial holiday. Hubs and I don't celebrate it. Seems a waste of money.
Anyway, my low mood seems to be continuing. It's not bad, it's just . . . noticeable. I'm a little off, a little down, a little empty, a little bit not me. So there's that. And then I spoke to my mom this week. Or should I say I listened to her ramble on about nothing. She had been drinking already (it was 12:30pm when she called) and she was past tipsy but not quite drunk yet. It made me realize something. It made me realize how little I want to have anything to do with her. It made me realize how truly stressed out I get when she even texts me. It made me realize how angry and anxious hearing her voice makes me. It made me realize how futile it is trying to have a relationship with her.
And see, I've been trying to have a relationship with her. But it's just . . . it's not working. I'm really at the point where I can't stand the woman. She embarrasses me, she makes me angry and anxious and uncomfortable. And she's in such strong denial about her drinking that she could be pouring vodka into a glass and drinking it and still deny that she drinks alcohol. To say it's frustrating is a vast understatement.
I've been working on all this in therapy, have read the ACOA books (Adult Children of Alcoholics), been to ACOA meetings . . . I've talked with hubs and my friends about it and gotten advice from them. I don't know what else to do. I'm really at the point where I want to cut off all communication.
I can't, of course, do that because we have a loan through her. So there has to be some form of communication. Which, let's face it, I dread.
I guess this will be the topic of discussion in therapy next week. Joy.
Friday, February 8, 2019
2/8/19
This post will be relatively short. Probably.
Anyway, I went to the doctor this week (my primary physician) as I've been extremely fatigued as of late. For the past 2 months really. I have several symptoms of hypothyroidism and I wanted to get it checked out. Doc thinks I'm just not sleeping well, doesn't think I'm hypothyroid, but ran a crap ton of labs on me just to be sure. Now I'm just waiting for those results to come back. In the meantime, I'm on water restriction after 7pm and no caffeine after 7pm, to see if that helps my sleeping (currently I wake up 3-4 times a night to pee).
We'll see.
Today has actually been kind of a crap day. My mood is low, I'm being really hard on myself for everything you could possibly think of, and I'm, well, fatigued. So it's been a rough day. I'd really like to curl up in bed, go to sleep, and not wake up until tomorrow morning (it's 2:30pm right now). But alas, I can't. I have to push through the day and be an adult. I don't understand why I have to, maybe one of you could explain that to me.
So yeah. I just had to get that out. Hope you all are having a great day. You know, my one person who reads this.
Anyway, I went to the doctor this week (my primary physician) as I've been extremely fatigued as of late. For the past 2 months really. I have several symptoms of hypothyroidism and I wanted to get it checked out. Doc thinks I'm just not sleeping well, doesn't think I'm hypothyroid, but ran a crap ton of labs on me just to be sure. Now I'm just waiting for those results to come back. In the meantime, I'm on water restriction after 7pm and no caffeine after 7pm, to see if that helps my sleeping (currently I wake up 3-4 times a night to pee).
We'll see.
Today has actually been kind of a crap day. My mood is low, I'm being really hard on myself for everything you could possibly think of, and I'm, well, fatigued. So it's been a rough day. I'd really like to curl up in bed, go to sleep, and not wake up until tomorrow morning (it's 2:30pm right now). But alas, I can't. I have to push through the day and be an adult. I don't understand why I have to, maybe one of you could explain that to me.
So yeah. I just had to get that out. Hope you all are having a great day. You know, my one person who reads this.
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
1/22/19
I'm sitting in my living room, wrapped up in a blanket, sipping tea, and utterly enjoying myself. I'm relaxed and content, warm and happy.
And you have no idea how weird this is.
No seriously. It's really fucking weird. To not be depressed? To not feel empty and hopeless and down? To not want to die? It's really fucking weird. See, I'm so used to being depressed that I don't know what to do with myself or how to act when I'm not depressed. How stupid is that?
Actually, it's not that stupid. See, you do one thing for so long that you forget how to do the other thing. The other thing for me is being happy. But you know what? I'm going to own that. I'm going to make being happy my bitch! Yes I am!
