Monday 5/25/20 Memorial Day

It's Memorial Day and I'm actually off. Which is nice, except it means I'll probably be working the 4th of July. That's okay though - I don't need that day off anymore (I wanted it off for the Denver Pop Culture Con, but that has been rescheduled for November - Thanksgiving weekend, of course *obvious eye roll*). But anyway, I'm off and my mother-in-law and brother-in-law are coming over for dinner. We're grilling. Burgers and hot dogs cause we're cheap and lazy :)

I've been dealing with the steady erosion of self. I've been feeling pretty badly. My usual: empty, depressed, hollow, numb, hopeless, pointless . . . you get the idea. All the bad stuff. It's been pretty relentless. I've cut twice. I might do it more. I struggle at work. I struggle at home. I wake up in the morning only looking forward to bed. In short, it sucks.

I don't have therapy again until June 4th. At my last session M told me to call if I need to be seen sooner (since we were going 3 and a half weeks between sessions). Well, yeah, I need to be seen sooner. I mean, I feel that way for sure. But have I called him? No. No I haven't.

Why the hell not?? You need him, call him!

Sounds easy, right? Well, for me it's not. I haven't called him because I don't want to be a burden. That's how I feel right now, like I'm a burden on everyone. And I hate feeling like that. But that's what I am -  a burden. I'm having to do maintenance TMS - which is $200 a pop. That makes me a financial burden. I'm not pulling my weight with the housework. Burden. I'm relying on hubby emotionally so much right now. Burden.

Trust me - I know this is the depression talking. But it's putting up a strong argument. One that I have no retort to.

So no, I haven't called M because I don't want to be a burden to him too. I feel that he needs this break from me because I'm so annoying and a drain.

So I don't know what to do. Well, that's a lie. Because I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to wait until my scheduled appointment. So that I'm less of a burden and don't feel so crappy about myself.

I'm truly thinking I need a medication tweak. I don't see my psychiatrist until June 9th, of course. And, quite honestly, I'm dreading seeing him. See, I don't think he'll adjust my meds. I think all he's going to do is suggest ECT again, which I absolutely won't do. I think he's kinda done with me. I think he's given up on me. And that hurts. I don't want to have to find another psychiatrist. And I mean, I like Dr. M, I just think he's truly given up on me. Don't ask me why I feel that way, I don't know why. It's probably the depression talking. Again, depression puts up a compelling argument.

So anyway, yeah, I'm a mess right now. So much negative self talk that I can't seem to counter or squelch. I'll get there though, right? I mean, I have to, because I can't keep doing this. 

Monday 4/13/20

I made a silent goal to myself to try and blog at least once a week. Well, this is my 5th weekly blog post! Go me!

Alright, enough gloating.

I'm sitting on the couch in my pajamas. It's 9:30 am. I probably won't get out of my pajamas today. Shower? Pshhh, no. Makeup? Do my hair? Definitely not. Lounging around in my jammies all day is the ticket.

I worked yesterday and I had a rough day. It wasn't a busy day, that wasn't it. I had a rough mental health day. Withdrawn, empty, flat. I had a hard time interacting with coworkers. I had a hard time keeping my head above water. I had a hard time existing.

No one knew it though. I kept it secret. I'm good at keeping secrets.

I remember walking down the hallway to the break room, feeling pretty low. I opened the door slowly, quietly. There was no one in there and my eyes welled with tears. I don't know if in that moment I needed someone to notice my pain and offer help? Maybe?

I wanted to cut. So badly I wanted to cut. Deep and wide and bleeding. I needed the physical pain to distract me from the mental anguish I was feeling. I didn't cut though. I didn't cut. That in itself is a huge victory.

In other news, I had a maintenance TMS treatment last Wednesday. I'm not feeling any positive effects from it yet. I'm hoping it just takes time. Just a little more time and I'll start to feel better. If not, I guess I'll have another in May. If that doesn't work then I don't know. Dr. M is always suggesting I try ECT again but I desperately don't want to do that. I have enough memory problems from that as it is, I don't need to compound the problem.

