Wednesday 9/20/23 Stuff n Stuff

 Welp, here we are again, hanging out on my blog. I'm in a 3 day stretch of being off from work and it's glorious. I worked Sunday and Monday, and I work Friday. And I don't want to go in on Friday. It's still a literal dumpster fire at work. An understaffed shit show. And I'm so tired and burnt out. Monday made me not want to do my job anymore. We had 8 deliveries before 1pm and it was getting unsafe. My coworker and I voiced our concerns, only to be shot down by management, saying we were not in the position to make that decision. Basically saying that our concerns didn't matter and they weren't going to even look into them. Wow, okay. Thanks for that. Thanks for making us feel valued. 

I'm thinking more and more that I want to go back to school for my PMHNP (psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner). I've been researching schools and talking with coworkers who are getting their NP right now. Most of them are getting their family practice NP, so my trajectory will be a bit different, but at least I'm getting an idea. The prospect of going back to school is truly terrifying. I'm scared. It's going to be hard and different and costly. It's going to take time. It's going to take a lot of effort. And it's really, really scary. I haven't been in school for over 17 years. I haven't yet worked in psych but it's what I want my NP in. So that's scary too. I have no experience in psych. How much harder will that make my schooling? I have personal experience . . . but no working experience. Oy. I'm almost paralyzed with fear. I read a quote today that said, "if nothing changed over the next 10 years, would you be happy?" And it got me thinking, would I be happy? No, I don't think I would be. In my private life, yes, because my private life is good. But my work life? No. I've been doing the same thing for 15 years. The past 4 or so years have been trying. Have been difficult. And the burnout is real, y'all. I'm finding myself not enjoying my job. I'm more cynical and angry. I have less empathy and tolerance and patience. I don't like who I am when I'm at work. I don't feel valued or appreciated. Even by coworkers. I feel like I'm done. Like I need to move on, find something else. And that something else just happens to involve more education. But I'm scared. 

I just finished an online psychiatric first aid course. Just a little something I figured I'd try, test the waters I guess you could say. And I did fine. It would be cool to take a psychology class or two to get a feel of what being back in school is like, but I'm not really finding anything online that I don't have to be enrolled in college to take. I think it would be helpful. I need to relearn APA format for writing papers. I haven't written a paper in FOREVER. Can I even write a paper?? My coworker says she has a paper to write about every other week. They're not long papers - 2-5 pages - but still. That's a lot of papers for someone who hasn't written anything in almost 20 years. So scary. But I can do hard things, right? Sure I can. Sure I can. Nothing changes if nothing changes. I'm leaning more and more on taking the leap. Going back to school. It'll just be hard. I'll still have to work full time, which sucks. But there's no way around that. I'll have to make it work. At least I don't have small children to take care of. Ayden takes care of himself (now if he would just start driving . . .). 

Okay. That's all for today. I'm waiting for a call from Chamberlain University to discuss their PMHNP program. So scary.

Thursday 9/14/23 Therapy

 I had therapy this morning. In fact, I just got home from it. It was a good and productive session, but damn was I emotional. Anger and sadness. Sadness and anger. Lots of both. I don't necessarily know if I want to get into deep details here . . . I guess we'll just see what I write.

I'm still angry at work. I still don't want to go to work. And my anger is getting to the point where I'm going to break something or break down crying. Or both. And it's exhausting. I'm trying so hard to be a happy, positive, functioning adult yet I'm overwhelmed by this anger. I'm so tired of it. Something has to give. I don't know how to process or handle my anger. It's such an uncomfortable feeling and every time I think I'm getting the hang of it I go to work and it resurfaces. What kind of bullshit is that? My anger is directly stemming from work. From people I care for and love leaving, from all the changes going on, from being super busy and understaffed all the time, and from feeling trapped and stagnant in my position. I could apply for the charge nurse position, that would be something different. But then I'd just have a ton more stress and responsibility for a whopping $1 more an hour. Is that what I really want? I can look for a job somewhere else, but it will probably just be same shit, different location (and I'd be starting over). At least where I'm at I know the shit and the people I work with. But I do feel stagnant. Stuck. Bored sometimes with the work I do. Like I need something different and challenging. But what? I've toyed with the idea of going back to school for years, but it scares me. I've always thought I wanted to be a psychiatric nurse practitioner, that this was my calling. But school really scares me. What if I fail? What if I invest tons of time and money and fail? Or, worse, what if I succeed and hate it? Then what do I do?

