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.
Showing posts with label suicidal ideation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicidal ideation. Show all posts
Thursday, June 4, 2020
Monday, May 11, 2020
Monday 5/11/20 Therapy and a Better Outlook
Well hello there. It's Monday and I've just gotten home from therapy. Therapy was a little weird today. Why? Because I'm feeling a little better. Here, let's not get ahead of myself. Lets backup a few days.
Last week was bad. I was having all kinds of anxiety about work and random other things. I was feeling extremely depressed. So depressed in fact that I told my hubby that while I wasn't actively suicidal, I wouldn't mind if I ceased to exist. He made me call the TMS center and schedule a maintenance treatment. Which I did. I had my first treatment last Friday and I have another on the 18th.
Something must have clicked with that TMS treatment. Something in my brain turned on or turned off or started working because on Saturday I felt okay. Not great, but okay. Okay enough that I stood in line at Lowe's for an hour to buy plants and I didn't break down. I didn't get anxious. I didn't get mad. And then, even though I was tired, I helped hubby plant all the plants we bought and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. That's huge.
And then Sunday, yesterday, I worked. And my day was okay. It was fine. I did three deliveries (two of them were c-sections, which I really dislike doing). And here's the thing: I was okay. I rolled with it. I didn't get upset or anxious or angry or annoyed. I did my job, I joked with the parents, I was able to converse with my coworkers. And that was amazing.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel. I can see it now, and it's growing brighter.
Now circle back to therapy being weird. It was weird because it was like M and I were just shooting the shit. We talked about work and my anxiety and my mom and why I wanted to become a nurse. All pertinent stuff. But the conversation flowed instead of being stifled by my depression. The hour went by quickly. And we're going to go three weeks before my next appointment, trying to space them out again.
So I'd say things are looking up. :)
Last week was bad. I was having all kinds of anxiety about work and random other things. I was feeling extremely depressed. So depressed in fact that I told my hubby that while I wasn't actively suicidal, I wouldn't mind if I ceased to exist. He made me call the TMS center and schedule a maintenance treatment. Which I did. I had my first treatment last Friday and I have another on the 18th.
Something must have clicked with that TMS treatment. Something in my brain turned on or turned off or started working because on Saturday I felt okay. Not great, but okay. Okay enough that I stood in line at Lowe's for an hour to buy plants and I didn't break down. I didn't get anxious. I didn't get mad. And then, even though I was tired, I helped hubby plant all the plants we bought and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. That's huge.
And then Sunday, yesterday, I worked. And my day was okay. It was fine. I did three deliveries (two of them were c-sections, which I really dislike doing). And here's the thing: I was okay. I rolled with it. I didn't get upset or anxious or angry or annoyed. I did my job, I joked with the parents, I was able to converse with my coworkers. And that was amazing.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel. I can see it now, and it's growing brighter.
Now circle back to therapy being weird. It was weird because it was like M and I were just shooting the shit. We talked about work and my anxiety and my mom and why I wanted to become a nurse. All pertinent stuff. But the conversation flowed instead of being stifled by my depression. The hour went by quickly. And we're going to go three weeks before my next appointment, trying to space them out again.
So I'd say things are looking up. :)
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
Wednesday 4/15/20
Would you look at that - it hasn't been a week yet and I'm writing again. I'm having an overwhelming desire to write. But I don't know exactly what I'm going to write about. . .
I'm on the couch (as per usual), listening to both music on my phone and my son yelling at his friends through his headset. Delightful. Although wait - what's that? It seems he's being quiet for the time being.
For not feeling great I've gotten some things accomplished the past few days. Monday I did a sketchy type personal drawing of a woman crying; yesterday I painted five bookmarks - cute ones - and sold two of them; today I cleaned the kitchen, did laundry, and went to the post office. Stuff I got done that I honestly didn't think I'd accomplish. I'm proud of myself for that.
Especially because I seem to be frozen.
Frozen from doing things. For example, after I showered yesterday (a feat in itself), I had to lay down for an hour before I could go downstairs to my studio to paint. It was too overwhelming. I just couldn't do it. Ultimately I was able to get myself up and down there, but it was truly difficult.