I still have no motivation for anything. Like, I want to paint and draw and read and work on my book . . . I just can't. I have no motivation, no drive. All I do is sleep to escape. That's no way to live.

No therapy this week. M and I decided to try 2 weeks instead. I wish I had therapy this week but I don't want to call M cause I don't want to be a burden. And I don't want it to just be me whining about how I'm feeling. Oh whoa is me, I'm depressed again. I don't want to be a burden on anyone which is why I've been keeping all of this a secret. Probably not my best idea. Oh well.

Maybe next week my post will be a bit brighter.

Monday 4/6/20

I just finished my tele therapy session with M. Tele therapy, you ask? Face time on the computer basically. So yes, I just finished my session. Therapy is always helpful - seriously, always - but sometimes I don't quite say everything I mean to.

Like today.

See, I don't want to sound like a broken record. I don't want to sound stupid or naive. I don't want to be judged (although I know M would never judge me). And sometimes, sometimes I'm too scared to put myself out there.

I think all of these things were holding me back today. I couldn't speak up, I couldn't say what was truly on my mind.

And what was on my mind?

My depression. My depression was on my mind. I'm not "fully" depressed. I'm not suicidal. I'm functional. I can smile. I can even laugh. But I'm dead inside. I'm so empty. I'm hollow - there's nothing there. In a world full of color, everything is grey for me.

I feel as though everything is pointless. Everything is stupid - why do any of it?

I feel flat. I'm not feeling real emotions. I'm faking them for the sake of others. I can smile, though I'm not quick to do so. I can laugh, though it's mostly a facade. I can get angry, though it's short lived (that's a good thing I guess). My emotions are muted. It's as if they aren't even there. Even when I feel worse than empty I can't cry. There's not enough emotion behind it.

I feel trapped by this. I want to feel. I want my emotions. And I don't know how to get out of this. I don't know what to do.

I have TMS this Wednesday, the 8th. I'm hoping this helps. I had spoken to my psychiatrist a couple weeks ago and he had nothing to offer med wise. He brought up trying ECT again which I won't do. Especially when I have TMS as an option.

I've been so non-feeling that I've had the urge to cut again. Because if I'm feeling pain, at least it's something. I hate this about myself. I thought I was over this.

But this grey . . . it's unrelenting. It's all encompassing. And it's a pain in the ass. Truly. 

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.

Friday 2/28/20

Would you look at that: February is almost over. Crazy. It went by quick. But slow as well. How can that be? I don't know.

I'm sitting on the couch with this ridiculously strong urge to write. I feel like I need to. I have to. I'm feeling pretty low today. Empty. Drained. Worthless. And many other negative words. I don't even know what I want to write about, except for how I'm feeling.

So I had therapy yesterday. M and I talked about my worsening depression and my growing dissatisfaction with work (that's a whole other blog post in itself - lots of crap going on with work). We had a good discussion but I feel like he was almost blowing it off a bit - my depression I mean. Now, I guess not really blowing it off per se, but I don't know, maybe not addressing it as much as I would like because I'm not suicidal. I don't know. I think I have  a tainted view of what was really said.

What stands though is that my depression seems to be getting progressively worse. I've had several days where I didn't/couldn't get out of bed. I got up to go to the bathroom and that's it. It's not a good place to be. I feel so empty and vacant and unfulfilled. So downtrodden and worthless and useless. So much a burden on everyone I love.

Great. Now I'm crying.

It's just, after having 5 months of stability this is hitting me hard. Harder than I thought it would. Because people, I don't want to exist. I don't necessarily want to die, but I don't want to exist. And that's a harsh reality to be faced with again.

I keep thinking it will go away on its own, that I will miraculously get better. But that doesn't appear to be happening. I see my psychiatrist the second week of March and I want to see what he says. I doubt there's a med change we can make. I flat out will NOT do ECT again. Which leaves trying TMS maintenance, which we can't afford. So yeah.

