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 6/4/20 Therapy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday 5/19/20 Um, yeah

It's been almost a week since my last post and I'm glad to say I'm not doing as bad as I was then. I was in a very bad state last Wednesday. I mean, I begged my hubby to get me a box cutter so I could cut myself (he said no, of course). But I was scary bad.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not doing great. I'm still feeling empty and down and numb and hopeless and pointless. I'm back to being almost emotionless. I start to feel like I'm going to cry and there's nothing behind it - no emotion - so I can't. I can't cry now because there's nothing there. I smile and laugh and joke but there's nothing there. It's all faked. The only true emotion I'm feeling is anger. That emotion isn't faked. It's there, burning hot. Anger over little things, big things, no things . . . It's the only thing I can genuinely feel.

And I hate it.

I hate only feeling anger. I look at my hubby and son and I should feel warmth and love and contentment. I feel nothing. I love them more than life itself and I feel nothing. You have no idea how much this sucks. How much it hurts. How much it fuels my anger. I don't need more help fueling my anger.

*exasperated sigh*

I had TMS again yesterday, making that two times this month. I'm praying so hard that it helps. I need it to help. Because I can't keep doing what I'm doing. It's no way to live. Honestly, I'm not living - I'm surviving. Living day to day because more than a single day is too much to bear, looking for little shreds of hope to hold onto to get me by.

I don't want to continue to do this.

Wednesday 4/29/20

I tried this morning. I really did. I got up early, had breakfast and coffee, got ready . . . I even put on makeup and real clothes (as opposed to just gym attire). I went downstairs to my happy place (my studio) to draw and paint. I was even able to get 2 sketches done before lunch and ink one of them after lunch. I did a load of laundry and put it away.

I tried.

So why then am I feeling so crappy? Why am I still so empty and depressed, feeling close to tears almost constantly? Why?

The obvious answer, of course, is that I'm bipolar and I'm in a depressive episode. There's no doubt about that.

I guess I was just hoping some positive self care would tip me over into the feeling good category.

But I guess I'm not so lucky.



In other news, I work tomorrow and I'm worried about it. I was supposed to work yesterday and I was called off - for which I'm thankful of. I've been feeling even worse at work. Having a hard time coping and wanting to cut. I've been withdrawing at work and I think people are starting to notice. All I want to do is hide. Sleep. Cut. Three things I can't do at work.

I'll be fine though. I'm tough.

I don't see my therapist for 2 weeks. Two weeks! That seems so long. So far away. I'll make it though, and have some artwork to show him. 

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. 

Friday 2/7/2020

Hey there, I'm back. It's been a bit. It's cold and snowy here in Colorado. In fact, it's snowing right now. An unofficial snow day (my son stayed home from school - we're both sick). Well, let's get to it.

I went back to work this week after having 3.5 weeks off for my surgery. I worked Monday and yesterday. Monday was hell - we delivered 9 babies. Not the welcome back I was hoping for (I was hoping for a nice leisurely day *laughs*). I was exhausted and cranky by the end of the day. Thursday I floated to NICU, which I hate doing. I don't work in the NICU because I don't like it, so why would I want to float there?? Second day back and I can't even work on my own unit. I was, again, rather cranky.

Why am I telling you this? Well, because work has become an increasingly larger and larger problem for me. See, I'm burnt out. I was incredibly burnt out before my surgery. I thought having 3 and a half weeks off would help the situation. I thought I would go back refreshed.

That's not what happened.

I went back to work bitter and angry and tired. I went back to work and learned there were more changes made that are out of my control. I went back to work and I struggled. I struggled to keep my head above water. I struggled to keep up. I struggled to care. I'm a nurse - I'm supposed to care. I didn't.

I don't know what to make of this, honestly. I feel like I need to get away. From everything. From adulting. Maybe that would help. Maybe I need a change. I don't know. I just know I'm not happy.

My black cloud is my ever close companion right now. I'm not enveloped - my cloud is on the sidelines, inching closer every day. I still feel the effects though. I thought, maybe this is why I'm hating my job. Maybe this is why I feel overwhelmed. But alas, I was feeling these things before my black cloud came back. The cloud certainly makes it worse, but it's not the cause.

I don't know what to do. I don't know who to talk to. Hubby? Obviously. Therapist? Of course. But who else? I work with my 2 closest friends (can't talk to other coworkers because of gossip). I can talk to my 2 friends but I don't think they'll get the depth of what I'm feeling. I'm not even sure I do.

I feel incredibly lost.