I'm starting to feel as though things are pointless. Nothing really matters. It's all stupid. This is very bad thinking for me and is usually the first step to suicidal thoughts. I've been very active in countering this thinking with positive thoughts. But that's hard to do and it's surprisingly tiresome. You wouldn't think so, but it can be exhausting countering negative thoughts.
I'm trying to come up with things to do. Like making mother's day cards for my mom and mother-in-law. I know they would appreciate them which makes them not pointless, right? See, self? Things aren't as pointless as you think.
I'm hoping things like that will help. Painting and drawing - having a creative outlet - usually seems to help. What sucks is that I haven't had the motivation to do this. It's hard to even get out of bed and perform the basics of hygiene let alone be creative and act on it.
I'll get there at some point I suppose.
I'm on the couch (as per usual), listening to both music on my phone and my son yelling at his friends through his headset. Delightful. Although wait - what's that? It seems he's being quiet for the time being.
For not feeling great I've gotten some things accomplished the past few days. Monday I did a sketchy type personal drawing of a woman crying; yesterday I painted five bookmarks - cute ones - and sold two of them; today I cleaned the kitchen, did laundry, and went to the post office. Stuff I got done that I honestly didn't think I'd accomplish. I'm proud of myself for that.
Especially because I seem to be frozen.
Frozen from doing things. For example, after I showered yesterday (a feat in itself), I had to lay down for an hour before I could go downstairs to my studio to paint. It was too overwhelming. I just couldn't do it. Ultimately I was able to get myself up and down there, but it was truly difficult.
I'm starting to feel as though things are pointless. Nothing really matters. It's all stupid. This is very bad thinking for me and is usually the first step to suicidal thoughts. I've been very active in countering this thinking with positive thoughts. But that's hard to do and it's surprisingly tiresome. You wouldn't think so, but it can be exhausting countering negative thoughts.
I'm trying to come up with things to do. Like making mother's day cards for my mom and mother-in-law. I know they would appreciate them which makes them not pointless, right? See, self? Things aren't as pointless as you think.
I'm hoping things like that will help. Painting and drawing - having a creative outlet - usually seems to help. What sucks is that I haven't had the motivation to do this. It's hard to even get out of bed and perform the basics of hygiene let alone be creative and act on it.
I'll get there at some point I suppose.
Wednesday, September 4, 2019
Wednesday 9/4/19
I look over my shoulder and there it is: the black cloud. The same cloud that's followed me my whole life is back and it's getting closer. I try to run from it to no avail - the cloud easily keeps up. It's not raining - not yet - but the rain is inevitable. It always comes, no matter how little sun I've had.
This is how I'm feeling right now. I'm almost finished with my TMS treatment. I have 3 more regular sessions to go before I start my taper (3 weeks of 2 treatments per week). And then that's it. I'll be done. And I have to say I've done quite well with it. My depression scale scores have dropped dramatically, I've been feeling better, smiling, laughing, talking, interacting. That existential dread that I used to feel in the mornings is gone. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.
So what's the problem then?
It's that black cloud. It's back. It's not hovering over me quite yet, but it's there. I can feel it. That little tickle on the back of my neck . . . it's there. Little nuances I'm picking up on. Negative thinking, feeling empty, questioning my existence. That damn cloud is moving ever closer.
I'm working hard to keep it at bay. Countering my negative thoughts, filling my days with things I enjoy . . . I read a book called The Depression Cure by Stephen S Ilardi and I'm following his program to combat depression (I recommend reading the book - it's very interesting and makes a lot of sense). I'm keeping up with therapy and follow up appointments, going to my TMS classes, eating healthier and exercising more. What more can I do? No really - what more?
That black cloud keeps moving closer and the rain is inevitable. So why run? What good will it do? If the rain is going to come . . . well, it's going to come.
Perhaps this time I should learn to dance in it.
