I saw my psychiatrist, Dr. M, yesterday for my routine 3 month check in. I typically see him every 3 months for a med review, symptom review, and med refill. Invariably he also mentions, briefly, ECT. This takes up the first 10 minutes of the appointment. The second 10 minutes is spent chatting about my job (nursery nurse) and life in general. My scripts are sent and I make an appoint for 3 months to do it all over again. Last year we were also discussing TMS as I was going through it. But this is pretty much how things go.
Not yesterday though. If you've been keeping up with my blog then you know that I've been pretty darn depressed again and wanting a change (not ECT). I think I need a med change. While the med combo I'm on has kept me the most stable, it's falling short with my depression. I had some ideas of what we could do, but I wanted to hear what Dr. M had to say before I offered up suggestions. He is, after all, the MD.
I think he could tell something was wrong when I walked in. Just something about my aura maybe . . . or my resting bitch face and over sized hoodie in June. He asked how I was doing. Not good. He looked at me a moment, leaned back in his chair and asked what was up. I told him about how my depression is getting progressively worse, how I feel so empty and dead inside. How I've been doing maintenance TMS and how it's not really helping. My lip trembled. I need something different. He folded his hands in his lap and - of course - asked if I had given any thought to trying ECT again. I told him yes I had but because of the memory issues I already have, I'm worried about them getting worse and me not being able to do my job. He nodded and said he'd review my meds and history.
I sat forward in my chair, wringing my hands with anxiety. See, I came here knowing that I would be firing Dr. M. I've tried getting a med change with him before and met with resistance. He always only offers ECT. And I don't want ECT. That would be an absolute last resort. An I-know-I-will-kill-myself-if-I-don't type of thing.
He looked over at me, his glasses hanging precariously off the end of his nose. "Cami, you've been on almost everything. All of the powerhouses we use for bipolar . . . you've been on them. And then some." He leaned back. "One med I don't see that you've been on is Wellbutrin. It's an antidepressant that works differently than the Prestiq you're currently on. We could try adding that to your current regimen and see if that helps bring you up."
I thought a minute and slowly nodded my head.
"It's our best bet without doing a complete upheaval of you regimen. I'd prefer not to do that as you've been the most stable on it."
I nodded again. "Okay. I'll try it." I was surprised really. I wasn't expecting him to offer up a medication for me to try. I was a little dumbfounded.
Dr. M discussed how the titration up would go and that I would need to see him again in a month for a follow up to see how I was doing on it. I nodded and thanked him. We still had time to talk about delivering babies, which grosses him out, but I think secretly fascinates him.
I guess I don't have to fire him yet after all.
In other news, last night I took my first Wellbutrin, 150mg. I take 150mg nightly for 10 days and then go up to 300mg nightly. This morning I felt groggy (drowsiness is a side effect) and I've been sluggish all day. I'm hoping after my body gets used to it this will go away. We'll see.
Showing posts with label tms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tms. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 10, 2020
Thursday, June 4, 2020
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.
"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.
Friday, May 29, 2020
Friday 5/29/20 Bets Off
Oy vey. I'm supposed to be at work today. I'm writing this so obviously I'm not. I was put on delayed start until one. That means instead of going into work at 7am, my delayed start time is 1pm - but only if I'm needed. If I'm not needed I'll be put on call. I have a sneaking suspicion that I won't be needed.
So I'm at home, trying to come up with something to do. I want to draw, I just can't come up with something to draw. So I figured I'd write instead. Listen to some music. See if I can get the creative juices flowing.
And so far it's not working.
Damn.
Mood wise I'm status quo: empty, down, numb, hopeless, pointless, etc. I have maintenance TMS again next Tuesday the 2nd. I'm hopefully going to talk to Dr. F and see if he's accepting new patients. I hope so. I pray he is. (If you read my last post you know why). I need something new, a fresh set of eyes, and I don't think I'll get that from Dr. M anymore. I truly believe Dr. M is done with me.
