Tuesday 6/28/22 Peeing is a Chore

 No really - it is. Peeing has become a chore for me. Why? Let me explain. 

About 2 weeks ago now, my psychiatrist upped my dosage of Wellbutrin from 300mg to 450mg. I apparently like to get the rare and obscure side effects from medications. With Wellbutrin that looks like urinary hesitancy. I've been on Wellbutrin for a while and the urinary hesitancy started slowly and got worse with time - so much so that I saw a urologist to figure out what was going on. The hesitancy means that it takes me a bit of time to start my flow of urine (yes, probably TMI, I'm aware). Sometimes even a full minute or more before I can pee. Which is annoying. But now, with being on 450mg, I'm also having trouble emptying my bladder. So I can end up sitting on the toilet for 4 or 5 minutes just trying to pee like a normal person. This is beyond annoying and might be a deal breaker for the increased dose. And I haven't noticed a change in my mood yet from being on the increased dose. I'm giving it the full 4 weeks that my psychiatrist wants, but I'm probably going to have to go back down to 300mg and hope the new bladder issues go away. It's very frustrating.

And my mood? It hasn't been great. I've been feeling down more often, instead of just blah. I have more instances of feeling like I'm going to cry, especially at work. I'm trying so hard to be social. I'm forcing myself to interact with people, even though all I want to do is withdraw. And it's making me so tired. Keeping up a façade that everything is okay is exhausting. 

On Friday, Jer and I went to one of his friend's houses for a game night. It was just 4 of us - 2 couples - but it was difficult for me. I was able to join in and have an okay time, but I still struggled. I tried to appear upbeat and outgoing, which is the complete opposite of how I was feeling (I've become much more of an introvert than I ever was in the past). Saturday was work, running on about 3 hours of sleep. Sunday we went to the going away party for Father Baron, meaning I had to interact with a LOT of people. And yesterday, work. So much interacting over the past few days, I'm running on empty. And then I work Wednesday, volunteer all day Thursday, and work Friday. Today is my only day of rest and I volunteer tonight (so it's not a whole day to myself). My saving grace is that today I'm getting a massage - a little gift from Jer as he knows how much I struggle. 

When I feel like this, I get by by having things to look forward to. But after my massage today, I have nothing to look forward to. It's work and volunteering for the foreseeable future. I don't even have a therapy appointment to look forward to (and which I truly need), because Mike is out on medical leave (it'll probably be another 4-6 weeks before I see him). I need little things to look forward to. And I really have nothing. It makes everything seem bleak. 

So anyway, that's where I'm at this week. Struggling and tired. Having issues peeing. But at least getting a massage.  

Monday 6/20/22 Drowning

 I'm not really sure what I want to write about today. I'm feeling pretty down. I had all of the intentions of sleeping in today but was up at 6am (I actually woke up at 4am and laid in bed for two hours, trying to fall back asleep). I had an idea for a drawing so after breakfast I took my coffee downstairs with me to my studio and got to it. I spent 3 hours on it, between sketching and inking it. Then I took the dog on a short walk, showered, started laundry, and had lunch. And now, now I'm writing. I'm trying to keep myself busy so I don't have to deal with how I'm feeling. 

I'm at the "go-to-sleep-and-not-wake-up-until-I-feel-better" stage. Quite honestly I'm surprised at what I've accomplished today because I truly have no motivation. I forced myself to go on my walk. I didn't want to go. But I figured getting out of the house would be good for me. It didn't help. Nothing helps.

Last week - Tuesday - I saw my psychiatrist. He upped my dose of Wellbutrin from 300mg to 450mg - the max dose. I am an idiot for how I tried to go off of the Pristiq, and he's keeping me on it for now. I see him again July 12th to see how the increased dose is working. So far no change in my mood. Except I feel a wee bit more cranky. Irritable. Maybe that's a coincidence. We'll see. If there's no real change in my mood in a month I'm going to talk to him about going off the Pristiq. Maybe with one less antidepressant I'll have a greater range of moods. I don't know. Maybe I'm talking out of my ass. I just don't know what to do. And I'm tired of feeling this way. 

On the up side, I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow morning. I'm growing it out from a pixie cut (which is a long and arduous process), but it needs a trim desperately. I'm starting to get a mullet in back, not the look I'm going for. So at least that's something small I can look forward to.

I wish I could see Mike. It's only been two weeks since his surgery, so it'll be at least another 4-6 weeks before I can see him. I hate that. I wish it was sooner. But I have no choice but to wait. I need some support. I know he said if I needed anything to email him, but I don't want to be a needy burden. So I wait. 

I'm reading a book on adult daughters of alcoholics. And I have an ACOA workbook to work through. Fun times. But the book on adult daughters, Perfect Daughters, is spot on. It's like the story of my life. Which is scary and sad and infuriating and comforting all at the same time. Maybe, just maybe I can find some closure to this chapter of my life. As my mom continues to drive me crazy. It's in her head now that I'm her best friend and therapist and I'm going to help her through all life's obstacles. Fighting with her husband? Call Cami. Worried about grandma? Call Cami. Have a bad dream? Call Cami. Every. Little. Thing. I AM NEITHER YOUR FRIEND NOR THERAPIST. I am basically your estranged daughter who truly wants nothing to do with you. And I feel horribly guilty for feeling this way. But I have no real relationship with her. Talking to her is torture - especially since 99 times out of 100 she's drunk when she calls me. But I feel bad and guilty because I'm not a "good daughter". I don't know what to do. 

