Thursday 11/19/20 Therapy

 Well y'all, today I had my last "real" therapy session. What do I mean by "real"? I mean, my last regularly scheduled therapy session. Meaning, I'm no longer going to therapy. Which is crazy, and a little bit scary.

See, I've been going to therapy almost weekly for 8 years (sometimes I would go bi-weekly or monthly, but a lot of the time was weekly). Eight years people! That's a lot of therapy! And now, well, now I'm stable and have been for quite some time. My therapist and I had gone over my traumas years ago so there's not really anything I need to work on. In fact, todays session was a lot of BSing and laughing. 

But it is going to be weird not actually going. And of course, if I need a "tune up" all I have to do is call or text and set up an appointment. So yeah. I'm moving on. 

I've still been painting a lot - and have sold most of what I've painted. Which is convenient so that I don't have paintings lying around everywhere. And I need to save up money for my next tattoo. 

Here's what I painted today:

Well, one of the paintings I did today. I also painted a cardinal. Which I sold. But this is an artistic magpie! Isn't he cute? I love him.  I think he will be hanging on my wall soon. 

So anyway, I really want to give a shoutout to my therapist, Mike, for being awesome as hell and putting up with my crazy ass for 8 years. He's truly amazing.  

3/17/19

Man. It's been awhile since I've written anything again. I'm not sure what's up with that. But let's get right into it, shall we?

I'm having a little bit of a rough day today. It's not a bad day, not by any means, but it's definitely a little rough. I'm feeling a bit down and my mind is racing and I can't seem to focus on anything. Even sitting down to write this is proving difficult.

When I have days like this it's hard for me to remember that it's just a day. I immediately think that it must be the start of a new episode. That I'm going to get worse. That life as I know it - stability - is going to come crashing down around me. I try to remind myself that that's simply not the case and that it's just one day. But that doesn't seem to help. My mind races with doomsday scenarios and it tends to make my mood worse.

And you may remember from my last post that there's a part of me that wants this to happen (a very, very small part, but a part none the less). And this part rejoices and throws negative commentary at me, trying to instill a sense of hopelessness. Today that little ear worm is gaining strength.

And that pisses me off.

And not only that, I've been more flat lately. People at work have noticed as I've been more quiet. I'm just not . . . feeling. Not Like I had been. Not like I want to. That in and of itself is a downer. I need to be able to feel. What good is stability if I'm flat? If I'm anhedonic? I don't know, what do I know?

To counter this I've started taking a couple of supplements. L-tryptophan and D,L-phenylalanine. They're amino acids that convert to serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. They're supposed to help with depression. Now, technically I'm not depressed. I'm stable. I'm hoping, on the one hand, they help keep me stable. On the other hand, if they raise serotonin and dopamine, I'm hoping for maybe some hypomania. I know, I know. I shouldn't be playing around with crap like this. It's not necessarily safe. Or wise. But I just really want a wider range of emotion. I feel so muted. And I'm tired of it.

Last night and this morning were my first doses of the supplements. And so of course I feel down. I seem to have a bad track record with supplements. I plan on giving them at least a few days to see how I feel. Hopefully my next blog post will be more positive and uplifting.

2/25/19

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

No, seriously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

11/5/18

I'm not sure, but maybe, just maybe, this current bout of depression is winding down. I'm hoping this is the case. I'm praying this is the case. Because that would be so amazing. So amazing to feel like myself again. So amazing to not be suicidal all the time. So amazing to have energy and some motivation. So amazing to not feel like crap.

But wait - is it all that amazing?

Surprisingly, the answer is yes and no. No? But . . . that doesn't make sense. How would feeling better not be good? Seriously.

Well, that's not an easy question to answer. And, honestly, I'm not sure the answer is going to make sense.

Let's start with this: I've been ruled by depression and mania (to a much lesser extent) for over 9 years. For over 9 years my life has been complete and total chaos. Severe emotional turmoil is what I know. So being stable, ie not being depressed, is something foreign to me. I don't know how to act. I don't know what to say or do. I don't know who the real me is. This is scary. And there is a sense of loss - loss of the familiar.

