Thursday 2/24/22 Another Heavy Sigh Day

Two posts close together. Weird. 

On Monday (my last post), I didn't really feel like writing. But I did. At least a little bit. Today I feel like writing . . . but I don't know how much. 

I had therapy this morning and I don't really know what to say anymore there. I feel like I'm beating a dead horse. I'm bipolar, I have depression, this is what I feel like, these are the things I'm doing to combat it, blah, blah, blah. Over and over again. I feel as though I'm boring Mike - which is a stupid way to feel - but I can't help it. In the 8-9 years I've been seeing Mike we've gone over all of my trauma ad nauseum. There isn't anything new to discuss. No reason I should be feeling the way I do except that I'm bipolar. And in a depressive episode. Which, honestly, is frustrating. Because yeah - I feel like I'm boring and whiney and undeserving. I feel like I shouldn't be in therapy, like I should be able to figure this out on my own by now. 

But I can't.

And as much as I let on that there is hope . . . I feel kind of lost and hopeless. Because this keeps going on. I keep having episodes. And I will keep having episodes for as long as I live. And that's a very daunting future. Even though I had a year of "normalcy" it's like I can't remember what it was like. The depression is so consuming, even though it's not nearly as bad as it was in the past. I'm still struggling. Every. Single. Day. I'm struggling. Quietly. Undetectable to most people, I'm struggling. 

See, my depression isn't the obvious sobbing, suicidal crisis. I'm not having breakdowns every day. This episode is insidious and quiet and unrelenting. No, I'm not sobbing over everything. In fact, I can't cry. It doesn't matter what happens, I can't cry. There's nothing there. This episode has left me an empty husk. An unfeeling thing with such limited emotions it's as if I feel nothing. I'm dead inside. Hollow. There's nothing left. I'm just going about the motions of life, doing what needs to be done, doing the bare minimum because I have no drive, no motivation, no life inside of me. This is a horrible way to feel, to feel nothing. And I'm lost as to what to do. 

Mike thinks my medications are to blame. Maybe they are. They're keeping the mania at bay - and probably the worst of my depression - but I'm left numb. I'm left unfeeling. And, I guess, I should clarify: I can feel anger. Anger, resentment, annoyance, irritability. I can feel those emotions. But joy? Happiness? Contentment? Sorrow, even? No. Those emotions are out of my grasp. 

I describe it as feeling "blah" or "meh". I'm just existing. I don't get excited for anything. I'm getting a new tattoo next Tuesday and I'm all, "yep. Whatever." Like I don't even care. Which, I guess, I really don't. Being so empty it's hard to care. About anything. All I want to do is sleep. Sleep and not wake up until I feel better. So I nap. A lot. Because then I don't have to deal with not feeling. 

I'm doing everything I know to do to beat this. Exercising, eating healthy, painting, therapy, my meds, supplements, praying, singing along to music, putting on a happy face . . . you name it, I'm probably doing it. I don't know what else to do. What the fuck am I supposed to do??? I'm so tired of this, tired of fighting a war I can't win. 

I guess I'll call my psychiatrist. Talk to him about adjusting my meds. I don't know what else to do. 

Monday 2/21/22 Heavy Sigh

 It's been that kind of day. A heavy sigh kind of day. I am . . . quite blah. And actually feeling a bit down today as well. I'm not sure why. I mean, the "blah" I get. That seems to be my go to state of being as of late. But feeling down too . . . ugh. I'm not digging it. 

I spent the morning painting. I had a custom pet portrait to do, a dog. I'm always nervous doing custom orders because I think the person will hate it. It came out cute and the gal loved it. So, yay for that! I guess I can stop beating myself up about it now. Maybe that's why I'm feeling down as well as blah. Who knows.

I'm tired of how I'm feeling. I'm tired of being tired. I'm not physically tired - this is more emotionally and mentally tired. My soul is tired. And no amount of sleep will help this. I'm not sure anything will help this. I just keep powering through, hoping I'll eventually start feeling better. It has to happen sometime, right? 

Nothing else of interest is really going on. I go to work. I work. I come home. On my days off I paint or draw or stare off into space or mindlessly scroll social media because I can't focus enough to read. Last Thursday I talked on the phone with a guy named Jacob. He has bipolar disorder and sees my therapist. It's amazing how similar yet different our symptoms are. It was a good conversation, although I felt more like I was being interviewed. 

It's weird, usually when I'm feeling down I have the urge to write. And today I really don't. Maybe it's because I've said it all before. Maybe it's because I don't want to be a downer. Maybe it's both of those things. I'm just so empty and anhedonic and apathetic and blah. I really don't want to exist like this. I want to go to sleep and wake up when this is over. Why can't I do that?

Tuesday 2/15/22

 Yesterday was Valentine's day. Jer and I never do anything for Valentine's day - I'm not sure we ever have (we've been together for 22 years). And, per our usual, we didn't do anything this year either. I worked yesterday and it was rather busy. 

