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 11/23/23 Thanksgiving

 This will probably be a short post as we are leaving soon for Denver for thanksgiving festivities. But it's been a while since I last wrote. And, well, school has started and it's been rough. School officially started this past Monday, the 20th. So yeah. I'm 4 days into school and I am freaking out. This is HARD y'all. Like, really hard. It's been over 17 years since I've been in school and I have no idea what I'm doing. I've never done online schooling before. This is all new to me. 

This first week I had 9 chapters to read in my Advanced Pathophysiology book (which is HUGE and weighs literally 10 pounds). Nine chapters. Each chapter has taken me 2 hours to read. I also had to make a discussion post (took me 3 hours to write a paragraph because my brain won't brain properly), respond to 2 other people's posts, and write a paper. All in week one. WTF. I am anxious, overwhelmed, and not happy. I've been close to tears every day this week. I'm frustrated with my stupid brain for not comprehending things and not responding how it used to. 

When I was in nursing school I could jam out papers in no time and had no issues remembering the material. But now . . . now I can't do that. If i were to take a test on those first 9 chapters I would fail it. My brain isn't processing or retaining the information. I can write my blog no problem - but writing a paper is proving nearly impossible. Everything is getting jumbled in my head and I can't seem to write anything that makes sense and is academic and professional. I know this is in large part due to 1. having bipolar disorder, and 2. having done 3 years of ECT. The ECT trashed my memory, both long and short term. I struggle with how to get around my city (that I've lived in since preschool) without GPS. It's pathetic. I used to have no trouble with that before ECT. That's just one example of my brain not braining. And it's becoming more evident now that I'm in school. Which frustrates and saddens me. 

I'm trying to stay positive and not get down on myself. I'm trying not to let my self limiting beliefs get in my way. I'm trying. But it's hard, so hard. A large part of me wants to throw in the towel right now, in week one. Part of me - a small part - wants to keep trying. I guess to make sure I'm truly giving it my all before I quit. It's just that I'm not sure I can handle 3 years of this. Of struggling, of feeling anxious and overwhelmed, of feeling unhappy. It's a lot. But I'm trying. 

I looked ahead to next week. I don't have a paper to write, per se, but I have two discussion questions that will each likely be 2-3 pages long. And the topics? Well, they're over my head. I don't have any idea how to answer them. I also have 6 chapters to read. It's nonstop. ALL of my free time is dedicated to school now and that kind of sucks. Royally sucks. 

Anyway, happy thanksgiving. I'll try to figure out school as best I can. We'll see what my first grades are (I'm nervous).  

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.

5/17/19

I'm sitting in bed trying hard to cry. Yes, you read that right. I'm trying to cry.

Why?

Because I can't.

I have no emotional response right now. No emotions. I feel so empty and hollow and flat. Anhedonic. There's just nothing there. And I don't know what to do. I keep thinking that if maybe I can cry I'll feel better. I'll have an emotional release and I'll be able to feel again. But I. Can't. Cry.

I felt like this yesterday as well. It feels so . . . bad. I feel down and depressed but I also feel nothing at all. I was at work. Which is bad. It means I have access to sharp objects. And I cut. Only once. And for a split second I could feel. For a split second I could feel. The emptiness left me and I felt grounded.

But it was only for a second and then the emptiness came flooding back around me. I was alone again in a world of billions.

This is where I'm at again today. Alone and empty and scared. What if this continues? What if it gets worse? What if?

I don't want to go back to doing ECT, but I can't go on like this. My biggest fear is that this continues and my Pdoc won't support me trying different meds or methods to get better. He'll be all about ECT. And he'll give me an ultimatum: ECT or find another psychiatrist. I can't do that. I don't want another Pdoc. He knows me.

In this regard I'm probably worrying over nothing and I keep telling myself that. Because it does nothing to help my mood. It just makes me anxious and feel worse.

I hate feeling like this. I want to cut again. I want to cry. I want to put my fist through the wall. I want to not exist.

I don't know what to do.

What do I do?

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.

12/24/18

Wow. It's been awhile since I've written anything. Two weeks. And it's Christmas eve. Although it doesn't feel like Christmas at all. No, it just feels like any other day. Can't say I've gotten into the Christmas spirit this year. I pretty much blame my depression for that.

I had a therapy appointment last week. Ended up crying in therapy and then crying myself to sleep that night. Always so much fun.