Next, there's the attention. I get more attention when I'm in an episode. Which, let's face it, feels good. Especially since when I'm not in an episode I seem to just fade into the background. I'm more or less just there. So having more people check up on me, ask how I'm doing, offer help, and pay attention to me feels nice and I miss that when I'm stable.

If we want to get technical and scientific, we can look at my upbringing. I grew up in an alcoholic home. Life was chaotic and unpredictable. I was always striving to be perfect, always looking for reassurance and praise from wherever I could get it. What does this translate to? I'm intimately familiar with chaos and therefor may subconsciously seek it out - even if I don't want it. Being "normal" is not something I know, and am therefor uncomfortable with it. It's almost as if I want to be depressed or manic, even if I really don't. And seeking out praise and reassurance? That equates to the attention I'm getting from people while in an episode.

Let's look at some recent history. I was depressed from last February through June. I started feeling better the end of June, into July. While I was grateful I was finally feeling better, there was that sense of confusion and loss. I didn't know how to act or what to do with myself. I was just starting to get the hang of it in September when depression starting setting in again. And you know what? There was almost this feeling of relief when I felt those first pangs of darkness. Because I know depression. I know who I am when I'm depressed. And I get to have attention again.

Now lets get real here - how fucked up is that?? Seriously now! How freaking fucked up is all of that? I'm writing this and I just don't get it. Not to mention that I'm ashamed of it. Because it is fucked up. I can't beat myself up over this though, that won't do any good. I need to examine it, accept it, and move on. That's going to be my goal.

Wish me luck.

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. 

5/21/18

Well hello there. I'm not quite sure how to write what I want to say. My brain is in a bit of a jumble right now. Racing thoughts, intrusive thoughts . . . it's a mess. Anyway, I was feeling a bit depressed again yesterday, just not right. I wanted to not exist and those feelings have carried over to today.

Yay. Go me.

But I had decided that I was going to do things today, namely, cleaning the house and working out before taking my son to school. I had decided last Friday that I would clean today, period. But when I woke up this morning all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Just sleep. Sleep as long as I possibly could before taking Ayden to school. What did I do? I got my lazy ass out of bed and got on my spin bike for 20 minutes. That, my friends, is a solid win.

But lets talk about the cleaning. On a normal day the task seems daunting. I mean, there's a lot to do. And on a normal day I would break things down into steps and do things one by one, checking them off of my list as I went along. But on a depressed day? Oh no. It seems I'm incapable of doing this, no matter how hard I might try. Everything seems so overwhelming that I want to just sit and stare at the wall.

See that's a thing I think people don't get about bipolar disorder. My brain functions differently when I'm depressed (when I'm manic too) than when I'm "normal" or stable. I can't control these changes (if I could, I would). When I'm depressed everything slows down. It takes me longer to process information. It's like walking through waist high mud. And incoming information has to compete with my negative self talk, not an easy task.

Today though, today I was on a mission. My ass got up and got on that spin bike. I was going to get shit done!

Or so I thought.

Well, I got a little bit done, but not as much as I wanted. Why? I was overwhelmed. My brain was working against me. I did about half of what I had planned. I'm hoping to do the rest on Thursday. Maybe my brain will cooperate with me then.

And I didn't really write everything I wanted to. Because my brain is an asshole.

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.

2/5/18

I'm sitting here on my couch as I write this, wishing I was in bed, asleep. I'm not tired, mind you, I just don't want to deal with how I'm feeling. See, sleep is like death but without the commitment. Though I'm longing for the commitment . . .

I'm feeling so empty and drained and hollow, like the husk of who I should be. There's just this void inside me where everything should be. I'm going through the motions of life without really feeling anything. I've been rather flat and withdrawn lately, although I'm trying desperately not to be. And I think I'm putting on a good show as everyone around me thinks I'm doing okay.

If only they knew . . .

The funny thing is is that I wouldn't necessarily call myself depressed right now. I'm not quite like how I usually am when I get depressed. Perhaps I'm on my way there, I don't know. This is more of a "confused-hanging-in-limbo" state. I have some symptoms of depression but I also seem rather stable still. Like, I want to die, but I know that's just my brain lying to me.

