2/25/19

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does part of me want to be sick again? What kind of twisted, fucked up person am I??

No, seriously.

What. The actual. Fuck. Is wrong with me?

There is a small part of me that wants to be sick again. That wants to be hospitalized again. And I just . . . I don't understand it. At all. I can't even fathom wanting to be sick again. It's awful. It's horrible. And to actually want to be like that? Depressed again? Suicidal again? No. I don't get it.

It's actually very difficult for me to even write about this, to get it out there. I'm embarrassed of it. Ashamed of it. And it makes me feel guilty. Guilty because I've gone through so much and worked so hard to get stable and part of me wants to throw it all away. And for what? Attention?

Attention. That's about the only thing I can come up with. Because I do get more attention when I'm sick. But that attention? It's not worth my stability. So I don't know . . .

What else could it be . . . Familiarity? I am used to being depressed. I've spent most of my life depressed and let's be honest - stability is a little scary. I don't know how to act. I don't know what "normal" is.

But stability is so wonderful. It's so much better than the hell of depression. Stability is even better than hypomania (let's be honest - that's because I usually get irritable hypomania, not euphoric). Stability is necessary for my family, necessary for work, necessary for me.

So why? Why does part of me want to be sick again?

2/17/19

I'm sitting on the couch drinking tea, listening to music. I should be content. I should feel good. But I don't. I'm not sure what's going on other than I'm having an identity crisis of sorts. I guess. I really don't know.

I was putting on makeup this morning and took a really good look at myself. Y'all, I don't even recognize myself. I've gained so much weight - so much fucking weight - that I don't recognize myself anymore. I'm not who I used to be and it brought me to tears.

I feel so fat and disgusting and ugly right now it's not even funny. My self esteem is nonexistent. It makes me feel so low. I'm trying to make changes in my diet and physical activity to combat this but it's proven to be REALLY. FUCKING. HARD. I'm trying. My diet is actually pretty good. I need to get active though, I know this, but it's so hard when all you want to do is sleep. I've been so exhausted the past few months so it's been hard.

I'm trying.

And you know what? It's not just the weight (though that's the main thing), it's also the fact that I'm getting older. I'm 40 people and my face is changing. I have more wrinkles, I have grey hair. I think this is harder for me to swallow  than I ever thought it would be. I just assumed I would age gracefully.

Apparently I'm not. 

2/13/19

Would you look at that, the day before Valentine's day. Isn't that special?

No, not really. It's really not. I never really got Valentine's day, other than it being a commercial holiday. Hubs and I don't celebrate it. Seems a waste of money.

Anyway, my low mood seems to be continuing. It's not bad, it's just . . . noticeable. I'm a little off, a little down, a little empty, a little bit not me. So there's that. And then I spoke to my mom this week. Or should I say I listened to her ramble on about nothing. She had been drinking already (it was 12:30pm when she called) and she was past tipsy but not quite drunk yet. It made me realize something. It made me realize how little I want to have anything to do with her. It made me realize how truly stressed out I get when she even texts me. It made me realize how angry and anxious hearing her voice makes me. It made me realize how futile it is trying to have a relationship with her.

And see, I've been trying to have a relationship with her. But it's just . . . it's not working. I'm really at the point where I can't stand the woman. She embarrasses me, she makes me angry and anxious and uncomfortable. And she's in such strong denial about her drinking that she could be pouring vodka into a glass and drinking it and still deny that she drinks alcohol. To say it's frustrating is a vast understatement.

I've been working on all this in therapy, have read the ACOA books (Adult Children of Alcoholics), been to ACOA meetings . . . I've talked with hubs and my friends about it and gotten advice from them. I don't know what else to do. I'm really at the point where I want to cut off all communication.

I can't, of course, do that because we have a loan through her. So there has to be some form of communication. Which, let's face it, I dread.

I guess this will be the topic of discussion in therapy next week. Joy.

2/8/19

This post will be relatively short. Probably.

Anyway, I went to the doctor this week (my primary physician) as I've been extremely fatigued as of late. For the past 2 months really. I have several symptoms of hypothyroidism and I wanted to get it checked out. Doc thinks I'm just not sleeping well, doesn't think I'm hypothyroid, but ran a crap ton of labs on me just to be sure. Now I'm just waiting for those results to come back. In the meantime, I'm on water restriction after 7pm and no caffeine after 7pm, to see if that helps my sleeping (currently I wake up 3-4 times a night to pee).

We'll see.

Today has actually been kind of a crap day. My mood is low, I'm being really hard on myself for everything you could possibly think of, and I'm, well, fatigued. So it's been a rough day. I'd really like to curl up in bed, go to sleep, and not wake up until tomorrow morning (it's 2:30pm  right now). But alas, I can't. I have to push through the day and be an adult. I don't understand why I have to, maybe one of you could explain that to me.

