I just kinda feel compelled to write right now. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I've been pouring over old blog posts looking for fodder for my book. Yes, I'm working on writing a book. I actually started it several years ago and didn't get very far with it. Well, I'm revisiting it with some fresh ideas and hoping to actually get it fleshed out. So yeah - I've been working on it for 4 hours now. Go me!
But I don't think that's what I really wanted to write about. No, I think not.
What is it then?
This horrible feeling of emptiness I can't seem to shake. That's what I want to write about. See, I can't seem to get rid of it. I feel so empty right now. I'm not really feeling anything. No good, not even anything really bad. Though when I do feel, it tends to be bad. I'm just existing. Barely. Everything around me is so thick and grey and oppressing. It's sludge. There's no color, no life.
I'm nothing.
I'm stuck.
I don't like feeling like this. This apathy. This anhedonia. Things that I enjoy? Like reading and painting? I don't enjoy anymore. I force myself to try . . . most often leading to failure which makes me feel worse.
I have therapy on Monday morning and I'm a little bit worried. See, I'm depressed, but am I depressed enough? And what, exactly, do I mean by that? See, people don't seem to care unless you're depressed enough. Suicidal enough. Manic enough. Who says it's enough? Hell if I know, but it seems to be a common thread. I'm mainly flat, withdrawn, down, and empty. Is that enough? I'm not suicidal, I'm not breaking down all the time, I'm still able to work. So, am I enough?
I'm worried that during therapy I won't be able to carry enough weight of the conversation. Because my depression is all I have to talk about. And I'm not horrible. And I know what I'm supposed to be doing and I'm doing those things. All those coping mechanisms form CBT and DBT that I learned so long ago . . . I do all those things. What more am I going to learn in therapy on Monday? That's what worries me. That I'm not enough for therapy, even though it's always been helpful to me.
I don't know why I'm so worried about this. But it's tearing me up inside, which is stupid, I know. I can't help it though. I mean come on - I'm tearing up as I type this. How stupid is that?
I just know that I'm tired of feeling like this. I know I can feel so much better - I've been there. I just need to figure out how to get back there.
Showing posts with label manic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label manic. Show all posts
Saturday, April 18, 2020
Sunday, March 17, 2019
3/17/19
Man. It's been awhile since I've written anything again. I'm not sure what's up with that. But let's get right into it, shall we?
I'm having a little bit of a rough day today. It's not a bad day, not by any means, but it's definitely a little rough. I'm feeling a bit down and my mind is racing and I can't seem to focus on anything. Even sitting down to write this is proving difficult.
When I have days like this it's hard for me to remember that it's just a day. I immediately think that it must be the start of a new episode. That I'm going to get worse. That life as I know it - stability - is going to come crashing down around me. I try to remind myself that that's simply not the case and that it's just one day. But that doesn't seem to help. My mind races with doomsday scenarios and it tends to make my mood worse.
And you may remember from my last post that there's a part of me that wants this to happen (a very, very small part, but a part none the less). And this part rejoices and throws negative commentary at me, trying to instill a sense of hopelessness. Today that little ear worm is gaining strength.
And that pisses me off.
And not only that, I've been more flat lately. People at work have noticed as I've been more quiet. I'm just not . . . feeling. Not Like I had been. Not like I want to. That in and of itself is a downer. I need to be able to feel. What good is stability if I'm flat? If I'm anhedonic? I don't know, what do I know?
To counter this I've started taking a couple of supplements. L-tryptophan and D,L-phenylalanine. They're amino acids that convert to serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. They're supposed to help with depression. Now, technically I'm not depressed. I'm stable. I'm hoping, on the one hand, they help keep me stable. On the other hand, if they raise serotonin and dopamine, I'm hoping for maybe some hypomania. I know, I know. I shouldn't be playing around with crap like this. It's not necessarily safe. Or wise. But I just really want a wider range of emotion. I feel so muted. And I'm tired of it.
Last night and this morning were my first doses of the supplements. And so of course I feel down. I seem to have a bad track record with supplements. I plan on giving them at least a few days to see how I feel. Hopefully my next blog post will be more positive and uplifting.
I'm having a little bit of a rough day today. It's not a bad day, not by any means, but it's definitely a little rough. I'm feeling a bit down and my mind is racing and I can't seem to focus on anything. Even sitting down to write this is proving difficult.
When I have days like this it's hard for me to remember that it's just a day. I immediately think that it must be the start of a new episode. That I'm going to get worse. That life as I know it - stability - is going to come crashing down around me. I try to remind myself that that's simply not the case and that it's just one day. But that doesn't seem to help. My mind races with doomsday scenarios and it tends to make my mood worse.
And you may remember from my last post that there's a part of me that wants this to happen (a very, very small part, but a part none the less). And this part rejoices and throws negative commentary at me, trying to instill a sense of hopelessness. Today that little ear worm is gaining strength.
And that pisses me off.
And not only that, I've been more flat lately. People at work have noticed as I've been more quiet. I'm just not . . . feeling. Not Like I had been. Not like I want to. That in and of itself is a downer. I need to be able to feel. What good is stability if I'm flat? If I'm anhedonic? I don't know, what do I know?
To counter this I've started taking a couple of supplements. L-tryptophan and D,L-phenylalanine. They're amino acids that convert to serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. They're supposed to help with depression. Now, technically I'm not depressed. I'm stable. I'm hoping, on the one hand, they help keep me stable. On the other hand, if they raise serotonin and dopamine, I'm hoping for maybe some hypomania. I know, I know. I shouldn't be playing around with crap like this. It's not necessarily safe. Or wise. But I just really want a wider range of emotion. I feel so muted. And I'm tired of it.
Last night and this morning were my first doses of the supplements. And so of course I feel down. I seem to have a bad track record with supplements. I plan on giving them at least a few days to see how I feel. Hopefully my next blog post will be more positive and uplifting.
Monday, February 25, 2019
2/25/19
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does part of me want to be sick again? What kind of twisted, fucked up person am I??
No, seriously.
What. The actual. Fuck. Is wrong with me?
There is a small part of me that wants to be sick again. That wants to be hospitalized again. And I just . . . I don't understand it. At all. I can't even fathom wanting to be sick again. It's awful. It's horrible. And to actually want to be like that? Depressed again? Suicidal again? No. I don't get it.
