It's been almost a week since my last post and I'm glad to say I'm not doing as bad as I was then. I was in a very bad state last Wednesday. I mean, I begged my hubby to get me a box cutter so I could cut myself (he said no, of course). But I was scary bad.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not doing great. I'm still feeling empty and down and numb and hopeless and pointless. I'm back to being almost emotionless. I start to feel like I'm going to cry and there's nothing behind it - no emotion - so I can't. I can't cry now because there's nothing there. I smile and laugh and joke but there's nothing there. It's all faked. The only true emotion I'm feeling is anger. That emotion isn't faked. It's there, burning hot. Anger over little things, big things, no things . . . It's the only thing I can genuinely feel.
And I hate it.
I hate only feeling anger. I look at my hubby and son and I should feel warmth and love and contentment. I feel nothing. I love them more than life itself and I feel nothing. You have no idea how much this sucks. How much it hurts. How much it fuels my anger. I don't need more help fueling my anger.
*exasperated sigh*
I had TMS again yesterday, making that two times this month. I'm praying so hard that it helps. I need it to help. Because I can't keep doing what I'm doing. It's no way to live. Honestly, I'm not living - I'm surviving. Living day to day because more than a single day is too much to bear, looking for little shreds of hope to hold onto to get me by.
I don't want to continue to do this.
Showing posts with label pretend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pretend. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
Monday, March 16, 2020
Monday 3/16/20
Wow. A lot can change in 3 short days. Unless you're living under a rock you know about covid-19 sweeping the world. When last I wrote, 3 short days ago, I was very nonchalant about covid-19. But I'm not nonchalant anymore. My son's school is closed at least through the end of March, possibly longer. Hell, all the schools are closed. Grocery stores are bare, people are fighting over toilet paper. It's other worldly. It's hard to believe.
But I went grocery shopping yesterday for a few staples . . . three stores before I could find a loaf of bread. A loaf of fucking bread. The shelves are literally bare. Everyone is panic buying and hoarding. I was in a state of disbelief.
We all know this, we've all seen this happening in our own towns. So why am I mentioning it? Because any good my TMS session did for me is being completely undone. Undone by stress and fear and anxiety. Yesterday and today I'm having a hard time coping and functioning. My anxiety is rearing its ugly head after it being absent for so long. This underlying current is constantly there, almost making me sick to my stomach. You know that butterflies in your stomach feeling? Imagine having it all the time. Imagine a tremor in your hands, jaw clenched, sense of dread or impending doom all the time. I can't control it. It's just there. It's not obvious to anyone else (at least I don't think so). I'm working so hard to hide it and that is exhausting me.
And what comes with anxiety for me? What goes hand in hand? Depression. Depression does. And I've been feeling it again. After starting to feel okay again last week, depression is sneaking back in. It's insidious. It's taking advantage of my current situation.
And you guys, I can't do this. There's no end in sight. I can't keep feeling like this. I can't. I'm trying so hard. But I have so many fears swirling in my fucked up head right now. Like, I mean, I'm a nurse. What if we start seeing covid-19 cases in my hospital and I have to float to other floors to help out? I won't know what the hell I'm doing! I take care of well newborns and their mothers! Not sick people. And what if we don't have supplies? My hospital is already rationing masks. What if someone in my family gets sick? What if I get sick? What if we run out of food? What if shipments stop coming? What if I can't get my meds? What if I can't get gas? What if we actually run out of toilet paper?
All these thoughts and more are circling my head constantly. I'm having a hard time concentrating. On anything. I want to read, distract myself, get lost in a story . . . and I just can't. I can't concentrate. My brain won't shut up. The only relief I get is from napping. Only then does it shut up.
But I'm trying not to do that. Sleeping all the time isn't healthy and only reinforces the depression aspect of this. WTF. Seriously.
I need this to stop. I need things to go back the way they were before. God help me.
But I went grocery shopping yesterday for a few staples . . . three stores before I could find a loaf of bread. A loaf of fucking bread. The shelves are literally bare. Everyone is panic buying and hoarding. I was in a state of disbelief.
We all know this, we've all seen this happening in our own towns. So why am I mentioning it? Because any good my TMS session did for me is being completely undone. Undone by stress and fear and anxiety. Yesterday and today I'm having a hard time coping and functioning. My anxiety is rearing its ugly head after it being absent for so long. This underlying current is constantly there, almost making me sick to my stomach. You know that butterflies in your stomach feeling? Imagine having it all the time. Imagine a tremor in your hands, jaw clenched, sense of dread or impending doom all the time. I can't control it. It's just there. It's not obvious to anyone else (at least I don't think so). I'm working so hard to hide it and that is exhausting me.
And what comes with anxiety for me? What goes hand in hand? Depression. Depression does. And I've been feeling it again. After starting to feel okay again last week, depression is sneaking back in. It's insidious. It's taking advantage of my current situation.
