Sunday 8-9-20 Depression and Lithium

 Hello my little weirdos! How's it going this lovely Sunday? It's sunny here in Colorado, supposed to be around 95 degrees today (have I mentioned I'm ready for fall?). I don't like it ridiculously hot - 75 with a breeze is perfect. But we don't always get what we want, do we? That's okay though, this is better than snow.

So things have been pretty status quo with me. There's nothing terribly new to report . . . I'm still doing very well, still feeling stable and happy and positive. One thing has changed though: the longer I go with feeling good, the more a small part of me misses the depression. How fucked up is that?? I still have little dipity dos here and there, and when I do, part of me embraces them and tries to hold on. I hate this. I hate this so much. I understand why - I'm so used to being depressed that that's what makes the most sense to me. But understanding it doesn't mean I have to like it. 

I'm working to squelch this part of me. I don't want to be drawn to depression. At all. Ever. I'm using all the tools I learned doing my program. I'm recognizing this as a part of me and working to let it go. Because how awful would it be if I managed to self sabotage and get bad again. Nope. We're not doing that. 

In other news, in my last post I mentioned that I'm decreasing my Lithium dose. I've been on 900mg (instead of 1350mg) for about 3 weeks now (that's 3 pills down to 2). I've noticed my tremors aren't quite as bad, my ankle swelling isn't as bad, and I've had no mood changes. So, I'm going to be going down to one pill. I'll do it a little more gradually - every other day. So last night I took 2, tonight I'll take one, tomorrow 2, and so on. For one to two weeks and then I'll stay at one pill. My goal is to get off of the Lithium. I've been on it for 6 or 7 years and it would be nice to get rid of one medication. We'll see how it goes I guess. I'm sure Dr. M won't be pleased with me (he doesn't know I'm doing this). But I don't have to worry about that until September when I see him again. 

There's not too much else going on. Work is busy. We delivered 25 babies in 24 hours - a record for my hospital. It's pretty amazing, really. I'm trying to pick up extra shifts  to prepare me for hopefully going back to full time in January. 

I'm feeling uninspired art wise lately. I'm going to try and come up with some ideas this week. That's my goal. At least 2 ideas. And then execute them. Hopefully I can live up to that.

  

Wednesday 4/29/20

I tried this morning. I really did. I got up early, had breakfast and coffee, got ready . . . I even put on makeup and real clothes (as opposed to just gym attire). I went downstairs to my happy place (my studio) to draw and paint. I was even able to get 2 sketches done before lunch and ink one of them after lunch. I did a load of laundry and put it away.

I tried.

So why then am I feeling so crappy? Why am I still so empty and depressed, feeling close to tears almost constantly? Why?

The obvious answer, of course, is that I'm bipolar and I'm in a depressive episode. There's no doubt about that.

I guess I was just hoping some positive self care would tip me over into the feeling good category.

But I guess I'm not so lucky.



In other news, I work tomorrow and I'm worried about it. I was supposed to work yesterday and I was called off - for which I'm thankful of. I've been feeling even worse at work. Having a hard time coping and wanting to cut. I've been withdrawing at work and I think people are starting to notice. All I want to do is hide. Sleep. Cut. Three things I can't do at work.

I'll be fine though. I'm tough.

I don't see my therapist for 2 weeks. Two weeks! That seems so long. So far away. I'll make it though, and have some artwork to show him. 

Monday 4/27/20 Therapy and Work

This is one of those times where I want to write, need to write, but I don't know what to say. My brain is completely jumbled right now - it's a mess. So many thoughts. Most of them don't even make any sense. But I'm going to try and write a coherent post.

I had therapy today. Actually, I just got home from therapy. Almost the entire session centered on my depression and anxiety. Mostly my depression though. I've been getting progressively more and more depressed. More and more empty. More and more lost. I focused on Saturday as an example.