It's actually very difficult for me to even write about this, to get it out there. I'm embarrassed of it. Ashamed of it. And it makes me feel guilty. Guilty because I've gone through so much and worked so hard to get stable and part of me wants to throw it all away. And for what? Attention?
Attention. That's about the only thing I can come up with. Because I do get more attention when I'm sick. But that attention? It's not worth my stability. So I don't know . . .
What else could it be . . . Familiarity? I am used to being depressed. I've spent most of my life depressed and let's be honest - stability is a little scary. I don't know how to act. I don't know what "normal" is.
But stability is so wonderful. It's so much better than the hell of depression. Stability is even better than hypomania (let's be honest - that's because I usually get irritable hypomania, not euphoric). Stability is necessary for my family, necessary for work, necessary for me.
So why? Why does part of me want to be sick again?
No, seriously.
What. The actual. Fuck. Is wrong with me?
There is a small part of me that wants to be sick again. That wants to be hospitalized again. And I just . . . I don't understand it. At all. I can't even fathom wanting to be sick again. It's awful. It's horrible. And to actually want to be like that? Depressed again? Suicidal again? No. I don't get it.
It's actually very difficult for me to even write about this, to get it out there. I'm embarrassed of it. Ashamed of it. And it makes me feel guilty. Guilty because I've gone through so much and worked so hard to get stable and part of me wants to throw it all away. And for what? Attention?
Attention. That's about the only thing I can come up with. Because I do get more attention when I'm sick. But that attention? It's not worth my stability. So I don't know . . .
What else could it be . . . Familiarity? I am used to being depressed. I've spent most of my life depressed and let's be honest - stability is a little scary. I don't know how to act. I don't know what "normal" is.
But stability is so wonderful. It's so much better than the hell of depression. Stability is even better than hypomania (let's be honest - that's because I usually get irritable hypomania, not euphoric). Stability is necessary for my family, necessary for work, necessary for me.
So why? Why does part of me want to be sick again?
Monday, November 5, 2018
11/5/18
I'm not sure, but maybe, just maybe, this current bout of depression is winding down. I'm hoping this is the case. I'm praying this is the case. Because that would be so amazing. So amazing to feel like myself again. So amazing to not be suicidal all the time. So amazing to have energy and some motivation. So amazing to not feel like crap.
But wait - is it all that amazing?
Surprisingly, the answer is yes and no. No? But . . . that doesn't make sense. How would feeling better not be good? Seriously.
Well, that's not an easy question to answer. And, honestly, I'm not sure the answer is going to make sense.
Let's start with this: I've been ruled by depression and mania (to a much lesser extent) for over 9 years. For over 9 years my life has been complete and total chaos. Severe emotional turmoil is what I know. So being stable, ie not being depressed, is something foreign to me. I don't know how to act. I don't know what to say or do. I don't know who the real me is. This is scary. And there is a sense of loss - loss of the familiar.
Next, there's the attention. I get more attention when I'm in an episode. Which, let's face it, feels good. Especially since when I'm not in an episode I seem to just fade into the background. I'm more or less just there. So having more people check up on me, ask how I'm doing, offer help, and pay attention to me feels nice and I miss that when I'm stable.
If we want to get technical and scientific, we can look at my upbringing. I grew up in an alcoholic home. Life was chaotic and unpredictable. I was always striving to be perfect, always looking for reassurance and praise from wherever I could get it. What does this translate to? I'm intimately familiar with chaos and therefor may subconsciously seek it out - even if I don't want it. Being "normal" is not something I know, and am therefor uncomfortable with it. It's almost as if I want to be depressed or manic, even if I really don't. And seeking out praise and reassurance? That equates to the attention I'm getting from people while in an episode.
Let's look at some recent history. I was depressed from last February through June. I started feeling better the end of June, into July. While I was grateful I was finally feeling better, there was that sense of confusion and loss. I didn't know how to act or what to do with myself. I was just starting to get the hang of it in September when depression starting setting in again. And you know what? There was almost this feeling of relief when I felt those first pangs of darkness. Because I know depression. I know who I am when I'm depressed. And I get to have attention again.
Now lets get real here - how fucked up is that?? Seriously now! How freaking fucked up is all of that? I'm writing this and I just don't get it. Not to mention that I'm ashamed of it. Because it is fucked up. I can't beat myself up over this though, that won't do any good. I need to examine it, accept it, and move on. That's going to be my goal.
Wish me luck.
But wait - is it all that amazing?
Surprisingly, the answer is yes and no. No? But . . . that doesn't make sense. How would feeling better not be good? Seriously.
Well, that's not an easy question to answer. And, honestly, I'm not sure the answer is going to make sense.
Let's start with this: I've been ruled by depression and mania (to a much lesser extent) for over 9 years. For over 9 years my life has been complete and total chaos. Severe emotional turmoil is what I know. So being stable, ie not being depressed, is something foreign to me. I don't know how to act. I don't know what to say or do. I don't know who the real me is. This is scary. And there is a sense of loss - loss of the familiar.
Next, there's the attention. I get more attention when I'm in an episode. Which, let's face it, feels good. Especially since when I'm not in an episode I seem to just fade into the background. I'm more or less just there. So having more people check up on me, ask how I'm doing, offer help, and pay attention to me feels nice and I miss that when I'm stable.
If we want to get technical and scientific, we can look at my upbringing. I grew up in an alcoholic home. Life was chaotic and unpredictable. I was always striving to be perfect, always looking for reassurance and praise from wherever I could get it. What does this translate to? I'm intimately familiar with chaos and therefor may subconsciously seek it out - even if I don't want it. Being "normal" is not something I know, and am therefor uncomfortable with it. It's almost as if I want to be depressed or manic, even if I really don't. And seeking out praise and reassurance? That equates to the attention I'm getting from people while in an episode.
Let's look at some recent history. I was depressed from last February through June. I started feeling better the end of June, into July. While I was grateful I was finally feeling better, there was that sense of confusion and loss. I didn't know how to act or what to do with myself. I was just starting to get the hang of it in September when depression starting setting in again. And you know what? There was almost this feeling of relief when I felt those first pangs of darkness. Because I know depression. I know who I am when I'm depressed. And I get to have attention again.
