So.
Here we are again. We can't keep meeting up like this. People will talk.
Or not. Probably not. There's not much to talk about.
I had a hard time falling asleep last night. I couldn't shut off my brain. So many thoughts swirling around in my head and I couldn't keep up. I had some of what I thought were good ideas but they escaped me as soon as they came. I wish I had gotten up and written them down. Maybe I should keep a notebook next to my bed. . .
Anyway, it's no secret that I've been struggling. This hole, this emptiness that been with me since I was a little girl, is growing. And nothing seems to fill it - not even my hubby or son. Which pains me so much. They are my everything and they should be enough but that damn hole lingers. I don't know what to do. Nothing helps. Buying stuff? Pffft, no. Spending time with my family? Well, I guess it does help but not nearly enough. I've been praying, doing daily Bible readings, and started reading the Bible . . . nope. Nothing.
Actually, reading the Bible kind of angers me. Why? Because I don't understand it. It makes no sense to me. And I don't get anything out of it. I'll read what's supposed to be a meaningful passage and it's nothing to me. I don't get filled with the holy spirit or whatever. I'm not moved. It doesn't help. I wish it did. I wish I was one of those people with faith who find meaning in life. I find no meaning in life.
I find no meaning in life.
I don't know how to. I look for joy in the small things and, sometimes when the darkness isn't so all encompassing, I find it. Briefly. But it never sustains me. I yearn for more but I rarely find it. I'm stuck in this cycle, this cycle of hating life and everything in it, punctuated by rare glimpses of how life could be. I know how life could be. Last year I was stable and happy for 5 months before everything came crashing down again.
I'm on my 4th month now being depressed again and I fucking hate it. I hate every fucking thing about it. It's not fair. But Cami, life isn't fair. You know what? Fuck you. That's all I have to say about that (to quote Forrest Gump). If God has some sort of master plan for me he better reveal something about it soon because this is tiresome. Dreadfully tiresome.
So yeah. I'm trying to better myself. And I'm failing. I'm trying to fight my depression and I'm failing. I'm trying to fill my hole and I'm failing. Yes, I know I have a very negative viewpoint. I'm trying to be positive, I really am. You just can't tell by this blog post. I'm venting. I'm allowed to do that, to vent. And I'm probably failing at that too.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Saturday, June 13, 2020
Wednesday, May 13, 2020
Wednesday 5/13/20 Okay brain, you win
So remember on Monday I wrote that things were "looking up"? Ha ha ha! Oh MAN!! That was funny! A real knee slapper!
Cause, well, things are back to square one. Or, more accurately, worse than square one.
But, how? You said you were feeling better! For like 3 days!
Yes, that's right. I was. But by Monday afternoon my mood was starting to slide again. I was starting to feel empty, numb and down. I felt that way all day yesterday. And then today came. And today has sucked.
It's 1346 as I write this and I have broken down sobbing 4 times now (I've only been awake for 5 hours people). Here's the thing though: I'm used to feeling empty and numb and down and now I'm feeling ALL THE THINGS. Despair, loneliness, sadness, ANGER, hopelessness, anxiety . . . all the bad things, I'm feeling them all. Intensified negative emotions. If I'm not crying over something I'm trying desperately to keep myself from screaming, cussing, and throwing shit. My emotions are moving so fast I'm getting physically nauseous. I've had to lay down several times I was so sick to my stomach.
I was texting my hubby when I remembered something: when I started TMS Dr. F told me that I would start to get worse before I got better. That most people would start to feel more (mostly negative) emotions and would think that this was a sign they were getting worse. He told me to keep going as it was really a sign that TMS was working and I was getting better. Hubby remembers this too. I'm praying that this is what's going on right now. That I'm feeling worse but getting better. I have TMS again on the 18th.
Today has been a roller coaster ride from hell. I've managed to do a drawing, do laundry, and get dinner in the crock pot. That's it. I was going to do so much more. I was going to workout, paint some sparrows, clean the kitchen, and go for a walk. None of that got done thanks to my violent, negative mood swings. I'm hoping tomorrow is better. And Friday better still. I work Saturday and I can't be at work like this. I won't be able to function. So you hear that brain? You better get your shit together.
Cause, well, things are back to square one. Or, more accurately, worse than square one.
But, how? You said you were feeling better! For like 3 days!
Yes, that's right. I was. But by Monday afternoon my mood was starting to slide again. I was starting to feel empty, numb and down. I felt that way all day yesterday. And then today came. And today has sucked.
It's 1346 as I write this and I have broken down sobbing 4 times now (I've only been awake for 5 hours people). Here's the thing though: I'm used to feeling empty and numb and down and now I'm feeling ALL THE THINGS. Despair, loneliness, sadness, ANGER, hopelessness, anxiety . . . all the bad things, I'm feeling them all. Intensified negative emotions. If I'm not crying over something I'm trying desperately to keep myself from screaming, cussing, and throwing shit. My emotions are moving so fast I'm getting physically nauseous. I've had to lay down several times I was so sick to my stomach.