I don't know what to do with this state though. Nothing is enjoyable to me. Not reading or painting or writing . . . I don't want to do anything except lay in bed.

Jeremy says I do this. That I'm stable for 3-4 months and then I drop into a depression for several weeks to a month or two despite what meds I'm on, despite my ECT. Maybe he's right. Maybe this is just my natural pattern. Maybe I'm not in full blown depression because of the new med I'm on. I have no clue. All I know for certain is that I hate feeling like this. Why can't I be manic every 3-4 months? I call bullshit on this. Why can't I just be manic at all??

Despite any of this, all I know is that I'm struggling right now, regardless of what people think.

12/12/17

I should be at work right now, but I was put on delayed start until 1100. So I'm at home, already showered, ready to go, even though I know I won't be going in.

I hate when this happens, I feel so lost. I have no idea what to do. I'm just . . . lost. First thing this morning I thought I felt good. I got up early and exercised. But as the morning carries on I'm feeling worse. More down. More lost. I'm feeling trapped inside my own head. I keep thinking I'm going to get bad and end up in the hospital. I keep having suicidal thoughts. I keep wondering why I can't be manic. I keep wondering what really will happen when I get bad again. I want to cut.

I hate feeling like this. I just want to be normal and okay and it doesn't seem like I can be that way. I think M would say I still haven't accepted bipolar disorder. I think I've accepted it as much as I can. But then, I don't know.

I'm tired of this. I just want to sleep and forget about it.

11/21/17

I'm sitting in the dark in my bedroom, trying to calm myself, trying to slow my heart, trying to slow my mind. My heart is pounding and I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins. My mind is racing, a hundred different thoughts a minute. It doesn't stop, it can't stop, why won't it stop?? Words and images over and over and over and my heart is in my throat and my hands they shake and I can't sit still but I can't move either. I try breathing slowly, deeply, like everyone tells you to but it doesn't help. Don't people know that doesn't work? But I try it anyway, anything to stop this feeling.

Breathe . . .

Breathe . . .

In . . . out . . . slowly.

Breathe . . .

It's not helping. This anxiety, it's not passing. Its grip is firm, it holds me fast. Heart pounding, mind racing, hands shaking, breath quickening. . .

So I write. I sit and write in the dark in my bedroom. Maybe it will help. Get it out. Put it in words.

I feel trapped. Trapped in my own body. Trapped in my own mind. How do I even handle this?

Breathe . . .

The computer screen is so bright in this darkness, like a beacon of hope . . . it's keeping me tethered in reality . . . barely.

Breathe . . .

My heart is starting to slow. My mind is starting to slow. The room is no longer closing in on me. I can breathe. Little by little I begin to return to normal. This is not a quick process mind you. Oh no. I've been at the computer for 30 minutes, typing and breathing and struggling and fighting my mind. But I'm doing it. I'm beating this mild anxiety attack. I'm lucky it was only mild.

Breathe.

10/19/17

I'm in a bit of a rough spot right now and have been for the past several weeks. I went into a depression about a month and a half ago which lasted about 3 weeks. I seemed to be coming out of it, at least for a few days, but then BOOM I'm thrown into rapid cycling. I've been rapid cycling for alost 2 weeks now. The real shitty thing though? I'm not getting happy - meaning I'm not getting euphorically manic or hypomanic. No. Lucky me I get anxious, racing thoughts, and irrational anger. That's my reprieve from depression.

I'm feeling so lost and hopeless and empty. I feel as though nothing matters and everything is pointless. I feel like I'm a burden to everyone. I have intrusive negative thoughts that I constantly have to battle in my mind. I don't know what to do anymore. It doesn't seem like anything is helping. I take my meds, I have ECT, I go to therapy, I go to support group, talk to my hubby and friends, do all of the CBT and DBT stuff that I've learned over the years, listen to music, sleep, journal, exercise, eat healthy . . . what more can I do? My therapist thinks I'm delusional because of the thoughts I'm having. Great. I tried to make an appointment with my psychiatrist but the earliest I can get in is Nov. 16th. I was told if I need help sooner to go to the hospital. Seriously? That's what I'm trying to avoid.

