Saturday 12/30/23 Decision Time

 Tomorrow is New Year's Eve. And, of course, with the new year comes new year's resolutions and whatnot. And, with the new year coming, I've made a major decision: I'm not going to do school anymore. That's right. I'm dropping out. I will finish my course that I'm currently in, but after that . . . I'm done. I don't see myself as being a nurse practitioner, I don't see myself surviving 3 years of school. I don't even see myself making it through one more class. Originally I thought I would try one more. Just to see how it goes. But I can't. It's too overwhelming. I'm so stressed already from my first class. I'm in survival mode. I can't do another 8 weeks of this. Hell, I still have 2 weeks to go in my current class and I'm wondering how I'm going to make it. 

So, no. I'm quitting. And I'm at peace with my decision. I feel as though a weight has been lifted. I'm still worried about disappointing people, but it will be okay. I told Jeremy last night, around 11pm, because I couldn't sleep. I didn't fall asleep until after 2am, and then I only slept fitfully. Which is how most nights have been since starting school. He said he wasn't disappointed in me and told me that he thought I was doing better than I give myself credit for. But he doesn't know what goes on inside my head. Or how anxious and tired I am. Or how overwhelmed I am. I'm just done.

So. No more school. I feel guilty about spending the money on it. On a new desk, laptop, monitor, keyboard and mouse, printer/scanner, tuition . . . But hey. At least now I know, I guess. It was an expensive learning experience. Oy vey.

As for new year's resolutions, I just want to be healthy and happy. Mentally and physically healthy and happy. That's it.

Thursday 4/20/23 Another long stretch

 Wow. It's been another long stretch since I've posted. There's a reason for this: I'm doing okay. I'm stable. I'm not depressed. Everything is status quo. I'm a normal functioning adult. Which is weird. Like, really weird. But I'm okay with it. I am. Or, at least, I'm trying to be. (Weird statement. I know. It's just that I'm so used to not being okay that being okay is completely different and a little scary).

I had therapy today and kind of hijacked it. Maybe a lot hijacked it. Because we didn't do much parts work - it was more talk therapy (like what I would do with Mike). But I felt it was a good session. We focused on mainly anxiety surrounding our trip to Japan. Because I'm super anxious about it. I woke up Tuesday morning at 2am and couldn't go back to sleep because my brain was coming up with every scenario possible of what could go wrong on the trip. So much fun. So Becky and I talked about it. She tried to reign me in and work some parts talk in, focusing on my anxious part, my creative part, etc. All in all though, it was a good session. I feel a little better about it. Maybe. 

There hasn't been much of anything else going on. I'm tired today, I have a headache. I've had a headache pretty much every day this week and last weekend. Not really digging it. I may just take a nap. We'll see. 

We found a gentleman to watch Moya while we're in Japan. Which is good because what to do with Moya has been a HUGE area of stress for me. I took her to a local kennel for a trial run last week. She apparently did great but I cried the whole way home after dropping her off because I was so worried and felt so bad. I really don't want her to be in a kennel for 2.5 weeks while we're gone. So we looked on Rover (a pet sitting website) and found a guy named Drew who happens to be a dog trainer. We met with him on Monday (with Moya, of course) and he really put me at ease. He's laid back and chill, good with dogs, and Moya seemed to get along well with his dog Echo. So Drew will be watching Moya while we're gone. I feel much better about this than leaving her in a kennel. Don't get me wrong - I'm still going to worry about her - but I know she'll be well cared for while we're away. *huge sigh of relief*

Anyway, that's all I got. I'm stable. I'm doing good. Moya is taken care of. Now I just have the rest of the Japan trip to worry about!

Friday 9/30/22 Therapy and Ketamine

 It's been a rough week. I've only worked like 1 day in the past 10 and it was difficult. Like, really difficult. I work tomorrow and I'm not looking forward to it. I'm struggling you see. Every. Single. Day. I'm struggling. With depression, anger, and now anxiety (we just had to throw that into the mix too. I mean, why not?). I've been trying to stay busy, trying to do things . . . but it's just not working out for me. I go downstairs to paint and end up staring off into space because I can't seem to start. Or I start - like today - and get so anxious I can barely hold a paint brush. Or I just stare at my paper and cry. I don't dare try to sew because that sends my anger skyrocketing. And who needs that?