I have all these thoughts and feelings and more coursing through me right now and I can't seem to figure anything out. I have tunnel vision. I'm confused as to what to do and clouded by my anger. I have homework to do - to talk with Jeremy about all of this and get his opinion on it. Which I will, tonight. Hopefully it will add some clarity. Because right now I'm lost. And it sucks.

In other news, a few nights ago my mom got really drunk and fell. Broke 6 ribs. She was in the hospital for 2 days. I'm supposed to call her today but I really don't feel like it. I don't want to hear the lie she comes up with as to why she fell. It sucks that she fell and is in a ton of pain. I feel awful for that. I feel bad for her. But at the same time I don't. She's never going to learn that it's her alcoholism causing this. That she fell because she was piss drunk. That she's fallen because of it before (4 or 5 times) and that she'll continue to fall and deteriorate because of it. She just doesn't see that and it's frustrating. It's like dealing with a toddler. I don't want to see her hurt but it's kind of like, what is it going to take for her to admit that she has a problem? I don't see how her husband can be okay with this. I don't know. The whole situation is fucked.

Anyway, that's all I feel like writing today. I feel emotionally drained, my dog is gassy and farting up a storm, and I'm tired.

 

Friday 9/8/23 Ketamine

 

I drew this yesterday. And this - me hating people - is why I had a ketamine infusion today. 

See, I've been very angry as of late. About everything. Like, literally everything. My sock slightly twisted? Angry. Work? Angry. I have to pee? AGAIN?? Angry. Life in general? Angry. And I've been feeling more melancholy as well. Not all the time - but more frequently. This is usually the first sign of a depressive episode coming on for me. Anger and melancholy. The anger isn't as common as the melancholy, but it's definitely a signal I need to pay attention to. So I did. And had a ketamine infusion to nip the depression in the butt (my therapist will be proud of me - she suggested I have an infusion at our last session). 

Today's infusion was relaxing and random. Lots of purples and dark blues. At one point it felt like I was laying on the forest floor, looking up at the stars. The next moment I was watching polar bears run and wondering if "walrus" was a real word (I saw walruses as well). It still feels like a strange word to me. The infusions are so hard to describe because everything is swirling and moving and flowing and changing form one minute to the next. There's no real sense of self or time. The meditation music I listen to feels alive and pulses with the colors and shapes. Everything is very abstract and fluid. Sometimes I feel as though I'm in a small and comforting place. Other times in vast expanses with no end in sight. But the whole experience is warm and calm and relaxing and invokes wonder and awe. 

Let's be honest though - I was trippin' balls, y'all. Just in a safe and legal way. I don't really understand how ketamine helps depression (I'm not sure science quite understands it), but it helps and is another tool at my disposal. So I'll use it. Hopefully I'll be a little more compassionate and empathetic and a little less angry. One can hope.

Monday 8/21/23 Therapy

 I had therapy last Thursday and we covered a variety of topics: work, my physical health, art, and my best friend Lesley most likely moving out of state. My friend moving is what I want to focus on today.

See, I don't have many friends. People whom I consider good friends. Aside from my hubby, I have two. Yep. Only two. Beth and Lesley. And Lesley is my best friend. I've known her for 15 years. She's always been there for me, no matter what I've needed. And now . . . well, now she's probably moving out of state, back to Ohio. And I haven't really acknowledged this fact. In fact, I've been ignoring it and it's implications. Which came up with full force in therapy.

Becky asked me about my friends and other relationships. Most of my other "friends" are just people I'm friendly with at work - they're not people whom I consider friends. I casually mentioned that Lesley was going to most likely be moving and Becky asked me to elaborate on that. And so I did. And I got emotional. It took everything I had not to start crying which caught me off guard. See, mostly I've been frustrated with Lesley as of late. I haven't really thought of her actually moving. And apparently, this is going to be rough for me. 