I worked Saturday. When I got up that morning to shower I could just feel it was going to be a difficult day. I already felt terribly down and empty. I tried talking up the day, knowing there were only 2 inductions, it's a Saturday - it shouldn't be busy, it'll be a good day!

I almost had myself convinced.

I went out to my truck to leave for work and there was a light layer of frost on my windshield. I almost lost it. My eyes welled up with tears and I nearly sat down in the driveway and cried. Over frost. Instead, I sucked it up, scraped my windshield and drove to work. Little did I know that would be my theme of the day.

I started off the day with a c-section - not how I like to start off my mornings, but hey, it is what it is. I felt that familiar feeling of needing to cry and shook it off. I did the c-section, admit, and charted, the whole time feeling like I was going to lose it. Spoiler alert - I didn't.

I had lunch and did another delivery when I felt something else, something different. The need to cut. When I feel empty and devoid of real feelings I get the desire to cut. Because when I cut I can at least feel something - even if that something is pain. It gives me a fleeting sense of belonging almost. I don't know how to describe it. I wanted to cut, badly.

So I texted my hubby and let him know what was going on. He talked with me for a bit and suggested I draw on myself, particularly butterflies (because of the Butterfly Project - a movement for those who self harm to draw butterflies on themselves instead of cutting). I had heard of it before but never put much clout into it.

Well, I tried it. And it helped. Briefly. But briefly was all I needed in the moment to keep from cutting. I ended up with four butterflies on my arm. Now, I still wanted to cut, I was just able to not do it. So I'll count that as a win.

The day went on and I continued to feel empty and hopeless and depressed. I put on a facade for those around me, which was difficult to do. But I did it anyway. By the time I left work I was exhausted. Not because it was busy - I only did 3 deliveries - but because of my flailing mental health.

Feeling like I'm going to constantly break down has been my MO as of late. I feel like this every day, coupled with the emptiness, hopelessness, and exhaustion. In therapy we discussed coping mechanisms and what I've done that has and hasn't helped. The only thing I can do is power through - it's all I know how to do.

Today I'll be helping my hubby build a shed. Not what I want to do today but it needs to be done. And it'll give me time with him and time out in the sun doing manual labor and that's good for the soul, right? At least that's what I'm telling myself. In all honestly I'd like to go back to bed.

11/6/18

Would you look at that! I blogged yesterday and I'm blogging again today. It's not very often that that happens. I usually have at least a couple of days in between.

Anyway, hubby asked me something last night that I really didn't know how to answer. I actually, kind of, well, lied. Only kind of though. I didn't totally lie, I guess. Of course, kind of lying is probably the same as regular lying when you really think about it.

So. Yeah. Hubby asked me if I had any optimism towards the future. And I answered him yes, not all the time but sometimes. The truth? The truth is that I really don't have any optimism towards the future. Well, maybe there are rare instances where I do. That's why my answer was only kind of a lie.

Him asking me that got me thinking though. How do I really feel about the future. I thought about it all night. I've been thinking about it today. And my view of the future is just so damn negative. It's hard for me to see any good in the future. And the sad thing is that I have an amazing husband, a wonderful son, and awesome friends, all of whom love me and care deeply about me. But all I see is chaos, depression, and uncertainty in my future.

See, I get to worry about all of the "normal" things (work, bills, retirement, the house, etc), but my bipolar disorder blows everything out of proportion and I overthink it to the extreme. Then I have to worry about my bipolar disorder itself (will my meds keep working, am I going to get worse, how will my memory be, will I eventually kill myself). This is all very depressing and exhausting and one of the reasons I try not to even think about the future. I try to stay in the present moment, in the here and now. It helps me get through my worst days and it helps keep good days good.

But seriously though. How horrible is this to have such a dreary outlook on the future? And I try not to! I really do! I try so hard to counter my negative thoughts with positive ones (in every aspect of my life), but it just doesn't seem to stick. My positive thoughts aren't strong enough to overpower the negative. I think that's just how I'm built. I think negativity is ingrained in my personality, which makes everything so much harder.