And you guys, I can't do this. There's no end in sight. I can't keep feeling like this. I can't. I'm trying so hard. But I have so many fears swirling in my fucked up head right now. Like, I mean, I'm a nurse. What if we start seeing covid-19 cases in my hospital and I have to float to other floors to help out? I won't know what the hell I'm doing! I take care of well newborns and their mothers! Not sick people. And what if we don't have supplies? My hospital is already rationing masks. What if someone in my family gets sick? What if I get sick? What if we run out of food? What if shipments stop coming? What if I can't get my meds? What if I can't get gas? What if we actually run out of toilet paper?
All these thoughts and more are circling my head constantly. I'm having a hard time concentrating. On anything. I want to read, distract myself, get lost in a story . . . and I just can't. I can't concentrate. My brain won't shut up. The only relief I get is from napping. Only then does it shut up.
But I'm trying not to do that. Sleeping all the time isn't healthy and only reinforces the depression aspect of this. WTF. Seriously.
I need this to stop. I need things to go back the way they were before. God help me.
Monday, December 24, 2018
12/24/18
Wow. It's been awhile since I've written anything. Two weeks. And it's Christmas eve. Although it doesn't feel like Christmas at all. No, it just feels like any other day. Can't say I've gotten into the Christmas spirit this year. I pretty much blame my depression for that.
I had a therapy appointment last week. Ended up crying in therapy and then crying myself to sleep that night. Always so much fun.
I've been about the same as I was in my last blog post. Hovering just below the surface, unable to really feel much of anything except negative emotions here and there. There is a change though, I have been able to feel some positive emotions. They're not strong, and they're not long lived, but they have been there. I'm so thankful for that. Because I'm truly drowning here.
Now today, today I have been weird. I keep fluctuating between being mostly okay to being an anxious ball of worry. Why? Well, for one, it's Christmas eve which means church. I'm going to throw out there that I hate church. I feel like such an outcast there. I get nothing from the sermons. And all of the sit-stand-kneel, sit-stand-kneel is annoying as hell. My hubby goes every Sunday (he's Catholic, I'm . . . nothing) and he takes our son. I'm kind of the black sheep I guess. But I go with him Christmas eve if I'm not working. And I don't like it. And there's so many people and I don't do well with crowds. But I go. I just most certainly don't look forward to it. Quite the opposite - I dread it.
Here's the other thing. Hubby is in a men's group at the church and one of the guys invited us over to dinner tonight. And we're going. Why is this a problem? I won't know anyone there. For an introvert this is a nightmare. The longer I deal with this depression the more introverted I become - even around people I know. I'm quiet, I fade into the background. And let's be honest - I think I've forgotten how to have fun. I don't know what to talk about. I don't remember hardly any good stories about my work and the other main topic of my life is my bipolar disorder (which I don't really want to talk about with strangers). I don't know how to make conversations. I don't know how to engage people. I've bought 3 books on the subject but haven't even made it through one yet.
So I'm anxious. Anxious about church, anxious about this dinner party. And I feel overall down. I wish I didn't have to deal with this. With the anxiety, the depression, the bipolar, with myself.
I hope to god there will be alcohol there tonight.
I had a therapy appointment last week. Ended up crying in therapy and then crying myself to sleep that night. Always so much fun.
I've been about the same as I was in my last blog post. Hovering just below the surface, unable to really feel much of anything except negative emotions here and there. There is a change though, I have been able to feel some positive emotions. They're not strong, and they're not long lived, but they have been there. I'm so thankful for that. Because I'm truly drowning here.
Now today, today I have been weird. I keep fluctuating between being mostly okay to being an anxious ball of worry. Why? Well, for one, it's Christmas eve which means church. I'm going to throw out there that I hate church. I feel like such an outcast there. I get nothing from the sermons. And all of the sit-stand-kneel, sit-stand-kneel is annoying as hell. My hubby goes every Sunday (he's Catholic, I'm . . . nothing) and he takes our son. I'm kind of the black sheep I guess. But I go with him Christmas eve if I'm not working. And I don't like it. And there's so many people and I don't do well with crowds. But I go. I just most certainly don't look forward to it. Quite the opposite - I dread it.
Here's the other thing. Hubby is in a men's group at the church and one of the guys invited us over to dinner tonight. And we're going. Why is this a problem? I won't know anyone there. For an introvert this is a nightmare. The longer I deal with this depression the more introverted I become - even around people I know. I'm quiet, I fade into the background. And let's be honest - I think I've forgotten how to have fun. I don't know what to talk about. I don't remember hardly any good stories about my work and the other main topic of my life is my bipolar disorder (which I don't really want to talk about with strangers). I don't know how to make conversations. I don't know how to engage people. I've bought 3 books on the subject but haven't even made it through one yet.