This is how I'm feeling right now. I'm almost finished with my TMS treatment. I have 3 more regular sessions to go before I start my taper (3 weeks of 2 treatments per week). And then that's it. I'll be done. And I have to say I've done quite well with it. My depression scale scores have dropped dramatically, I've been feeling better, smiling, laughing, talking, interacting. That existential dread that I used to feel in the mornings is gone. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.
So what's the problem then?
It's that black cloud. It's back. It's not hovering over me quite yet, but it's there. I can feel it. That little tickle on the back of my neck . . . it's there. Little nuances I'm picking up on. Negative thinking, feeling empty, questioning my existence. That damn cloud is moving ever closer.
I'm working hard to keep it at bay. Countering my negative thoughts, filling my days with things I enjoy . . . I read a book called The Depression Cure by Stephen S Ilardi and I'm following his program to combat depression (I recommend reading the book - it's very interesting and makes a lot of sense). I'm keeping up with therapy and follow up appointments, going to my TMS classes, eating healthier and exercising more. What more can I do? No really - what more?
That black cloud keeps moving closer and the rain is inevitable. So why run? What good will it do? If the rain is going to come . . . well, it's going to come.
Perhaps this time I should learn to dance in it.
Thursday, July 4, 2019
Thursday 7/4/19
It's the 4th of July. Whoopie. I'm sitting on the couch listening to music, waiting for hubby's mom and brother to come over. So why not blog, right?
I actually feel like writing though. I feel like I need to get stuff out. I'm just not sure I can do it in a manner that makes sense.
Lets start with TMS. I met with Dr. H again on Tuesday. Hubby came. Dr. H informed me that he had spoken to my psychiatrist (Dr. M) and Dr. M believes my appropriate diagnosis is bipolar disorder. Meaning he won't change my diagnosis to depression in order for me to be approved for TMS. I understand. That would be fraud. But it sucks. Because, as Dr. H informed us, there is a 99.9% chance that insurance will NOT approve me for TMS. Then starts the appeal process. Dr. H said that I would not be approved at the 2nd tier of the process, but there's a small chance I could be approved at the 3rd tier when my case would be sent to a independent reviewer. This would take around 6 months. Six. Fucking. Months. Apparently the FDA is working on possibly approving bipolar disorder for TMS which would mean that my insurance would have to cover me. But again, that's 6 months to a year out and it's not guaranteed.
You have no idea how horrible I felt, sitting there listening to this news. My heart dropped. I felt hopeless and helpless.
Dr. H then began to tell us about another option: paying for TMS out of pocket. I put my head down. I know we can't afford this. But hubby asked, "How much?" Are you ready? $400 per treatment and the standard is 36 treatments. That's $14,400. Tears welled up in my eyes. Now, granted, that's not as much as I thought it was going to cost, but it's still $14,400 we don't have.
"If you're paying out of pocket we cut the cost in half," Dr. H said. "And we can set up a payment plan." Hubby sounded interested and started asking questions. I zoned out, head spinning, knowing that my hopes had been ripped from my hands.
We left, me in tears, so much so that hubby said he would drive us home. He said we would figure it out. Figure what out? I'm going to be denied coverage and we can't afford to pay out of pocket. I felt like screaming. Hubby started talking about our money in savings, about trying to sell more of my paintings, of starting a GoFundMe. He has all these ideas about how we could make it work. How yes, we truly can afford to pay out of pocket. He told me yesterday that he wants me to call Dr. H on Monday to get everything set up for me starting treatment.
He wants me to start treatment.
Here's where we come to the second thing I want to talk about: how I don't feel as though I'm worthy of going through treatment. I don't think I should. I'm already a burden, a drain, and now I'm going to be a financial burden. Again. Me being a financial burden is why we lost our house 4.5 years ago. I don't want a repeat. I don't want our family to struggle because of me.