I'm just at such a loss right now. I don't know what to say. It doesn't help that ECT took away my ability to write eloquently. Now I'm left stumbling over words, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess inside my head.

Bothering Me

I have a feeling this post is going to be random and all over the place and not make much sense and you can thank my ECT for that as it's taken away my ability to write eloquently. No, I'm serious. I've been doing ECT for 2 years now and since I started my ability to write has slowly dwindled. I had a different blog where I wrote about my bipolar and my writing was magical at times. It was moving and gripping and drew you in. I wrote poetry. Writing came naturally to me. Now I struggle to write a few sentences about my day. The words get jumbled up in my head until I can hardly make sense of them. They come out all wrong and out of order sometimes. I misuse metaphors and symbolism (or at best I use them poorly). I struggle through each blog post, knowing that they are dry and boring.

Why does this matter? Because I want to write a book. I want to write a book of how it really is to have bipolar disorder. I want it to be witty and funny and heartwarming and real. I want to bring humor into even the shittiest of times. I want people to laugh and cry and learn something about bipolar disorder. And I feel that now, with my inability to write, I'm not going to be able to do this.

To top all of this off, the ECT has taken away my memories. Not all of them - but a lot of them. There's so much my hubby brings up that I just can't remember. My childhood, my son's childhood . . . gone. I forget how to get places - places I've to hundreds of times. I'm trying to learn Spanish - I'm not retaining any of it. Studying for my BLS re-certification - nope. It doesn't stick. Memory loss is a side effect of ECT, I just didn't expect it to hit me so hard. And most likely this memory loss is permanent because I've been doing ECT for so long (and my psychiatrist doesn't see me stopping anytime soon . . . or ever).

All of this is very frustrating. I guess that's it. It's taken me over 30 minutes to write this.  

4/25/17

I'm a bit stuck right now. I'm a bit stuck on something so fundamentally stupid that I should really have no problem getting over it. But here I am, stuck. What is it, you ask? Here, let me tell you.

I have bipolar disorder. A progressive, life long disorder characterized by extreme lows and highs of mood. I've had symptoms of it for probably 25 years but was only diagnosed 6 years ago. I've been on 23 different meds, have done CBT, DBT, group therapy, equine therapy, Al-Anon, meditation, acupuncture, ECT, and God knows what else to help manage it. And that's the thing - you manage it. That's it. There'e no cure. Currently I'm on 3 medications and do ECT once a month to manage my bipolar. But here's the catch - I can go into a mood episode at any time, for any reason. Or for no reason. It just happens. Despite my meds and ECT and exercising and eating healthy and vitamins and and and . . . And that's really fucking annoying. I'm doing everything right and I'm still battling my bipolar. But the thing is, I know this. That's just the nature of bipolar disorder. And I fucking know this.

But I'm not accepting it. At least I haven't been and I think that's part of my problem. I think I would do better in my depressions if I could accept this fact and move forward. I'm having a hard time with that though. See, the meds and the ECT help to keep me stable. And when I have a mood episode, they help to keep it hopefully not as intense and not as long lasting. I come out of my mood episode and I'm stable again. Until the next episode happens then we manage it, I get through it, and I move on again. This is how it works. This is how it will always work because that's just how bipolar is. And again, I know this. I'm just having a hard time accepting it. I see both my therapist and my psychiatrist tomorrow and I'm going to bring this up with both of them. I think having it reinforced by them will be helpful.

I hope.

Hello There!

Well hello everyone! (or at least to the maybe 3 people who actually read my blog :D ) So it's been awhile since I last posted, 20 days or so, and at the time of my last post I was still dealing with some depression. Well, I'm happy to say that it seems as though the depression has lifted - I'm doing mostly okay. Which is nice. One thing I've noticed that's annoying is that I can still have bipolar symptoms even when I'm not in a mood episode. And these can be pressing symptoms, strong symptoms. It's very frustrating to be having a good day and then suddenly BOOM I'm thinking about killing myself and feeling worthless. But I get through it. I'm just struggling to accept it.

