Why is shit getting real? Well, yesterday I texted my therapist and made an appointment with him. I haven't seen him in about a year because I had been doing so well. And now . . . I'm not. Luckily he had an opening this Thursday - I was thinking I might have to wait a couple of weeks. So glad I don't have to.
You may be thinking, "why is it such a big deal that you made an appointment with your therapist?? You saw him consistently for over 8 years!!" And yeah, you're right. Why is it such a big deal? Mainly because I feel like a failure now. Because I can't do this on my own. I need help. I was so proud of myself for doing so well, stopping therapy, going off of Lithium, going back to working full time . . . and now? Now I need help again. I need to see my therapist again. I had to increase the dose of my Wellbutrin. And it makes me feel like a failure which doesn't help the depression at all.
I worked yesterday, on mom/baby, and it was busy. But the day dragged on and on and on. I honestly didn't think I was going to make it through the shift because I felt so low. Well, low isn't necessarily the right word. Anhedonic is. I was so flat and withdrawn and unfeeling that it physically hurt. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and not exist. I tried interacting with coworkers. I tried really hard with my patients to engage and joke and laugh . . . but everything fell flat. Everything was fake. I often just stared off into space. My bestie was charge nurse yesterday and I could hardly even say anything to her. There was nothing to say. I was so withdrawn I couldn't come up with any conversation starters. The anhedonia is awful. To feel nothing. I couldn't even feel anger or sadness . . . it's just . . . nothing. I didn't care about anything. I don't care. It's like I'm incapable of having feelings right now. And I don't know how to describe how horrible that is. To not feel.
Today I'm feeling more of the same. Flat, empty, withdrawn. I made a list of things I wanted to get done today. Little things. Things that would be easy to check off. I got on my spin bike for 15 minutes, hoping the endorphins of working out would help. It didn't. I showered and shaved my legs. I cut and filed my nails. I started a load of laundry. I still have to go to the post office - and I will - but later. Little things to get done to try and help my mood. I even put on makeup because I was hoping I'd feel better about myself. I don't. And as I'm typing all of this out, reading through it, it should make me feel sad. Or at least feel something. But I'm too empty. There's nothing there.
I'm considering calling in sick tomorrow. I don't want to leave my coworkers high and dry, but I don't want a repeat of yesterday. We're already short at least one person tomorrow so if I call in sick we'll be really short. Ugh. What to do. I'm sure I'll end up working because of the guilt of calling in sick. That guilt will just make everything worse. And who knows - maybe having to interact with people will help. I doubt it, but we'll see.
I really hate bipolar disorder. I'd kick it in the junk if I could.
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