Lately, my mood has been very blah. I don't even really feel depressed, per se, but just empty and meh, and blah, and flat. No real emotion. I'm just existing. Going through the motions. No joy, no happiness, no contentment . . . but also no feeling really down or dark or "sad". I'm floating around in this grey area, unable to see color but not experiencing the dark. Maybe this is a good thing? Maybe it means I'm coming out of the depression and into the light? Maybe this is a necessary stepping stone on the path to getting better? I have no idea. All I know is that I don't like it. Being in a grey fog, unable to feel, is not my idea of fun. But I don't know what to do. Keep muddling along, hoping I eventually get better? See my psychiatrist for a potential med change? (I don't know what we'd do for a med change - I've been on 23 different meds). I have no idea. 

For now, I guess I'll keep muddling along. I don't really have a choice - this isn't something you can just "snap out" of (although I wish I could). 

. . . man this is a short post. I guess I don't feel like writing today.

Wednesday 2/9/22 How About Some Horses

 So I painted some horses. Five paintings. Two are alright; three are crap. I'm out of practice painting horses and it shows. Oh well, practice makes perfect right?

Here's one of the okay paintings:

It's not too bad, just also not great. I can do better. Maybe I was just having an off day on Monday. Well, I know I was having an off day, in more areas than just painting. Monday was a day of feeling like crap, hating myself, and being depressed. It was not fun. But what can you do? Press on, like always. So I painted - poorly - and carried on. 

I worked yesterday and it was set up to be a horrifically busy day delivering babies. But then, it wasn't. We only did 5 deliveries (and left 7 in labor for night shift - oops!). And my mood was mostly okay. Withdrawn, but okay. Which was a God send after how I was feeling on Monday. 

Today I'm very blah. Numb. Flat. Nothing. Existing. And I'm not digging it. I painted again today, just a couple of paintings. Other than that I've been kind of floating around, not really doing anything. I want to work out but I have no motivation. It would be so much easier to sleep. And that's pretty much my life. No motivation, let's just sleep. Feeling bad? Let's just sleep. Bored? Sleep. Hungry? Sleep. I don't want to be this way but I can't seem to change it. Now, I'm not always sleeping. No. Sometimes I'm staring off into space or scrolling social media. Because these things are easier than dealing with my feelings. Which often don't feel good. 

Ugh. This sucks y'all. 

Thursday 2/3/22 Therapy

 I had therapy this morning. Early this morning. Like, 0800 this morning. It was ridiculously cold out. So cold it took my truck a few extra seconds to start. I don't like it that cold. We had a snow storm come through Tuesday and Wednesday and dump around 6 inches of snow. And then with the cold everything froze. 

Anyway, therapy. Mike and I spent the majority of the time talking about work. My work, obviously. Because, well, I'm burnt out. So burnt out. To the point where I don't want to go anymore. I dread going to work. Every day. I've been full time again for a year now, after having been part time for, I don't know, 6 years? I was proud of myself when I went back to full time last year. So proud. Now I'm wondering what the fuck I was thinking. Mike agrees with me in that respect. And suggested that maybe I go back to part time. Ugh. I'd feel like a total failure going back to part time. Like I've let everyone down - family and coworkers both. And myself. Mike pointed out that maybe I'm being too hard on myself (I am), but I can't help it. But yeah, I mean, work is an external, modifiable component contributing to my depression. So if I could change that, in theory, it would help my depression. Makes sense. But I am loathe to go part time again. For a lot of reasons really. But mainly because I don't want to be seen as a failure. How I see myself. Oy vey. 

Jer (hubby) and I talked about it this afternoon too. He keeps telling me that if I need to go part time again I can totally do it. Our budget is based off my part time pay (the extra I'm making is going into savings or to purchase all my protein powder and other frivolous spending). So yeah - money wise I could totally do it. Jer wants me to be happy and healthy. And I get that. I want to be happy and healthy too. But . . . failure. Extra money. Not contributing enough. I just . . . I don't know. We came up with a compromise though: I have lots of vacation time. Like, 200 hours. Now, the next 6 week schedule is already set in stone (and it sucks, honestly), but after this schedule I'm going to take a day off each week for a little while and use some of my vacation time. It's like going part time for a bit but not really doing it. Maybe it'll help. I really hope it does. 

I've been feeling so numb and empty and withdrawn and down lately. I keep thinking that if maybe I could have a good cry it would help. Release everything bottled up inside. But I can't cry. I physically can't. There's nothing in me. No real emotion other than anger. Numb and empty. I can't muster up enough emotion to cry. How sad is that? 

Anyway, therapy was good. Mike enjoyed my artwork. All 18 paintings I brought. Lord have mercy, why did I have so many paintings?? Well, because painting can be cathartic. I did two paintings today too (I'll bring those next time). 

Um . . . that's all I got for now. Cheers.