Some back story on Lesley: she's an introvert. Very much so. She'd rather be at home more than anywhere else. Each year for my, Beth's, and her birthdays we would go out and get coffee. Give gifts. Have a good time. The past two years it's been like pulling teeth to get her to leave her house - even for this. We don't ask much of her - we know she's an introvert. But now it's getting worse. She's had a rough year - she lost two of her three dogs (her dogs are like her kids to her) and had back surgery, from which she's still recovering. I get that it's been a rough year for her, I do. But she's becoming even more reclusive because of it, if that's even possible. She's turning inward and giving in to her misery and isn't doing anything to help herself. She won't let anyone - including Beth and I - to do anything for her. I just see her getting worse and worse. If she didn't have her dog, Kevin, I think she'd throw in the towel. Which worries me, greatly. 

Since she's been on FMLA (which has been about 10 weeks, I think), it seems as though she's given up on life completely. She's giving up on everything she has. She's had a realtor come to her house, she's packing, she's making sure she has her nursing license squared away in Ohio . . . she's set on selling her house, moving back home to Ohio, and getting a nursing job where she doesn't have to leave her house. And she's being rather secretive about all of this. She's giving hints but isn't coming outright and saying it. I have to pry it out of her. I feel as though she's pulling away from us to try and make it easier on herself. 

All of this frustrates me and makes me angry. But, what I didn't realize, is how sad it's making me. Talking with Becky brought the sadness out. And I don't know what to do with it or how to handle it. Lesley leaving is going to be a loss I have to go through. We'll still text and send each other memes and face time, but it's not going to be the same. I won't see her at work. I can't just go over to her house or out to coffee with her. I'm going to miss her. And I didn't realize the impact of this until talking to Becky about it. The whole situation sucks. I want Lesley to be happy, but I don't want her to go. Which feels awfully selfish of me. 

Becky said I should write a letter to Lesley, telling her gently how I feel. And I thought I would. But I got home from therapy last Thursday feeling drained and I didn't. And then I swept my feelings under the rug and forgot about them. Or at least tried to. Until now. So here I am, writing everything out. I don't know what I would say to Lesley. I don't know how to put it gently. I don't want to make her feel bad. I don't want to make this harder for her. But my feelings matter too, I guess. So, here goes.

Lesley. You are my best friend and I love you. I wish you knew how much people cared about you. I wish you knew how much I care about you. I wish things were different and you hadn't have had such a rough year. But it feels like you're running away and giving up. It feels like you're pushing me away and not letting me in any more. It feels shitty. I want nothing more than for you to be happy but I feel like you're going about it the wrong way. And yes - I feel shitty and selfish for saying that. I don't want you to get to Ohio and still be unhappy, but now you have no support and no one that you know to help you. I'm going to miss you. Even though you drive me crazy sometimes, I'm going to miss you. Texting and face timing are not the same as seeing you in person and I'm worried that our friendship will suffer because of it. I feel it already has. I feel like you're not treating this as the big deal that it is. This is a huge life change and it's going to affect all of us, for better or worse. Most likely for worse. I don't want you to change your mind because of me. I want you to be happy. I just don't want to lose you as a friend and have you push me away because you think it'll be easier that way. It won't be. I'm angry and frustrated and sad. And I don't know how to tell you any of this without hurting your feelings or making you feel bad. I'm sorry for this. I just need you to know that you are loved and you are going to be missed. 

I don't know what else to say. I feel what I've written is not very good. In all honesty, I don't think I would show it to her. Unless I showed her this whole blog post for context. I hate the situation. I wish she could be happy here. I wish she wasn't leaving. I wish it didn't feel like I was losing my best friend. 

And yes, I'm crying. 

 

Thursday 9/22/22 Anger

 I have been getting more and more angry with every passing day. Everything makes me mad. Even stupid little things that have no meaning . . . pissed off. I shouldn't be driving because of my rage - it's bad. If no one's in the truck with me I scream and cuss and cry. If someone is in the truck with me I'm able to bottle it up but then I lose it when I get home. This is becoming unbearable. Seriously. Everything is so overwhelming right now. Even simple tasks are hard for me to do. Like filling out my passport application. Apparently that's too much for me. I had to set it aside and walk away because I couldn't handle it. Even typing this out - I misspell something and I can feel the rage surging in me. Over a fucking TYPO!!! I can't even with myself. 