So I'm anxious. Anxious about church, anxious about this dinner party. And I feel overall down. I wish I didn't have to deal with this. With the anxiety, the depression, the bipolar, with myself.
I hope to god there will be alcohol there tonight.
Monday, December 10, 2018
12/10/18
This post may not make much sense. I don't know. I just got home from seeing my psychiatrist and I have a whopping headache, right above my left eye. I can't concentrate.
Let's talk about my appointment with my psychiatrist Dr. M. I like Dr. M. I trust him. I think he does a good job. But sometimes I don't think he really hears me. Like today. He told me that he thinks I'm doing better than I have been in a long time. That I'm not having extreme ups and downs. I still may be cycling, but I'm stable. I'm stable.
Which, you know what, that's true I guess. I'm not having extreme ups and downs. I'm manageable right now. But I am still cycling, mostly with depression. I'm swimming just below the surface, trying desperately to break through to gasp for air. But it's not happening. The surface is frozen solid and I'm trapped below, slowly losing my steam.
To most people I seem fine. I seem normal. Maybe even like my old self, albeit a little quiet. This is because I'm pretending. I'm putting up a facade that everything is okay. People expect it to be. So they look past the quietness, they look past the blank stares and the vacant look in my eyes. My hubby can tell, as can my close friends. But most people can't.
Most days I'm empty and emotionless. Numb. A husk of who I should be. I have a flat affect and I have to pretend to have feelings to fit in. I even pretend around my hubby because I don't want him to have to deal with me like that day in and day out. Sometimes, I'll even have real feelings. Sadly though, they're not good ones. They're hopelessness, despair, dread, sadness, guilt, and shame. All the feelings of "real" depression.
I explained this to Dr. M and he kind of dismissed it. He said that yes, I'm cycling, but to hang in there and it would get better. Hang in there and it will get better?? I've been in this current down cycle for 4 freaking months! When? When is it going to get better? Of course he can't answer that question. I asked about uppers and he said no. He was worried that 1. they could make me manic, and 2. they could make my depression worse.
Great.
Flailing desperately below the surface appears to be as good as it gets for me.
It'a a damn good thing I'm stubborn.
Let's talk about my appointment with my psychiatrist Dr. M. I like Dr. M. I trust him. I think he does a good job. But sometimes I don't think he really hears me. Like today. He told me that he thinks I'm doing better than I have been in a long time. That I'm not having extreme ups and downs. I still may be cycling, but I'm stable. I'm stable.
Which, you know what, that's true I guess. I'm not having extreme ups and downs. I'm manageable right now. But I am still cycling, mostly with depression. I'm swimming just below the surface, trying desperately to break through to gasp for air. But it's not happening. The surface is frozen solid and I'm trapped below, slowly losing my steam.
To most people I seem fine. I seem normal. Maybe even like my old self, albeit a little quiet. This is because I'm pretending. I'm putting up a facade that everything is okay. People expect it to be. So they look past the quietness, they look past the blank stares and the vacant look in my eyes. My hubby can tell, as can my close friends. But most people can't.
Most days I'm empty and emotionless. Numb. A husk of who I should be. I have a flat affect and I have to pretend to have feelings to fit in. I even pretend around my hubby because I don't want him to have to deal with me like that day in and day out. Sometimes, I'll even have real feelings. Sadly though, they're not good ones. They're hopelessness, despair, dread, sadness, guilt, and shame. All the feelings of "real" depression.
I explained this to Dr. M and he kind of dismissed it. He said that yes, I'm cycling, but to hang in there and it would get better. Hang in there and it will get better?? I've been in this current down cycle for 4 freaking months! When? When is it going to get better? Of course he can't answer that question. I asked about uppers and he said no. He was worried that 1. they could make me manic, and 2. they could make my depression worse.
Great.
Flailing desperately below the surface appears to be as good as it gets for me.
It'a a damn good thing I'm stubborn.
Friday, December 7, 2018
12/7/18
Well hello there. There's not much new going on here. Our offer was accepted on the house and we're officially under contract. The inspection was yesterday and while it wasn't bad, it also wasn't great (and that's got me worried - what if we lose the house over it??). But we'll just have to see how it goes, right?
Mood wise . . . well . . . I'm not sure I really know. I've still been empty and hollow and flat and a husk. Any feelings I do have are muted. Stunted. I'm still pretending, pretending that I'm okay, that everything is alright. I'm putting on that mask, that facade for everyone. I think people are none the wiser. I don't think they suspect that I'm not doing well. I even put on the facade during therapy this week. I don't know why really. Maybe it was just habit. Maybe I wasn't in the mood to talk about my emotions. Maybe it was too hard. Maybe it was all of the above.