I've been lying to people about how I'm doing. Mostly to coworkers. I don't want to be judged, I don't want to let people down, I don't want to have to explain. So I lie. Which pulls support away from me, so this maybe isn't the best solution. But it's what I'm doing. Lie, hide, cocoon away from everyone. Some people have noticed. Some people have asked me how I'm doing, really. Smile, I'm fine, really, just tired. I'm not sleeping well, really, I'm okay.

So yeah. This is where I'm at now. Getting progressively worse, lying about it, and not actively seeking help. Of course, that's the thing with depression - it's hard to actively get help. But I'll get there. I'm fine. Really.

6/17/19

How to start . . .

I'll jump right in I guess.

I saw Dr. M today about my depression. And it went how I was fearing it would go. I should probably expand on that.

I told him how I've been feeling. Empty, depressed, hopeless. I told him it has been relentless and ongoing for the past 5 or so weeks. Before he could say anything I told him I'd prefer not to do ECT again. He looked at me for a full minute before speaking.

"You've been on practically every medication. And countless combos of those meds. All I can really recommend is ECT."

My stomach dropped. I don't know why though - that's exactly what I expected he would say. ECT. Electroconvulsive therapy. I did it for 3 years. Yes, I had improvement with it, but I also have had substantial memory issues.

"What about EsKetamine?" I asked.

"Well, there aren't any clinics in Colorado offering EsKetamine. It's too new, there's too much red tape, and it's too expensive," he replied. "You can try a regular ketamine infusion, but the cost for the 3 week treatment is around $2000 - $3000. It works for some people in the short term but it's pricey."

I felt even more defeated. Close to tears.

"You can try TMS (trans cranial magnetic stimulation). Studies have shown it to be effective, just not as much so as ECT. It's 5 days a week for 6 weeks, so you wouldn't be able to work probably. I can give you Dr. F's information if you're interested. See, it's just that you're treatment resistant and the best course of action for that is ECT. I'm sorry, I know that's not what you want to hear."

No, no that's not what I want to hear. I asked about Deplin, activated folic acid. He said I could try it but it probably wouldn't help. I asked about Rexulti. Again, it probably wouldn't help. It would replace my Vraylar and that med is the one that's helped me the most. So he would prefer not to stop it.

I'm stuck people. I don't know what to do. Do I take 6 weeks off from work and try TMS? Do I go back to ECT? Do I do nothing and wait it out, hoping the depression will lift of its own? The problem with waiting is that my depression tends not to go away on its own. It tends to hang around and get worse.

This is a bunch of bullshit, really. I don't know what to do. I cried in the parking lot, I cried while driving, I cried when I got home. I don't know what to do.

Fuck.

6/10/19

Well. I had therapy today. And I talked about my depression and my light headedness and tremors and work. And maybe it helped a little? I'm not sure. The fact still remains though that I'm depressed.

I have no motivation to do anything. I got home from therapy and wanted to go to bed. I didn't. I went downstairs and did a couple of sketches. I drew a sparrow and some flowers. Go me. All trying to not go to bed. I had lunch. I put dinner in the crockpot.

I want to go to bed. Just sleep. Sleep for eternity.

So I'm writing. I'm trying to distract myself, kill time. Not sleep.

But we all know what's going to happen, don't we? When I'm done with this I'm going to go lay down. Because I can't. I just can't. I can't deal with this unrelenting emptiness. I wish I could cry. I think I'd feel better if I could cry. But I can't. There's no emotion there. It's gone. I'm just so empty. Void. Blank. Numb. There's nothing there.

I can't fucking FEEL.

And it makes me so tired. It's hard to keep up the facade that I'm okay. Even that I'm marginally okay witch is what I've been doing.

I can't do this.

I see Dr. M on the 17th. I know he's going to suggest ECT, which I can't do. I can't. My memory is jacked enough. Maybe ketamine. I don't know. I'll find out I guess.

Anyway, it's time to go lay down. /end rant 

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?

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.

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. 

10/15/18

Well, here I am, a week post-ECT, and I seem to have leveled out. Right back into my depression that I was in before I had ECT. I had my post-ECT high for about 2 days and then the irritability and depression came back, stronger than ever.