  

Tuesday 11/12/19

So let's be honest here: I'm kinda struggling. Not big time struggling. Not relapsing into depression (God I hope not). But struggling just the same. I'm tired. I'm more down. I'm not enjoying things. I have no motivation. For anything. I don't feel like me.

Part of the problem is work. I feel so burnt out. I'm not enjoying my job right now (to remind y'all, I'm a nurse and I help deliver babies). But yeah, I'm burnt out. We've had so many changes over the past few months that it's pretty overwhelming. I feel like I'm drowning in the change and I can't keep up. And we've been so. Damn. Busy. That in itself is exhausting. And it just sucks not enjoying your job, a job I used to love.

Another problem is my damn brain. It's like it developed muscle memory for being depressed and now I'm falling into the unhealthy cycle of  depressive thinking. Negative thoughts abound, most of them not even conscious. Sleeping too much (I didn't get up until noon today), physically feeling worn and tired all the time (though I guess this could also be the fibromyalgia), anger, bitterness, and an overall negative outlook. Seriously brain, what the fuck? Why can't you get trapped in positive thinking? (I know the answer to that of course - I've been depressed my whole life - it's all my brain knows. Even with being bipolar, hypomania episodes are few and far between and short lived. My brain knows depression. Period.)

I hate feeling like this. It makes me worry that I'm going to fall back into depression, something I desperately don't want.  Hubby reminded me that feeling burnt out is normal from time to time, that everyone feels that way at some point. Strangely, I didn't find that particularly comforting. Probably my depressive brain talking.

Stupid brain.

I need a vacation.

Tuesday 10/22/19

The past 4 days have been pretty, um, annoying. My mood is not where it should be. I'll elaborate on that . . .

Last Friday I had a horrible day beating myself up because of my weight. So much so that I was in tears. I happened to glance in the mirror and really get a good look at how big I've gotten (I weigh in at 235 pounds, people), and I lost it. Every negative thought I've ever had came flooding back, making me feel worthless and useless. I did everything I could to counter these thoughts but in the end they won out.

Saturday I worked, primary nursery, meaning I would be doing all the deliveries myself. And it was busy (I did 6 deliveries - one a set of twins). I was bitter and angry and overwhelmed and tired and in pain and my mood was sinking fast. I tried desperately to keep my head above water, to tread faster and harder than I ever have. But the fact that I had to work so hard only made me more bitter and angry. I came home from work exhausted and utterly defeated (though I tried not to show it).

Sunday I worked, primary nursery again. And again it was busy and I did 5 deliveries by myself. I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't as bad as I was on Saturday, but I definitely wasn't myself. I was not quick to smile or laugh. I tended to shy away from conversation. I still felt angry and overwhelmed. When I got home, hubs said that on Monday I should do nothing. Just relax.

And that's what I did.

On Monday I didn't get out of bed until 12:30pm. And I only got up because I had therapy at 2. It felt good to do nothing. It felt restorative. But I also felt guilty. Guilty because I had accomplished nothing. I took those feelings and went to therapy and vomited up everything that I had gone through and felt over the last 3 days. My therapist, M, said that I did good to stay in bed and that I might need another day of doing nothing. Which helped to relieve my feelings of guilt. He also reassured me that what I was feeling was normal and not a bipolar backslide (I had been worrying that all of this was going to lead to a depressive episode).

Today I'm feeling a bit better. I slept in a little, did the dishes, went to the post office, and did some reading. I'm more calm, less bitter, less angry.

I still need to lose some fucking weight though. 

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.

12/27/18

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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. 

10/5/18

It's 10:52am. I'm sitting on my couch staring at the screen trying to come up with something to write. See, If I write what I'm feeling, this post will be pretty damn negative. But I can't come up with anything positive to write. I'm kind of stuck.

I've been pretty crappy since my last post. I've worked twice and had to convince everyone that I was fine. I've been overwhelmed, I've cried . . . the usual depression stuff. I can officially say that I'm depressed. There's no more pussy footing around it. I'm depressed. I'm so depressed that I don't really have an appetite so I haven't really been eating much. Which has caused me to lose 3 pounds in the last week.

Yay! Weight loss!

I'd much rather not be depressed.

I've had the support of my husband, my friends, and my coworkers. They've all been great. It's just that I can't seem to pull myself out of this slump. I'm trying to stay positive and not catastrophize and counter all of my negative thoughts . . . but it's not helping. I'm still depressed. I still want to curl up in a ball and not exist. I think about killing myself every day - these are the hardest thoughts to counter. They're so strong and so insistent. And I don't know what else to do. I guess just plow through, head down and stubborn. It's all I can do.