I've been doing a couple of new things, new things that I think are helping me. One, I'm exercising consistently. Like, daily. Even days I work my 12 hour shifts I'm still getting something in. It's given me a more positive outlook. Two, I'm looking  for God. Now, this might not seem like such a big deal until you realize that I'm not religious or spiritual at all. God has never been a part of my life. Well, I'm actively seeking Him out. Two of my coworkers each gave me a book: The Message from one (the New Testament written in every day language) and Darkness is My Only Companion from the other (a book specifically about finding God in the midst of bipolar disorder). I read a little from The Message every night before bed. I nearly finished Darkness in one day (it's really good).

Anyway, I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving. I was at work taking care of patients and hanging with some awesome coworkers.

Mad World . . .

. . . and I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had . . .

When you have bipolar disorder, and you're stable, you can be going along just fine, everything going well, and then out of the blue for no reason what-so-ever BOOM you're depressed again. Maybe the feeling goes away in a couple hours, or a couple of days . . . or maybe it hangs out for a few weeks. Who knows. But then you're stable again and everything is right as rain. And then maybe the same thing happens with mania. And again, maybe it only lasts a few hours, or a few days, or maybe it's a bitch and hangs out for a few weeks. The thing to remember is that bipolar disorder is unpredictable and a mood change can happen at any time for any reason, regardless of how stable you think you are.

This is something I seem to be forgetting. Forgetting and not accepting. See, I've been in a funk the past few weeks. Fuck it, lets call it what it is: I've been mildly depressed for the past few weeks. I had been stable - what I've been calling "normal" (yes, with the quotes) - for almost 3 months before this hit. It started subtle enough, some lack of motivation, feelings of emptiness, feeling down. And then it progressed. I became more withdrawn, more quick to anger, and my motivation completely left me. Fast forward to me today: feelings of depression, emptiness, worthlessness, sadness, hopelessness. Anger and annoyance escalating to rage with little to no provocation. No motivation, ridiculously withdrawn, and stupidly exhausted. I want to sleep to escape. I want to cut and I have. And I've had generalized suicidal thoughts (nothing serious and nothing specific).

I guess I should point something out - something important. I'm nowhere near as depressed as I was before this period of stability. I'm not. And I thank my lucky stars for that because I don't know if I could survive depression that deep again. No, this is more mild. I can get through my day. I can talk with people, joke with people even. I can still muster up a genuine smile. The thing is, everything is work. I have to force it.  At work, I don't want to talk to people. I don't want to take part in conversations. I want to hide away and be ignored. But I talk to people. I engage myself, I don't let myself hide. And it's so hard. It's tiring. But I do it.

See, I'm doing everything I've learned through CBT and DBT. I'm interacting, I'm writing, I'm drawing and painting (even though I mostly don't want to), I'm working out, I'm trying to eat healthy, I'm still doing things (even small things like jumping in a leaf pile because that's always fun). I'm doing everything I can to try and keep this depression from getting worse. I'm doing everything I can to try and end this depression. And to say I'm frustrated is an understatement. I'll be honest: I'm tired of dealing with bipolar disorder. I know I have to for the rest of my life and that's a bunch of bullshit.

Day 17

I'm trying to figure out this stability stuff and I'm kind of struggling with that. I think I'm struggling because I'm having depressive symptoms. I had a couple of days last week where I was in full blown bipolar rage. Just. So. Angry. It was bad.

And now, well, the last couple of days, today included, I've been having suicidal thoughts. I've wanted to cut. And while I didn't necessarily feel depressed, I feel melancholy and withdrawn and distant.

I know that stability and recovery are a process. An ever going process that I'll always have to work at. Let's be honest - I say I know this, but I often forget it. I have to remember that I have bipolar disorder. I can be stable and doing well and then wake up to full blown depression or mania for no reason. I can't forget that.