I was texting my hubby when I remembered something: when I started TMS Dr. F told me that I would start to get worse before I got better. That most people would start to feel more (mostly negative) emotions and would think that this was a sign they were getting worse. He told me to keep going as it was really a sign that TMS was working and I was getting better. Hubby remembers this too. I'm praying that this is what's going on right now. That I'm feeling worse but getting better. I have TMS again on the 18th.
Today has been a roller coaster ride from hell. I've managed to do a drawing, do laundry, and get dinner in the crock pot. That's it. I was going to do so much more. I was going to workout, paint some sparrows, clean the kitchen, and go for a walk. None of that got done thanks to my violent, negative mood swings. I'm hoping tomorrow is better. And Friday better still. I work Saturday and I can't be at work like this. I won't be able to function. So you hear that brain? You better get your shit together.
Tuesday, February 18, 2020
Tuesday 2/18/20
I meant to write last night, but I distracted myself with Pinterest. I needed to write last night, but I didn't. I don't really know why I didn't. There's no good reason.
My black cloud is trying to envelop me, trying to consume me. I've had some bad days. Days where I can barely get out of bed to use the bathroom. Days where I see no end to the darkness. I'm trying not to let it get me. I'm fighting as best as I can.
I'm thinking about doing maintenance TMS. It's once or twice a month. But it's $200 a pop and we honestly don't have the money for that. I'm also sticking to an eating plan, calorie counting, and exercising. Maybe if I can lose some weight it'll help.
Maybe it will help.
I'm trying to counter all of my negative thoughts - which is exhausting - and remain positive. I'm trying to stay present, get plenty of rest, and interact with people (also exhausting). Speaking of interacting with people, a few coworkers have noticed my facade slipping and have asked me if I'm okay.
Do I lie or do I open up?
I guess it depends on who it is.
I've been doing some art - paintings. Keeps me occupied, kills the time, keeps me from napping. As of right now I thankfully have a shred of inspiration. Hopefully I can hang on to that. Painting helps.
I haven't studied Spanish for weeks. I can't concentrate. I haven't really read in weeks because I can't concentrate. I try, but I fail. If I lose my inspiration for painting I don't know what I'll do.
Probably nap, which I don't want to do. That's giving in and I can't do that.
Just over a week and I have therapy. Maybe that'll help.
Until then I'll keep struggling against the waves.
My black cloud is trying to envelop me, trying to consume me. I've had some bad days. Days where I can barely get out of bed to use the bathroom. Days where I see no end to the darkness. I'm trying not to let it get me. I'm fighting as best as I can.
I'm thinking about doing maintenance TMS. It's once or twice a month. But it's $200 a pop and we honestly don't have the money for that. I'm also sticking to an eating plan, calorie counting, and exercising. Maybe if I can lose some weight it'll help.
Maybe it will help.
I'm trying to counter all of my negative thoughts - which is exhausting - and remain positive. I'm trying to stay present, get plenty of rest, and interact with people (also exhausting). Speaking of interacting with people, a few coworkers have noticed my facade slipping and have asked me if I'm okay.
Do I lie or do I open up?
I guess it depends on who it is.
I've been doing some art - paintings. Keeps me occupied, kills the time, keeps me from napping. As of right now I thankfully have a shred of inspiration. Hopefully I can hang on to that. Painting helps.
I haven't studied Spanish for weeks. I can't concentrate. I haven't really read in weeks because I can't concentrate. I try, but I fail. If I lose my inspiration for painting I don't know what I'll do.
Probably nap, which I don't want to do. That's giving in and I can't do that.
Just over a week and I have therapy. Maybe that'll help.
Until then I'll keep struggling against the waves.
Monday, January 27, 2020
Monday 1/27/2020
Hey there.
How's it going?
It would appear that my, uh, black cloud is back. Trying to take over. Envelop me with darkness. It's there, hovering, waiting for the right moment to strike. It could be any moment, I feel it. It's unrelenting.
I've been so close to breaking down. Several times a day. Every day. So close. My eyes fill with tears, full to the brim, but they don't spill over. There I sit, feeling the world crashing down around me, so ready to lose it, and then . . . nothing. The tears . . . they go. I don't know where because they're certainly not spilling down my cheeks. I sit there feeling so defeated and so empty and so . . . gyped because I didn't get that release. That emotional release that comes with crying. I don't get that. So I'm full of bad things. I'm full of emptiness - how can that be? I feel lost and confused and let down and angry, so angry! Why can't I cry??
I haven't been able to cry since I did TMS. Five months.
Granted, I haven't really needed to cry. I've been stable. Until recently. Until my black cloud started coming back around.
And now . . . now I can't cry.
When I'm not close to breaking down I feel flat. I feel meh. I just am. I'm not as quick to laugh. I get angry more often, and at stupid little things. I don't want to do anything. When I'm home alone by myself all I want to do is sleep. Sleep to escape. Need something to pass the time? Sleep. I have no motivation for anything. And I mean anything. Drawing, painting, reading, Spanish . . . I don't want to do any of it. I just want to sleep.