Now lets get real here - how fucked up is that?? Seriously now! How freaking fucked up is all of that? I'm writing this and I just don't get it. Not to mention that I'm ashamed of it. Because it is fucked up. I can't beat myself up over this though, that won't do any good. I need to examine it, accept it, and move on. That's going to be my goal.
Wish me luck.
Wednesday, October 17, 2018
10/17/18
There's something that worries me that I've been thinking more and more about. Something that keeps me awake at night. Something that my mind keeps creeping back to over and over. Something that, no matter how hard I try, I keep ruminating over.
I'm wondering what's going to happen with me in the future. And I'm not talking about in the next year or two - no. I'm talking 10 or more years from now. I'm thinking about where will we be living, will I still be working, where will I be working, will A still be living at home . . . I think about do J and I have enough for retirement, are we still going to be renting, or will we own a house at that point?
All valid points to think/worry about. But then I also worry about how much worse my bipolar is going to be. And if I'm actually going to make it another 10 years dealing with this illness. I look at how I am now, and how I feel like I'm failing. I look at my memory issues I have now and how those are getting progressively worse. I look at how I struggle. I look at how frequently I have suicidal thoughts and I worry. I worry that I'm not going to make it. I worry because one of the things that keeps me going is knowing that I could end it at any point . . .
What a horrible thought.
But it's true.
I worry about losing my job. We can't afford not to have my income and it's through my job that we have health insurance. Without health insurance we can't afford my medications let alone my ECT treatments. What would I do then? Not to mention that my job gives me a sense of self and a sense of purpose.
I'm not even sure how to write about all of this. About how much I worry. I don't think I can adequately get it out. It's jumbled up inside my head, whirling and twirling and jostling for attention, taking up so much space and energy and driving me batty.
I've been sitting here staring at the screen for about 10 minutes, trying to think of something else to write, something else to say. But I can't think of anything. My mind is a mess right now. Hell, my mind is a mess most of the time. Today though, it's particularly bad. Oh well. I guess this will do for now.
I'm wondering what's going to happen with me in the future. And I'm not talking about in the next year or two - no. I'm talking 10 or more years from now. I'm thinking about where will we be living, will I still be working, where will I be working, will A still be living at home . . . I think about do J and I have enough for retirement, are we still going to be renting, or will we own a house at that point?
All valid points to think/worry about. But then I also worry about how much worse my bipolar is going to be. And if I'm actually going to make it another 10 years dealing with this illness. I look at how I am now, and how I feel like I'm failing. I look at my memory issues I have now and how those are getting progressively worse. I look at how I struggle. I look at how frequently I have suicidal thoughts and I worry. I worry that I'm not going to make it. I worry because one of the things that keeps me going is knowing that I could end it at any point . . .
What a horrible thought.
But it's true.
I worry about losing my job. We can't afford not to have my income and it's through my job that we have health insurance. Without health insurance we can't afford my medications let alone my ECT treatments. What would I do then? Not to mention that my job gives me a sense of self and a sense of purpose.
I'm not even sure how to write about all of this. About how much I worry. I don't think I can adequately get it out. It's jumbled up inside my head, whirling and twirling and jostling for attention, taking up so much space and energy and driving me batty.
I've been sitting here staring at the screen for about 10 minutes, trying to think of something else to write, something else to say. But I can't think of anything. My mind is a mess right now. Hell, my mind is a mess most of the time. Today though, it's particularly bad. Oh well. I guess this will do for now.
Monday, May 21, 2018
5/21/18
Well hello there. I'm not quite sure how to write what I want to say. My brain is in a bit of a jumble right now. Racing thoughts, intrusive thoughts . . . it's a mess. Anyway, I was feeling a bit depressed again yesterday, just not right. I wanted to not exist and those feelings have carried over to today.
Yay. Go me.
But I had decided that I was going to do things today, namely, cleaning the house and working out before taking my son to school. I had decided last Friday that I would clean today, period. But when I woke up this morning all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Just sleep. Sleep as long as I possibly could before taking Ayden to school. What did I do? I got my lazy ass out of bed and got on my spin bike for 20 minutes. That, my friends, is a solid win.
But lets talk about the cleaning. On a normal day the task seems daunting. I mean, there's a lot to do. And on a normal day I would break things down into steps and do things one by one, checking them off of my list as I went along. But on a depressed day? Oh no. It seems I'm incapable of doing this, no matter how hard I might try. Everything seems so overwhelming that I want to just sit and stare at the wall.
See that's a thing I think people don't get about bipolar disorder. My brain functions differently when I'm depressed (when I'm manic too) than when I'm "normal" or stable. I can't control these changes (if I could, I would). When I'm depressed everything slows down. It takes me longer to process information. It's like walking through waist high mud. And incoming information has to compete with my negative self talk, not an easy task.
Today though, today I was on a mission. My ass got up and got on that spin bike. I was going to get shit done!
Or so I thought.
Well, I got a little bit done, but not as much as I wanted. Why? I was overwhelmed. My brain was working against me. I did about half of what I had planned. I'm hoping to do the rest on Thursday. Maybe my brain will cooperate with me then.
And I didn't really write everything I wanted to. Because my brain is an asshole.
Yay. Go me.
But I had decided that I was going to do things today, namely, cleaning the house and working out before taking my son to school. I had decided last Friday that I would clean today, period. But when I woke up this morning all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Just sleep. Sleep as long as I possibly could before taking Ayden to school. What did I do? I got my lazy ass out of bed and got on my spin bike for 20 minutes. That, my friends, is a solid win.
But lets talk about the cleaning. On a normal day the task seems daunting. I mean, there's a lot to do. And on a normal day I would break things down into steps and do things one by one, checking them off of my list as I went along. But on a depressed day? Oh no. It seems I'm incapable of doing this, no matter how hard I might try. Everything seems so overwhelming that I want to just sit and stare at the wall.
See that's a thing I think people don't get about bipolar disorder. My brain functions differently when I'm depressed (when I'm manic too) than when I'm "normal" or stable. I can't control these changes (if I could, I would). When I'm depressed everything slows down. It takes me longer to process information. It's like walking through waist high mud. And incoming information has to compete with my negative self talk, not an easy task.
Today though, today I was on a mission. My ass got up and got on that spin bike. I was going to get shit done!
Or so I thought.