In other news, I hate my hair. I'm growing it out from a pixie and it's in this really awkward phase of being too long but too short to do anything. I'm so close to cutting it off again. I really hate it. And hair on average grows only 6 inches per year. This is going to take forever. Two-three years of awkwardness. Ugh. What to do, what to do . . .
I guess I don't have that much to say today. Hope all is well with you.
So I'm at home, trying to come up with something to do. I want to draw, I just can't come up with something to draw. So I figured I'd write instead. Listen to some music. See if I can get the creative juices flowing.
And so far it's not working.
Damn.
Mood wise I'm status quo: empty, down, numb, hopeless, pointless, etc. I have maintenance TMS again next Tuesday the 2nd. I'm hopefully going to talk to Dr. F and see if he's accepting new patients. I hope so. I pray he is. (If you read my last post you know why). I need something new, a fresh set of eyes, and I don't think I'll get that from Dr. M anymore. I truly believe Dr. M is done with me.
In other news, I hate my hair. I'm growing it out from a pixie and it's in this really awkward phase of being too long but too short to do anything. I'm so close to cutting it off again. I really hate it. And hair on average grows only 6 inches per year. This is going to take forever. Two-three years of awkwardness. Ugh. What to do, what to do . . .
I guess I don't have that much to say today. Hope all is well with you.
Monday, May 25, 2020
Monday 5/25/20 Memorial Day
It's Memorial Day and I'm actually off. Which is nice, except it means I'll probably be working the 4th of July. That's okay though - I don't need that day off anymore (I wanted it off for the Denver Pop Culture Con, but that has been rescheduled for November - Thanksgiving weekend, of course *obvious eye roll*). But anyway, I'm off and my mother-in-law and brother-in-law are coming over for dinner. We're grilling. Burgers and hot dogs cause we're cheap and lazy :)
I've been dealing with the steady erosion of self. I've been feeling pretty badly. My usual: empty, depressed, hollow, numb, hopeless, pointless . . . you get the idea. All the bad stuff. It's been pretty relentless. I've cut twice. I might do it more. I struggle at work. I struggle at home. I wake up in the morning only looking forward to bed. In short, it sucks.
I don't have therapy again until June 4th. At my last session M told me to call if I need to be seen sooner (since we were going 3 and a half weeks between sessions). Well, yeah, I need to be seen sooner. I mean, I feel that way for sure. But have I called him? No. No I haven't.
Why the hell not?? You need him, call him!
Sounds easy, right? Well, for me it's not. I haven't called him because I don't want to be a burden. That's how I feel right now, like I'm a burden on everyone. And I hate feeling like that. But that's what I am - a burden. I'm having to do maintenance TMS - which is $200 a pop. That makes me a financial burden. I'm not pulling my weight with the housework. Burden. I'm relying on hubby emotionally so much right now. Burden.
Trust me - I know this is the depression talking. But it's putting up a strong argument. One that I have no retort to.
So no, I haven't called M because I don't want to be a burden to him too. I feel that he needs this break from me because I'm so annoying and a drain.
So I don't know what to do. Well, that's a lie. Because I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to wait until my scheduled appointment. So that I'm less of a burden and don't feel so crappy about myself.
I'm truly thinking I need a medication tweak. I don't see my psychiatrist until June 9th, of course. And, quite honestly, I'm dreading seeing him. See, I don't think he'll adjust my meds. I think all he's going to do is suggest ECT again, which I absolutely won't do. I think he's kinda done with me. I think he's given up on me. And that hurts. I don't want to have to find another psychiatrist. And I mean, I like Dr. M, I just think he's truly given up on me. Don't ask me why I feel that way, I don't know why. It's probably the depression talking. Again, depression puts up a compelling argument.
So anyway, yeah, I'm a mess right now. So much negative self talk that I can't seem to counter or squelch. I'll get there though, right? I mean, I have to, because I can't keep doing this.
I've been dealing with the steady erosion of self. I've been feeling pretty badly. My usual: empty, depressed, hollow, numb, hopeless, pointless . . . you get the idea. All the bad stuff. It's been pretty relentless. I've cut twice. I might do it more. I struggle at work. I struggle at home. I wake up in the morning only looking forward to bed. In short, it sucks.