I'm sitting here in bed, in the middle of the day (it's 1:45pm right now), wondering how and why it got so bad and wondering what to do with myself. I have stuff I want to write about, truly, but I can't seem to get the thoughts out of my head. I feel sluggish and cloudy.

I'm leaving on Friday for Texas to go to my sister's house. Her baby shower is this weekend. I'm driving down there with my stepmom. I want to be there for my sister but I'm not looking forward to this trip. I just think it's going to be really hard because of my current state. Driving down with M I'm not worried about, it's really the actual baby shower. A big 'ol party full of people I don't know all talking and laughing and having a good time while I feel like death warmed over . . . I'm not looking forward to it. Hopefully there will be alcohol. Funny - I don't drink except for instances like this. Which thankfully don't happen often.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll be fine, and I get to see my sister and my stepmom, whom I both love dearly.

I really can't think straight. My mind is a jumbled mess. I can't hold on to a single thought for more than a few seconds before it's replaced with something else. I can't write right now. I just can't do it. Maybe I'll try again later.

10/11/18

I was supposed to work today but I was put on call this morning. Or, more accurately, I was put on delayed start. Which I was fine with, honestly, I've been exhausted all week. I took Ayden to school, drank my coffee, and started his sheets in the wash. Then?

Nap time.

I slept for a good hour and a half and woke up groggy. And still extremely irritable. I've been irritable all day. I literally woke up like that. And to make matters worse, my mom wanted to talk. Usually if I could catch her before 4 or 5 I was alright. But now . . . now I need to catch her before 11. Why?

My mom is an alcoholic.

So of course at 12:30 she's been drinking. And not just starting off, either. No, she's at the slurring her words, repeating herself several times level.  And do you know what that does? It intensifies my anger. I tried to stay calm and collected, just listened as she rambled, but underneath I was fuming.  Thankfully, my coworker called me to release me from call so I was able to use that as an excuse to get off the phone with my mom.

Seriously, thank the baby DeJesus because I can't stand that woman when she's been drinking.

So anyway, I had ECT on Monday, and Jer said on Tuesday I seemed to be in my post-ECT high. He says that always happens after I get ECT. Then I level out. I seem to be leveling out now. I feel flat and I have my ridiculous irritability. Which is super annoying.

I had therapy yesterday and my therapist agrees with Jer's assessment. So we'll just have to wait and see what my mood does over the next few days. Did ECT help? Or was it a quick band aid? I have a feeling that it was a quick band aid. I think it helps keep the mania at bay, I think it lessens the depth of my depressions, but if I'm in one, it has yet to make it go away.

I decided to try 6 weeks between ECT appointments again, see how I do. I don't think this current depression was brought on by going 6 weeks - I think the timing is coincidental. But we'll see. Dr. M wasn't too pleased with my choice but he's not the one getting zapped. If I could get treatment out to every 8 weeks, that would be phenomenal. *Fingers crossed* 

9/17/18

I'm not feeling good today. Not physically, but mentally/emotionally not good. Which is especially annoying because I've been stable for almost 3 months now.

I think I know partially what's going on. See, I'm really feeling like a failure right now. In pretty much every aspect of my life. Home, work, personal . . . you name it, I feel like a failure.

Let's start with home life. Since I only work two days a week, I feel that it's my responsibility to keep up the house. You know, clean, do laundry, make dinners, all that fun stuff. Well, I don't. Not like I should, anyway. I cook on the nights that I don't work, and I keep up with laundry pretty good . . . but the rest of the cleaning . . . not so much. I feel it should be done once a week and I'm more of a once every 2 or 3 weeks kinda gal. And recently this has been making me feel bad but I still can't seem to get off my ass and do it.

Fail.

Along with home life comes sex. We'll just lump it right in there, why not. Let me tell you a little something about being on high doses of antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and antidepressants: they take away your sex drive. Not only that, for the most part they've taken away my ability to have an orgasm. So, not only do I not want to have sex, I can't enjoy it when I actually do. I mean seriously, wtf. So this makes me feel awful for my hubby, who is still very much interested in love making. The solution? Let's be honest - there's not a good one. I give him blow jobs. It gets the job done but it's just not the same.