I had therapy yesterday and I also talked with the ketamine clinic. I have my first ketamine infusion next Thursday. I'm praying that this helps because it's all I have left. There's no more meds for me to try. I saw Dr. Marciniak this past Tuesday and he had me get a light box to try, even though my depression isn't seasonal. Because there's nothing else left. He did take me off of the Caplyta and started me back on Vraylar. Med wise I'm back at square one. 

So I got the light box and used it today. It's freaking bright. I'm trying to do self care crap but it's tiring and I don't see a point to it. I don't see a point to anything. But I'm trying. I'm trying everything. It's just that nothing is helping. And this anxiety man . . . it needs to go. I haven't had anxiety like this for years. 

So yeah. This is stupid.

Wednesday 3/23/22 HORSES!

 So guys, I woke up in a bad mood this morning. Cranky, down, yucky. Just not in a good place. Even knowing I was going to spend time with horses today. It was very annoying and I couldn't seem to shake it. I spent some time drawing this morning (horses, of course), and just felt very blah and down. I had an early lunch and drove out to the barn where I was meeting Nancy (long time acquaintance and friend - she was my "person" when I went through equine facilitated psychotherapy myself). Well, she owns her own equine facilitated psychotherapy practice now and invited me out to see the horses and chat.

I got to the barn right before noon and as I stepped out of my truck and breathed deep . . . it's like I was transported to a better place. There's something about the smell of horses, hay, and manure that just make a girl feel at home. I didn't realize how much I missed that smell until I was there. I walked inside and found Nancy. We talked and loved on horses for over an hour. It wasn't ideal, though, because the weather was crap (cold and incredibly windy out). We made the best of it. She showed me around the indoor stalls and arena, we went outside (we didn't stay outside long because of the wind), and she invited me to come and volunteer with her organization! Guys - I'm so excited! And honored that she wants me to volunteer (she said herself she's picky about who she has as volunteers). So far I'll be doing Thursday mornings in June, working with some tweens. There's no riding - just working with the kids as they navigate horsemanship, learning about themselves in the process. Eeeeeek! 

For a long time I've thought about getting into the mental health field. I've looked for per diem day shifts at the local inpatient mental health facilities (to no avail) and had even considered diving in full time into mental health. I've had these thoughts for years (I've even toyed with the idea of going back to school to be a psychiatric nurse practitioner). So how wonderful is it that I get to help Nancy out with kids fighting anxiety or depression?! SO wonderful! And I get to do it with HORSES! I'm hoping this is a great opportunity for me. Maybe - just maybe - I can eventually get my PATH certification and do this as a side job . . . ahh, the dreams I have. 

Anyway, here's Titan, a very good boy who loved scritches from me and was very interested in me.

I almost forgot how soft horse's noses are! It's like heaven! I can't wait to be around them more again!

Tuesday 7/20/21 Been a Minute

 It's been a couple weeks since I last wrote. No real reason really, just nothing much to say I guess. 

I'm so burnt out at work. It's been so busy and I've been working my call shifts in addition to my regular shifts. I need a break. A real break. I'm taking ten days off the end of August (for getting my tooth pulled) and it can't come fast enough. I'm at the point where I practically dread going into work. I work the next two days and I wish I didn't. I'm so tired of work. I'm so burnt out. And I don't know what to do about it. I know everybody gets this way about their job from time to time . . . it's just that I've felt this way for the past several months with no end in sight. I'm crankier. I don't connect as much with my patients. And I'm losing patience. I'm just so tired. It's hard to find the joy in what I do right now. Maybe if it wasn't so damn busy all the time. Maybe if we weren't short staffed every single day. Maybe if I could just take a break. I don't know. But I'm sick of feeling this way. 