Well, I got a little bit done, but not as much as I wanted. Why? I was overwhelmed. My brain was working against me. I did about half of what I had planned. I'm hoping to do the rest on Thursday. Maybe my brain will cooperate with me then.
And I didn't really write everything I wanted to. Because my brain is an asshole.
Monday, February 5, 2018
2/5/18
I'm sitting here on my couch as I write this, wishing I was in bed, asleep. I'm not tired, mind you, I just don't want to deal with how I'm feeling. See, sleep is like death but without the commitment. Though I'm longing for the commitment . . .
I'm feeling so empty and drained and hollow, like the husk of who I should be. There's just this void inside me where everything should be. I'm going through the motions of life without really feeling anything. I've been rather flat and withdrawn lately, although I'm trying desperately not to be. And I think I'm putting on a good show as everyone around me thinks I'm doing okay.
If only they knew . . .
The funny thing is is that I wouldn't necessarily call myself depressed right now. I'm not quite like how I usually am when I get depressed. Perhaps I'm on my way there, I don't know. This is more of a "confused-hanging-in-limbo" state. I have some symptoms of depression but I also seem rather stable still. Like, I want to die, but I know that's just my brain lying to me.
I don't know what to do with this state though. Nothing is enjoyable to me. Not reading or painting or writing . . . I don't want to do anything except lay in bed.
Jeremy says I do this. That I'm stable for 3-4 months and then I drop into a depression for several weeks to a month or two despite what meds I'm on, despite my ECT. Maybe he's right. Maybe this is just my natural pattern. Maybe I'm not in full blown depression because of the new med I'm on. I have no clue. All I know for certain is that I hate feeling like this. Why can't I be manic every 3-4 months? I call bullshit on this. Why can't I just be manic at all??
Despite any of this, all I know is that I'm struggling right now, regardless of what people think.
I'm feeling so empty and drained and hollow, like the husk of who I should be. There's just this void inside me where everything should be. I'm going through the motions of life without really feeling anything. I've been rather flat and withdrawn lately, although I'm trying desperately not to be. And I think I'm putting on a good show as everyone around me thinks I'm doing okay.
If only they knew . . .
The funny thing is is that I wouldn't necessarily call myself depressed right now. I'm not quite like how I usually am when I get depressed. Perhaps I'm on my way there, I don't know. This is more of a "confused-hanging-in-limbo" state. I have some symptoms of depression but I also seem rather stable still. Like, I want to die, but I know that's just my brain lying to me.
I don't know what to do with this state though. Nothing is enjoyable to me. Not reading or painting or writing . . . I don't want to do anything except lay in bed.
Jeremy says I do this. That I'm stable for 3-4 months and then I drop into a depression for several weeks to a month or two despite what meds I'm on, despite my ECT. Maybe he's right. Maybe this is just my natural pattern. Maybe I'm not in full blown depression because of the new med I'm on. I have no clue. All I know for certain is that I hate feeling like this. Why can't I be manic every 3-4 months? I call bullshit on this. Why can't I just be manic at all??
Despite any of this, all I know is that I'm struggling right now, regardless of what people think.
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
12/12/17
I should be at work right now, but I was put on delayed start until 1100. So I'm at home, already showered, ready to go, even though I know I won't be going in.
I hate when this happens, I feel so lost. I have no idea what to do. I'm just . . . lost. First thing this morning I thought I felt good. I got up early and exercised. But as the morning carries on I'm feeling worse. More down. More lost. I'm feeling trapped inside my own head. I keep thinking I'm going to get bad and end up in the hospital. I keep having suicidal thoughts. I keep wondering why I can't be manic. I keep wondering what really will happen when I get bad again. I want to cut.
I hate feeling like this. I just want to be normal and okay and it doesn't seem like I can be that way. I think M would say I still haven't accepted bipolar disorder. I think I've accepted it as much as I can. But then, I don't know.
I'm tired of this. I just want to sleep and forget about it.
I hate when this happens, I feel so lost. I have no idea what to do. I'm just . . . lost. First thing this morning I thought I felt good. I got up early and exercised. But as the morning carries on I'm feeling worse. More down. More lost. I'm feeling trapped inside my own head. I keep thinking I'm going to get bad and end up in the hospital. I keep having suicidal thoughts. I keep wondering why I can't be manic. I keep wondering what really will happen when I get bad again. I want to cut.
I hate feeling like this. I just want to be normal and okay and it doesn't seem like I can be that way. I think M would say I still haven't accepted bipolar disorder. I think I've accepted it as much as I can. But then, I don't know.
I'm tired of this. I just want to sleep and forget about it.
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
11/21/17
I'm sitting in the dark in my bedroom, trying to calm myself, trying to slow my heart, trying to slow my mind. My heart is pounding and I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins. My mind is racing, a hundred different thoughts a minute. It doesn't stop, it can't stop, why won't it stop?? Words and images over and over and over and my heart is in my throat and my hands they shake and I can't sit still but I can't move either. I try breathing slowly, deeply, like everyone tells you to but it doesn't help. Don't people know that doesn't work? But I try it anyway, anything to stop this feeling.
Breathe . . .
Breathe . . .
In . . . out . . . slowly.
Breathe . . .
It's not helping. This anxiety, it's not passing. Its grip is firm, it holds me fast. Heart pounding, mind racing, hands shaking, breath quickening. . .
So I write. I sit and write in the dark in my bedroom. Maybe it will help. Get it out. Put it in words.
I feel trapped. Trapped in my own body. Trapped in my own mind. How do I even handle this?
Breathe . . .
The computer screen is so bright in this darkness, like a beacon of hope . . . it's keeping me tethered in reality . . . barely.
Breathe . . .
My heart is starting to slow. My mind is starting to slow. The room is no longer closing in on me. I can breathe. Little by little I begin to return to normal. This is not a quick process mind you. Oh no. I've been at the computer for 30 minutes, typing and breathing and struggling and fighting my mind. But I'm doing it. I'm beating this mild anxiety attack. I'm lucky it was only mild.
Breathe.
Breathe . . .
Breathe . . .
In . . . out . . . slowly.
Breathe . . .
It's not helping. This anxiety, it's not passing. Its grip is firm, it holds me fast. Heart pounding, mind racing, hands shaking, breath quickening. . .
So I write. I sit and write in the dark in my bedroom. Maybe it will help. Get it out. Put it in words.