I don't have therapy again until June 4th. At my last session M told me to call if I need to be seen sooner (since we were going 3 and a half weeks between sessions). Well, yeah, I need to be seen sooner. I mean, I feel that way for sure. But have I called him? No. No I haven't.
Why the hell not?? You need him, call him!
Sounds easy, right? Well, for me it's not. I haven't called him because I don't want to be a burden. That's how I feel right now, like I'm a burden on everyone. And I hate feeling like that. But that's what I am - a burden. I'm having to do maintenance TMS - which is $200 a pop. That makes me a financial burden. I'm not pulling my weight with the housework. Burden. I'm relying on hubby emotionally so much right now. Burden.
Trust me - I know this is the depression talking. But it's putting up a strong argument. One that I have no retort to.
So no, I haven't called M because I don't want to be a burden to him too. I feel that he needs this break from me because I'm so annoying and a drain.
So I don't know what to do. Well, that's a lie. Because I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to wait until my scheduled appointment. So that I'm less of a burden and don't feel so crappy about myself.
I'm truly thinking I need a medication tweak. I don't see my psychiatrist until June 9th, of course. And, quite honestly, I'm dreading seeing him. See, I don't think he'll adjust my meds. I think all he's going to do is suggest ECT again, which I absolutely won't do. I think he's kinda done with me. I think he's given up on me. And that hurts. I don't want to have to find another psychiatrist. And I mean, I like Dr. M, I just think he's truly given up on me. Don't ask me why I feel that way, I don't know why. It's probably the depression talking. Again, depression puts up a compelling argument.
So anyway, yeah, I'm a mess right now. So much negative self talk that I can't seem to counter or squelch. I'll get there though, right? I mean, I have to, because I can't keep doing this.
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
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.
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, May 13, 2020
Wednesday 5/13/20 Okay brain, you win
So remember on Monday I wrote that things were "looking up"? Ha ha ha! Oh MAN!! That was funny! A real knee slapper!
Cause, well, things are back to square one. Or, more accurately, worse than square one.
But, how? You said you were feeling better! For like 3 days!
Yes, that's right. I was. But by Monday afternoon my mood was starting to slide again. I was starting to feel empty, numb and down. I felt that way all day yesterday. And then today came. And today has sucked.
It's 1346 as I write this and I have broken down sobbing 4 times now (I've only been awake for 5 hours people). Here's the thing though: I'm used to feeling empty and numb and down and now I'm feeling ALL THE THINGS. Despair, loneliness, sadness, ANGER, hopelessness, anxiety . . . all the bad things, I'm feeling them all. Intensified negative emotions. If I'm not crying over something I'm trying desperately to keep myself from screaming, cussing, and throwing shit. My emotions are moving so fast I'm getting physically nauseous. I've had to lay down several times I was so sick to my stomach.
I was texting my hubby when I remembered something: when I started TMS Dr. F told me that I would start to get worse before I got better. That most people would start to feel more (mostly negative) emotions and would think that this was a sign they were getting worse. He told me to keep going as it was really a sign that TMS was working and I was getting better. Hubby remembers this too. I'm praying that this is what's going on right now. That I'm feeling worse but getting better. I have TMS again on the 18th.
Today has been a roller coaster ride from hell. I've managed to do a drawing, do laundry, and get dinner in the crock pot. That's it. I was going to do so much more. I was going to workout, paint some sparrows, clean the kitchen, and go for a walk. None of that got done thanks to my violent, negative mood swings. I'm hoping tomorrow is better. And Friday better still. I work Saturday and I can't be at work like this. I won't be able to function. So you hear that brain? You better get your shit together.
Cause, well, things are back to square one. Or, more accurately, worse than square one.
But, how? You said you were feeling better! For like 3 days!
Yes, that's right. I was. But by Monday afternoon my mood was starting to slide again. I was starting to feel empty, numb and down. I felt that way all day yesterday. And then today came. And today has sucked.