In my last post I believe I talked about joining Warrior Babe Blueprint - a nutrition and fitness program. I've watched quite a few of the modules now and I'm counting my macros. I'm working out consistently. And I lost four pounds this past week. It's pretty awesome. I'm on my way to a new, healthier, sustainable lifestyle. And I'm thankful for that. I've learned a lot through the modules and I'm now applying it to my life. I'm going to crush my weight loss goals!

This Friday I'm getting my next tattoo - a chickadee on a pine tree branch. It's weird, but I haven't gotten really excited about it. I think because I'm thinking that something is going to happen so that I can't get it. Which would suck. Because I really want this tattoo. I'm sure Friday morning I'll be excited. 

Also, the past couple of weeks I've been having more twangs of anxiety. They don't last long, but they're there. And it's annoying. I'm feeling anxious right now in fact. Which is super dumb because I'm just sitting on the couch typing this. Nothing else is going on. I mean, WTF brain?? What's up with this??

This post wouldn't be complete without me writing something about my grandpa. See, my grandpa has been deteriorating rapidly the past week or so. He has congestive heart failure and 3rd stage kidney failure. And, I guess, dementia. He has been acting erratically and was even sent to a psych hospital for suicidal and homicidal ideation. He punched a nurse there. They sent him back to the medical hospital because of his declining health. He remains there. My mom and her hubby are driving out to see him and help my grandma move into an assisted living facility. I don't know what's going to come of all of this. My grandpa is in bad shape and it would probably be best for him to pass. I hate to say that, but it's true. I know this has added stress to my life, even though I'm not particularly close to him. He's still family and this is rough. 

So I'm burnt out, with added family stress and anxiety resurfacing. No wonder I'm feeling like crap. I'm trying to prioritize self care, with naps and working out high up there on the list. 

I guess that's it for today.

Monday 6/22/20 A New Direction

Well folks, today I embarked on a new adventure. One that I'm hoping will get me results in conquering my depression. I'm excited and nervous about it and for the first time in a long time I have real hope.

So what is this new adventure? Well, it's kind of like therapy . . . but completely different. It's a way of retraining my mind, of "shifting" my mindset from a depressive state to a more positive one. It's an intense 3 month program that focuses on letting go of the "coping mindset". The mastermind behind this is a gentleman named Ty Hicks. I happened to "like" a post of his on Instagram and he looked at my profile and messaged me, asking about my bipolar and depression. Now, I normally don't answer random messages but for some reason I responded to his. We messaged back and forth and he asked me for my phone number to discuss his program. I was a bit taken aback and, honestly, a little weirded out and suspicious, but I ultimately gave it to him.

He called, the next day I think, and we talked briefly about what he could do and we set up a time for him to talk at length with me and hubby. I felt very nervous and unsure. Was this guy for real? What the hell was going on? But, I decided to give a go because why the hell not? At worst it would be an hour and a half of my time gone. At best, well, maybe he could actually help me.

He called this past Saturday and spoke with me and hubby for almost 2 hours. He wanted my full history with mental illness, what I've tried, what worked, what didn't work, how do I feel about it, how does hubby feel about it. He was very thorough and, strangely, very calming and reassuring. I felt comfortable talking to him, baring my soul to a complete stranger. It was very surreal. At the end of it all, hubby and I decided to go for it.

I had my first coaching session with him today and it was intense. He gave me tons - like, a metric fuck ton - of information. I took pages of notes. And what he was saying was making sense. Which freaked me out a little bit. After talking I started going through the videos on the website - my homework. I have 5-7 hours of homework each week along with the coaching calls. It's an intense program.

So anyway, yeah. My new adventure. I'm excited and nervous and hopeful. The End.

Wednesday 6/10/20 Psychiatrist Visit

I saw my psychiatrist, Dr. M, yesterday for my routine 3 month check in. I typically see him every 3 months for a med review, symptom review, and med refill. Invariably he also mentions, briefly, ECT. This takes up the first 10 minutes of the appointment. The second 10 minutes is spent chatting about my job (nursery nurse) and life in general. My scripts are sent and I make an appoint for 3 months to do it all over again. Last year we were also discussing TMS as I was going through it. But this is pretty much how things go.