I'm starting to think though that this melancholy is my "normal". This is just how I am. And it's better than I was when I was depressed. I should be thankful. I was just hoping there'd be something more. I don't like that I'm still questioning the purpose and meaning of life to the extent of having suicidal thoughts. And I'm not doing this shit on purpose. I try my best to counter or stop these thoughts.

I don't know. This is just frustrating.

Day 12

Weird that today is titled "day 12" when other days were higher up, yeah? Well, a lot of shit has happened since my last post. Like, I actually AM stable. Today is day 12 of being stable. And what does being stable look like for me?

I feel "normal", I guess. I don't really feel happy or sad, I just . . . am. It's kind of blah. Meh. No extreme moods, no hating myself, no wanting to die, no depression, no despair. So that's nice.

It feels very strange though. Everything I'm used to is gone. I almost don't know how to act or interact anymore. I feel awkward and small. I feel like I've lost part of myself. I feel like people don't trust me. I'm insignificant and pretty worthless at times. At least, I still feel that way.

I also feel like I'm walking on a tightrope. One misstep and I'll plummet into the abyss. Back into depression. Back where I was. I don't want to look down, I don't want to look back, I don't want to fall.

Today I felt myself waiver. I felt my foot slip just a little. How? My mood. I'm filled with impatient rage today (the type that is characteristic both in my depression and hypomania - not in feeling normal). I've felt like screaming and crying and throwing and breaking things. I don't really know how I've stopped myself (I have better self control than I give myself credit for I guess). I just want to go to bed. I want this day to be over. I'm just . . . I'm done. No more. And it's only 3pm.

I'd like to start writing more regularly, I just find it hard. Mainly thanks to ECT messing with my brain and making it difficult to form sentences. But maybe the more I do it, the easier it will get. Who knows. Maybe I'll shoot for once a week. Goals, people.

Limbo

I'm stuck in this shitty kind of limbo. Not the fun kind of limbo where you're trying to get under a stick that's being lowered. . . No, a shitty, what-the-fuck-am-I-feeling kind of limbo.

Have I mentioned my meds were changed? Well, they were. My Prestiq was doubled 2 weeks ago. And some of my depressive symptoms have lessened a little bit. Fuck yeah!! Right? Right? Well, I don't know. I've been irritable. Okay, whatever. Increased anxiety. So? Yesterday I worked and I was hypomanic. Loud, inappropriate, racing thoughts, anxiety, distractibility, anger . . . while at work (remember I'm a nurse). It was not fun. Well, parts were fun because I was hypomanic. But mostly it was exhausting.

Today I don't know what I am. Anxious, racing thoughts . . . check. Feeling like I'm going to break down sobbing? Check. Self destructive behaviors? Check. Distractibility? Irritability? Check. Hallucinations? You bet! I've already cut. I want to cut more. But, more than that, I want to take pills. Like, my whole bottle of Benadryl (I have a 500 count bottle). Not because I'm suicidal - oh no - but because I want to see what will happen. I know what taking 15 does, lets take 50. How deep can I cut? What if I stabbed myself?

I mean seriously what the fuck??? I don't like how I feel and I don't like how I'm thinking. Fuck this shit.

Maybe I've Changed . . .

Yesterday while I was at work my hubby transferred all of our pictures and music from our old laptops to the new one and backed it all up. A very time consuming task. So after I got home we spent some time looking through our pictures.

Pictures from when we first started dating, game nights with friends, our wedding, baby shower, our son (who is now 9) as a baby, his first Christmas and birthday . . . you get the idea.

And I noticed something - I look happy. Genuinely, sincerely, happy. I look like who I remember. I can literally see my personality shining through. There was depression back then, sure, but it was mild and short lived (it was awful before I met hubby). And yes, there was hypomania too, but it was also mild and short lived. The main thing that I could see is that I was happy.

It's funny that we should be looking at these pictures because this is something I've been thinking a lot about recently - will I ever be happy again? Will I ever be carefree and quick to smile, quick to laugh? Will I ever be me?

The answer, that most of me believes, is no. No I won't. Definitely not how I used to be. And maybe not even a fraction . . .