And I hate this. So much. I hate my black cloud. I keep thinking . . . if I could just cry. If I could just get that relief I would feel better. Do I know I would feel better? No. Of course not. But I think it would be better than having everything bottled up.
So now I'm stuck in this no man's land. Feeling empty and flat normally . . . anhedonic. And, well, feeling worse. But unable to express it.
Why not hypomania? Why not that? Just a little. Just a little . . .
How's it going?
It would appear that my, uh, black cloud is back. Trying to take over. Envelop me with darkness. It's there, hovering, waiting for the right moment to strike. It could be any moment, I feel it. It's unrelenting.
I've been so close to breaking down. Several times a day. Every day. So close. My eyes fill with tears, full to the brim, but they don't spill over. There I sit, feeling the world crashing down around me, so ready to lose it, and then . . . nothing. The tears . . . they go. I don't know where because they're certainly not spilling down my cheeks. I sit there feeling so defeated and so empty and so . . . gyped because I didn't get that release. That emotional release that comes with crying. I don't get that. So I'm full of bad things. I'm full of emptiness - how can that be? I feel lost and confused and let down and angry, so angry! Why can't I cry??
I haven't been able to cry since I did TMS. Five months.
Granted, I haven't really needed to cry. I've been stable. Until recently. Until my black cloud started coming back around.
And now . . . now I can't cry.
When I'm not close to breaking down I feel flat. I feel meh. I just am. I'm not as quick to laugh. I get angry more often, and at stupid little things. I don't want to do anything. When I'm home alone by myself all I want to do is sleep. Sleep to escape. Need something to pass the time? Sleep. I have no motivation for anything. And I mean anything. Drawing, painting, reading, Spanish . . . I don't want to do any of it. I just want to sleep.
And I hate this. So much. I hate my black cloud. I keep thinking . . . if I could just cry. If I could just get that relief I would feel better. Do I know I would feel better? No. Of course not. But I think it would be better than having everything bottled up.
So now I'm stuck in this no man's land. Feeling empty and flat normally . . . anhedonic. And, well, feeling worse. But unable to express it.
Why not hypomania? Why not that? Just a little. Just a little . . .
Thursday, October 10, 2019
Thursday 10/10/19
I'm curled up on my couch in a hoodie with a big fluffy blanket wrapped around me. The heat is turned on but I'm still cold. That's not surprising though - it went from 75 degrees and sunny yesterday to 20 degrees and snowing today. That's not uncommon here in Colorado. My body isn't used to the cold.
Everything has been super uneventful. Seriously. Nothing exciting is happening at all. I'm working my two 12's a week, trying to stay productive on my days off (doesn't always happen), and get to the gym despite the pain I'm having. It's all rather boring. But that's a good thing I think. Usually when there's excitement with me it's the wrong kind.
I've been reading more, which is nice. Of course, I've been reading more because I don't have any inspiration for artwork. I want to draw and paint, I just don't know what I should draw and paint. I thought about joining an art challenge for the moth of October - called Inktober - but I couldn't come up with anything to draw after looking at the prompts. I felt overwhelmed. So I'm not doing it.
Mood wise I've been doing pretty darn good. Which is really amazing. I feel pretty great, actually. It's so weird not having my black cloud around. I don't want to sound too ambitious, but I'm hoping I get at least a year of this before my depression comes back. Wouldn't that be something? The most I usually get is a couple of months. But this time it feels different. I'm actually feeling - I'm not just flat or numb. So hopefully it will last.
Pain wise I'm about the same. Yesterday was a bad pain day where I was stiff and aching all over. Hubs and I went to the gym and tried to do legs. Well, he did legs, I tried. My knees hurt too bad to do much of anything. Stupid fibromyalgia.
Well, I don't really have much to write about right now. Probably I'll take a short nap and read. I'm going to try and write at least once a week, even if it's just boring mediocre stuff. So until next time . . .
Everything has been super uneventful. Seriously. Nothing exciting is happening at all. I'm working my two 12's a week, trying to stay productive on my days off (doesn't always happen), and get to the gym despite the pain I'm having. It's all rather boring. But that's a good thing I think. Usually when there's excitement with me it's the wrong kind.
I've been reading more, which is nice. Of course, I've been reading more because I don't have any inspiration for artwork. I want to draw and paint, I just don't know what I should draw and paint. I thought about joining an art challenge for the moth of October - called Inktober - but I couldn't come up with anything to draw after looking at the prompts. I felt overwhelmed. So I'm not doing it.
Mood wise I've been doing pretty darn good. Which is really amazing. I feel pretty great, actually. It's so weird not having my black cloud around. I don't want to sound too ambitious, but I'm hoping I get at least a year of this before my depression comes back. Wouldn't that be something? The most I usually get is a couple of months. But this time it feels different. I'm actually feeling - I'm not just flat or numb. So hopefully it will last.
Pain wise I'm about the same. Yesterday was a bad pain day where I was stiff and aching all over. Hubs and I went to the gym and tried to do legs. Well, he did legs, I tried. My knees hurt too bad to do much of anything. Stupid fibromyalgia.