Fail.

Let's look at work. I have a good job. I'm an RN at a busy birth center. I help bring new life into this world. I actually really love my job. So what's the problem, you ask? I have my bachelors degree in nursing. I've thought about getting my masters and becoming a nurse practitioner. Either in neonatal or psychiatry. My problem is that since I've been doing ECT I can't retain any new information. I read something, and the minute I close the book it's gone. I don't remember it. There's also the added pressure and stress that would come with going to school and then with the new position that could potentially trigger an episode. As if that wasn't enough, right now we have several nurses on my unit getting their masters, one of them being one of my very close friends. This, honestly, makes me feel like crap. It makes me feel like such a failure because I can't do it too.

Not only that, I'm only working part time. I work two 12 hour shifts a week instead of three. I had to go part time almost 4 years ago because of my bipolar disorder, which had a huge impact on us financially. So much so that we lost our house. Our house we had built from the ground up and loved. We lost it because of me. And now, since I'm still only working part time, we probably won't be able to afford to buy another house. I feel like I should be doing more. I'm stable now, I should go back to full time. Everyone tells me no, don't do it, but I should be contributing more.

Fail.

How about my personal life. I lost several friendships due to my illness, and while I'm mostly over that, sometimes it still hurts. But let's talk about the present. I have my hubby and 2 good friends. That's it. I have my coworkers, but I don't hang out with them. I feel awkward and weird around them. I've been trying so hard lately to start conversations with them, join in conversations with them, to show interest, to be involved but I feel as though I don't fit in. I feel like an outsider. I feel as though I'm held at arms length. I also feel like my hubby doesn't have friends because of me. I mean, we lost all of our mutual friends thanks to me. But, I always wonder if he doesn't do things with former friends or make new friends because he's worried about me. That sounds very egotistical, I know, but I know he worries about me. So maybe he doesn't go play disc golf because he worries about me being alone.

Fail.

One last thing to wrap this up: my weight. Thanks to my meds I've gained around 80 pounds in the past 2-3 years. I feel so horrible and self conscious because of this. I feel disgusting and unattractive and tired and gross. I've been trying to lose weight and it doesn't come off. How does that make me feel? You guessed it - like a failure. I'm now seeing a dietitian and trying a new approach but I'm less than optimistic.

Fail.

All of this has been swimming around inside me for awhile now but really just came to a head today. I don't know why. But I hate it and I hate the way it's making me feel. I've been tearing up all day, feeling like I need to cry but I just can't. Maybe my hubby can talk some sense into me. One can hope. 

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. 

7/12/18

Well hello there all you fine people! (I'm talking to the one of you who may have accidentally stumbled upon this blog cause I know no one other than my hubby really read it . . .)

Anyway, I'm trying to keep up with writing every few days so here goes.

I had therapy today and it was kind of a weird session. Why weird? Because it was pretty much all positive. I'm actually in a pretty decent mood, a pretty good mood. So therapy was upbeat, you know, talk about the good things. I'm not used to that because so often I'm depressed. It was a breath of fresh air, it was nice.

My mood has been overall better since I had ECT on the 2nd. I've been more even, more upbeat, more quick to show genuine emotion. I still have periods where I feel flat or down, I'm still having suicidal thoughts, but overall I'm better than what I was. And for that I'm thankful. I'm hoping that this lasts. I have ECT again on the 30th, so right before I go on vacation - which will hopefully prove good.

In other news, I booked an appointment with a dietitian. I need some serious help to lose weight and both my primary doc and my pdoc have suggested I see one. So I decided to finally bite the bullet and make an appointment (to one my therapist recommended). The first appointment is 90 min long. We'll see how it goes.

Well guys, that's about all I got for right now. I'm calling it done for the day.

7/9/18

Do you know what's funny? I have therapy this Thursday (the 12th) and I'm not sure what I'm going to talk about. The last time I saw M I was still very much depressed. Then I had ECT last week and started feeling better. I even got a little hypomanic one day. Now I'm just flat. Though I'm trying not to be.