So that's where I'm at. Feeling like crap about everything and not having motivation to do anything. What a glorious place to be. I guess I could share the artwork I did this morning:

It's titled "Drowning". It's 8X10, watercolor and ink. Mostly ink. I like how it turned out. 

 

Tuesday 6/14/22 I'm An Idiot

You read that right - I'm an idiot. No really, I am. See, I got a wild hair up my ass and decided it would be a good idea to try and wean myself off of my Pristiq. I've been so blah and empty and non-feeling lately and, well, antidepressants can make you feel that way. Sooooo . . . why not try going off one of them? I tried going off Wellbutrin about a year ago because of side effects and my depression came back straight away with a vengeance. So that's a no go. My Vraylar . . . well, that's an antipsychotic keeping my mania at bay. So that leaves Pristiq. Now, I know I need to taper off slowly to avoid side effects. I'm on 100mg daily so I figured I'd just take it every other day for a week or so, then every 2 days, and so on. 

Yeah. Big mistake.

The day after I skipped a dose I had horrible withdrawal symptoms - brain zaps, dizziness, lightheadedness, headaches, and irritability. Let me tell you, it's not pleasant. At. All. Then I'd take a pill and the next day be fine. Skip a pill, withdrawal. Ugh. So I figured, why not just stop taking it all together? So I skipped 2 days in a row and let me tell you, that was hell. I worked Sunday (the day after skipping my second pill) and I was an emotional mess. I could hardly keep myself together. I was on the verge of tears all day, feeling depressed and low and awful. Brain zaps and other withdrawal symptoms were horrible. It sucked. I worked with my two best friends that day and they both reamed me for stopping medication without the help of my psychiatrist. Did I forget to mention that I did this on my own? Yeah. No input from my doc. And yeah - they were right. I was stupid in trying this myself. In listening to my sick, lying brain. But I did it. 

So Sunday night and last night I took my Pristiq. The withdrawal symptoms went away, I'm not completely, emotionally unstable. Which is good. But I'm back to blah and empty and non-feeling (although today I'm a little bit down). Which I hate. I want to be able to feel. I want a range of emotions. Not just blah, down, or irritable. So I see my psychiatrist today at 1440, and I'll talk to him about all of this and see what we can do. Because this has been going on since November of last year. Eightish months of feeling this way and I'm sick of it. I'm tired of just floating through life, barely participating, barely feeling. I want more than that. I deserve more than that. 

I am, honestly, nervous to talk with my doc today. Worried about what he'll say. Because I've been on so many medications and have done ECT and TMS already. I've tried everything but ketamine. And I'd prefer not to go there. But that may be all that's left. Or, maybe he can help me wean off of Pristiq in a way that I don't get the horrible withdrawal symptoms, and we can see how I am off of it. I don't know. I wish Mike (therapist) wasn't out on medical leave (he had major back surgery last week). I wish I could see him sooner than 6-8 weeks from now. It would help. So much. But it is what it is. I see my doc today and Mike in 6-8 weeks. Ugh. Wish me luck.

   

Monday 6/6/22 I'm home

 I was supposed to work today, but was called off. So I'm at home. Wondering what the hell am I going to do with myself. It's only 9am and I feel lost. I have the whole day ahead of me. So many hours to fill. And I don't know what to do. 

Kind of weird to think that I'll only be working one day this week. I was called off today, I'm marked off for Wednesday (Jer's cousin passed away, so we're going to her funeral Wednesday), so that leaves Friday. Just one day this week. Which will be a nice break. Except for the funeral part. I haven't been to a funeral in a  loooooong time. I can't remember the last time I was at one. I bought a dress for it as I don't really have anything "funeral appropriate". 

I had therapy last Thursday and it was okay. Just . . . okay. I vented about work, how I've been feeling, etc. It wasn't really a "let's come up with solutions" type of session. Just more of a "getting everything out" one. Which, let's be honest, I needed. It'll be at least 6 weeks before I see Mike again as he's having his back surgery today. I'm praying that everything goes smoothly for him and that he has a comfortable, uneventful recovery. 

There's not much else going on. I'm very boring I guess. I still haven't been able to read. I still haven't done any artwork. I still have no motivation or inspiration. Which sucks. It really sucks. I want to be able to do things with my time off and it's like, I can't. I go down to my studio and I sit there, staring off into space. I don't know what to draw or paint and I haven't sewn anything in over 6 months. No desire. No ideas. I'm hoping this will change soon because I normally enjoy doing art. But not now. Now I don't even pick up a pencil. 

I took Moya on walks last week, a long one yesterday, and I'll likely take her on one today. At least this gets me out of the house and doing something. Something active. Probably the gym this afternoon. So there - I've taken up like 2 hours of time. Go me. What else can I do . . . I'm going to try not to nap. It's easier to nap than to feel the nothingness. So I usually do it often. But I'm going to try not to today. I have laundry going, I can empty the dishwasher. That kills another 10 minutes or so. Ugh. 

Oh well. I'm glad I'm not at work.