Well, I don't really have much to write about right now. Probably I'll take a short nap and read. I'm going to try and write at least once a week, even if it's just boring mediocre stuff. So until next time . . .
Tuesday, May 14, 2019
5/14/19
Ugh. I'm feeling pretty down today. And it's pretty freaking annoying. The past few days I'd been feeling better and then today -BOOM - down again. I'm trying to figure out why.
Let's talk about the good news though.
"Good" news.
We got another dog! Adopted her from a local rescue shelter. She is the sweetest, goofiest dog. We named her Moya. Which if you watch Farscape you'll get (our other dog is Zan). Anyway, we've been sorta looking for another dog for a month or so, checking the shelters here and there. On Saturday (today is Tuesday) we decided to go looking again just for goofs. We didn't expect that we would be coming home with a dog. But we took Moya on a walk and fell in love - my son especially. Long story short - she's ours!
So why the quotation marks around good above?
Well, getting a dog changes things up. It, in essence, throws my routine out the window. Things are different now. We need to get used to Moya and her quirks and mannerisms and she needs to get used to us and especially Zan (Zan is 16, deaf, and doesn't play well with others. Hell, she doesn't play at all). And the thing is, stupid as it may sound, this change up is hard for me to accept. Hard for me to deal with. Change is a hard concept for me to grasp. It terrifies me - even when it's something as simple as getting a dog. You'd think I'd be happy - and I am, I guess - but I'm kind of struggling with this.
And it makes me feel horrible and stupid that I'm struggling with this. Which, of course, makes me feel worse. Nothing like bringing self hate to the party, am I right??
This is probably why I feel down today. I'm dealing with all of this stupidity in my head.
I'll work through it. Everything will be fine.
Let's talk about the good news though.
"Good" news.
We got another dog! Adopted her from a local rescue shelter. She is the sweetest, goofiest dog. We named her Moya. Which if you watch Farscape you'll get (our other dog is Zan). Anyway, we've been sorta looking for another dog for a month or so, checking the shelters here and there. On Saturday (today is Tuesday) we decided to go looking again just for goofs. We didn't expect that we would be coming home with a dog. But we took Moya on a walk and fell in love - my son especially. Long story short - she's ours!
So why the quotation marks around good above?
Well, getting a dog changes things up. It, in essence, throws my routine out the window. Things are different now. We need to get used to Moya and her quirks and mannerisms and she needs to get used to us and especially Zan (Zan is 16, deaf, and doesn't play well with others. Hell, she doesn't play at all). And the thing is, stupid as it may sound, this change up is hard for me to accept. Hard for me to deal with. Change is a hard concept for me to grasp. It terrifies me - even when it's something as simple as getting a dog. You'd think I'd be happy - and I am, I guess - but I'm kind of struggling with this.
And it makes me feel horrible and stupid that I'm struggling with this. Which, of course, makes me feel worse. Nothing like bringing self hate to the party, am I right??
This is probably why I feel down today. I'm dealing with all of this stupidity in my head.
I'll work through it. Everything will be fine.
Friday, March 22, 2019
3/22/19
Well. I'm having a bit of a rough go of it today. Which is annoying. My mood is down - not depressed - but down. And all because my brain is an asshole and won't shut up. My brain likes being an asshole, and it's good at it. Too good at it. What's it doing . . .?
I was getting ready this morning and happened to really look at myself in the mirror. I look at myself in the mirror all the time but this morning . . . this morning was different. I was immediately filled with self loathing. I could see every flaw, every wrinkle, every fold of fat. I could see it all. The bags under my eyes, the dull grey color of my eyes, how my hair was just laying there, no volume, no real style. How ugly and fat I was.
You look hideous. You look old and worn out. You're fat. Are you even trying to lose weight because it looks like you're gaining more. You're so frumpy. You have no sense of style. How does Jeremy even still love you? Ayden is embarrassed by you. You have wrinkles every where I can see your pores you don't do anything with your hair look how your stomach hangs you look pale I'm surprised Jeremy hasn't leftyouyou'reworthlessyouhavenothingtogivewhydon'tyoujustkillyourself . . . . . .
All of the negative thoughts started running together. It was hard to even separate them. My eyes welled up with tears as I stood there looking at myself and listening to my brain barrage me. I couldn't move. I was frozen there, trying my best not to cry because Ayden was in his room next door. I didn't want him to hear me.
Even 6 months ago this would have gotten to me. This would have hit me hard. Now, that's not to say that it didn't hit me. On the contrary. My mood went south in a heartbeat. But the difference between now and 6 months ago is now I'm stable. Now I know how to counter these thoughts and practice self care. And that's what I did. I countered these thoughts. I told myself that I was beautiful in and out. That even though I was overweight and not where I want to be that didn't make Jeremy love me any less. And you know what?
It kind of helped.
That sounds stupid, doesn't it? I'm sure you were waiting for me to say that it worked. That I went about my day feeling happy with no more negative self talk. But that's simply not true. That's, sadly, not how my brain works. It has been barraging me with negative comments all day. So much so that I feel mentally exhausted. But I'm countering them. I'm keeping myself from going deeper. I'm writing about it in hopes that this will help.