This is eating me up inside. I truly don't think I'm worth the money. I don't think I'm worth the time or effort. I'm not worth it. This is me thinking I'd be better off dead. That everyone would be better off with me dead. I don't know how to reconcile this thinking. If I go through treatment with this mindset I'm sure to fail. I'm trying to counter all my negativity with positive thoughts. I'm trying not to catastrophize. I'm trying to remember all the good in my life, but these thoughts persist. I don't know what to do. I don't know why I don't feel worthy. I don't know why I feel as though I'm rubbish. I don't know why and I don't know what to do about it.
I have therapy coming up on Monday and my therapist definitely has his work cut out for him. I need to get this all sorted out. I need help. I need help.
I actually feel like writing though. I feel like I need to get stuff out. I'm just not sure I can do it in a manner that makes sense.
Lets start with TMS. I met with Dr. H again on Tuesday. Hubby came. Dr. H informed me that he had spoken to my psychiatrist (Dr. M) and Dr. M believes my appropriate diagnosis is bipolar disorder. Meaning he won't change my diagnosis to depression in order for me to be approved for TMS. I understand. That would be fraud. But it sucks. Because, as Dr. H informed us, there is a 99.9% chance that insurance will NOT approve me for TMS. Then starts the appeal process. Dr. H said that I would not be approved at the 2nd tier of the process, but there's a small chance I could be approved at the 3rd tier when my case would be sent to a independent reviewer. This would take around 6 months. Six. Fucking. Months. Apparently the FDA is working on possibly approving bipolar disorder for TMS which would mean that my insurance would have to cover me. But again, that's 6 months to a year out and it's not guaranteed.
You have no idea how horrible I felt, sitting there listening to this news. My heart dropped. I felt hopeless and helpless.
Dr. H then began to tell us about another option: paying for TMS out of pocket. I put my head down. I know we can't afford this. But hubby asked, "How much?" Are you ready? $400 per treatment and the standard is 36 treatments. That's $14,400. Tears welled up in my eyes. Now, granted, that's not as much as I thought it was going to cost, but it's still $14,400 we don't have.
"If you're paying out of pocket we cut the cost in half," Dr. H said. "And we can set up a payment plan." Hubby sounded interested and started asking questions. I zoned out, head spinning, knowing that my hopes had been ripped from my hands.
We left, me in tears, so much so that hubby said he would drive us home. He said we would figure it out. Figure what out? I'm going to be denied coverage and we can't afford to pay out of pocket. I felt like screaming. Hubby started talking about our money in savings, about trying to sell more of my paintings, of starting a GoFundMe. He has all these ideas about how we could make it work. How yes, we truly can afford to pay out of pocket. He told me yesterday that he wants me to call Dr. H on Monday to get everything set up for me starting treatment.
He wants me to start treatment.
Here's where we come to the second thing I want to talk about: how I don't feel as though I'm worthy of going through treatment. I don't think I should. I'm already a burden, a drain, and now I'm going to be a financial burden. Again. Me being a financial burden is why we lost our house 4.5 years ago. I don't want a repeat. I don't want our family to struggle because of me.
This is eating me up inside. I truly don't think I'm worth the money. I don't think I'm worth the time or effort. I'm not worth it. This is me thinking I'd be better off dead. That everyone would be better off with me dead. I don't know how to reconcile this thinking. If I go through treatment with this mindset I'm sure to fail. I'm trying to counter all my negativity with positive thoughts. I'm trying not to catastrophize. I'm trying to remember all the good in my life, but these thoughts persist. I don't know what to do. I don't know why I don't feel worthy. I don't know why I feel as though I'm rubbish. I don't know why and I don't know what to do about it.
I have therapy coming up on Monday and my therapist definitely has his work cut out for him. I need to get this all sorted out. I need help. I need help.
Monday, June 17, 2019
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.
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.
Friday, June 7, 2019
6/7/19
It doesn't matter why. That's what I've decided. Did you read my last post? Maybe you should. See, I've been depressed since then (May 17th). And it doesn't really matter why. I don't think there's a reason anyway except my bipolar. No trigger, no cause. Just my brain being a bag of dicks.
I'm depressed. I'm empty. I'm hollow. I'm fake. I'm down, defeated, hopeless, and overwhelmed. I'm nothing.
All of the things and none of the things.