It's 1346 as I write this and I have broken down sobbing 4 times now (I've only been awake for 5 hours people). Here's the thing though: I'm used to feeling empty and numb and down and now I'm feeling ALL THE THINGS. Despair, loneliness, sadness, ANGER, hopelessness, anxiety . . . all the bad things, I'm feeling them all. Intensified negative emotions. If I'm not crying over something I'm trying desperately to keep myself from screaming, cussing, and throwing shit. My emotions are moving so fast I'm getting physically nauseous. I've had to lay down several times I was so sick to my stomach.
I was texting my hubby when I remembered something: when I started TMS Dr. F told me that I would start to get worse before I got better. That most people would start to feel more (mostly negative) emotions and would think that this was a sign they were getting worse. He told me to keep going as it was really a sign that TMS was working and I was getting better. Hubby remembers this too. I'm praying that this is what's going on right now. That I'm feeling worse but getting better. I have TMS again on the 18th.
Today has been a roller coaster ride from hell. I've managed to do a drawing, do laundry, and get dinner in the crock pot. That's it. I was going to do so much more. I was going to workout, paint some sparrows, clean the kitchen, and go for a walk. None of that got done thanks to my violent, negative mood swings. I'm hoping tomorrow is better. And Friday better still. I work Saturday and I can't be at work like this. I won't be able to function. So you hear that brain? You better get your shit together.
Monday, 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. :)
Monday, April 13, 2020
Monday 4/13/20
I made a silent goal to myself to try and blog at least once a week. Well, this is my 5th weekly blog post! Go me!
Alright, enough gloating.
I'm sitting on the couch in my pajamas. It's 9:30 am. I probably won't get out of my pajamas today. Shower? Pshhh, no. Makeup? Do my hair? Definitely not. Lounging around in my jammies all day is the ticket.
I worked yesterday and I had a rough day. It wasn't a busy day, that wasn't it. I had a rough mental health day. Withdrawn, empty, flat. I had a hard time interacting with coworkers. I had a hard time keeping my head above water. I had a hard time existing.
No one knew it though. I kept it secret. I'm good at keeping secrets.
I remember walking down the hallway to the break room, feeling pretty low. I opened the door slowly, quietly. There was no one in there and my eyes welled with tears. I don't know if in that moment I needed someone to notice my pain and offer help? Maybe?
I wanted to cut. So badly I wanted to cut. Deep and wide and bleeding. I needed the physical pain to distract me from the mental anguish I was feeling. I didn't cut though. I didn't cut. That in itself is a huge victory.
In other news, I had a maintenance TMS treatment last Wednesday. I'm not feeling any positive effects from it yet. I'm hoping it just takes time. Just a little more time and I'll start to feel better. If not, I guess I'll have another in May. If that doesn't work then I don't know. Dr. M is always suggesting I try ECT again but I desperately don't want to do that. I have enough memory problems from that as it is, I don't need to compound the problem.
I still have no motivation for anything. Like, I want to paint and draw and read and work on my book . . . I just can't. I have no motivation, no drive. All I do is sleep to escape. That's no way to live.
No therapy this week. M and I decided to try 2 weeks instead. I wish I had therapy this week but I don't want to call M cause I don't want to be a burden. And I don't want it to just be me whining about how I'm feeling. Oh whoa is me, I'm depressed again. I don't want to be a burden on anyone which is why I've been keeping all of this a secret. Probably not my best idea. Oh well.
Maybe next week my post will be a bit brighter.
Alright, enough gloating.
I'm sitting on the couch in my pajamas. It's 9:30 am. I probably won't get out of my pajamas today. Shower? Pshhh, no. Makeup? Do my hair? Definitely not. Lounging around in my jammies all day is the ticket.
I worked yesterday and I had a rough day. It wasn't a busy day, that wasn't it. I had a rough mental health day. Withdrawn, empty, flat. I had a hard time interacting with coworkers. I had a hard time keeping my head above water. I had a hard time existing.
No one knew it though. I kept it secret. I'm good at keeping secrets.
I remember walking down the hallway to the break room, feeling pretty low. I opened the door slowly, quietly. There was no one in there and my eyes welled with tears. I don't know if in that moment I needed someone to notice my pain and offer help? Maybe?