Six months ago I would have felt like shit. Today I feel down and worn out, but definitely not like shit. So I'd say that's progress.
I was getting ready this morning and happened to really look at myself in the mirror. I look at myself in the mirror all the time but this morning . . . this morning was different. I was immediately filled with self loathing. I could see every flaw, every wrinkle, every fold of fat. I could see it all. The bags under my eyes, the dull grey color of my eyes, how my hair was just laying there, no volume, no real style. How ugly and fat I was.
You look hideous. You look old and worn out. You're fat. Are you even trying to lose weight because it looks like you're gaining more. You're so frumpy. You have no sense of style. How does Jeremy even still love you? Ayden is embarrassed by you. You have wrinkles every where I can see your pores you don't do anything with your hair look how your stomach hangs you look pale I'm surprised Jeremy hasn't leftyouyou'reworthlessyouhavenothingtogivewhydon'tyoujustkillyourself . . . . . .
All of the negative thoughts started running together. It was hard to even separate them. My eyes welled up with tears as I stood there looking at myself and listening to my brain barrage me. I couldn't move. I was frozen there, trying my best not to cry because Ayden was in his room next door. I didn't want him to hear me.
Even 6 months ago this would have gotten to me. This would have hit me hard. Now, that's not to say that it didn't hit me. On the contrary. My mood went south in a heartbeat. But the difference between now and 6 months ago is now I'm stable. Now I know how to counter these thoughts and practice self care. And that's what I did. I countered these thoughts. I told myself that I was beautiful in and out. That even though I was overweight and not where I want to be that didn't make Jeremy love me any less. And you know what?
It kind of helped.
That sounds stupid, doesn't it? I'm sure you were waiting for me to say that it worked. That I went about my day feeling happy with no more negative self talk. But that's simply not true. That's, sadly, not how my brain works. It has been barraging me with negative comments all day. So much so that I feel mentally exhausted. But I'm countering them. I'm keeping myself from going deeper. I'm writing about it in hopes that this will help.
Six months ago I would have felt like shit. Today I feel down and worn out, but definitely not like shit. So I'd say that's progress.
Thursday, November 29, 2018
11/29/18
It's been awhile since I've written . . . 13 days or so. I have things I want to say and I can't seem to get them out. I can't seem to form a coherent thought. Which is so frustrating it's not even funny. So this is just a quick note to say that I'm still here, and I'm still struggling. I haven't been necessarily feeling outright depressed, but more empty. Empty is not fun. It's no place to be. I don't feel anything.
That's not entirely true. I feel anger and anxiety. Those two emotions are ever present.
I've gotten better again at faking happiness, so that people are none the wiser as to what's really going on. But it's hard not to feel. I don't like it.
That's not entirely true. I feel anger and anxiety. Those two emotions are ever present.
I've gotten better again at faking happiness, so that people are none the wiser as to what's really going on. But it's hard not to feel. I don't like it.
Monday, October 15, 2018
10/15/18
Well, here I am, a week post-ECT, and I seem to have leveled out. Right back into my depression that I was in before I had ECT. I had my post-ECT high for about 2 days and then the irritability and depression came back, stronger than ever.
I'm sitting here in bed, in the middle of the day (it's 1:45pm right now), wondering how and why it got so bad and wondering what to do with myself. I have stuff I want to write about, truly, but I can't seem to get the thoughts out of my head. I feel sluggish and cloudy.
I'm leaving on Friday for Texas to go to my sister's house. Her baby shower is this weekend. I'm driving down there with my stepmom. I want to be there for my sister but I'm not looking forward to this trip. I just think it's going to be really hard because of my current state. Driving down with M I'm not worried about, it's really the actual baby shower. A big 'ol party full of people I don't know all talking and laughing and having a good time while I feel like death warmed over . . . I'm not looking forward to it. Hopefully there will be alcohol. Funny - I don't drink except for instances like this. Which thankfully don't happen often.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll be fine, and I get to see my sister and my stepmom, whom I both love dearly.
I really can't think straight. My mind is a jumbled mess. I can't hold on to a single thought for more than a few seconds before it's replaced with something else. I can't write right now. I just can't do it. Maybe I'll try again later.
I'm sitting here in bed, in the middle of the day (it's 1:45pm right now), wondering how and why it got so bad and wondering what to do with myself. I have stuff I want to write about, truly, but I can't seem to get the thoughts out of my head. I feel sluggish and cloudy.
I'm leaving on Friday for Texas to go to my sister's house. Her baby shower is this weekend. I'm driving down there with my stepmom. I want to be there for my sister but I'm not looking forward to this trip. I just think it's going to be really hard because of my current state. Driving down with M I'm not worried about, it's really the actual baby shower. A big 'ol party full of people I don't know all talking and laughing and having a good time while I feel like death warmed over . . . I'm not looking forward to it. Hopefully there will be alcohol. Funny - I don't drink except for instances like this. Which thankfully don't happen often.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll be fine, and I get to see my sister and my stepmom, whom I both love dearly.