And this has been getting worse over the past week and a half. Every day worse. My depression is getting worse every day. I'm not really functioning. Everything is so hard. I don't know how I'm going to go to work on Saturday. I barely made it through Tuesday. I had to hide a lot. I feel so fucking bad. I cry at everything. I can't cope with anything. And I don't know what to do or how to handle this. The depression and anger is consuming me. 

I see Dr. Marciniak next Tuesday and Mike again next Thursday. Something has to change. I can't keep doing this. I can't handle this. I can't. As far as med changes go . . . there's not really anything we can do. The Caplyta is my 24th different medication. There's nothing left. Nothing to fall back on. I'm just . . . stuck. I'm going to call today to set up a consultation with a ketamine infusion clinic. Because I can't do this anymore. 

In other news, I still have no appetite. None. I don't care if I eat or not. I've lost 7 pounds in the past 2 weeks. Because I just. Don't. Care. I can eat something or I can starve. I don't care. Nothing sounds good. I've been living on toast. Literally. Because nothing sounds good and I truly don't care. I'm at the point where I want to throw in the towel. I want to give up. That would be easier. But I can't. I have to keep going for Jer and Ayden. Even though I don't want to, I keep pushing forward. And it sucks. I'm so tired. Probably going to go on intermittent FMLA. Because how the fuck am I supposed to work like this?

So. That's where I'm at. Hating life. Hating everything.  

Friday 10/30/20 I'm Cranky. Again.

 You read that right. I was cranky last Friday, and now I'm cranky again. It's rather annoying. I know what part of the reason is: I slept horribly last night. I woke up 4 times on my own and my dog woke me up another 2 times to go out. So yeah - not good sleep. And then Moya (my dog) wouldn't let me sleep in. She was in my face whining at 7:20. I was not pleased. 

But then the crankiness just sort of continued. Little things that shouldn't piss me off are pissing me off. The top of my yoga pants keeps rolling down, I have laundry to put away, dishes in the sink to do, my tooth still hurts, my skin is dry, I don't like my hair today, my socks sit too low on my ankle . . . and on top of it all I'm tired. 

Today is lame.

And I feel a little down and lost today. Not much - but a little. Which also annoys me because I don't want to feel like this. 

I did, however, paint something the other day that I'm pretty proud of:

This cutie elk with her magpie friend. I think it came out pretty damn good. 

Yesterday I painted another magpie, and today I did two magpie paintings (both of which are tattoo concept paintings). I've finally decided on my next tattoo! It'll be two magpies (in the nursery rhyme, it's two for joy). So I'm busy coming up with concepts. Now I just have to save up enough money to get it done. . . and convince hubby that I need it. I'm sure I can do that. 

Anyway, other than being cranky, things aren't too bad. And that's good. 

Friday 10/23/20 I'm Cranky

 You read that right. I'm a little ball of crankiness. Everything is annoying me. Even my annoyance of things is annoying me. How stupid is that? I'll tell you - it's pretty stupid. And there's no reason for it. I woke up like this. Granted, I didn't sleep well, but that's no excuse for this tornado of fury that I am. Oy. 

I've been doing some painting lately. Quite a bit, actually. And have sold some paintings. Which is nice. I need money to fuel my taxidermy habit. No, really.

Anyway, overall I've been doing okay. Some slips and dips, but they are seemingly short lived. It's been a long week though. I worked last Sunday and I don't work again until tomorrow. Five days off in a row with not much to do. So it's been a long week. I can only paint for so long. And I haven't wanted to read. I can't seem to focus long enough to do so. But overall, I'm okay.

Until today.

Today I had to wake up in raging bitch mode for some reason. I'm able to keep it under wraps at least. I mean, I'm not lashing out at hubs or son or anything. But I'm so angry at some times that I almost break down sobbing. I hope this passes soon.

In other news, I went back to the endodontist who did my root canal because my tooth still hurts (2 months after said root canal). His answer was, "lets just wait longer and see what happens." Like, 4 months longer. Seriously. He said that my body is basically being an asshole and fighting the root canal with a prolonged inflammatory response. Oh goody. Can't I just have some part of my body function normally?? So I'm waiting another 4 months and then I go back and see him. If my tooth still hurts, we pull it. That's some bullshit right there. But, what can I do. Take ibuprofen, chew on my right side, and hope it gets better I guess. 