I've been about the same as I was in my last blog post. Hovering just below the surface, unable to really feel much of anything except negative emotions here and there. There is a change though, I have been able to feel some positive emotions. They're not strong, and they're not long lived, but they have been there. I'm so thankful for that. Because I'm truly drowning here.

Now today, today I have been weird. I keep fluctuating between being mostly okay to being an anxious ball of worry. Why? Well, for one, it's Christmas eve which means church. I'm going to throw out there that I hate church. I feel like such an outcast there. I get nothing from the sermons. And all of the sit-stand-kneel, sit-stand-kneel is annoying as hell. My hubby goes every Sunday (he's Catholic, I'm . . . nothing) and he takes our son. I'm kind of the black sheep I guess. But I go with him Christmas eve if I'm not working. And I don't like it. And there's so many people and I don't do well with crowds. But I go. I just most certainly don't look forward to it. Quite the opposite - I dread it.

Here's the other thing. Hubby is in a men's group at the church and one of the guys invited us over to dinner tonight. And we're going. Why is this a problem? I won't know anyone there. For an introvert this is a nightmare. The longer I deal with this depression the more introverted I become - even around people I know. I'm quiet, I fade into the background. And let's be honest - I think I've forgotten how to have fun. I don't know what to talk about. I don't remember hardly any good stories about my work and the other main topic of my life is my bipolar disorder (which I don't really want to talk about with strangers). I don't know how to make conversations. I don't know how to engage people. I've bought 3 books on the subject but haven't even made it through one yet.

So I'm anxious. Anxious about church, anxious about this dinner party. And I feel overall down. I wish I didn't have to deal with this. With the anxiety, the depression, the bipolar, with myself.

I hope to god there will be alcohol there tonight. 

12/7/18

Well hello there. There's not much new going on here. Our offer was accepted on the house and we're officially under contract. The inspection was yesterday and while it wasn't bad, it also wasn't great (and that's got me worried - what if we lose the house over it??). But we'll just have to see how it goes, right?

Mood wise . . . well . . . I'm not sure I really know. I've still been empty and hollow and flat and a husk. Any feelings I do have are muted. Stunted. I'm still pretending, pretending that I'm okay, that everything is alright. I'm putting on that mask, that facade for everyone. I think people are none the wiser. I don't think they suspect that I'm not doing well. I even put on the facade during therapy this week. I don't know why really. Maybe it was just habit. Maybe I wasn't in the mood to talk about my emotions. Maybe it was too hard. Maybe it was all of the above.

Today has been a rough day. I've managed to clean a little, do some laundry, and do a painting. All while fighting back tears. Let's be honest though, it's not terribly hard to fight back the tears. Why? Because there's no emotion behind them. I'm an empty husk, remember? But they're there none the less, threatening to come. And it's frustrating, really. Like, maybe if I could just cry I'd feel better.

At least I'm managing. I mean, I'm able to work. I kind of keep up the house. I've been painting - I took 2 custom orders. So I've been managing. Which means I don't have to be hospitalized. It's been almost a year since my last hospitalization - I don't want to go back.

I'm still having suicidal thoughts. Every. Single. Day. Even though I have good things going for me. Even though I'm managing. I'm still having those thoughts. I hate them. I wish they would go away. But I don't see that happening any time soon. Maybe the one doctor I fired was right - I'm going to be depressed and suicidal for the rest of my life and I need to learn how to deal with it. Now if that's not a depressing thought I don't know what is.

So anyway, there's where I'm at. Yep. 

10/17/18

There's something that worries me that I've been thinking more and more about. Something that keeps me awake at night. Something that my mind keeps creeping back to over and over. Something that, no matter how hard I try, I keep ruminating over.

I'm wondering what's going to happen with me in the future. And I'm not talking about in the next year or two - no. I'm talking 10 or more years from now. I'm thinking about where will we be living, will I still be working, where will I be working, will A still be living at home . . . I think about do J and I have enough for retirement, are we still going to be renting, or will we own a house at that point?

All valid points to think/worry about. But then I also worry about how much worse my bipolar is going to be. And if I'm actually going to make it another 10 years dealing with this illness. I look at how I am now, and how I feel like I'm failing. I look at my memory issues I have now and how those are getting progressively worse. I look at how I struggle. I look at how frequently I have suicidal thoughts and I worry. I worry that I'm not going to make it. I worry because one of the things that keeps me going is knowing that I could end it at any point . . .