I hate this so much.

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.

6/27/18

This is going to be a bunch of rambling, I apologize for that.

I was supposed to work yesterday, post partum. Monday night when I went to bed I was praying to be put on delayed start as I wasn't sure I'd be able to work. Tuesday morning came and my alarm went off. I hit the snooze but laid awake dreading getting up. I was already feeling bad. But my phone chimed with a text message from the night charge - I was being put on delayed start until 10am. I nearly cried. I went back to bed until 7:30, got up and showered, went downstairs to get break fast and coffee.

At 9:15 I called in to see if I would be needed or redelayed. I got news I didn't want to hear. I was going into work at 11. My heart sank. I wasn't sure I could handle it. Well, no choice now, I'm going into work. I went downstairs to finish a painting I had started Monday and actually finished it. Got ready and left for work.

I felt like crap. Depressed and anxious. I honestly wasn't sure I'd be able to keep up the facade of being okay. I got my assignment, a new c-section and a new vaginal delivery, made sure my rooms were set up, and got report. And it was fine. Everything was fine.

Except that it wasn't.

I felt like I was interacting okay but I wasn't feeling anything. There was nothing there except emptiness. There was just . . . nothing. I felt flat and emotionless. I didn't care. Not about my patients and not about my coworkers. I tried. I tried.

Here's the thing. I tried interacting, and I think I was mostly convincing, but I didn't try too hard.

Wait, what?

Yeah. I didn't try too hard. See, I've been told that I try too hard and in my quest for perfection I end up making things worse. I end up spoiling my mood. Because I'm not going to be perfect. No one is. But I expect myself to be and then when I'm not I make things worse.

So, I tried, but not too hard, and I was mostly convincing although all I felt was empty and flat and withdrawn and depressed and horrible. There were even times I went into the break room and curled up in a ball on the couch because I just couldn't handle how I was feeling. I wanted to curl up in a ball and not exist. But I settled for the couch. Luckily no one walked in on me.

I wanted to cut so bad but I didn't. I'm both proud of myself for that but also upset with myself. Part of me feels I should have just cut and part of me knows that's not an effective coping mechanism. So I'm torn.

 I have therapy today for which I'm thankful because I really fucking need it. I feel like an hour isn't going to be enough time.

Anyway, I really don't know what to do anymore. I can't keep going on like this. I'm not that strong. This damn cloud won't leave me. And I don't. Know what. To do.

6/18/18

Do you know how difficult it is to do cardio when you can't stop crying? I found out this morning. On my spin bike. I could only do 10 minutes because I was sobbing and I couldn't stop. The ugly cry but silent because my son was just upstairs and I didn't want him to see me, I didn't want him to know.

I meant to get up early this morning. I even had my alarm set. But I didn't. No, I laid in bed for an hour contemplating everything and nothing. Everything just seems so pointless. So I laid in bed. After that hour I finally got up, mainly because I had to use the bathroom. But I figured, well, I'm up, I might as well have breakfast and coffee.

So I did.

And I perused Instagram and Facebook. And I realized I wasn't feeling all that good. I realized today might be tough. I realized that despite my best efforts I wasn't going to make it to the gym this afternoon. I realized that if I was going to get my workout in I'd have to do it at home.

I psyched myself up, went downstairs, and got on the spin bike. The first 5 minutes were actually okay. See? You can do this! You got this!

Except . . . except the tears started falling. I wiped them away and pushed on. I'm working out dammit, we're not doing this.

My brain is an asshole though. It didn't listen. Instead it brought on the darkness. It bombarded me with an endless stream of negative thoughts. It caught me off guard and I was powerless against it.

So I cried. I sobbed. I fogged up my fucking glasses. I made my way to the bathroom to blow my nose and I tried countering the negative thoughts with good ones. Positive ones. Happy ones. Clancy, my brain, doesn't give up easily though. I sat down on the floor and stared at my hands for 20 minutes trying to gain control.

Finally . . . slowly . . . I was able to gain control. But the darkness was still there. That heavy, depressive feeling was still enveloping me.

And it has been all day.

Today is a tough one. 

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. 

2/2/18

Well it's February. Groundhog's day, actually. Makes me think about the movie with Bill Murray where it's always February 2nd. It was a good flick.

Anyway, the past couple of days I can say I haven't been overtly depressed. That's good, right? Sadly though I've been pretty flat and withdrawn. I have to fake my emotions so people don't look at me weird. Because I'm supposed to have emotions. And right now I really don't. Every once and awhile I'll have a true emotion shine through but it's getting pretty few and far between.