I feel I'm getting worse. Slowly but surely getting worse.
I went to the doctor on Wednesday (the 5th). On top of the depression I've been having dizzy/lightheaded spells and tremors in my hands and right leg. Fun right? Fucking laugh riot, let me tell ya. She truly believes that it is my lithium. That I'm having withdrawal symptoms (I'm subtherapeutic right now) and that I need to increase my dose. But to be safe I had an EKG, orthostatic blood pressures, a ton of blood work, and I get to wear a heart monitor for a month (no, not something like a FitBit - I have electrodes that attach to my chest and connect to a box with a button I push every time I have symptoms). And she wanted me to see my Pdoc ASAP. I already had an appointment with him on the 27th, but she wants me in sooner. Earliest I could get in is the 17th. That way we can discuss my depression and lithium.
I'm so tired right now. Not physically tired. Mentally. Emotionally tired. All I want to do is sleep to escape reality. See, sleep is like death but without the commitment. I don't have to deal with my feelings (or lack there of) while I'm asleep. And I've been sleeping more. Napping. Trying to stay in bed as late as I can in the mornings.
Withdrawing. I'm not interacting as much as I normally do. Some coworkers have noticed.
I'm trying. Fake it till ya make it, right? But it's getting hard anymore. It drains me so much. But still I try because what else am I going to do?
I'm depressed. I'm empty. I'm hollow. I'm fake. I'm down, defeated, hopeless, and overwhelmed. I'm nothing.
All of the things and none of the things.
I feel I'm getting worse. Slowly but surely getting worse.
I went to the doctor on Wednesday (the 5th). On top of the depression I've been having dizzy/lightheaded spells and tremors in my hands and right leg. Fun right? Fucking laugh riot, let me tell ya. She truly believes that it is my lithium. That I'm having withdrawal symptoms (I'm subtherapeutic right now) and that I need to increase my dose. But to be safe I had an EKG, orthostatic blood pressures, a ton of blood work, and I get to wear a heart monitor for a month (no, not something like a FitBit - I have electrodes that attach to my chest and connect to a box with a button I push every time I have symptoms). And she wanted me to see my Pdoc ASAP. I already had an appointment with him on the 27th, but she wants me in sooner. Earliest I could get in is the 17th. That way we can discuss my depression and lithium.
I'm so tired right now. Not physically tired. Mentally. Emotionally tired. All I want to do is sleep to escape reality. See, sleep is like death but without the commitment. I don't have to deal with my feelings (or lack there of) while I'm asleep. And I've been sleeping more. Napping. Trying to stay in bed as late as I can in the mornings.
Withdrawing. I'm not interacting as much as I normally do. Some coworkers have noticed.
I'm trying. Fake it till ya make it, right? But it's getting hard anymore. It drains me so much. But still I try because what else am I going to do?
Friday, May 17, 2019
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?
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?
Monday, February 25, 2019
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?
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?
Thursday, December 27, 2018
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.
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.
Friday, December 7, 2018
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.
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.
Friday, November 30, 2018
11/30/18
I can't believe tomorrow is December. It's come up so fast. Christmas and then New Year's . . . man. I'm hoping 2019 will see us as home owners again. There's a good chance it will. Even so, I'm trying not to get my hopes up. We'll just have to see where the cards fall.
Yesterday and today have been especially dark. And it's weird because I wouldn't necessarily call myself "depressed". I don't really have the stereotypical symptoms of depression. So what am I feeling?
A whole lot of nothing. I feel so empty. Numb. Flat. I constantly feel on the verge of crying but I can't because there's no emotion behind it. I'm indifferent to everything. I don't care. I hate feeling like this. It's just as bad, if not worse, than feeling depressed. I'm just this husk, this shell of a person. It's no way to be.
I've been pretending that I'm okay, that I'm doing better, because I think people are tired of me not doing well. My illness is hard on other people too - especially hubby and son. So I've been pretending and I think I've gotten pretty good at it again. My coworkers seem to think that I'm doing good. But if they just saw the vacant stare . . . or picked up on how quiet I am . . .