What a horrible thought.

But it's true.

I worry about losing my job. We can't afford not to have my income and it's through my job that we have health insurance. Without health insurance we can't afford my medications let alone my ECT treatments. What would I do then? Not to mention that my job gives me a sense of self and a sense of purpose.

I'm not even sure how to write about all of this. About how much I worry. I don't think I can adequately get it out. It's jumbled up inside my head, whirling and twirling and jostling for attention, taking up so much space and energy and driving me batty.

I've been sitting here staring at the screen for about 10 minutes, trying to think of something else to write, something else to say. But I can't think of anything. My mind is a mess right now. Hell, my mind is a mess most of the time. Today though, it's particularly bad. Oh well. I guess this will do for now. 

7/27/18

It's raining again here in Colorado. It has been for the past several days, off and on. Which is nice. Cools it off. Which is, well, nice when you don't have air conditioning. It's coming down pretty good. Actually, it's safe to say that it's pouring. I'm sitting in bed sipping on homemade cold brew, which is delicious.

Today has been more of a depressive day. I woke up feeling this way for no apparent reason other than my brain is being an asshole. Which my brain is an asshole, most of the time. Okay, maybe not most of the time, but much of the time.

I've been having days here and there where I wake up depressed for no reason. One of the joys of bipolar disorder. But I wake up feeling depressed and some days it sticks around and some days it gets better throughout the day. Today it's sticking around. It's not a bad depression, but enough to be annoying. Enough to be noticed.

I leave for vacation next Wednesday, less than a week away, and I'm nervous about it, which is stupid. I'm worried that I'll forget something, or that I'll get depressed, that I won't have a good time and that I'll be a burden on my hubby and son. I'm worried about all the people and being overwhelmed. I'm worried about seeing family and what they'll think of me. It's stupid really, all this worry. And worrying just makes it worse. You know, a self fulfilling prophecy. I talked it all over with my therapist this week, which helped, but the worry is still there. And who knows - maybe completely up-heaving my routine and comfort level will be good for me. Maybe I need it. Maybe I need some unpredictability in my life. Hell, we haven't been on vacation for 3 years.

I have ECT on Monday (the 30th) so I'm hoping that this will keep the depression at bay whilst on vacation. One can hope, right?

I saw my dietitian again this week. We're working on how I eat and my thoughts surrounding food. Which is harder than it sounds. But I have 3 weeks to work on it before our next appointment. And the book Intuitive Eating that I'm reading. Hopefully I'll get there and my body will naturally start to lose weight. I've also been instructed to move more. Not necessarily traditional exercise, but to just move my body more. Alrighty. You got it.

So anyway, that's what's going on. It may be awhile until I write again as I don't know if I will again before vacation and I'm sure I won't while on vacation. 

7/1/18

I don't really feel like writing but I'm trying to write something every couple of days or so. So here goes . . .

Just when I thought my hallucinations were tapering off they ramp themselves up again. I'm still seeing the usual shadow figures, demons, and orbs of light, but now I'm seeing something new and fun: dinner plate sized spiders crawling on the ceiling at night. Oh goody! Giant fucking spiders! I've seen them the past 3 nights. Every time I wake up to go to the bathroom (which is a lot because my bladder hates me) they're there. Crawling around being all creepy.

Now, most of the time my hallucinations don't bother me too much because I know they're just that - hallucinations. But these spiders man . . . God DAMN they creep me out! Even though I know they're not real. I don't like spiders and I certainly don't like ones the size of dinner plates. No. Fuck that shit.

In other news, my mood was overall a little better yesterday. I had periods where my mood dropped and I felt the familiar cloud over me and was flat and empty. But I also had periods where I was mostly okay. Which honestly was a breath of fresh air. And I actually felt excited  for something (I ordered some books on interpersonal communication and interpersonal psychology because I'm a dork and want to learn stuff). Now I have something to look forward to (you'd think going on vacation in August would be the thing I'm looking forward to but I'm anxious as hell about that trip).

Now today . . . today I'm not sure yet how I'm doing. I feel down and withdrawn and I don't want to do anything. I just want the day to be over. But I'm not really depressed. Not like I have been at least. I guess maybe a different level of depression? I don't know. I'm still looking forward to my books which is a good sign but I kinda want to not exist. That's not good. So I'm not sure.