Not much else going on. I always seem to be tired. I always want to nap. I don't know if it's from poor sleeping, depression symptoms, or both. I want to nap right now. I would if I could. 

Let's close with a picture though. That sounds nice, doesn't it?

 My motivational raccoon. He's cute. I like him. 

Monday 9/14/20 Doctor Day

 I saw my psychiatrist today. And I broke the news to him that I took myself off of lithium (and have been off of lithium for about 3 weeks now).  I was a little nervous as to what he would say (seeing how I didn't consult him on it). To my surprise he was okay with it. 

See, I've had side effects from the lithium for a long time. Years. Tremors in my hands and legs, swelling in my feet and ankles, insatiable thirst (which leads to me drinking a gallon of water a day and then peeing all the time), zero libido . . . And, quite honestly, I'm tired of it. Which is why, with the blessing of my hubby, I started weaning myself off 2 months ago. I went slow, going from 3 pills to 2, from 2 to 1, and then taking 1 every other day, to finally being off of it. And so far? I feel good. No ill effects. No hypomania. My tremors are almost gone. My swelling has gone down. My libido is coming back! 

I'm still on a mood stabilizer (Vraylar) and 2 antidepressants (Pristiq and Wellbutrin). Hopefully these will keep me stable. I think they will. Dr. M and I discussed what to look for that would warrant going back on lithium (mainly hypomania) and agreed for me to see him again in 3 months unless something pops up. I'm hoping nothing pops up. I like being stable. It's a nice place to be. 

In other news, I'm still having some anger here and there. Yesterday was an anger day. Not a horrible anger day, but the anger was there, bubbling below the surface. It was also an "off" day. A day where I felt a bit down and empty on top of the anger. To put it bluntly, I hated it. I know I'm not going to be sunshine and rainbows every day - that's not realistic for anyone - but I get a little anxious in spite of myself that these days are signalling a resurgence of my depression. It's hard for me not to think like that, even when I try desperately not to. 

I'm having these days about once a week, which in my opinion is too frequently. But then, I don't know how people who don't have mental illness feel, how often they have crappy days, or what they think of them. So I'm not a good judge. But I'm pushing myself through them, reminding myself how far I've come, and that I have all the tools I need to fight these days. And in the long run, I do okay. 

Although I'd still rather not have these days at all. Oh well. I'd like to talk to my therapist about it, but sadly, I don't see him until October 8th. Ugh. He texted me today and said he needed to cancel our appointment next week and reschedule. Of course the days he's available I work. So now it's not until the 8th. That's still 3 weeks away. It's already been 5 weeks since I last saw him. This is probably the longest I've gone between sessions in the last 8 years. How freaking crazy is that?? I'll answer for you - it's freaking crazy! But also a testament to how well I'm actually doing. So I guess I'll wear that as a badge of honor.  

Monday 7/6/20 Stuff and Things

Hello all my little weirdos (like, 2 people who actually read this blog)! How are you all doing?

I have officially been in my Mental and Emotional Mastery program for two weeks! I've gone through a lot of modules and have learned a lot of stuff. I've actually almost gotten through half of the material - which is supposed to take 2-3 months. So yeah . . . maybe I'm spending a little too much time on it. I'm going to slow my pace down and re-watch some of the beginning videos to make sure I really grasp the concepts. I spoke with Ty on the phone today (the mental health coach who created this program) to touch base on how I'm doing. Which is good. I'm doing good. 

Now last week when I wrote I was hypomanic. Well, my euphoria switched gears into irritability for a couple days, which sucked. I was able to mostly manage it though. Thank goodness. Dysphoric hypomania is not fun. So I'm not hypomanic anymore. Darn. 

I am, actually, doing well though. I'm not really feeling that depressed. Down at times, withdrawn, sometimes irritable . . . but not depressed. I've been able to change my negative thought patterns into more positive ones and actually sustain them. Which I haven't been able to do before (at least for a lasting period of time). I think my change in mood is three-fold: my enthusiasm for the program, actually working the program, and being on Wellbutrin. I think these have all contributed to the positive changes I'm seeing. I certainly have a more positive outlook, which is great.