Not yesterday though. If you've been keeping up with my blog then you know that I've been pretty darn depressed again and wanting a change (not ECT). I think I need a med change. While the med combo I'm on has kept me the most stable, it's falling short with my depression. I had some ideas of what we could do, but I wanted to hear what Dr. M had to say before I offered up suggestions. He is, after all, the MD.

I think he could tell something was wrong when I walked in. Just something about my aura maybe . . . or my resting bitch face and over sized hoodie in June. He asked how I was doing. Not good. He looked at me a moment, leaned back in his chair and asked what was up. I told him about how my depression is getting progressively worse, how I feel so empty and dead inside. How I've been doing maintenance TMS and how it's not really helping. My lip trembled. I need something different. He folded his hands in his lap and - of course - asked if I had given any thought to trying ECT again. I told him yes I had but because of the memory issues I already have, I'm worried about them getting worse and me not being able to do my job. He nodded and said he'd review my meds and history.

I sat forward in my chair, wringing my hands with anxiety. See, I came here knowing that I would be firing Dr. M. I've tried getting a med change with him before and met with resistance. He always only offers ECT. And I don't want ECT. That would be an absolute last resort. An I-know-I-will-kill-myself-if-I-don't type of thing.

He looked over at me, his glasses hanging precariously off the end of his nose. "Cami, you've been on almost everything. All of the powerhouses we use for bipolar . . . you've been on them. And then some." He leaned back. "One med I don't see that you've been on is Wellbutrin. It's an antidepressant that works differently than the Prestiq you're currently on. We could try adding that to your current regimen and see if that helps bring you up."

I thought a minute and slowly nodded my head.

"It's our best bet without doing a complete upheaval of you regimen. I'd prefer not to do that as you've been the most stable on it."

I nodded again. "Okay. I'll try it." I was surprised really. I wasn't expecting him to offer up a medication for me to try. I was a little dumbfounded.

Dr. M discussed how the titration up would go and that I would need to see him again in a month for a follow up to see how I was doing on it. I nodded and thanked him. We still had time to talk about delivering babies, which grosses him out, but I think secretly fascinates him.

I guess I don't have to fire him yet after all.

In other news, last night I took my first Wellbutrin, 150mg. I take 150mg nightly for 10 days and then go up to 300mg nightly. This morning I felt groggy (drowsiness is a side effect) and I've been sluggish all day. I'm hoping after my body gets used to it this will go away. We'll see.
 

Thursday 6/4/20 Therapy

Well. Therapy was a bit different today than it normally is. Different in a good way, different in a weird way . . . just, different. It started with M meeting me outside his office. I was a bit confused, actually.

"Do you remember a few months ago when I said I had someone in a similar situation as you?" M asked. "And I thought you two could meet?"

"Umm, no, not really," I replied.

"Well I do, and his appointment was just before yours. I thought you could meet him and talk a little bit. Are you okay with that?"

"Sure, I guess." M ushered me into the building and into his office. Truthfully, I was a little taken aback. I almost never mind talking to other people with bipolar disorder - I usually enjoy it - but my initial thought was that this would eat into my session. And I wasn't too keen on that. I had stuff I wanted to talk about.

As I walked into M's office I saw a rather good looking young fellow who introduced himself as Jacob. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt but looked put together. I introduced myself and took a seat in M's rocking chair - he insisted I sit there. M had Jacob and I start by giving each other some background info about ourselves, including why we were seeing M.

"Well," I said, "I'm seeing M because I'm bat shit crazy." (enter slightly tense laughter here) "Actually, that's kinda true. I was diagnosed 10 years ago, and I've been diagnosed as both bipolar 1 and 2, no one seems to know which I really am. Not that it matters. I also have chronic PTSD. I've dealt with depression since I was in 5th grade, misdiagnosed as Major Depression for many years. I've had my ups and downs, but I mostly struggle with the depression side of bipolar.  I'm a nurse, I deliver babies, I love my job. I'm married and we have a 13 year old son. My husband is the most supportive person I know and I would be lost without him. I've been hospitalized 6 times - once for mania and 5 times for depression/suicidal ideation. Um . . . and I have a dog."