I really can't think straight. My mind is a jumbled mess. I can't hold on to a single thought for more than a few seconds before it's replaced with something else. I can't write right now. I just can't do it. Maybe I'll try again later.
Friday, October 5, 2018
10/5/18
It's 10:52am. I'm sitting on my couch staring at the screen trying to come up with something to write. See, If I write what I'm feeling, this post will be pretty damn negative. But I can't come up with anything positive to write. I'm kind of stuck.
I've been pretty crappy since my last post. I've worked twice and had to convince everyone that I was fine. I've been overwhelmed, I've cried . . . the usual depression stuff. I can officially say that I'm depressed. There's no more pussy footing around it. I'm depressed. I'm so depressed that I don't really have an appetite so I haven't really been eating much. Which has caused me to lose 3 pounds in the last week.
Yay! Weight loss!
I'd much rather not be depressed.
I've had the support of my husband, my friends, and my coworkers. They've all been great. It's just that I can't seem to pull myself out of this slump. I'm trying to stay positive and not catastrophize and counter all of my negative thoughts . . . but it's not helping. I'm still depressed. I still want to curl up in a ball and not exist. I think about killing myself every day - these are the hardest thoughts to counter. They're so strong and so insistent. And I don't know what else to do. I guess just plow through, head down and stubborn. It's all I can do.
I hate this so much.
I've been pretty crappy since my last post. I've worked twice and had to convince everyone that I was fine. I've been overwhelmed, I've cried . . . the usual depression stuff. I can officially say that I'm depressed. There's no more pussy footing around it. I'm depressed. I'm so depressed that I don't really have an appetite so I haven't really been eating much. Which has caused me to lose 3 pounds in the last week.
Yay! Weight loss!
I'd much rather not be depressed.
I've had the support of my husband, my friends, and my coworkers. They've all been great. It's just that I can't seem to pull myself out of this slump. I'm trying to stay positive and not catastrophize and counter all of my negative thoughts . . . but it's not helping. I'm still depressed. I still want to curl up in a ball and not exist. I think about killing myself every day - these are the hardest thoughts to counter. They're so strong and so insistent. And I don't know what else to do. I guess just plow through, head down and stubborn. It's all I can do.
I hate this so much.
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.
Friday, March 9, 2018
3/9/18
I wish I could eloquently describe how I've been feeling. When I sit down to write, everything gets scrambled in my head and I can't seem to get it out. It's a jumbled mess up there and nothing makes any sense. My mind has been racing again and my thoughts are confused and tangled and at war with one another. It makes writing nearly impossible.
But I'm going to try.
Since I got out of the hospital Feb. 12th I've been stuck in the annoying mild depression (save for 3 days of hypomania). It's the kind of depression where I feel hopeless and empty, down and dark, worthless and withdrawn. The emotions I exhibit are mostly faked - I don't feel much other than sadness, anger, or nothing. Mostly nothing.
I mostly feel nothing and it's so frustrating. This is the emptiness. I feel dead inside. I'm not a person. People have a range of emotions and I have nothing. I have a false smile, a laugh that is a hoax. I have to put on a facade in order to interact with people and it's exhausting. But it's what I have to do in order to fit in. God forbid people know I'm still depressed, still struggling.
That's not to say I can't feel real emotion. I'm good at feeling the sadness that accompanies my depression. I can certainly feel the anger as well. And, every once in awhile, I'll get a glimpse of how things could be. I'll laugh and for a split second feel truly happy. I'll hug my husband and feel content and at peace. Sadly, these feelings don't last but a moment and then they're gone. They're gone and my emptiness is back
I ask myself questions, like, is this as good as it gets? Is this emptiness and depression as good as it gets for me? I know the answer is no because I have felt better in the past. I have been stable and capable of emotions. I know the answer is no but it feels like it's yes. This depression is dragging on so long that I feel that this is as good as it gets and that I just have to deal with it. And how shitty is that? I mean seriously. Existing and living are not the same and right now I'm merely existing. I'm not living. This is not living. I go through the motions. I have no motivation, I have no drive. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning because the earlier I get up, the longer the day I have to struggle through.
And I don't know what more to do. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I'm doing everything right. I started yoga though, to see if it would help. Nothing so far. I'm going to revamp my diet - again - to see it that will help. I'm going to go to the gym more often. I'm really pushing the positive affirmations. Listening to music I love. The weather was gorgeous yesterday so I spent time outside. I take my meds, have ECT, see my therapist and psychiatrist regularly, go to a support group, I have a loving supportive family and friends, and job I love . . . so what do I do?
No one knows the answer and so I'm stuck. Stuck feeling nothing.
But I'm going to try.
Since I got out of the hospital Feb. 12th I've been stuck in the annoying mild depression (save for 3 days of hypomania). It's the kind of depression where I feel hopeless and empty, down and dark, worthless and withdrawn. The emotions I exhibit are mostly faked - I don't feel much other than sadness, anger, or nothing. Mostly nothing.