What a way to think. What a way to feel. And why? Why do I feel this way? This is what I've been thinking about. This is what's been plaguing me. See, I think that I've changed. That I've fundamentally changed over the last 4 to 5 years. I'm not the person I used to be, and I'll never be her again. Over the last 4 years I've been dealing with rapid cycling bipolar disorder that's resulted in extreme mood swings, crippling depression, 3 overdoses, frequent cutting, and 4 hospitalizations. Not to mention near constant suicidal ideation.

I take my meds, go to therapy, have ECT biweekly, do all of the DBT and CBT things that I should, read daily affirmations . . . I still work, I volunteer, I workout, I don't let myself withdraw and isolate . . . and yet, yet I continue to struggle. I'm not me. I'm not who I remember.

So what do I do? Mourn the loss of my old self? Mourning the loss of her means accepting who I am now. And I thought I had done that. But maybe not. I don't know. Because I see who I am now as someone who doesn't know happiness anymore and I don't really want to accept that. So what the fuck do I do?

What. The fuck. Do I do?

I Always Have to Watch my Moods

It's morning and as I'm lying in bed I notice something: I don't want to get out of bed. I can't be awake right now, it's too much.

Why? Why is it too much? Are you just tired and feeling a little lazy? Or is it something else? Something . . . more . . . ?

I procrastinate, hit the snooze, think of excuses to stay in bed longer. But the truth is I need to get up. I have to get ready for work. So I do, slowly, feeling the weight of this oppressive cloud hanging over me. Surly it will lift . . .

I'm brewing coffee before I leave and manage to spill the creamer. Anger wells up inside of me and I feel like throwing the bottle of creamer across the kitchen and screaming.

This can't be normal anger can it? Is this anger proportional to what just happened or am I overreacting? Why the fuck am I so mad?

I'm at work and I'm charting, that oppressive cloud is still there and I'm feeling overwhelmed. Almost like I'm going to cry. Like things aren't worth it.

Stop it! You've been busy, had difficult patients, and are a little behind. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. Yes, but like I'm going to cry? Like things, life, isn't worth it? Is that normal?

I question my feelings and thoughts countless times a day. Hundreds of times probably. I question whether something I'm feeling or experiencing is "normal" or a result of my bipolar disorder. It is, quite frankly, exhausting. I've been told by my therapist, psychiatrist, husband, and friends not to do this. That it's a waste of my time and energy. However, I think this is one thing that helps keep me safe. Because, see, I can go into a mood episode at any moment for no reason at all. That's right. I don't need a real trigger or precipitating event. No, I can start feeling shitty out of the blue.

Now, having a trigger is more common - don't get me wrong - but my triggers can be pretty small. Like, not enough sleep. Or having my plans change. Seeing a random picture or image (an image of self harm, or a bunny in a certain pose, or a flower, or, or, or . . .), thinking someone is mad at me, getting angry over something (whether real or imagined), or countless other things. My triggers for mania tend to make less sense and sometimes involve a crowd (giving me a chance to grand stand).

The only thing I have going for me right now is that my mood episodes are relatively short lived. See, I'm kind of considered stable right now (crazy, I know). My mood episodes are lasting anywhere from 1 to 6 days (or so it seems), and are mostly depression (hypomania is lasting only for a few hours when it - rarely - shows up).

But that's the thing. The thing that actually really fucking frustrates me. The fact that I'm fucking stable and still having to struggle so much. Because the last 2 weeks? Mostly depressive mood episodes with a day here or there of feeling okay. And that really. Fucking. Sucks. To be doing okay one day and then wake up the next day feeling suicidal. And I have no control over it. It just fucking happens.

I'm having a much harder time with the depression right now. A much harder time warding off the negative thoughts, distorted thinking. I start to believe the lies my brain is telling me, despite my hubby and friend's best efforts of telling me otherwise. I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel - only darkness.

Whatever. This is my own personal hell of bipolar disorder. My own unique manifestation of the illness. I guess all I can hope for is that it doesn't get worse again.