Jacob was attentive while I rambled on, nodding here and there. He told me he had also been dealing with depression since he was young and was misdiagnosed as ADHD, anxiety, and Major Depression until he was diagnosed bipolar 2 a year and a half ago. He's struggled with ups and downs too, mostly downs. He's struggled with drugs and alcohol in the past but feels he has that aspect under control. He mostly used the drugs and alcohol to numb his symptoms. His father is his biggest supporter, along with a few close friends.

Now, to be fair, there was more that Jacob said. He was very well spoken and very out spoken. And, honestly, I don't remember it all.

We talked for 45 minutes about our experiences, meds, psychiatrists, hospitalizations, support systems, stigma, coping mechanisms, art (he draws and plays music, I draw/paint), and therapy. I thoroughly enjoyed talking with him.

After 45 minutes M "kicked him out" so we could talk. Jacob asked for my number to talk again, which I gave him. And then M and I had a 20 minute mini session. I told him about my crap moods, about feeling like a burden, about cutting. It was an intense mini session, and that, coupled with all the talking with Jacob . . . well, I'm a bit worn out. Mentally, not physically. Obviously.

In other news, I had maintenance TMS again on Tuesday. They re-mapped my brain and upped the intensity slightly. Hopefully this helps. Wednesday I did a short workout which felt nice. Nice to move my body again. Though I'm sore today. And I see Dr. M next Tuesday. And, well, I might be firing him. I think I need a med change. I don't think my current combo is working like it should be. So if all he does is offer ECT, then I'll find myself a different doctor. One who is willing to work WITH me. I hope I don't have to fire Dr. M - I've been with him for 5-6 years. But I need someone who's going to listen to me.

I think that's all I got in me. I might need a nap. 

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.

Monday 5/11/20 Therapy and a Better Outlook

Well hello there. It's Monday and I've just gotten home from therapy. Therapy was a little weird today. Why? Because I'm feeling a little better. Here, let's not get ahead of myself. Lets backup a few days.

Last week was bad. I was having all kinds of anxiety about work and random other things. I was feeling extremely depressed. So depressed in fact that I told my hubby that while I wasn't actively suicidal, I wouldn't mind if I ceased to exist. He made me call the TMS center and schedule a maintenance treatment. Which I did. I had my first treatment last Friday and I have another on the 18th.

Something must have clicked with that TMS treatment. Something in my brain turned on or turned off or started working because on Saturday I felt okay. Not great, but okay. Okay enough that I stood in line at Lowe's for an hour to buy plants and I didn't break down. I didn't get anxious. I didn't get mad. And then, even though I was tired, I helped hubby plant all the plants we bought and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. That's huge.

And then Sunday, yesterday, I worked. And my day was okay. It was fine. I did three deliveries (two of them were c-sections, which I really dislike doing). And here's the thing: I was okay. I rolled with it. I didn't get upset or anxious or angry or annoyed. I did my job, I joked with the parents, I was able to converse with my coworkers. And that was amazing.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. I can see it now, and it's growing brighter.

Now circle back to therapy being weird. It was weird because it was like M and I were just shooting the shit. We talked about work and my anxiety and my mom and why I wanted to become a nurse. All pertinent stuff. But the conversation flowed instead of being stifled by my depression. The hour went by quickly. And we're going to go three weeks before my next appointment, trying to space them out again.

So I'd say things are looking up. :)

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.

Monday 4/20/20 Therapy

I just finished therapy via telemedicine (we're still in quarantine due to corona virus). This was a tough one. I started by showing M my latest vent drawing and reading him my last blog post. Reading that blog post was actually difficult and I started to tear up.

And it left M speechless.

He stared at me, a very somber look on his face, and asked if I needed to go to the hospital. No, no I do not. Are you sure, he asked. Yes, I'm sure. Even just for respite? I told him I would rather be with my hubby and son. He nodded and said okay.