I mostly feel nothing and it's so frustrating. This is the emptiness. I feel dead inside. I'm not a person. People have a range of emotions and I have nothing. I have a false smile, a laugh that is a hoax. I have to put on a facade in order to interact with people and it's exhausting. But it's what I have to do in order to fit in. God forbid people know I'm still depressed, still struggling.
That's not to say I can't feel real emotion. I'm good at feeling the sadness that accompanies my depression. I can certainly feel the anger as well. And, every once in awhile, I'll get a glimpse of how things could be. I'll laugh and for a split second feel truly happy. I'll hug my husband and feel content and at peace. Sadly, these feelings don't last but a moment and then they're gone. They're gone and my emptiness is back
I ask myself questions, like, is this as good as it gets? Is this emptiness and depression as good as it gets for me? I know the answer is no because I have felt better in the past. I have been stable and capable of emotions. I know the answer is no but it feels like it's yes. This depression is dragging on so long that I feel that this is as good as it gets and that I just have to deal with it. And how shitty is that? I mean seriously. Existing and living are not the same and right now I'm merely existing. I'm not living. This is not living. I go through the motions. I have no motivation, I have no drive. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning because the earlier I get up, the longer the day I have to struggle through.
And I don't know what more to do. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I'm doing everything right. I started yoga though, to see if it would help. Nothing so far. I'm going to revamp my diet - again - to see it that will help. I'm going to go to the gym more often. I'm really pushing the positive affirmations. Listening to music I love. The weather was gorgeous yesterday so I spent time outside. I take my meds, have ECT, see my therapist and psychiatrist regularly, go to a support group, I have a loving supportive family and friends, and job I love . . . so what do I do?
No one knows the answer and so I'm stuck. Stuck feeling nothing.
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.
Thursday, October 19, 2017
10/19/17
I'm in a bit of a rough spot right now and have been for the past several weeks. I went into a depression about a month and a half ago which lasted about 3 weeks. I seemed to be coming out of it, at least for a few days, but then BOOM I'm thrown into rapid cycling. I've been rapid cycling for alost 2 weeks now. The real shitty thing though? I'm not getting happy - meaning I'm not getting euphorically manic or hypomanic. No. Lucky me I get anxious, racing thoughts, and irrational anger. That's my reprieve from depression.
I'm feeling so lost and hopeless and empty. I feel as though nothing matters and everything is pointless. I feel like I'm a burden to everyone. I have intrusive negative thoughts that I constantly have to battle in my mind. I don't know what to do anymore. It doesn't seem like anything is helping. I take my meds, I have ECT, I go to therapy, I go to support group, talk to my hubby and friends, do all of the CBT and DBT stuff that I've learned over the years, listen to music, sleep, journal, exercise, eat healthy . . . what more can I do? My therapist thinks I'm delusional because of the thoughts I'm having. Great. I tried to make an appointment with my psychiatrist but the earliest I can get in is Nov. 16th. I was told if I need help sooner to go to the hospital. Seriously? That's what I'm trying to avoid.
I'm just at such a loss right now. I don't know what to say. It doesn't help that ECT took away my ability to write eloquently. Now I'm left stumbling over words, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess inside my head.
I'm feeling so lost and hopeless and empty. I feel as though nothing matters and everything is pointless. I feel like I'm a burden to everyone. I have intrusive negative thoughts that I constantly have to battle in my mind. I don't know what to do anymore. It doesn't seem like anything is helping. I take my meds, I have ECT, I go to therapy, I go to support group, talk to my hubby and friends, do all of the CBT and DBT stuff that I've learned over the years, listen to music, sleep, journal, exercise, eat healthy . . . what more can I do? My therapist thinks I'm delusional because of the thoughts I'm having. Great. I tried to make an appointment with my psychiatrist but the earliest I can get in is Nov. 16th. I was told if I need help sooner to go to the hospital. Seriously? That's what I'm trying to avoid.
I'm just at such a loss right now. I don't know what to say. It doesn't help that ECT took away my ability to write eloquently. Now I'm left stumbling over words, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess inside my head.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
9/19/17
Well, here we are again. I was hoping to be writing happy things after having ECT a week ago but sadly that isn't the case. I've gotten worse. Exponentially worse.
Let's start with ECT. I talked with Dr. M both at ECT and at my appointment with him that evening (Monday the 11th). He thinks I went too long between sessions (5 weeks) and that I'm also naturally cycling. Wait it out. Okay. You'll get better. And then, last Tuesday and Wednesday I did feel a little better. A little less down and withdrawn. Yay!
Except it wasn't yay. Not really. Friday morning I woke up knowing something was wrong. I was moving more slowly . . . feeling just . . . not right. I went to work and my mood went downhill. I was terribly withdrawn and depressed and dark. I sat in the nurses station staring at my arm, tracing a line where I was going to cut. Instead of cutting I told a coworker, who told the charge nurse (my best friend) and she had me call my husband. I went home early.