Otherwise, there's not much new going on. I'm reading The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren and am enjoying it. It's a spiritual 40 day overhaul. You read a chapter a day for 40 days and the book helps you find purpose or meaning in your life. Today is day 16 for me. 

So yeah. I guess that's it.

Saturday 6/13/20 Some Thoughts

So.

Here we are again. We can't keep meeting up like this. People will talk.

Or not. Probably not. There's not much to talk about.

I had a hard time falling asleep last night. I couldn't shut off my brain. So many thoughts swirling around in my head and I couldn't keep up. I had some of what I thought were good ideas but they escaped me as soon as they came. I wish I had gotten up and written them down. Maybe I should keep a notebook next to my bed. . .

Anyway, it's no secret that I've been struggling. This hole, this emptiness that been with me since I was a little girl, is growing. And nothing seems to fill it - not even my hubby or son. Which pains me so much. They are my everything and they should be enough but that damn hole lingers. I don't know what to do. Nothing helps. Buying stuff? Pffft, no. Spending time with my family? Well, I guess it does help but not nearly enough. I've been praying, doing daily Bible readings, and started reading the Bible . . . nope. Nothing.

Actually, reading the Bible kind of angers me. Why? Because I don't understand it. It makes no sense to me. And I don't get anything out of it. I'll read what's supposed to be a meaningful passage and it's nothing to me. I don't get filled with the holy spirit or whatever. I'm not moved. It doesn't help. I wish it did. I wish I was one of those people with faith who find meaning in life. I find no meaning in life.

I find no meaning in life.

I don't know how to. I look for joy in the small things and, sometimes when the darkness isn't so all encompassing, I find it. Briefly. But it never sustains me. I yearn for more but I rarely find it. I'm stuck in this cycle, this cycle of hating life and everything in it, punctuated by rare glimpses of how life could be. I know how life could be. Last year I was stable and happy for 5 months before everything came crashing down again.

I'm on my 4th month now being depressed again and I fucking hate it. I hate every fucking thing about it. It's not fair. But Cami, life isn't fair. You know what? Fuck you. That's all I have to say about that (to quote Forrest Gump). If God has some sort of master plan for me he better reveal something about it soon because this is tiresome. Dreadfully tiresome.

So yeah. I'm trying to better myself. And I'm failing. I'm trying to fight my depression and I'm failing. I'm trying to fill my hole and I'm failing. Yes, I know I have a very negative viewpoint. I'm trying to be positive, I really am. You just can't tell by this blog post. I'm venting. I'm allowed to do that, to vent. And I'm probably failing at that too.

Wednesday 5/13/20 Okay brain, you win

So remember on Monday I wrote that things were "looking up"? Ha ha ha! Oh MAN!! That was funny! A real knee slapper!

Cause, well, things are back to square one. Or, more accurately, worse than square one.

But, how? You said you were feeling better! For like 3 days!

Yes, that's right. I was. But by Monday afternoon my mood was starting to slide again. I was starting to feel empty, numb and down. I felt that way all day yesterday. And then today came. And today has sucked.

It's 1346 as I write this and I have broken down sobbing 4 times now (I've only been awake for 5 hours people). Here's the thing though: I'm used to feeling empty and numb and down and now I'm feeling ALL THE THINGS. Despair, loneliness, sadness, ANGER, hopelessness, anxiety . . . all the bad things, I'm feeling them all. Intensified negative emotions. If I'm not crying over something I'm trying desperately to keep myself from screaming, cussing, and throwing shit. My emotions are moving so fast I'm getting physically nauseous. I've had to lay down several times I was so sick to my stomach.

I was texting my hubby when I remembered something: when I started TMS Dr. F told me that I would start to get worse before I got better. That most people would start to feel more (mostly negative) emotions and would think that this was a sign they were getting worse. He told me to keep going as it was really a sign that TMS was working and I was getting better. Hubby remembers this too. I'm praying that this is what's going on right now. That I'm feeling worse but getting better. I have TMS again on the 18th.