I had a few good days but now I'm back to being flat. I think I'm quicker to laugh than I was before, and I think I'm feeling more genuine emotion than I was before (although it's difficult for me to do so), but I'm still overall flat. I'm trying to get excited about things, like my communication books and CBT book I ordered.

You know what though? What's frustrating to no end? I'm still having suicidal thoughts. They're really bad today. Like, nearly constant today. I'm so sick of them. I'm so sick of picturing my death in detail. I'm so sick of picturing the aftermath, cause I do think about that too. It's really fucking annoying. I try countering the thoughts, I try thinking about something else and my mind always comes back to suicide. I'm not suicidal though - there's no intent right now. I'm not going to do anything. My mind is just an asshole and hates me.

I'm struggling with getting up in the mornings. Mainly the mornings I have off. I don't want to get up. I have no desire, no motivation. I'm slow moving. I don't get anything done. I just can't. I hate it. I know part of the problem is that I feel that things are pointless. So why get up? Nothing has any meaning or point to it . . .

Anyway, aside from the suicidal thoughts I think overall I'm better than I was before I had ECT last Monday. Something to be thankful for. And I am. I just wish I could get my drive back (especially for exercise) and quit it with the suicidal thoughts. Cause those can ruin a mood.

7/6/18

The last day that I wrote was Sunday and it's now Friday. It's been a long week actually. My dog is staring at me like I've done something wrong. It's a little disconcerting. Anyway, long week.

I had ECT on Monday and it really knocked me down. I spent most of the day sleeping and went to bed early. One thing I did notice was that my mood seemed improved on Monday (when I was awake . . .). I did talk with Dr. M about how my mood has been and asked what we could do. He said I could come in sooner for another ECT treatment if I needed it. Which was frustrating to say the least. But I only had about 4 minutes to talk to him so it's not like we could have a normal discussion. So I plan on keeping my September appointment and seeing how I do up until then. Then we'll have time to talk.

Tuesday my mood was definitely improved and was even a little elevated. It was so nice for a change to feel good and be giggly. You have no idea. I was maybe a little embarrassing in King Soopers. But that's okay because I felt so good.

Wednesday and Thursday I worked. Both days my mood held pretty steady if maybe just a little bit down. Well, Thursday was a little down, Wednesday I guess I was a little giggly, at least to start (there was a comment made about me being in a good mood). Both days were long and just dragged on and on. Like seriously, I didn't think they were going to end.

But I wasn't depressed. And that's huge.

And now today. I don't want to do anything. I have no motivation. I feel that everything is pointless and stupid. I'm empty. I'm not depressed, at least not how I was. An argument could be made that what I'm feeling is mild depression. I just want to sleep. Or curl up in a ball and not exist.

So what's new?

My brain is a damn stubborn organ. Stupid thing. It's annoying.

And those books I've been looking forward to? They were supposed to arrive on Tuesday. They still aren't here yet. The one thing I've been looking forward to, the thing that's been sustaining me . . . nope. Which is also annoying. Hopefully they'll come today. *fingers crossed*

Hallucinations now! I had tactile hallucinations yesterday: someone tapping on my shoulder or back (no one was there) and someone shaking the back of my chair (again, no one was there). This is in addition to the orbs of light and shadow figures and demons that I see. So that's fun.   

6/22/18

I'm stuck. I'm walking around with this grey cloud above me. It's not just above me though. Sometimes this grey cloud envelopes me. Wraps around me and smothers me. 

When the cloud is above me I can function. I may be dead inside, but I can function. I can put on my fake smile, my fake laugh, and make believe that everything is alright. Why make believe? Because I truly feel dead inside. I feel empty, numb, flat, a husk of the person I should be. I'm anhedonic, if you want to get technical about it. Things that I used to enjoy mean nothing to me now (like drawing, painting, sewing, reading, hiking, playing with horses . . .). I'm just going through the motions. Every once in awhile I'll genuinely feel something . . . but those moments are few and far between. 