So. There you go. My "kind of" lie. 

9/25/18

It's my birthday today. Can you sense the excitement? Don't worry if you can't - it's not there. And it's not because "oh no I'm a year older"! Honestly that doesn't phase me at all. No, it's because I'm still feeling depressed.

You know, depressed isn't really the right word. When I think of me being depressed, I think of sobbing and wanting to die and cutting myself and utter, bleak hopelessness. I'm not there yet. I'm, I don't know, more mild depression I guess. I feel down and flat and withdrawn and lost and yes, a little hopeless. I don't feel sad. I feel anhedonic. I really feel flat. I'm just kind of emotionless except for anger and annoyance.

I feel tired. Exhausted really. Keeping my mental health in check is hard work. Not to mention that I only average around 5 hours of sleep a night (thank you brain and bladder). The exhaustion isn't just physical though - it's mostly mental and emotional, which sleep doesn't fix (although you best believe I try to fix it with sleep - I nap all the fucking time).

So today is my 9th day of feeling like crap again. After almost 3 months of being stable. Which leads me to believe that I'm heading into another episode. I'm trying not to believe that. Hubby is trying to get me not to believe that. My coworkers and friends are trying to get me not to believe that. But secretly? I believe that.

I'm trying to stay positive and counter and crush all of my negative thoughts. I'm trying to remind myself that I was stable and happy before, I can be that way again. I'm trying to stay busy and do things that I usually enjoy doing. I'm reading my positive affirmations. And you know what?

It's not working.

I'm just sort of . . . stuck. I don't know what to do other than ride this out and hope it doesn't last or get worse. What more can I do?

Anyway, happy birthday to me.

10/26/17

Last night I went to my bipolar support group and I actually talked. The facilitator, B, was talking about how so many of us seem to be mourning our past, our lost selves, longing for how the way things used to be, how we used to be. I don't think I've ever thought of things that way. I said:

I've never thought of it like that but I can see how it could be true, wanting things to be the way they were before my illness. What I'm having trouble with right now though is looking ahead to my future. Knowing that I have to deal with my illness for the rest of my life . . . knowing that I'm spending every day right now fighting with my brain, fighting with my thoughts, fighting not to kill myself and I have to do this for the rest of my life. Is it really worth it? Is this really a life I want to continue to live?

I started to cry, though I kept myself from breaking down completely. People offered up what they do to cope and it was actually comforting to know that I wasn't the only one struggling all the time with suicidal thoughts. Sadly, I didn't hear anything I haven't already tried. There was no new information. Group continued and at the end B and the other facilitator came to check on me and see how I was doing and if I needed to go to the hospital. I got hugs and B gave me his number in case I needed help.

When I got home I told my hubby about the meeting and started crying again (I spent most of the day yesterday crying). I didn't sleep well last night. Everything was turning over and over in my head. Between last night and this morning I came to realize something - I don't like myself. Like, I really don't like myself. I don't like how I look. I hate my body, I hate my weight, I hate my hair, I hate how no matter what I do I can't get rid of my acne, I hate how despite eating healthy and working out I can't seem to lose weight. I hate my anger. I hate how anxious I get in crowds. I hate my anxiety in general. I hate how withdrawn I am all the time and how difficult it is for me to connect with anyone. I hate that I'm only able to work part time. I hate the strain I put on my family and friends with my illness. I hate that my I make my hubby feel guilty. I hate that I am a burden. More than anything . . .

I FUCKING HATE MY BIPOLAR DISORDER.

I have this sneaking suspicion that I'm not going to be able to move forward until I can learn to love and accept myself. Sad thing is I have no idea how to do that. I'm so damn good at hating myself. I can start with positive affirmations I guess. Repeated every morning when I wake up. Maybe I'll actually start to believe them.

I am beautiful.
I am strong. 
I am worth it. 
I am enough. 

That's all I have right now.