Today has been a roller coaster ride from hell. I've managed to do a drawing, do laundry, and get dinner in the crock pot. That's it. I was going to do so much more. I was going to workout, paint some sparrows, clean the kitchen, and go for a walk. None of that got done thanks to my violent, negative mood swings. I'm hoping tomorrow is better. And Friday better still. I work Saturday and I can't be at work like this. I won't be able to function. So you hear that brain? You better get your shit together.

Friday 2/7/2020

Hey there, I'm back. It's been a bit. It's cold and snowy here in Colorado. In fact, it's snowing right now. An unofficial snow day (my son stayed home from school - we're both sick). Well, let's get to it.

I went back to work this week after having 3.5 weeks off for my surgery. I worked Monday and yesterday. Monday was hell - we delivered 9 babies. Not the welcome back I was hoping for (I was hoping for a nice leisurely day *laughs*). I was exhausted and cranky by the end of the day. Thursday I floated to NICU, which I hate doing. I don't work in the NICU because I don't like it, so why would I want to float there?? Second day back and I can't even work on my own unit. I was, again, rather cranky.

Why am I telling you this? Well, because work has become an increasingly larger and larger problem for me. See, I'm burnt out. I was incredibly burnt out before my surgery. I thought having 3 and a half weeks off would help the situation. I thought I would go back refreshed.

That's not what happened.

I went back to work bitter and angry and tired. I went back to work and learned there were more changes made that are out of my control. I went back to work and I struggled. I struggled to keep my head above water. I struggled to keep up. I struggled to care. I'm a nurse - I'm supposed to care. I didn't.

I don't know what to make of this, honestly. I feel like I need to get away. From everything. From adulting. Maybe that would help. Maybe I need a change. I don't know. I just know I'm not happy.

My black cloud is my ever close companion right now. I'm not enveloped - my cloud is on the sidelines, inching closer every day. I still feel the effects though. I thought, maybe this is why I'm hating my job. Maybe this is why I feel overwhelmed. But alas, I was feeling these things before my black cloud came back. The cloud certainly makes it worse, but it's not the cause.

I don't know what to do. I don't know who to talk to. Hubby? Obviously. Therapist? Of course. But who else? I work with my 2 closest friends (can't talk to other coworkers because of gossip). I can talk to my 2 friends but I don't think they'll get the depth of what I'm feeling. I'm not even sure I do.

I feel incredibly lost.


  

Monday 1/27/2020

Hey there.

How's it going?

It would appear that my, uh, black cloud is back. Trying to take over. Envelop me with darkness. It's there, hovering, waiting for the right moment to strike. It could be any moment, I feel it. It's unrelenting.

I've been so close to breaking down. Several times a day. Every day. So close. My eyes fill with tears, full to the brim, but they don't spill over. There I sit, feeling the world crashing down around me, so ready to lose it, and then . . . nothing. The tears . . . they go. I don't know where because they're certainly not spilling down my cheeks. I sit there feeling so defeated and so empty and so . . . gyped because I didn't get that release. That emotional release that comes with crying. I don't get that. So I'm full of bad things. I'm full of emptiness - how can that be? I feel lost and confused and let down and angry, so angry! Why can't I cry??

I haven't been able to cry since I did TMS. Five months.

Granted, I haven't really needed to cry. I've been stable. Until recently. Until my black cloud started coming back around.

And now . . . now I can't cry.

When I'm not close to breaking down I feel flat. I feel meh. I just am. I'm not as quick to laugh. I get angry more often, and at stupid little things. I don't want to do anything. When I'm home alone by myself all I want to do is sleep. Sleep to escape. Need something to pass the time? Sleep. I have no motivation for anything. And I mean anything. Drawing, painting, reading, Spanish . . . I don't want to do any of it. I just want to sleep.

And I hate this. So much. I hate my black cloud. I keep thinking . . . if I could just cry. If I could just get that relief  I would feel better. Do I know I would feel better? No. Of course not. But I think it would be better than having everything bottled up.

So now I'm stuck in this no man's land. Feeling empty and flat normally . . . anhedonic. And, well, feeling worse. But unable to express it.

Why not hypomania? Why not that? Just a little. Just a little . . .

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.