It just means that I have to relearn how to be me. Truth be told, I've become more of an introvert and a bit awkward around people. Maybe that truly is the new me. If so, I can work with that. Maybe that's just how I was while dealing with depression and now I'll blossom. Time will tell.
At any rate, I'm actually feeling content and happy and I don't want to die and this is freaking HUGE y'all!
In other news, my talk with Dr. M went well and I am no longer doing ECT. He told me that if the depression comes back and I feel like I need a treatment I can just call and get on the schedule. He was fully supportive of me taking a break and seeing how I do without it for which I'm so grateful. It has officially been 9 weeks since my last ECT treatment and I'm doing good so hopefully that's an indication of things to come.
And you have no idea how weird this is.
No seriously. It's really fucking weird. To not be depressed? To not feel empty and hopeless and down? To not want to die? It's really fucking weird. See, I'm so used to being depressed that I don't know what to do with myself or how to act when I'm not depressed. How stupid is that?
Actually, it's not that stupid. See, you do one thing for so long that you forget how to do the other thing. The other thing for me is being happy. But you know what? I'm going to own that. I'm going to make being happy my bitch! Yes I am!
It just means that I have to relearn how to be me. Truth be told, I've become more of an introvert and a bit awkward around people. Maybe that truly is the new me. If so, I can work with that. Maybe that's just how I was while dealing with depression and now I'll blossom. Time will tell.
At any rate, I'm actually feeling content and happy and I don't want to die and this is freaking HUGE y'all!
In other news, my talk with Dr. M went well and I am no longer doing ECT. He told me that if the depression comes back and I feel like I need a treatment I can just call and get on the schedule. He was fully supportive of me taking a break and seeing how I do without it for which I'm so grateful. It has officially been 9 weeks since my last ECT treatment and I'm doing good so hopefully that's an indication of things to come.
Monday, January 14, 2019
1/14/19
Well, again it's been quite awhile since I posted. Eighteen days, geez. Oh well. I've been busy. I think I've mentioned before that hubby and I bought a house and, well, we've been moving in over the past week and a half.
Exciting stuff!!
Except that moving sucks and you never really know how much crap you have until you have to move it. Holy shit do we have a lot of crap! But that's okay - we can sell some stuff (gotta make room for more crap!).
Anyway, mood wise I've actually been doing pretty good. I still have the emptiness but it's not the driver anymore - it's hanging in the back seat. It still rears its ugly head and tries to take over - and sometimes it does - but I'm finding it easier to manage it. I think this past depressive episode is finally winding down (I mean golly it's only been almost 4 months). Which means I should have a couple of months or so before the next one hits.
So today I've been a little anxious. I have an appointment this afternoon with Dr. M to discuss me stopping ECT. I don't want to do it anymore as I'm not really seeing any benefit from it. Neither is my hubby or my friends. All I'm seeing is memory loss. Short term and long term. So I want to stop. I know Dr. M isn't going to be pleased with that and I'm sure he'll encourage me to continue it. But no, I want to stop. Hopefully the appointment goes smoothly.
Exciting stuff!!
Except that moving sucks and you never really know how much crap you have until you have to move it. Holy shit do we have a lot of crap! But that's okay - we can sell some stuff (gotta make room for more crap!).
Anyway, mood wise I've actually been doing pretty good. I still have the emptiness but it's not the driver anymore - it's hanging in the back seat. It still rears its ugly head and tries to take over - and sometimes it does - but I'm finding it easier to manage it. I think this past depressive episode is finally winding down (I mean golly it's only been almost 4 months). Which means I should have a couple of months or so before the next one hits.
So today I've been a little anxious. I have an appointment this afternoon with Dr. M to discuss me stopping ECT. I don't want to do it anymore as I'm not really seeing any benefit from it. Neither is my hubby or my friends. All I'm seeing is memory loss. Short term and long term. So I want to stop. I know Dr. M isn't going to be pleased with that and I'm sure he'll encourage me to continue it. But no, I want to stop. Hopefully the appointment goes smoothly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)