I told him about how empty I've been feeling, how devoid of feeling, how bad. I started crying. I didn't think I would, but I did. I didn't lose it, I didn't sob. Just sort of silently cried. Just for a moment or two. It felt good and it felt awful. Necessary.

We talked at length about my lack of emotion and ways to counteract it. We picked objects and ascribed feeling and meaning to them, hoping that by doing this I would feel something too. We started with the wedding photos and family photos in my bedroom. Photos that should mean something to me. Right now, however, I get no feeling from them. I can identify feelings I should have . . . but I don't feel them.

We did this with several more objects, assigning feelings and meaning to them, and each time I couldn't actually feel what I was "supposed" to. So my homework is to do this daily throughout the week so that maybe, hopefully, I'll start to feel.

Being empty, not feeling, is horrible. And difficult. It's hard to interact with people when you aren't sure what you should be feeling. Luckily for me I've been doing this my whole life. Hiding my depression behind a well crafted facade. Now I hide my lack of feeling. It's not easy, but I can do it.

I work Thursday and Saturday this week, both days in trans. I'm wondering how I'll do. When I get overwhelmed my anger and anxiety has been surfacing. I'm hoping for calm days. Easy days. Days where I don't have to wear my mask so much. Because wearing a mask, keeping up my facade, is tiring.

And I'm already tired. 

Monday 3/30/20

Another week since my last post, and two therapy sessions under my belt: one last Thursday and one today. Thursday's session was face timed, today was in person, which both M and I prefer. Why such frequent sessions? Well, because I'm falling apart, truthfully.

It's hard for me to describe how I feel right now. I'm nothingness. I'm empty, hollow, withdrawn, flat, fake, a husk . . . This is all more apparent when I'm at work. I'm distancing myself from people (and not just because of coronavirus, lol). No, I'm distancing myself because it takes too much out of me to interact with people. It feels like everything I do or say is a facade. My smiles and chuckles are not genuine. I'm putting up a front, putting out there what people want to see.

But that's not me.

I feel so alone and helpless and small. I'm just so empty. The only feelings I can seem to muster up are negative ones. I'm struggling to even find neutrality. It's so hard . . . feeling so empty and pretending to be happy, or even just okay.

I'm scared, too. Of a lot of things right now. I'm scared of the current state of the world. I'm scared at work - of being exposed, of having to float to another unit. I'm scared of my own mind - I know how dark it can get in there.

Things seem bleak right now.

M helped me today to see the good, see the light. I don't know if it's too little too late. My mind is already a snarled tomb of negativity.

I'm trying though. I'm trying. I'm writing this out, I'll go on a walk today, maybe I'll even draw (I don't know what - I have no motivation or inspiration, but maybe). M wants me to work on my book. I looked through my writing for my book and realized I haven't worked on it for two years. Two years. Holy cow. I wouldn't even know where to start, how to start. With a single word, I guess. That's what M says.

So here I sit, depressed as hell, whining on the internet, not being positive at all. I should really change that. All of that. 

Monday 3/23/20

It's been a week since my last post. Things have changed. My son's school is closed at least until April 17th, but probably for the rest of the school year. The "dine-in" portion of all restaurants are closed - you can only get take out. Gyms, movie theaters, bars, tattoo parlors, hair salons, spas . . . all closed. Our governor is call for a 50% reduction in workforce of all "non-essential" personnel. Everyone is to stay inside, social distancing they call it.

I, being a nurse, am "essential". And I have been working more. I picked up an extra shift this week (tomorrow) and am on call today in addition to my regular shifts. Next week, so far, I've picked up an extra call shift. We've been busy. Lots of people having babies for some reason. We haven't had a coronavirus patient on my floor yet (that I'm aware of), but I know we do on the med/surg floor and ICU. I'm thankful that I work where I work and I'm hoping we don't see too many pregnant ladies with covid-19. I'm also hoping we don't get pulled to work other floors. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn't know what I'm doing. This is one of my biggest fears right now. I pray it doesn't come to fruition.