I feel trapped. Trapped in my own body. Trapped in my own mind. How do I even handle this?
Breathe . . .
The computer screen is so bright in this darkness, like a beacon of hope . . . it's keeping me tethered in reality . . . barely.
Breathe . . .
My heart is starting to slow. My mind is starting to slow. The room is no longer closing in on me. I can breathe. Little by little I begin to return to normal. This is not a quick process mind you. Oh no. I've been at the computer for 30 minutes, typing and breathing and struggling and fighting my mind. But I'm doing it. I'm beating this mild anxiety attack. I'm lucky it was only mild.
Breathe.
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Bothering Me
I have a feeling this post is going to be random and all over the place and not make much sense and you can thank my ECT for that as it's taken away my ability to write eloquently. No, I'm serious. I've been doing ECT for 2 years now and since I started my ability to write has slowly dwindled. I had a different blog where I wrote about my bipolar and my writing was magical at times. It was moving and gripping and drew you in. I wrote poetry. Writing came naturally to me. Now I struggle to write a few sentences about my day. The words get jumbled up in my head until I can hardly make sense of them. They come out all wrong and out of order sometimes. I misuse metaphors and symbolism (or at best I use them poorly). I struggle through each blog post, knowing that they are dry and boring.
Why does this matter? Because I want to write a book. I want to write a book of how it really is to have bipolar disorder. I want it to be witty and funny and heartwarming and real. I want to bring humor into even the shittiest of times. I want people to laugh and cry and learn something about bipolar disorder. And I feel that now, with my inability to write, I'm not going to be able to do this.
To top all of this off, the ECT has taken away my memories. Not all of them - but a lot of them. There's so much my hubby brings up that I just can't remember. My childhood, my son's childhood . . . gone. I forget how to get places - places I've to hundreds of times. I'm trying to learn Spanish - I'm not retaining any of it. Studying for my BLS re-certification - nope. It doesn't stick. Memory loss is a side effect of ECT, I just didn't expect it to hit me so hard. And most likely this memory loss is permanent because I've been doing ECT for so long (and my psychiatrist doesn't see me stopping anytime soon . . . or ever).
All of this is very frustrating. I guess that's it. It's taken me over 30 minutes to write this.
Why does this matter? Because I want to write a book. I want to write a book of how it really is to have bipolar disorder. I want it to be witty and funny and heartwarming and real. I want to bring humor into even the shittiest of times. I want people to laugh and cry and learn something about bipolar disorder. And I feel that now, with my inability to write, I'm not going to be able to do this.
To top all of this off, the ECT has taken away my memories. Not all of them - but a lot of them. There's so much my hubby brings up that I just can't remember. My childhood, my son's childhood . . . gone. I forget how to get places - places I've to hundreds of times. I'm trying to learn Spanish - I'm not retaining any of it. Studying for my BLS re-certification - nope. It doesn't stick. Memory loss is a side effect of ECT, I just didn't expect it to hit me so hard. And most likely this memory loss is permanent because I've been doing ECT for so long (and my psychiatrist doesn't see me stopping anytime soon . . . or ever).
All of this is very frustrating. I guess that's it. It's taken me over 30 minutes to write this.
Monday, November 28, 2016
Hello There!
Well hello everyone! (or at least to the maybe 3 people who actually read my blog :D ) So it's been awhile since I last posted, 20 days or so, and at the time of my last post I was still dealing with some depression. Well, I'm happy to say that it seems as though the depression has lifted - I'm doing mostly okay. Which is nice. One thing I've noticed that's annoying is that I can still have bipolar symptoms even when I'm not in a mood episode. And these can be pressing symptoms, strong symptoms. It's very frustrating to be having a good day and then suddenly BOOM I'm thinking about killing myself and feeling worthless. But I get through it. I'm just struggling to accept it.
I've been doing a couple of new things, new things that I think are helping me. One, I'm exercising consistently. Like, daily. Even days I work my 12 hour shifts I'm still getting something in. It's given me a more positive outlook. Two, I'm looking for God. Now, this might not seem like such a big deal until you realize that I'm not religious or spiritual at all. God has never been a part of my life. Well, I'm actively seeking Him out. Two of my coworkers each gave me a book: The Message from one (the New Testament written in every day language) and Darkness is My Only Companion from the other (a book specifically about finding God in the midst of bipolar disorder). I read a little from The Message every night before bed. I nearly finished Darkness in one day (it's really good).
Anyway, I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving. I was at work taking care of patients and hanging with some awesome coworkers.
I've been doing a couple of new things, new things that I think are helping me. One, I'm exercising consistently. Like, daily. Even days I work my 12 hour shifts I'm still getting something in. It's given me a more positive outlook. Two, I'm looking for God. Now, this might not seem like such a big deal until you realize that I'm not religious or spiritual at all. God has never been a part of my life. Well, I'm actively seeking Him out. Two of my coworkers each gave me a book: The Message from one (the New Testament written in every day language) and Darkness is My Only Companion from the other (a book specifically about finding God in the midst of bipolar disorder). I read a little from The Message every night before bed. I nearly finished Darkness in one day (it's really good).
Anyway, I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving. I was at work taking care of patients and hanging with some awesome coworkers.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Day 61
Would you look at that. We're up to day 61 of me being actually, legitimately stable. It's pretty amazing, really, when you consider I've spent the last 5 years either depressed or manic and not really anywhere in between. (It's been mostly depressed, by the way)
So anyway, I wasn't really sure how I wanted to start this, or if I even wanted to write it. I decided though that it's a part of me and writing it may help me along my journey of wellness. So yeah. Here goes.
Have you ever been on the website Tumblr? It's kind of a combination between a blog and twitter. Think of it as short, fast moving blogs that you scroll through. It can be a fun site. One thing that I didn't like was that there were people - quite a few of them - who were romanticizing mental illness. Not just mental illness, but every aspect of it - especially self harm and suicide. It was all made out to be beautiful, romantic, and tragic. Not informing the reader to seek help, but instead to shun those who don't see the beauty in your scars (what kind of bull crap is that??). I hated it.
Until I realized I'm kind of doing that myself.