Yesterday at work I was close to tears for so much of the day it was ridiculous. I felt overwhelmed. Like I just couldn't handle it. And I'm still having trouble sleeping. Night before last I only got around 3 hours (possibly less). Last night I slept a little better, thank God, but I still didn't sleep good. My mind won't stop racing.

I still have no motivation. For anything. I just want to stay in bed. Hide away. I'm seeing no point to living. I mean, I have my hubby and my son, and if it wasn't for them, well . . .

I hate feeling like this. I want it to stop. I just can't. Please.

1/23/18

Things have been weird lately. All around strange and I don't really know what to make of it. See, I've been stable now for 78 days. Can you believe that?? Seventy eight days with no depression or mania. My mood has been even. Normal. I've been normal.

And I don't know what to do with myself.

No really. I don't really know how to be normal anymore. I've been depressed or rapid cycling for so long that normalcy is foreign to me. Yes, even though it's almost been 3 full months.

I feel lost. I feel awkward. I feel like I'm learning how to interact with people all over again. And this is difficult because I'm still withdrawn. I'm trying not to be. I'm trying to put myself out there, chat with coworkers, ask questions, actively listen . . . but I still find myself being withdrawn, stumbling over my words, and feeling like a buffoon.

Large gatherings of people (more than, say,  4-5) make me uncomfortable and make me withdraw more. I feel like curling up in a ball and disappearing. It's hard for me to open up and interact in situations like this.

New situations confuse, frighten, and overwhelm me. I have the opportunity to go to a conference for free - I just have to volunteer some of my time. The thought of volunteering terrifies me. So much so that I'm not going.

I feel that through the course of my illness I've fundamentally changed. I'm not who I used to be. And I hate that.

And even though I'm stable there are still some, I don't know what to call them, bad things happening? I still hallucinate every day. Sometimes a lot, sometimes a little, but always every day. I'm still having suicidal thoughts most days that I have to fight and counter. I still want to cut and I have.

But who knows. Maybe this is just how I am now when I'm stable. A withdrawn, frightened, overwhelmed girl who hallucinates, cuts, and contemplates her own death.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure this is who I want to be. But I'm not really sure how to change. it. 

12/10/17

I woke up this morning feeling down. Legit down. Definitely not myself. I sat drinking my coffee near tears. What the fuck is up with this?

Yesterday at work I had suicidal thoughts. Thoughts about the pointlessness of life. About how I'm just going to get depressed again. And again. I'll never escape it. So why bother? I thought about how. I pictured it so vividly. And then I stopped myself and tried to correct my thinking, tried to purge those horrible thoughts . . .

But they stuck around.

I ignored them. And then when I got off work I told hubby about them. I probably scared him because I'm supposed to be better. I've been better for a month - I'm not supposed to have these thoughts anymore.

And then I wake up this morning feeling down, feeling near tears, for absolutely no reason. And those thoughts? Yeah, they're still there. I'm doing my best to ignore them, to not acknowledge them, and to counter them when they break through.

I want to cut. That flash of pain and blood stop the thoughts. I have nothing here to cut with. That's on purpose of course, but right now it's making me angry.

Oh well. I exercised, I'm listening to music, I'm trying to distract myself. I'll get through this - I've gotten through much worse.

7/5/17

I get my best thoughts/ideas in the shower. Does this happen to anyone else? But then I sit down to write them and *poof* they're gone. Which is frustrating to say the least.

I've still been feeling off. Still been feeling empty and flat and withdrawn and fake and exhausted and done with everything. Only it seems to be getting more pronounced. More . . . pressing. See, I feel like this husk of a person. On the outside I look normal, functional, whole. But on the inside there's nothing there. The bits and pieces that are supposed to make you human are missing. I don't really feel anything, except for anger. Something that should make me happy leaves me sitting there feeling nothing and empty with a painted on smile so I don't alert anyone to what's really going on.

But I'm not depressed.

That's the thing. I don't feel like how I do when I'm depressed. No. I'm stuck in this no man's land of nothingness where I can't feel real emotions. (except for anger - I can feel anger like nobody's business).

I don't know what to do with this. Hubs says I get like this sometimes and it passes. My psychiatrist says it's part of being bipolar and hopefully I'll come out of it. But it's been awhile y'all. Five or 6 weeks. And it's not getting better, it's getting worse.

All I want is to have a normal range of emotions! Is that too much to ask for?! (I mean apparently it is because I can't seem to get there).

I don't like feeling like this. It's like I'm missing out on my own life. I'm a bystander. I'm on the sidelines, watching everything pass me by. This is no way to live.