I wanted to cut. So badly I wanted to cut. Deep and wide and bleeding. I needed the physical pain to distract me from the mental anguish I was feeling. I didn't cut though. I didn't cut. That in itself is a huge victory.
In other news, I had a maintenance TMS treatment last Wednesday. I'm not feeling any positive effects from it yet. I'm hoping it just takes time. Just a little more time and I'll start to feel better. If not, I guess I'll have another in May. If that doesn't work then I don't know. Dr. M is always suggesting I try ECT again but I desperately don't want to do that. I have enough memory problems from that as it is, I don't need to compound the problem.
I still have no motivation for anything. Like, I want to paint and draw and read and work on my book . . . I just can't. I have no motivation, no drive. All I do is sleep to escape. That's no way to live.
No therapy this week. M and I decided to try 2 weeks instead. I wish I had therapy this week but I don't want to call M cause I don't want to be a burden. And I don't want it to just be me whining about how I'm feeling. Oh whoa is me, I'm depressed again. I don't want to be a burden on anyone which is why I've been keeping all of this a secret. Probably not my best idea. Oh well.
Maybe next week my post will be a bit brighter.
Monday, April 6, 2020
Monday 4/6/20
I just finished my tele therapy session with M. Tele therapy, you ask? Face time on the computer basically. So yes, I just finished my session. Therapy is always helpful - seriously, always - but sometimes I don't quite say everything I mean to.
Like today.
See, I don't want to sound like a broken record. I don't want to sound stupid or naive. I don't want to be judged (although I know M would never judge me). And sometimes, sometimes I'm too scared to put myself out there.
I think all of these things were holding me back today. I couldn't speak up, I couldn't say what was truly on my mind.
And what was on my mind?
My depression. My depression was on my mind. I'm not "fully" depressed. I'm not suicidal. I'm functional. I can smile. I can even laugh. But I'm dead inside. I'm so empty. I'm hollow - there's nothing there. In a world full of color, everything is grey for me.
I feel as though everything is pointless. Everything is stupid - why do any of it?
I feel flat. I'm not feeling real emotions. I'm faking them for the sake of others. I can smile, though I'm not quick to do so. I can laugh, though it's mostly a facade. I can get angry, though it's short lived (that's a good thing I guess). My emotions are muted. It's as if they aren't even there. Even when I feel worse than empty I can't cry. There's not enough emotion behind it.
I feel trapped by this. I want to feel. I want my emotions. And I don't know how to get out of this. I don't know what to do.
I have TMS this Wednesday, the 8th. I'm hoping this helps. I had spoken to my psychiatrist a couple weeks ago and he had nothing to offer med wise. He brought up trying ECT again which I won't do. Especially when I have TMS as an option.
I've been so non-feeling that I've had the urge to cut again. Because if I'm feeling pain, at least it's something. I hate this about myself. I thought I was over this.
But this grey . . . it's unrelenting. It's all encompassing. And it's a pain in the ass. Truly.
Like today.
See, I don't want to sound like a broken record. I don't want to sound stupid or naive. I don't want to be judged (although I know M would never judge me). And sometimes, sometimes I'm too scared to put myself out there.
I think all of these things were holding me back today. I couldn't speak up, I couldn't say what was truly on my mind.
And what was on my mind?
My depression. My depression was on my mind. I'm not "fully" depressed. I'm not suicidal. I'm functional. I can smile. I can even laugh. But I'm dead inside. I'm so empty. I'm hollow - there's nothing there. In a world full of color, everything is grey for me.
I feel as though everything is pointless. Everything is stupid - why do any of it?
I feel flat. I'm not feeling real emotions. I'm faking them for the sake of others. I can smile, though I'm not quick to do so. I can laugh, though it's mostly a facade. I can get angry, though it's short lived (that's a good thing I guess). My emotions are muted. It's as if they aren't even there. Even when I feel worse than empty I can't cry. There's not enough emotion behind it.
I feel trapped by this. I want to feel. I want my emotions. And I don't know how to get out of this. I don't know what to do.