Not shunning people, I'm not doing that. But maybe romanticizing my illness just a little. Maybe romanticizing suicide a little. See, normal is boring. It's meh. And I'm still learning how to navigate through being normal (I'm so used to depression). I've written before about feeling as though I'm missing something . . . I think what I'm missing is my extremes of moods. When I'm in an extreme mood, people pay attention to me. Definitely not everyone, and maybe not that many, but people do. It makes one feel important. So that even though you may be dead inside, you matter.
I don't know if that makes any sense. My therapist has asked me on at least two occasions if I was grieving the loss of my instability. Grieving the loss of my mood episode, essentially. I told him I don't know. I think part of me is. Not because I want to feel like shit. Fuck no, people! My depressions are horrible and life draining and I thank God daily that I don't feel like that anymore. But because I'm no longer receiving that attention. I'm no longer "special". I'm just another ordinary person. My bipolar makes me unique.
Does this make any sense? I don't want to be depressed, I don't want to feel like shit or get in trouble for my moods, but I want to be special. I want to be unique.
But the scary bit revolves around suicide. See, as of right now I see suicide as a viable way out. Not now, not right now, but later. I keep thinking, well, if I get depressed again in 5 or 10 or whatever years, I can just kill myself. I've had a couple of depression relapse scares during this current recovery and my mind immediately turned to suicide and I was worried that if I got worse I would actually attempt. I can't. One: I don't want to die, two: I have my husband and son to think about. Mainly #2 is what worries me and pains me the most. But I can't seem to stop these thoughts, no matter what I do.
I'm having a hard time organizing my thoughts about all of this. And my brain won't shut up either. Fuck.
So anyway, I wasn't really sure how I wanted to start this, or if I even wanted to write it. I decided though that it's a part of me and writing it may help me along my journey of wellness. So yeah. Here goes.
Have you ever been on the website Tumblr? It's kind of a combination between a blog and twitter. Think of it as short, fast moving blogs that you scroll through. It can be a fun site. One thing that I didn't like was that there were people - quite a few of them - who were romanticizing mental illness. Not just mental illness, but every aspect of it - especially self harm and suicide. It was all made out to be beautiful, romantic, and tragic. Not informing the reader to seek help, but instead to shun those who don't see the beauty in your scars (what kind of bull crap is that??). I hated it.
Until I realized I'm kind of doing that myself.
Not shunning people, I'm not doing that. But maybe romanticizing my illness just a little. Maybe romanticizing suicide a little. See, normal is boring. It's meh. And I'm still learning how to navigate through being normal (I'm so used to depression). I've written before about feeling as though I'm missing something . . . I think what I'm missing is my extremes of moods. When I'm in an extreme mood, people pay attention to me. Definitely not everyone, and maybe not that many, but people do. It makes one feel important. So that even though you may be dead inside, you matter.
I don't know if that makes any sense. My therapist has asked me on at least two occasions if I was grieving the loss of my instability. Grieving the loss of my mood episode, essentially. I told him I don't know. I think part of me is. Not because I want to feel like shit. Fuck no, people! My depressions are horrible and life draining and I thank God daily that I don't feel like that anymore. But because I'm no longer receiving that attention. I'm no longer "special". I'm just another ordinary person. My bipolar makes me unique.
Does this make any sense? I don't want to be depressed, I don't want to feel like shit or get in trouble for my moods, but I want to be special. I want to be unique.
But the scary bit revolves around suicide. See, as of right now I see suicide as a viable way out. Not now, not right now, but later. I keep thinking, well, if I get depressed again in 5 or 10 or whatever years, I can just kill myself. I've had a couple of depression relapse scares during this current recovery and my mind immediately turned to suicide and I was worried that if I got worse I would actually attempt. I can't. One: I don't want to die, two: I have my husband and son to think about. Mainly #2 is what worries me and pains me the most. But I can't seem to stop these thoughts, no matter what I do.
I'm having a hard time organizing my thoughts about all of this. And my brain won't shut up either. Fuck.
Thursday, February 4, 2016
I Always Have to Watch my Moods
It's morning and as I'm lying in bed I notice something: I don't want to get out of bed. I can't be awake right now, it's too much.
Why? Why is it too much? Are you just tired and feeling a little lazy? Or is it something else? Something . . . more . . . ?
I procrastinate, hit the snooze, think of excuses to stay in bed longer. But the truth is I need to get up. I have to get ready for work. So I do, slowly, feeling the weight of this oppressive cloud hanging over me. Surly it will lift . . .
I'm brewing coffee before I leave and manage to spill the creamer. Anger wells up inside of me and I feel like throwing the bottle of creamer across the kitchen and screaming.
This can't be normal anger can it? Is this anger proportional to what just happened or am I overreacting? Why the fuck am I so mad?
I'm at work and I'm charting, that oppressive cloud is still there and I'm feeling overwhelmed. Almost like I'm going to cry. Like things aren't worth it.
Stop it! You've been busy, had difficult patients, and are a little behind. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. Yes, but like I'm going to cry? Like things, life, isn't worth it? Is that normal?
I question my feelings and thoughts countless times a day. Hundreds of times probably. I question whether something I'm feeling or experiencing is "normal" or a result of my bipolar disorder. It is, quite frankly, exhausting. I've been told by my therapist, psychiatrist, husband, and friends not to do this. That it's a waste of my time and energy. However, I think this is one thing that helps keep me safe. Because, see, I can go into a mood episode at any moment for no reason at all. That's right. I don't need a real trigger or precipitating event. No, I can start feeling shitty out of the blue.
Now, having a trigger is more common - don't get me wrong - but my triggers can be pretty small. Like, not enough sleep. Or having my plans change. Seeing a random picture or image (an image of self harm, or a bunny in a certain pose, or a flower, or, or, or . . .), thinking someone is mad at me, getting angry over something (whether real or imagined), or countless other things. My triggers for mania tend to make less sense and sometimes involve a crowd (giving me a chance to grand stand).
The only thing I have going for me right now is that my mood episodes are relatively short lived. See, I'm kind of considered stable right now (crazy, I know). My mood episodes are lasting anywhere from 1 to 6 days (or so it seems), and are mostly depression (hypomania is lasting only for a few hours when it - rarely - shows up).
But that's the thing. The thing that actually really fucking frustrates me. The fact that I'm fucking stable and still having to struggle so much. Because the last 2 weeks? Mostly depressive mood episodes with a day here or there of feeling okay. And that really. Fucking. Sucks. To be doing okay one day and then wake up the next day feeling suicidal. And I have no control over it. It just fucking happens.