When the cloud envelopes me I have to fight to function. It doesn't come easy. I struggle. I break down. I cry. I have no motivation to do anything. Getting out of bed is a chore. Showering is a gigantic feat. It takes everything I have to put on my mask. God forbid I have to work on these days. I'm truly depressed. That grey cloud? It turns black. I have dark thoughts. Thoughts of suicide. I know that I don't really want to die but my fucked up brain tells me otherwise. And it's convincing. I spend my time laying in bed, staring off into space, staring at the wall or my hands or sleeping to escape. I can't concentrate to do anything. I pray for God to take me, to end the pain. 

Then the cloud lifts.

I'm given a reprieve from the worst of it. 

Or am I?

Because what I'm left with is the vacant nothingness and meaninglessness that makes up my life right now. No joy. No happiness. No escape from negative feelings despite my best efforts to remain positive. 

I've been dealing with this for at least 2 months pretty consistently. I have had about 3 manic days in the past 2 months (thank God for those days) but they don't last more than a day or part of a day. I seem to cycle every 3 months and May would have been month 3 (my last major depression was in February and resulted in a hospitalization). 

So is this what I'm dealing with? My normal cycling? And it's just lasting a long fucking time? And if so, does that mean I should ride it out? Just wait and hope it ends soon? Or should I seek a med change? The only thing is, with a med change, I know Dr. M doesn't want to go that route. He's already told me as much. He told me so after my depression in February. More ECT. I'm trying to lessen ECT and he's pushing for more. And I think it helps keep me stable overall. I do. But I pay the price for it with my memory and my continuing lack of creativity. 

So I'm stuck with this damn grey cloud. Either above me or around me it doesn't matter - both suck. 

6/1/18

It's Friday, June 1st. A new day, a new month. How exciting. (Are you picking up on the sarcasm? I sure hope so . . .)

I've been having some weird thoughts and feelings the past few days. Thoughts and feelings that I'm not quite sure how to explain. But I'm going to try because I need to get this off my chest. I need to get it out of my head. 

I've been relatively stable for the past year. Except for being almost hospitalized March 2017, and actually being hospitalized this past February, I've been pretty stable. I've had a few dips here and there. Maybe they lasted one day, maybe they lasted 4 or 5 days, but they were short lived and not as intense. I've only had a few days where I've had symptoms of hypomania. So yeah, pretty stable.

But there's something I've discovered with stability. I still feel hollow. I still feel empty. I still feel lost. I still feel flat and withdrawn and generally down. It's like I'm stuck in a mild form of depression constantly. One that no matter what I do I can't break out of. My emotions all feel fake. I'm putting on a show. I smile and laugh while inside I'm secretly dying.

I guess I shouldn't say all my emotions feel fake. I feel anger. Irritability. Pain. Fear. Anxiety. Negative emotions? I've got those covered. It's the positive ones I can't seem to get. And no, it's not for lack of trying. I try. I fucking try. But they come out feeling fake. Like a mask.

Which is where the weird thoughts are coming into play. I almost wish I would go into a mood episode so I would actually feel something. So I wouldn't just be this husk of a person who's just going through the motions. I of course would much rather have a hypomanic episode. Preferably a euphoric one (not dysphoric - those suck). But I would take a depressive one. Because then at least I'm feeling something real, not just a false mask of my own doing.

Isn't this crazy? It's fucking crazy. I've spent the last 8 years of my life trying countless med combos, ECT, and therapy to try and get myself stable and now I want to throw it all away. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me? I have no idea . . .

Honestly, I've probably gone over this before in therapy. This very topic. Only I don't remember it (thanks, ECT). All I know is that my thoughts are a whirlwind of negativity and what ifs. Running through scenario after scenario of what could possibly happen. By the way? None of it is good. No, all of it is pretty shitty.

I don't know what to do anymore. I keep plugging along, day after day, putting on my mask, forcing myself to interact, forcing myself to appear that I'm feeling . . . Forcing myself to appear normal when my mind is truly a hurricane of confused negativity. What do I do? I'm trying so desperately not to self sabotage but I need to know . . . what do I do?