I have TMS this Wednesday, the 8th. I'm hoping this helps. I had spoken to my psychiatrist a couple weeks ago and he had nothing to offer med wise. He brought up trying ECT again which I won't do. Especially when I have TMS as an option.
I've been so non-feeling that I've had the urge to cut again. Because if I'm feeling pain, at least it's something. I hate this about myself. I thought I was over this.
But this grey . . . it's unrelenting. It's all encompassing. And it's a pain in the ass. Truly.
Friday, March 13, 2020
Friday 3/13/20
It's Friday the 13th. Any of you out there superstitious? I'm not.
Actually, that's a lie. I am a little. Why? Because I'm a nurse and we see weird shit and trends. Like laboring patients coming in on a full moon. Always busier on a full moon. So why not Friday the 13th?
Anyway, I have updates from my last sorrow filled post. Not many, but some.
I saw my psychiatrist this week and discussed my returning depression. He, predictably, suggested ECT. Which I declined. No med changes. Why? because I've already been on 23 different meds. So yeah, there's not really anything out there for me to try. What to do, what to do . . .
I told him about what I was doing: maintenance TMS. Now, I mentioned this in my last post as an option for me except that it was cost prohibitive. Well, hubby almost forced me to do it. He insisted. (I think he read my last post). We have some money in savings, we do, but I feel like a financial burden pulling from that. I feel selfish, using that money solely for me. I feel awful about it, quite honestly.
But hubby, he told me not to worry about it. He told me to let him worry about it. So I gave in. I let him take my worry from me and I had a session of maintenance TMS done this week. I had it done Tuesday. I saw my psych doc on Wednesday. Today is Friday and I'm feeling a little better. I worked yesterday and it was busy and I handled myself well and even had a little fun. So I'm doing better, I am.
I'm not all the way there. There have been several times today where I've come close to breaking down. But I'm better. I'm getting there. I may need another session or two of TMS to bring me all the way back, and if I do, well then, I do. I'm trying not to worry about it (which is hard to do with anxiety). But I'm trying.
Actually, that's a lie. I am a little. Why? Because I'm a nurse and we see weird shit and trends. Like laboring patients coming in on a full moon. Always busier on a full moon. So why not Friday the 13th?
Anyway, I have updates from my last sorrow filled post. Not many, but some.
I saw my psychiatrist this week and discussed my returning depression. He, predictably, suggested ECT. Which I declined. No med changes. Why? because I've already been on 23 different meds. So yeah, there's not really anything out there for me to try. What to do, what to do . . .
I told him about what I was doing: maintenance TMS. Now, I mentioned this in my last post as an option for me except that it was cost prohibitive. Well, hubby almost forced me to do it. He insisted. (I think he read my last post). We have some money in savings, we do, but I feel like a financial burden pulling from that. I feel selfish, using that money solely for me. I feel awful about it, quite honestly.
But hubby, he told me not to worry about it. He told me to let him worry about it. So I gave in. I let him take my worry from me and I had a session of maintenance TMS done this week. I had it done Tuesday. I saw my psych doc on Wednesday. Today is Friday and I'm feeling a little better. I worked yesterday and it was busy and I handled myself well and even had a little fun. So I'm doing better, I am.
I'm not all the way there. There have been several times today where I've come close to breaking down. But I'm better. I'm getting there. I may need another session or two of TMS to bring me all the way back, and if I do, well then, I do. I'm trying not to worry about it (which is hard to do with anxiety). But I'm trying.
Monday, January 27, 2020
Monday 1/27/2020
Hey there.
How's it going?
It would appear that my, uh, black cloud is back. Trying to take over. Envelop me with darkness. It's there, hovering, waiting for the right moment to strike. It could be any moment, I feel it. It's unrelenting.
I've been so close to breaking down. Several times a day. Every day. So close. My eyes fill with tears, full to the brim, but they don't spill over. There I sit, feeling the world crashing down around me, so ready to lose it, and then . . . nothing. The tears . . . they go. I don't know where because they're certainly not spilling down my cheeks. I sit there feeling so defeated and so empty and so . . . gyped because I didn't get that release. That emotional release that comes with crying. I don't get that. So I'm full of bad things. I'm full of emptiness - how can that be? I feel lost and confused and let down and angry, so angry! Why can't I cry??