I have therapy next Wednesday. It's been 3 weeks and I'm looking forward to a session. I need one. Three weeks is the longest I've gone in awhile. But I've been managing. Pretending. Going about my life like I'm an actual, feeling adult.
I want this to stop. I want to actually feel. Even if it's bad feelings. At least that's something.
Yesterday and today have been especially dark. And it's weird because I wouldn't necessarily call myself "depressed". I don't really have the stereotypical symptoms of depression. So what am I feeling?
A whole lot of nothing. I feel so empty. Numb. Flat. I constantly feel on the verge of crying but I can't because there's no emotion behind it. I'm indifferent to everything. I don't care. I hate feeling like this. It's just as bad, if not worse, than feeling depressed. I'm just this husk, this shell of a person. It's no way to be.
I've been pretending that I'm okay, that I'm doing better, because I think people are tired of me not doing well. My illness is hard on other people too - especially hubby and son. So I've been pretending and I think I've gotten pretty good at it again. My coworkers seem to think that I'm doing good. But if they just saw the vacant stare . . . or picked up on how quiet I am . . .
I have therapy next Wednesday. It's been 3 weeks and I'm looking forward to a session. I need one. Three weeks is the longest I've gone in awhile. But I've been managing. Pretending. Going about my life like I'm an actual, feeling adult.
I want this to stop. I want to actually feel. Even if it's bad feelings. At least that's something.
Thursday, November 29, 2018
11/29/18
It's been awhile since I've written . . . 13 days or so. I have things I want to say and I can't seem to get them out. I can't seem to form a coherent thought. Which is so frustrating it's not even funny. So this is just a quick note to say that I'm still here, and I'm still struggling. I haven't been necessarily feeling outright depressed, but more empty. Empty is not fun. It's no place to be. I don't feel anything.
That's not entirely true. I feel anger and anxiety. Those two emotions are ever present.
I've gotten better again at faking happiness, so that people are none the wiser as to what's really going on. But it's hard not to feel. I don't like it.
That's not entirely true. I feel anger and anxiety. Those two emotions are ever present.
I've gotten better again at faking happiness, so that people are none the wiser as to what's really going on. But it's hard not to feel. I don't like it.
Tuesday, November 6, 2018
11/6/18
Would you look at that! I blogged yesterday and I'm blogging again today. It's not very often that that happens. I usually have at least a couple of days in between.
Anyway, hubby asked me something last night that I really didn't know how to answer. I actually, kind of, well, lied. Only kind of though. I didn't totally lie, I guess. Of course, kind of lying is probably the same as regular lying when you really think about it.
So. Yeah. Hubby asked me if I had any optimism towards the future. And I answered him yes, not all the time but sometimes. The truth? The truth is that I really don't have any optimism towards the future. Well, maybe there are rare instances where I do. That's why my answer was only kind of a lie.
Him asking me that got me thinking though. How do I really feel about the future. I thought about it all night. I've been thinking about it today. And my view of the future is just so damn negative. It's hard for me to see any good in the future. And the sad thing is that I have an amazing husband, a wonderful son, and awesome friends, all of whom love me and care deeply about me. But all I see is chaos, depression, and uncertainty in my future.
See, I get to worry about all of the "normal" things (work, bills, retirement, the house, etc), but my bipolar disorder blows everything out of proportion and I overthink it to the extreme. Then I have to worry about my bipolar disorder itself (will my meds keep working, am I going to get worse, how will my memory be, will I eventually kill myself). This is all very depressing and exhausting and one of the reasons I try not to even think about the future. I try to stay in the present moment, in the here and now. It helps me get through my worst days and it helps keep good days good.
But seriously though. How horrible is this to have such a dreary outlook on the future? And I try not to! I really do! I try so hard to counter my negative thoughts with positive ones (in every aspect of my life), but it just doesn't seem to stick. My positive thoughts aren't strong enough to overpower the negative. I think that's just how I'm built. I think negativity is ingrained in my personality, which makes everything so much harder.