My friend told me that it appeared that I had been rapid cycling the past few weeks and that it was becoming more noticeable. Not only to her.
Great.
I went home and laid down, contemplating going to the hospital as my desire to hurt myself was so strong. My husband stayed with me and we opted to stay home. I called in sick on Sunday and we went to the mountains to try and beat the depression. Saturday? Depressed. Monday? Depressed. And today? Depressed.
This is the can't-get-out-of-bed-in-the-morning depressed. The is the not wanting to exist anymore depressed. This is the sobbing uncotrollably because I feel so shitty depressed. I don't know what to do. I'm doing everything I know to do. And I just don't know. I'm worried that I'm going to hurt myself.
There's so much I want to write, so much I wish I could convey, but I don't have the motivation to get it out. It's been ridiculously hard to write what I've already go written. I'm going to go lay down until I have to pick up my son from school. At least if I sleep I don't have to feel - it's like death but without the commitment.
Let's start with ECT. I talked with Dr. M both at ECT and at my appointment with him that evening (Monday the 11th). He thinks I went too long between sessions (5 weeks) and that I'm also naturally cycling. Wait it out. Okay. You'll get better. And then, last Tuesday and Wednesday I did feel a little better. A little less down and withdrawn. Yay!
Except it wasn't yay. Not really. Friday morning I woke up knowing something was wrong. I was moving more slowly . . . feeling just . . . not right. I went to work and my mood went downhill. I was terribly withdrawn and depressed and dark. I sat in the nurses station staring at my arm, tracing a line where I was going to cut. Instead of cutting I told a coworker, who told the charge nurse (my best friend) and she had me call my husband. I went home early.
My friend told me that it appeared that I had been rapid cycling the past few weeks and that it was becoming more noticeable. Not only to her.
Great.
I went home and laid down, contemplating going to the hospital as my desire to hurt myself was so strong. My husband stayed with me and we opted to stay home. I called in sick on Sunday and we went to the mountains to try and beat the depression. Saturday? Depressed. Monday? Depressed. And today? Depressed.
This is the can't-get-out-of-bed-in-the-morning depressed. The is the not wanting to exist anymore depressed. This is the sobbing uncotrollably because I feel so shitty depressed. I don't know what to do. I'm doing everything I know to do. And I just don't know. I'm worried that I'm going to hurt myself.
There's so much I want to write, so much I wish I could convey, but I don't have the motivation to get it out. It's been ridiculously hard to write what I've already go written. I'm going to go lay down until I have to pick up my son from school. At least if I sleep I don't have to feel - it's like death but without the commitment.
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
7/5/17
I get my best thoughts/ideas in the shower. Does this happen to anyone else? But then I sit down to write them and *poof* they're gone. Which is frustrating to say the least.
I've still been feeling off. Still been feeling empty and flat and withdrawn and fake and exhausted and done with everything. Only it seems to be getting more pronounced. More . . . pressing. See, I feel like this husk of a person. On the outside I look normal, functional, whole. But on the inside there's nothing there. The bits and pieces that are supposed to make you human are missing. I don't really feel anything, except for anger. Something that should make me happy leaves me sitting there feeling nothing and empty with a painted on smile so I don't alert anyone to what's really going on.
But I'm not depressed.
That's the thing. I don't feel like how I do when I'm depressed. No. I'm stuck in this no man's land of nothingness where I can't feel real emotions. (except for anger - I can feel anger like nobody's business).
I don't know what to do with this. Hubs says I get like this sometimes and it passes. My psychiatrist says it's part of being bipolar and hopefully I'll come out of it. But it's been awhile y'all. Five or 6 weeks. And it's not getting better, it's getting worse.
All I want is to have a normal range of emotions! Is that too much to ask for?! (I mean apparently it is because I can't seem to get there).
I don't like feeling like this. It's like I'm missing out on my own life. I'm a bystander. I'm on the sidelines, watching everything pass me by. This is no way to live.
I've still been feeling off. Still been feeling empty and flat and withdrawn and fake and exhausted and done with everything. Only it seems to be getting more pronounced. More . . . pressing. See, I feel like this husk of a person. On the outside I look normal, functional, whole. But on the inside there's nothing there. The bits and pieces that are supposed to make you human are missing. I don't really feel anything, except for anger. Something that should make me happy leaves me sitting there feeling nothing and empty with a painted on smile so I don't alert anyone to what's really going on.
But I'm not depressed.
That's the thing. I don't feel like how I do when I'm depressed. No. I'm stuck in this no man's land of nothingness where I can't feel real emotions. (except for anger - I can feel anger like nobody's business).
I don't know what to do with this. Hubs says I get like this sometimes and it passes. My psychiatrist says it's part of being bipolar and hopefully I'll come out of it. But it's been awhile y'all. Five or 6 weeks. And it's not getting better, it's getting worse.
All I want is to have a normal range of emotions! Is that too much to ask for?! (I mean apparently it is because I can't seem to get there).
I don't like feeling like this. It's like I'm missing out on my own life. I'm a bystander. I'm on the sidelines, watching everything pass me by. This is no way to live.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)