I haven't been able to cry since I did TMS. Five months.
Granted, I haven't really needed to cry. I've been stable. Until recently. Until my black cloud started coming back around.
And now . . . now I can't cry.
When I'm not close to breaking down I feel flat. I feel meh. I just am. I'm not as quick to laugh. I get angry more often, and at stupid little things. I don't want to do anything. When I'm home alone by myself all I want to do is sleep. Sleep to escape. Need something to pass the time? Sleep. I have no motivation for anything. And I mean anything. Drawing, painting, reading, Spanish . . . I don't want to do any of it. I just want to sleep.
And I hate this. So much. I hate my black cloud. I keep thinking . . . if I could just cry. If I could just get that relief I would feel better. Do I know I would feel better? No. Of course not. But I think it would be better than having everything bottled up.
So now I'm stuck in this no man's land. Feeling empty and flat normally . . . anhedonic. And, well, feeling worse. But unable to express it.
Why not hypomania? Why not that? Just a little. Just a little . . .
How's it going?
It would appear that my, uh, black cloud is back. Trying to take over. Envelop me with darkness. It's there, hovering, waiting for the right moment to strike. It could be any moment, I feel it. It's unrelenting.
I've been so close to breaking down. Several times a day. Every day. So close. My eyes fill with tears, full to the brim, but they don't spill over. There I sit, feeling the world crashing down around me, so ready to lose it, and then . . . nothing. The tears . . . they go. I don't know where because they're certainly not spilling down my cheeks. I sit there feeling so defeated and so empty and so . . . gyped because I didn't get that release. That emotional release that comes with crying. I don't get that. So I'm full of bad things. I'm full of emptiness - how can that be? I feel lost and confused and let down and angry, so angry! Why can't I cry??
I haven't been able to cry since I did TMS. Five months.
Granted, I haven't really needed to cry. I've been stable. Until recently. Until my black cloud started coming back around.
And now . . . now I can't cry.
When I'm not close to breaking down I feel flat. I feel meh. I just am. I'm not as quick to laugh. I get angry more often, and at stupid little things. I don't want to do anything. When I'm home alone by myself all I want to do is sleep. Sleep to escape. Need something to pass the time? Sleep. I have no motivation for anything. And I mean anything. Drawing, painting, reading, Spanish . . . I don't want to do any of it. I just want to sleep.
And I hate this. So much. I hate my black cloud. I keep thinking . . . if I could just cry. If I could just get that relief I would feel better. Do I know I would feel better? No. Of course not. But I think it would be better than having everything bottled up.
So now I'm stuck in this no man's land. Feeling empty and flat normally . . . anhedonic. And, well, feeling worse. But unable to express it.
Why not hypomania? Why not that? Just a little. Just a little . . .
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
Wednesday 11/20/19
If you read my last post you know I'm struggling just a little. It's a silent struggle mostly - I'm not being vocal about it to friends or family. As far as everyone is concerned I'm A-OK. Maybe this isn't the best thing to do. Maybe I should speak up instead of silently suffering. It's just that, well, everyone wants me to be doing good and I don't want to let them down. TMS was the silver bullet to my depression - it worked. And to have my depression come back before I've even paid off treatment . . . well, I can't stand that scenario.
As of right now it's just little things. Like anger. I'm getting angry at stupid little things. And yes, I know, everyone does this from time to time. But it's becoming more frequent and consistent for me.
Sleeping. I'm starting to sleep entirely too much. Sleeping in, naps, you name it, I'm doing it. I wake up around 5am and feel awake. So what do I do? I go back to bed until 8 when I have to take my son to school. When I get home from that I tend to go back to bed until 10 or 11 before I get up and get ready for the day. If I don't know what to do with my time I'll nap. This happens every day I don't work. It's becoming obscene.