So. There you go. My "kind of" lie.
Anyway, hubby asked me something last night that I really didn't know how to answer. I actually, kind of, well, lied. Only kind of though. I didn't totally lie, I guess. Of course, kind of lying is probably the same as regular lying when you really think about it.
So. Yeah. Hubby asked me if I had any optimism towards the future. And I answered him yes, not all the time but sometimes. The truth? The truth is that I really don't have any optimism towards the future. Well, maybe there are rare instances where I do. That's why my answer was only kind of a lie.
Him asking me that got me thinking though. How do I really feel about the future. I thought about it all night. I've been thinking about it today. And my view of the future is just so damn negative. It's hard for me to see any good in the future. And the sad thing is that I have an amazing husband, a wonderful son, and awesome friends, all of whom love me and care deeply about me. But all I see is chaos, depression, and uncertainty in my future.
See, I get to worry about all of the "normal" things (work, bills, retirement, the house, etc), but my bipolar disorder blows everything out of proportion and I overthink it to the extreme. Then I have to worry about my bipolar disorder itself (will my meds keep working, am I going to get worse, how will my memory be, will I eventually kill myself). This is all very depressing and exhausting and one of the reasons I try not to even think about the future. I try to stay in the present moment, in the here and now. It helps me get through my worst days and it helps keep good days good.
But seriously though. How horrible is this to have such a dreary outlook on the future? And I try not to! I really do! I try so hard to counter my negative thoughts with positive ones (in every aspect of my life), but it just doesn't seem to stick. My positive thoughts aren't strong enough to overpower the negative. I think that's just how I'm built. I think negativity is ingrained in my personality, which makes everything so much harder.
So. There you go. My "kind of" lie.
Tuesday, October 30, 2018
10/30/18
Look at that. It's the day before Halloween. My favorite holiday. Normally I would be excited - getting my costume ready, putting up the last minute decorations for the trick-or-treaters . . . But this year I don't care. Why?
Depression.
I've been depressed again for the past month and it keeps getting worse. It keeps getting deeper and darker and more all encompassing. I feel like Hell warmed over. Honestly, probably not even that good.
I'm really struggling right now. I keep telling myself that I'm not as depressed as I think I am, as I feel I am. Really, I'm not that depressed. But then I'm driving home from work (early, because I couldn't handle being there), and I think the logical thing to do is to go home and take a boatload of pills so I can just end it all. And I'm so indifferent to this thought that it makes me realize that I am as depressed as I think I am. I mean, thinking about killing myself garnered the same emotional response as thinking about taking a crap! How fucked up is that??
Here's the thing: fighting depression is exhausting. It is straight up, fucking exhausting. And I have to fight it every day. Every. Single. Day. Cognitively I know I'll get through it. I always have in the past. I make it through. It's just that I never know how long a particular bout of depression will last. Will it be 3 weeks or 3 months? Who knows. And that's the hard part - even though I know I'll get through it, it doesn't feel like I will. It feels like it will last forever, no end in sight. And that just adds to the exhaustion. And then when it finally does pass, I know, in the back of my head, that it will be back, it's just a matter of time.
That's a problem for me. Knowing that I'll be battling my depression for the rest of my life. It gives me such a bleak outlook. And it makes me tired. So tired. I don't know how much longer I can keep up the fight. It would be so much easier to give in . . . give up . . .
I think about this all the time. Because I am so tired. I've told people before that one of the things that keeps me going is knowing that I can still end it at any point. Which is very morbid, I know, but it's the truth.
Luckily I have my hubby and my son who stand behind me and keep me going. If not for them . . . well . . . I'm sure you get the idea. I'm very thankful for them.
Now if I can just make it through this current bout of depression . . .
Depression.
I've been depressed again for the past month and it keeps getting worse. It keeps getting deeper and darker and more all encompassing. I feel like Hell warmed over. Honestly, probably not even that good.