So yeah. I just had to get that out. Hope you all are having a great day. You know, my one person who reads this. 

1/22/19

I'm sitting in my living room, wrapped up in a blanket, sipping tea, and utterly enjoying myself. I'm relaxed and content, warm and happy.

And you have no idea how weird this is.

No seriously. It's really fucking weird. To not be depressed? To not feel empty and hopeless and down? To not want to die? It's really fucking weird. See, I'm so used to being depressed that I don't know what to do with myself or how to act when I'm not depressed. How stupid is that?

Actually, it's not that stupid. See, you do one thing for so long that you forget how to do the other thing. The other thing for me is being happy. But you know what? I'm going to own that. I'm going to make being happy my bitch! Yes I am!

It just means that I have to relearn how to be me. Truth be told, I've become more of an introvert and a bit awkward around people. Maybe that truly is the new me. If so, I can work with that. Maybe that's just how I was while dealing with depression and now I'll blossom. Time will tell.

At any rate, I'm actually feeling content and happy and I don't want to die and this is freaking HUGE y'all!

In other news, my talk with Dr. M went well and I am no longer doing ECT. He told me that if the depression comes back and I feel like I need a treatment I can just call and get on the schedule. He was fully supportive of me taking a break and seeing how I do without it for which I'm so grateful. It has officially been 9 weeks since my last ECT treatment and I'm doing good so hopefully that's an indication of things to come. 

1/14/19

Well, again it's been quite awhile since I posted. Eighteen days, geez. Oh well. I've been busy. I think I've mentioned before that hubby and I bought a house and, well, we've been moving in over the past week and a half.

Exciting stuff!!

Except that moving sucks and you never really know how much crap you have until you have to move it. Holy shit do we have a lot of crap! But that's okay - we can sell some stuff (gotta make room for more crap!).

Anyway, mood wise I've actually been doing pretty good. I still have the emptiness but it's not the driver anymore - it's hanging in the back seat. It still rears its ugly head and tries to take over - and sometimes it does - but I'm finding it easier to manage it. I think this past depressive episode is finally winding down (I mean golly it's only been almost 4 months). Which means I should have a couple of months or so before the next one hits.

So today I've been a little anxious. I have an appointment this afternoon with Dr. M to discuss me stopping ECT. I don't want to do it anymore as I'm not really seeing any benefit from it. Neither is my hubby or my friends. All I'm seeing is memory loss. Short term and long term. So I want to stop. I know Dr. M isn't going to be pleased with that and I'm sure he'll encourage me to continue it. But no, I want to stop. Hopefully the appointment goes smoothly.

12/27/18

Well, I survived Christmas. Isn't that nice? Sure it is. It's nice.

I survived, but I'm not doing great. No, sadly, I'm still empty and tired and drained and fake and close to tears more often than I'd like. It's really frustrating. I'm tired of it, so fucking tired of it, but I think this is truly my baseline. I think this is as good as it gets. I think I'm either this, or I'm worse. And seriously, that sucks.

I worked yesterday and it was ridiculously busy. We did 6 c-sections and 3 vaginal deliveries (normally we do 2 c-sections in a day). I was running around like crazy (for those of you who don't remember, I'm a nursery nurse at a busy birth center - so I attend all of the deliveries). It was physically tiring, yes, but more than that it was mentally exhausting. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere and not exist. It was like I couldn't cope. My facade of being okay started crumbling. I was struggling. I started binging on cookies and caramel popcorn (I'm an emotional eater and there was junk food everywhere). When I got home I had nothing left for my hubby or son. I was done. I wasn't very interactive. I went to bed.

And then I didn't sleep well because I was mulling over and over about how I wasn't very interactive with my family. Guilt. Beating myself up. Self hatred. All stuff I'm very good at. Too good at. So I lost quite a bit of sleep.

Today is a low day for me. Today I'm disgusted with myself. For my binging yesterday, for coming unraveled and not coping, for not giving my family the attention they deserve. I've been beating myself up today, contributing to my low feelings. Making them worse. I should be packing. We move in a week. And I did pack, a little. But I couldn't focus. I couldn't concentrate. My mind is a mess. So I packed 3 boxes and had to call it quits. Which makes me feel bad that I didn't do more. Making me feel worse. It's a downward spiral.

Maybe if the next 2-3 weeks were over. Maybe if we were moved and unpacked and settled and I was getting into a routine. Maybe then things would be okay. Maybe then I would feel better. Probably not, but maybe.    

Hang on, hang on
When all is shattered, when all your hope is gone
Who knows
How long
But there's a twilight, a nighttime, and a dawn
We break, we bend
With hand, in hand
When hope is gone
Just hang on, hang on
          -Guster

These lyrics are helping me get through. This song. Hang On . Because that's what I have to do . Hang on. I really have no other choice.