Depression and anxiety are running rampant through me right now. I'm fighting, struggling, to keep them both at bay. All I can do right now is suppress them, which I know is not good. They're both bubbling up, right under the surface. I'm supposed to have therapy on Thursday, but I'm not sure if it will be happening. I haven't heard anything from M yet as to it being cancelled, but the week is still young. For his safety and for mine he very well may cancel. I'm hoping not. I could really use it right now. And, if I'm being honest, I'm very pissed that I can't go get a haircut right now. I have a pixie cut and I could really use a trim. I'm going to look awful when they can potentially open up at the end of April. First world problems, I know. But little things like a fresh haircut keep me going. I need little things right now to keep me going.

Oh well. I have a feeling all of this is going to get much worse before it gets better. 

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.

Friday 3/13/20

It's Friday the 13th. Any of you out there superstitious? I'm not.

Actually, that's a lie. I am a little. Why? Because I'm a nurse and we see weird shit and trends. Like laboring patients coming in on a full moon. Always busier on a full moon. So why not Friday the 13th?

Anyway, I have updates from my last sorrow filled post. Not many, but some.

I saw my psychiatrist this week and discussed my returning depression. He, predictably, suggested ECT. Which I declined. No med changes. Why? because I've already been on 23 different meds. So yeah, there's not really anything out there for me to try. What to do, what to do . . .

I told him about what I was doing: maintenance TMS.  Now, I mentioned this in my last post as an option for me except that it was cost prohibitive. Well, hubby almost forced me to do it. He insisted. (I think he read my last post). We have some money in savings, we do, but I feel like a financial burden pulling from that. I feel selfish, using that money solely for me. I feel awful about it, quite honestly.

But hubby, he told me not to worry about it. He told me to let him worry about it. So I gave in. I let him take my worry from me and I had a session of maintenance TMS done this week. I had it done Tuesday. I saw my psych doc on Wednesday. Today is Friday and I'm feeling a little better. I worked yesterday and it was busy and I handled myself well and even had a little fun. So I'm doing better, I am.

I'm not all the way there. There have been several times today where I've come close to breaking down. But I'm better. I'm getting there. I may need another session or two of TMS to bring me all the way back, and if I do, well then, I do. I'm trying not to worry about it (which is hard to do with anxiety). But I'm trying.

Tuesday 11/5/19

I'm sitting on the couch wanting to blog but not knowing what the hell to blog about. I'm currently frustrated. Frustrated beyond belief - I'm almost shaking. My anxiety is through the roof and I can't seem to get it under control.

So. Yeah. A few weeks ago hubby and I bought a 2004 Toyota Sequoia. It had all this work done to it, was owned by a Toyota master mechanic, and was supposed to be a good vehicle. Well, It's been in the shop the past 1.5 weeks having work done on the brakes (can't seem to get them working properly). We found out today that the frame had been damaged (bent and welded - poorly - back together). This essentially makes the vehicle unsafe to drive.

What. The actual. Fuck.

Now we're stuck with this gigantic fucking SUV that we paid $8,000 for and we can't do anything with it. I mean technically we could sell it but hubby and I don't feel okay with doing that knowing what we know about the frame.

Just . . . seriously.

In other news, I went to the doctor last week to have my left hip looked at. It's been causing me a lot of pain and has been getting progressively worse. My doc thinks that I have arthritis and that my tendons are too tight. She ordered X-rays, prescribed maloxicam and physical therapy. She said if after a month of physical therapy and meds my hip wasn't notably better we'd need to do a CT scan to check the soft tissue. I got the X-ray results back today: normal. No arthritis. Which is good, but means they don't really know what's causing my pain. Which is not good. So we're staying the course with meds and physical therapy and I follow up next month.

It's just frustrating. I thought the X-ray would give a definitive answer, we'd have a course of treatment and BOOM! It would be better. But instead we're blindly stabbing in the dark for something that might help. Don't get me wrong - I'm sure physical therapy will be helpful - I'm just frustrated.

So that's my post. An obnoxious rant about what's frustrating me at the moment. I was hoping by getting it out I'd feel a little bit better. I don't. I'm still shaking and I feel like crying. Maybe I should. Maybe that would help.

Cheers.

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.

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.

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.