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. 

 

Monday 6/15/20 Therapy

Hey there! How are y'all doing today? All of my 2 readers of this blog . . . I hope your day is splendid!

Mine, on the other hand, is not splendid. It's not terrible, but it's not splendid - not by a long shot. It's been rough. I knew it would be when I got up. Just woke up with this heaviness on my chest, in my heart and in my head. I just knew.

But I went about getting ready for the day - you know, hair, makeup, all that jazz. Well, I was almost finished when my phone rang. It was my therapist. I was supposed to have therapy at 9am - it was 8:10. My stomach sank. He's cancelling, I thought. I answered. He had a scheduling conflict and needed to reschedule . . . luckily he had an opening at one. I, of course, took it.

I had breakfast, coffee, and went downstairs to work on a painting I started last week. My emptiness was overwhelming. The depression crushing me but I carried on as if everything was okay. Hubby was working from home today and I didn't want him to worry. I didn't want to be a burden.

Let's skip ahead to therapy, shall we?

I started by telling Mike that I've not been doing well. That I'm struggling. I told him how yesterday I had an okay day but when I woke up this morning I knew. I told him about starting on Wellbutrin (we talked about my appointment with Dr. M as well). Then I had him read Saturday's blog post. We talked at length about it. I cried. Quite a bit. I'm not ashamed of that, I just didn't want to do it. I don't really like crying in front of people. Even Mike or my hubby. But boy did I.

We talked about my emptiness and how I'm trying to fill it (spirituality, relationships, books, clothes . . .). I feel I should specify relationships: I'm trying to strengthen my current relationships. I'm not whoring myself out. So stop thinking that. :) Anyway, Mike really emphasized how relationships and love are central, because the world kinda sucks and is full of suffering. Oh, gee, thanks. The world sucks huh? I knew this already though, just based on what I've gone through in my life.

So yeah, relationships and love. Got it. Spirituality can also be very important, which, yeah, I knew. That's why I'm trying to increase/expand my spirituality. Which is hard since I was never exposed to religion growing up. I've made up my own beliefs. But I'm working on this.

Honestly, none of this made me feel that much better. I mean, knowing I'm on the right path helps, I guess, but I still feel this empty void in me. And it makes me so tired. I'm tired of dealing with it. I'm just fucking tired.

We talked a little about the state of the country/world as well because that  can be stressful to be constantly bombarded with. (For future reference, I'm referring to the Covid-19 pandemic and the protests/riots for black lives matter). All of that crap. It can make one weary and I know it definitely affects me a little bit.

Therapy was difficult today. Hopefully that means it will prove to be helpful. Hopefully some nuggets of goodness are planted in the back of my head and they'll help me feel better. I'm praying for this. Maybe you could too.

Man this post seems to be a bunch of rambling. Oh well. It's good to purge. 

Tuesday 5/5/20 Cinco de Mayo

Well, it's Cinco de Mayo and Taco Tuesday on the same day! How fun is that? Answer: not really all that fun. At least not in quarantine. Maybe if restaurants were open . . .

Yesterday would have been my normal day for therapy but my therapist and I decided to go 2 weeks this go around. So I don't see him until next Monday. Which actually kind of sucks because I could sure use a vent session. I'm not doing great.

I'm at the point where I'm not really suicidal but I wouldn't mind if I ceased to exist. It's not a good place to be. Everything just seems so pointless and stupid. There's no reason for anything. I hate feeling like this. Especially because suicidal ideation usually isn't far behind. I'm trying to come up with things to help.

I was supposed to work today but I was put on call and then released, so no work for me today. Which is a blessing in disguise. I was dreading work today because I felt so badly yesterday. So I did something with my time: I drew 8 pictures of sparrows. I still need to paint them, but I figure I can do that tomorrow or Friday (drawing them today was as much as I could handle). But that's productive, yeah? And I love sparrows, they represent hope to me. So I actually accomplished something. And that's good!

Except I feel that it was all for naught. Why? Because everything is pointless to me. What's the point in painting the sparrows? What does it accomplish? Do I feel better? (No, no I don't). I feel overwhelmed actually because now I have to paint them.

This pointlessness is killing me. I don't know what to do about it. Positive thinking, countering my thinking, isn't making a dent at all. Right now I'm just stubbornly pushing through. It seems it's all I can do. This is why therapy would have been nice. Maybe get a suggestion or two on how to battle my fucked up mind.

I just want to nap. It's all I ever really want to do anymore. I hate that. It's not constructive. It's counterproductive. It's hiding. But it's all I want to do, and sometimes all I can do. I'll get through this, I keep telling myself that. Depression lies. I've been a lot worse in the past and I made it through. I'll make it through again. 

Monday 4/13/20

I made a silent goal to myself to try and blog at least once a week. Well, this is my 5th weekly blog post! Go me!

Alright, enough gloating.

I'm sitting on the couch in my pajamas. It's 9:30 am. I probably won't get out of my pajamas today. Shower? Pshhh, no. Makeup? Do my hair? Definitely not. Lounging around in my jammies all day is the ticket.

I worked yesterday and I had a rough day. It wasn't a busy day, that wasn't it. I had a rough mental health day. Withdrawn, empty, flat. I had a hard time interacting with coworkers. I had a hard time keeping my head above water. I had a hard time existing.

No one knew it though. I kept it secret. I'm good at keeping secrets.

I remember walking down the hallway to the break room, feeling pretty low. I opened the door slowly, quietly. There was no one in there and my eyes welled with tears. I don't know if in that moment I needed someone to notice my pain and offer help? Maybe?

I wanted to cut. So badly I wanted to cut. Deep and wide and bleeding. I needed the physical pain to distract me from the mental anguish I was feeling. I didn't cut though. I didn't cut. That in itself is a huge victory.

In other news, I had a maintenance TMS treatment last Wednesday. I'm not feeling any positive effects from it yet. I'm hoping it just takes time. Just a little more time and I'll start to feel better. If not, I guess I'll have another in May. If that doesn't work then I don't know. Dr. M is always suggesting I try ECT again but I desperately don't want to do that. I have enough memory problems from that as it is, I don't need to compound the problem.

I still have no motivation for anything. Like, I want to paint and draw and read and work on my book . . . I just can't. I have no motivation, no drive. All I do is sleep to escape. That's no way to live.

No therapy this week. M and I decided to try 2 weeks instead. I wish I had therapy this week but I don't want to call M cause I don't want to be a burden. And I don't want it to just be me whining about how I'm feeling. Oh whoa is me, I'm depressed again. I don't want to be a burden on anyone which is why I've been keeping all of this a secret. Probably not my best idea. Oh well.

Maybe next week my post will be a bit brighter.

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.

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.