I'm really struggling right now. I keep telling myself that I'm not as depressed as I think I am, as I feel I am. Really, I'm not that depressed. But then I'm driving home from work (early, because I couldn't handle being there), and I think the logical thing to do is to go home and take a boatload of pills so I can just end it all. And I'm so indifferent to this thought that it makes me realize that I am as depressed as I think I am. I mean, thinking about killing myself garnered the same emotional response as thinking about taking a crap! How fucked up is that??
Here's the thing: fighting depression is exhausting. It is straight up, fucking exhausting. And I have to fight it every day. Every. Single. Day. Cognitively I know I'll get through it. I always have in the past. I make it through. It's just that I never know how long a particular bout of depression will last. Will it be 3 weeks or 3 months? Who knows. And that's the hard part - even though I know I'll get through it, it doesn't feel like I will. It feels like it will last forever, no end in sight. And that just adds to the exhaustion. And then when it finally does pass, I know, in the back of my head, that it will be back, it's just a matter of time.
That's a problem for me. Knowing that I'll be battling my depression for the rest of my life. It gives me such a bleak outlook. And it makes me tired. So tired. I don't know how much longer I can keep up the fight. It would be so much easier to give in . . . give up . . .
I think about this all the time. Because I am so tired. I've told people before that one of the things that keeps me going is knowing that I can still end it at any point. Which is very morbid, I know, but it's the truth.
Luckily I have my hubby and my son who stand behind me and keep me going. If not for them . . . well . . . I'm sure you get the idea. I'm very thankful for them.
Now if I can just make it through this current bout of depression . . .
Wednesday, October 17, 2018
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.
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.
Friday, October 5, 2018
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.
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.
Monday, October 1, 2018
10/1/18
It's kind of hard to believe it's October already. It's starting to feel like fall here in Colorado - brisk temperatures, the leaves are changing, pumpkin spice lattes can be found everywhere . . . It's my favorite time of year.
What's also hard to believe is that I kind of want to die. I know I don't really want to - it's just my brain lying to me - but I'm experiencing those familiar feelings of hopelessness and despair. Feeling that everything is pointless. Feeling hollow and empty. So empty I hurt. So empty that I can't even cry, though my body tries desperately to do so. So empty that I want to cut again just so I can feel something.
I'm not in a good place and I think it's becoming more evident. I don't know about home, but at work people have noticed me withdrawing more. People have noticed that I've become more quiet. People are asking about it. And a couple people - people I've confided in - know how bad I am.
I don't want to be this bad again. I was feeling so good for almost 3 full months. I was finally getting used to being okay.
And now I'm not again.
.
.
.
Anyway, I'm starting a 90 day challenge. Have you heard of Rachel Hollis? She's the author of the book Girl, Wash Your Face, and an amazing speaker/motivator. She's putting on a 90 day challenge to help women reach their goals - or at least make progress towards them - before the new year. So I joined. My main goal being to lose weight but I plan on using her advice and motivation to help me with my mood wherever I can.
Hopefully this will help.
What's also hard to believe is that I kind of want to die. I know I don't really want to - it's just my brain lying to me - but I'm experiencing those familiar feelings of hopelessness and despair. Feeling that everything is pointless. Feeling hollow and empty. So empty I hurt. So empty that I can't even cry, though my body tries desperately to do so. So empty that I want to cut again just so I can feel something.
I'm not in a good place and I think it's becoming more evident. I don't know about home, but at work people have noticed me withdrawing more. People have noticed that I've become more quiet. People are asking about it. And a couple people - people I've confided in - know how bad I am.
I don't want to be this bad again. I was feeling so good for almost 3 full months. I was finally getting used to being okay.
And now I'm not again.
.
.
.
Anyway, I'm starting a 90 day challenge. Have you heard of Rachel Hollis? She's the author of the book Girl, Wash Your Face, and an amazing speaker/motivator. She's putting on a 90 day challenge to help women reach their goals - or at least make progress towards them - before the new year. So I joined. My main goal being to lose weight but I plan on using her advice and motivation to help me with my mood wherever I can.
Hopefully this will help.
Thursday, July 12, 2018
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.
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.
Monday, July 9, 2018
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.
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.
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