I'm having a much harder time with the depression right now. A much harder time warding off the negative thoughts, distorted thinking. I start to believe the lies my brain is telling me, despite my hubby and friend's best efforts of telling me otherwise. I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel - only darkness.
Whatever. This is my own personal hell of bipolar disorder. My own unique manifestation of the illness. I guess all I can hope for is that it doesn't get worse again.
Why? Why is it too much? Are you just tired and feeling a little lazy? Or is it something else? Something . . . more . . . ?
I procrastinate, hit the snooze, think of excuses to stay in bed longer. But the truth is I need to get up. I have to get ready for work. So I do, slowly, feeling the weight of this oppressive cloud hanging over me. Surly it will lift . . .
I'm brewing coffee before I leave and manage to spill the creamer. Anger wells up inside of me and I feel like throwing the bottle of creamer across the kitchen and screaming.
This can't be normal anger can it? Is this anger proportional to what just happened or am I overreacting? Why the fuck am I so mad?
I'm at work and I'm charting, that oppressive cloud is still there and I'm feeling overwhelmed. Almost like I'm going to cry. Like things aren't worth it.
Stop it! You've been busy, had difficult patients, and are a little behind. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. Yes, but like I'm going to cry? Like things, life, isn't worth it? Is that normal?
I question my feelings and thoughts countless times a day. Hundreds of times probably. I question whether something I'm feeling or experiencing is "normal" or a result of my bipolar disorder. It is, quite frankly, exhausting. I've been told by my therapist, psychiatrist, husband, and friends not to do this. That it's a waste of my time and energy. However, I think this is one thing that helps keep me safe. Because, see, I can go into a mood episode at any moment for no reason at all. That's right. I don't need a real trigger or precipitating event. No, I can start feeling shitty out of the blue.
Now, having a trigger is more common - don't get me wrong - but my triggers can be pretty small. Like, not enough sleep. Or having my plans change. Seeing a random picture or image (an image of self harm, or a bunny in a certain pose, or a flower, or, or, or . . .), thinking someone is mad at me, getting angry over something (whether real or imagined), or countless other things. My triggers for mania tend to make less sense and sometimes involve a crowd (giving me a chance to grand stand).
The only thing I have going for me right now is that my mood episodes are relatively short lived. See, I'm kind of considered stable right now (crazy, I know). My mood episodes are lasting anywhere from 1 to 6 days (or so it seems), and are mostly depression (hypomania is lasting only for a few hours when it - rarely - shows up).
But that's the thing. The thing that actually really fucking frustrates me. The fact that I'm fucking stable and still having to struggle so much. Because the last 2 weeks? Mostly depressive mood episodes with a day here or there of feeling okay. And that really. Fucking. Sucks. To be doing okay one day and then wake up the next day feeling suicidal. And I have no control over it. It just fucking happens.
I'm having a much harder time with the depression right now. A much harder time warding off the negative thoughts, distorted thinking. I start to believe the lies my brain is telling me, despite my hubby and friend's best efforts of telling me otherwise. I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel - only darkness.
Whatever. This is my own personal hell of bipolar disorder. My own unique manifestation of the illness. I guess all I can hope for is that it doesn't get worse again.
Saturday, January 9, 2016
Some Stuff and Things
This week was kind of a busy week, what with seeing my therapist and my psychiatrist.
Therapy was good - difficult - but good. M thinks I'm making great progress and is proud of me for my revelation I finally had (more on that later). He's seeing definite positive change in me and thinks I'm doing the best I have been in the past 4 years he's been seeing me. Go me!
My appointment with my psychiatrist, Dr. M, was funny. Yes, funny. He had previously started me on Latuda and stopped my Seroquel, and he asked how it was going. I told him about my seroquel withdrawals (insomnia, rebound depression, hallucinations and delusions), but that they finally seem to be winding down (thank God). He asked how the Latuda was working for me. "Well, truthfully, I couldn't tell you if it's doing anything for the depression or if my starting to feel better is mainly the bilateral ECT. What I CAN tell you is that it's made it physically impossible for me to orgasm and has killed my libido." Dr. M threw his arms up in the air. "FANTASTIC! That's exactly what I hoped would happen! SUCCESS!" We both start laughing (me rather hysterically). "I'm joking, of course", he assured me. So he cut the dose in half, hoping to get some mood stabilizing effects while lessening the sexual side effects. Which is good because my poor husband. I could never have sex again and be fine with it. And I can't really give blow jobs because I have lock jaw/TMJ really bad and it fucking hurts.
So anyway, about my revelations. The other day (3-5 days ago, I don't remember) I had a day where I just felt kinda meh. I was just going about my day, running errands, whatever when it dawned on me - hey, this is probably how normal people feel. See, I wasn't experiencing extreme emotion, no anxiety, no delusions. I was having an average, normal day. And I realized, this is it. This is what I've been striving for. My mind isn't racing, I'm not rapid cycling, I'm not depressed/down/melancholy, I don't want to die, I'm not manic/hypomanic . . . This is it people!!! And the realization made me happy.
I told my hubby about it and he was all yeah - you expect life to be all smiling and giggling and super happy fun and all "la la la, look at me, weeeeeeeeeee, this is amazing!" (he's skipping and dancing around at this point). But he's right. I guess I've always expected that for me, being stable would be like being mildly, euphorically, hypomanic, which is just not realistic (sadly). And I FINALLY fucking realized it. It's only taken me for-fucking-ever (I'm 37 y'all).
That's what my therapist M was proud of - I finally realized this (he's only been drilling it into my head for 4 years, but whatever. I'm a slow learner I guess).
Another thing I've come to realize about bipolar disorder: I can be "stable" and "normal" and feeling "good/okay" and I might still have to struggle on any given day. Like yesterday at work. It was a good day. Busy (delivered 7 babies), but good. But I found myself having to escape, having to get away from the nurses station, because I couldn't deal with the noise/talking/people. I had to go hide in a quiet area with no one around for awhile. Walk aimlessly around the unit to decompress. And I realized something else: it's okay if I have to do that. I'm managing my mood. I have a mood disorder that can choose to rear its ugly head at any moment and if I have tactics to effectively manage my mood, well, that's good and that's okay and go me for being able to do that. That doesn't mean I like it. I mean FUCK - I'm supposed to be getting stable now, right? Why the fuck should I still struggle?? But sadly, that's part of the disorder and I'm going to be doing this for the rest of my life. I might as well accept it and come up with strategies to manage it.