I was hoping yesterday was a sign that maybe I'm coming out of my depressive episode, but today I'm not so sure. One day at a time, I need to not get my hopes up but also not be negative about it either. I'll get there. I'll get through this. And I'll have my awesome books to keep me busy.

5/27/18

It's almost 10pm. I'm sitting on my couch, home alone right now. I'm kinda feeling like crap. Not physically, but emotionally. Why? Well, my hubby is down the street at a block party with our neighbors. And, well, I'm not there.

You may be thinking well why don't you just go there? Why aren't you there with him? Am I right? I'm probably right. Well, see, there's this little thing called social anxiety and I happen to have it (because apparently bipolar disorder wasn't enough). You know what really sucks though? I haven't always had social anxiety. It's only developed in the last few years (I think it's because of the bipolar disorder).

Social anxiety can be different for everyone. For me, I start by feeling anxious and overwhelmed. I suddenly lose my ability to talk to people. I can't remember names or events, I forget how to make small talk. I become quiet and withdrawn and tend to find an area where I'm able to be by myself. I feel awkward and stupid, depressed and anxious. I want nothing more than to leave the situation, to curl up in a ball and not exist, but often times I can't.

Take last night for example. We went to a friend's daughter's graduation party. Of course, to make things worse, it was after I worked a full 12 hour shift. But we go, and as we drive there, the closer we get, the more anxious I get. We arrive and I'm instantly overwhelmed by the size of the place and by the fact that I really don't know anyone other than our friend and his wife. I tried making small talk with a few people, I did, but I was at a loss for words so I went and sat down away from people. I did my best not to interact with anyone other than my hubby and our son. I did better than I thought I was going to do but it was all still just too much.

So back to tonight. Our neighbors invited us over to the block party. I was still exhausted from last night and couldn't imagine interacting with people and putting on the mask that I'm a normal person, so I opted to stay home. But staying home carries it's own drawbacks. See, now I feel left out. I feel like an outcast, like a loser, like I'm less than human. I feel empty and alone. I've had these feelings since our very good friends abandoned us because of my illness but the feelings become more pronounced in situations such as these. And I don't know what to do. I want human interaction but at the same time it's completely draining and exhausting and anxiety provoking to the point of making me want to curl  up into myself and die. So what do I do?

I guess this is something I really need to bring up with my therapist. The fact that I haven't before is pretty unbelievable. And kind of stupid on my part. Oh well. I know what our next session will be about. Too bad it's not for 2.5 weeks. 

4/20/18

Wow. It's been a month since my last post. It's been a mostly uneventful month too. Well, that's not entirely true. That was a lie, actually.

What's really been going on are mildish mixed episodes. Three or four days here, three or four days there . . . Mixed episodes are not fun. And mine weren't the fun euphoric type. No, mine were the racing thoughts, anxiety, and irrational anger type. I was a joy to be around (not really).

Yesterday, for example, I was cooking an egg. I set the spatula down on the edge of the pan. It slid off. I replaced it. It slid off again. So I cussed it out and threw it. Perfectly logical, right?

Right.

I've been having lots of icky down feelings too. Along with guilt (for being me) and paranoia. All in all it's been great fun. Or not. One of the two.

3/23/18

This isn't really the post I want to write. I want to write an uplifting happy post or a funny post or anything but this.

I'm so fucking angry right now. Just so full of anger and irritability and hate it's ridiculous. And not only that but anxiety and racing thoughts . . . paranoia. I'm not sleeping well. I seem to be in an irritability type hypomania. It's mild - thank God - but it's frustrating none the less.

I'm getting so pissed at every little thing. Pissed to the point I want to either destroy stuff or break down sobbing. I'm trying not to do either.

One of the things I'm pissed at is how I look. My size, my weight. I've gained so much weight because of my medications and I can't seem to lose it. At all. I HATE how I look. I can't stand it. So much so that I want to self harm. And the shitty thing is that I have no drive to workout. No motivation. I'm ready to give up and give in because of my fucking moods. I fucking hate this so much. I hate what I've become.

And I'm so paranoid that other people feel the same way, that other people hate me too. Or at the very least dislike me and only tolerate me because they have to. I think other people are mad at me. I know these are probably delusions but I can't stop feeling that they're true.

I really hate fucking feeling like this. And I don't know how to make it stop.