Today has been a rough day. I've managed to clean a little, do some laundry, and do a painting. All while fighting back tears. Let's be honest though, it's not terribly hard to fight back the tears. Why? Because there's no emotion behind them. I'm an empty husk, remember? But they're there none the less, threatening to come. And it's frustrating, really. Like, maybe if I could just cry I'd feel better.
At least I'm managing. I mean, I'm able to work. I kind of keep up the house. I've been painting - I took 2 custom orders. So I've been managing. Which means I don't have to be hospitalized. It's been almost a year since my last hospitalization - I don't want to go back.
I'm still having suicidal thoughts. Every. Single. Day. Even though I have good things going for me. Even though I'm managing. I'm still having those thoughts. I hate them. I wish they would go away. But I don't see that happening any time soon. Maybe the one doctor I fired was right - I'm going to be depressed and suicidal for the rest of my life and I need to learn how to deal with it. Now if that's not a depressing thought I don't know what is.
So anyway, there's where I'm at. Yep.
Mood wise . . . well . . . I'm not sure I really know. I've still been empty and hollow and flat and a husk. Any feelings I do have are muted. Stunted. I'm still pretending, pretending that I'm okay, that everything is alright. I'm putting on that mask, that facade for everyone. I think people are none the wiser. I don't think they suspect that I'm not doing well. I even put on the facade during therapy this week. I don't know why really. Maybe it was just habit. Maybe I wasn't in the mood to talk about my emotions. Maybe it was too hard. Maybe it was all of the above.
Today has been a rough day. I've managed to clean a little, do some laundry, and do a painting. All while fighting back tears. Let's be honest though, it's not terribly hard to fight back the tears. Why? Because there's no emotion behind them. I'm an empty husk, remember? But they're there none the less, threatening to come. And it's frustrating, really. Like, maybe if I could just cry I'd feel better.
At least I'm managing. I mean, I'm able to work. I kind of keep up the house. I've been painting - I took 2 custom orders. So I've been managing. Which means I don't have to be hospitalized. It's been almost a year since my last hospitalization - I don't want to go back.
I'm still having suicidal thoughts. Every. Single. Day. Even though I have good things going for me. Even though I'm managing. I'm still having those thoughts. I hate them. I wish they would go away. But I don't see that happening any time soon. Maybe the one doctor I fired was right - I'm going to be depressed and suicidal for the rest of my life and I need to learn how to deal with it. Now if that's not a depressing thought I don't know what is.
So anyway, there's where I'm at. Yep.
Friday, November 30, 2018
11/30/18
I can't believe tomorrow is December. It's come up so fast. Christmas and then New Year's . . . man. I'm hoping 2019 will see us as home owners again. There's a good chance it will. Even so, I'm trying not to get my hopes up. We'll just have to see where the cards fall.
Yesterday and today have been especially dark. And it's weird because I wouldn't necessarily call myself "depressed". I don't really have the stereotypical symptoms of depression. So what am I feeling?
A whole lot of nothing. I feel so empty. Numb. Flat. I constantly feel on the verge of crying but I can't because there's no emotion behind it. I'm indifferent to everything. I don't care. I hate feeling like this. It's just as bad, if not worse, than feeling depressed. I'm just this husk, this shell of a person. It's no way to be.
I've been pretending that I'm okay, that I'm doing better, because I think people are tired of me not doing well. My illness is hard on other people too - especially hubby and son. So I've been pretending and I think I've gotten pretty good at it again. My coworkers seem to think that I'm doing good. But if they just saw the vacant stare . . . or picked up on how quiet I am . . .
I have therapy next Wednesday. It's been 3 weeks and I'm looking forward to a session. I need one. Three weeks is the longest I've gone in awhile. But I've been managing. Pretending. Going about my life like I'm an actual, feeling adult.
I want this to stop. I want to actually feel. Even if it's bad feelings. At least that's something.
Yesterday and today have been especially dark. And it's weird because I wouldn't necessarily call myself "depressed". I don't really have the stereotypical symptoms of depression. So what am I feeling?
A whole lot of nothing. I feel so empty. Numb. Flat. I constantly feel on the verge of crying but I can't because there's no emotion behind it. I'm indifferent to everything. I don't care. I hate feeling like this. It's just as bad, if not worse, than feeling depressed. I'm just this husk, this shell of a person. It's no way to be.
I've been pretending that I'm okay, that I'm doing better, because I think people are tired of me not doing well. My illness is hard on other people too - especially hubby and son. So I've been pretending and I think I've gotten pretty good at it again. My coworkers seem to think that I'm doing good. But if they just saw the vacant stare . . . or picked up on how quiet I am . . .
I have therapy next Wednesday. It's been 3 weeks and I'm looking forward to a session. I need one. Three weeks is the longest I've gone in awhile. But I've been managing. Pretending. Going about my life like I'm an actual, feeling adult.
I want this to stop. I want to actually feel. Even if it's bad feelings. At least that's something.
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