Anyway, that's all I got right now. Hope all is well with you.
Therapy was good - difficult - but good. M thinks I'm making great progress and is proud of me for my revelation I finally had (more on that later). He's seeing definite positive change in me and thinks I'm doing the best I have been in the past 4 years he's been seeing me. Go me!
My appointment with my psychiatrist, Dr. M, was funny. Yes, funny. He had previously started me on Latuda and stopped my Seroquel, and he asked how it was going. I told him about my seroquel withdrawals (insomnia, rebound depression, hallucinations and delusions), but that they finally seem to be winding down (thank God). He asked how the Latuda was working for me. "Well, truthfully, I couldn't tell you if it's doing anything for the depression or if my starting to feel better is mainly the bilateral ECT. What I CAN tell you is that it's made it physically impossible for me to orgasm and has killed my libido." Dr. M threw his arms up in the air. "FANTASTIC! That's exactly what I hoped would happen! SUCCESS!" We both start laughing (me rather hysterically). "I'm joking, of course", he assured me. So he cut the dose in half, hoping to get some mood stabilizing effects while lessening the sexual side effects. Which is good because my poor husband. I could never have sex again and be fine with it. And I can't really give blow jobs because I have lock jaw/TMJ really bad and it fucking hurts.
So anyway, about my revelations. The other day (3-5 days ago, I don't remember) I had a day where I just felt kinda meh. I was just going about my day, running errands, whatever when it dawned on me - hey, this is probably how normal people feel. See, I wasn't experiencing extreme emotion, no anxiety, no delusions. I was having an average, normal day. And I realized, this is it. This is what I've been striving for. My mind isn't racing, I'm not rapid cycling, I'm not depressed/down/melancholy, I don't want to die, I'm not manic/hypomanic . . . This is it people!!! And the realization made me happy.
I told my hubby about it and he was all yeah - you expect life to be all smiling and giggling and super happy fun and all "la la la, look at me, weeeeeeeeeee, this is amazing!" (he's skipping and dancing around at this point). But he's right. I guess I've always expected that for me, being stable would be like being mildly, euphorically, hypomanic, which is just not realistic (sadly). And I FINALLY fucking realized it. It's only taken me for-fucking-ever (I'm 37 y'all).
That's what my therapist M was proud of - I finally realized this (he's only been drilling it into my head for 4 years, but whatever. I'm a slow learner I guess).
Another thing I've come to realize about bipolar disorder: I can be "stable" and "normal" and feeling "good/okay" and I might still have to struggle on any given day. Like yesterday at work. It was a good day. Busy (delivered 7 babies), but good. But I found myself having to escape, having to get away from the nurses station, because I couldn't deal with the noise/talking/people. I had to go hide in a quiet area with no one around for awhile. Walk aimlessly around the unit to decompress. And I realized something else: it's okay if I have to do that. I'm managing my mood. I have a mood disorder that can choose to rear its ugly head at any moment and if I have tactics to effectively manage my mood, well, that's good and that's okay and go me for being able to do that. That doesn't mean I like it. I mean FUCK - I'm supposed to be getting stable now, right? Why the fuck should I still struggle?? But sadly, that's part of the disorder and I'm going to be doing this for the rest of my life. I might as well accept it and come up with strategies to manage it.
Anyway, that's all I got right now. Hope all is well with you.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
An Introduction of Sorts
I guess my first post on this blog should be some sort of an introduction, right? Yes? No? Maybe so? Well, that's what it's going to be, so deal with it.
Alright. So I'm Lynn and I have Bipolar Disorder. But that's really not the main thing. I'm an RN, and an artist, I'm married to the most amazing, wonderful, understanding man and we have an adorable 8 year old son who is probably the best kid EVER. Hands down. I work with horses (helping train a couple, including a feisty colt), and volunteer at therapeutic riding center.
But about that bipolar . . . I was officially diagnosed 4 years ago (by a psychiatrist - my family practice doc suspected 2 years before that that I was bipolar - I just refused treatment because I didn't want the diagnosis). I've been diagnosed both bipolar 1 and bipolar 2, though I believe I more closely fit bipolar 1 as I HAVE had a full blown manic episode and I also have delusions and hallucinations (yay psychosis!). I am a cutter, I have overdosed 3 times, have been hospitalized 4 times, and have been undergoing ECT (electroconvulsive therapy - shock treatments) for the last 6 months (22 treatments under my belt). I struggle mostly with the depressive side of bipolar, my mania tends to come out in mixed states.
How's that for a down and dirty?? This blog is more for my own personal use and I don't really expect to get many readers. That's fine. I'm not necessarily here to entertain you - I'm here to write about my own shit.
Oh - I also cuss. Like, a LOT. "Fuck" is like the word "the" to me. I use it all the time. Fucking get used to it.
Alright. So I'm Lynn and I have Bipolar Disorder. But that's really not the main thing. I'm an RN, and an artist, I'm married to the most amazing, wonderful, understanding man and we have an adorable 8 year old son who is probably the best kid EVER. Hands down. I work with horses (helping train a couple, including a feisty colt), and volunteer at therapeutic riding center.
But about that bipolar . . . I was officially diagnosed 4 years ago (by a psychiatrist - my family practice doc suspected 2 years before that that I was bipolar - I just refused treatment because I didn't want the diagnosis). I've been diagnosed both bipolar 1 and bipolar 2, though I believe I more closely fit bipolar 1 as I HAVE had a full blown manic episode and I also have delusions and hallucinations (yay psychosis!). I am a cutter, I have overdosed 3 times, have been hospitalized 4 times, and have been undergoing ECT (electroconvulsive therapy - shock treatments) for the last 6 months (22 treatments under my belt). I struggle mostly with the depressive side of bipolar, my mania tends to come out in mixed states.
How's that for a down and dirty?? This blog is more for my own personal use and I don't really expect to get many readers. That's fine. I'm not necessarily here to entertain you - I'm here to write about my own shit.
Oh - I also cuss. Like, a LOT. "Fuck" is like the word "the" to me. I use it all the time. Fucking get used to it.
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