Negative thinking. Negative thinking and I go way back, back to my childhood where I never thought I was good enough. But when I've been feeling better I've been able to manage it pretty well. Well, not anymore. Negative thinking is taking over in a no-holds-barred match. It's like, if I can put a negative spin on something, I will. Now, keep in mind these thoughts are automatic - I'm not purposefully doing this. But they're there, and as much as I try to counter them they seem to be winning out.
Motivation and inspiration. My motivation for virtually anything is long gone. I'm still getting my butt to the gym, though not as regularly as I'd like, because of my lack of motivation. I also have no motivation to do things like keep my house clean or shower. Sometimes I have a hard time feeding myself because I just don't care. Part of me really wants to draw and paint because that's one thing I really enjoy. But I don't have inspiration for what to paint or the motivation to accomplish it. Just yesterday I sketched some jackrabbits and thought that maybe - just maybe - I'll come up with an idea for a painting I can do today. Well, that didn't happen. Here I sit, blogging, having slept in until 11am. No motivation. No inspiration.
Little things. Little things either piss me off or bring me close to tears (mind you, I haven't been able to cry since TMS). For example, I have a pilonidal cyst (a cyst on my tailbone). It's very painful - very painful. I'm having a hard time handling this. I feel overwhelmed and near my wits end because of this. Another example - I dropped my spoon this morning. I yelled, cussed and nearly cried. Because I dropped my spoon. Little things are getting to me. I just can't handle them.
Now for me, these all seem like warning signs of early depression. I so far don't feel depressed - at least how I feel when I am depressed. But it makes me think (and overthink) and worry that I'm in for a relapse. Sadly I don't have therapy again until Dec. 5th. Don't see my psychiatrist until Dec. 10th. So I guess I'mm winging it until then. :(
As of right now it's just little things. Like anger. I'm getting angry at stupid little things. And yes, I know, everyone does this from time to time. But it's becoming more frequent and consistent for me.
Sleeping. I'm starting to sleep entirely too much. Sleeping in, naps, you name it, I'm doing it. I wake up around 5am and feel awake. So what do I do? I go back to bed until 8 when I have to take my son to school. When I get home from that I tend to go back to bed until 10 or 11 before I get up and get ready for the day. If I don't know what to do with my time I'll nap. This happens every day I don't work. It's becoming obscene.
Negative thinking. Negative thinking and I go way back, back to my childhood where I never thought I was good enough. But when I've been feeling better I've been able to manage it pretty well. Well, not anymore. Negative thinking is taking over in a no-holds-barred match. It's like, if I can put a negative spin on something, I will. Now, keep in mind these thoughts are automatic - I'm not purposefully doing this. But they're there, and as much as I try to counter them they seem to be winning out.
Motivation and inspiration. My motivation for virtually anything is long gone. I'm still getting my butt to the gym, though not as regularly as I'd like, because of my lack of motivation. I also have no motivation to do things like keep my house clean or shower. Sometimes I have a hard time feeding myself because I just don't care. Part of me really wants to draw and paint because that's one thing I really enjoy. But I don't have inspiration for what to paint or the motivation to accomplish it. Just yesterday I sketched some jackrabbits and thought that maybe - just maybe - I'll come up with an idea for a painting I can do today. Well, that didn't happen. Here I sit, blogging, having slept in until 11am. No motivation. No inspiration.
Little things. Little things either piss me off or bring me close to tears (mind you, I haven't been able to cry since TMS). For example, I have a pilonidal cyst (a cyst on my tailbone). It's very painful - very painful. I'm having a hard time handling this. I feel overwhelmed and near my wits end because of this. Another example - I dropped my spoon this morning. I yelled, cussed and nearly cried. Because I dropped my spoon. Little things are getting to me. I just can't handle them.
Now for me, these all seem like warning signs of early depression. I so far don't feel depressed - at least how I feel when I am depressed. But it makes me think (and overthink) and worry that I'm in for a relapse. Sadly I don't have therapy again until Dec. 5th. Don't see my psychiatrist until Dec. 10th. So I guess I'mm winging it until then. :(
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.
Monday, August 19, 2019
Monday 8/19/19
It's been awhile since I last wrote and I'm happy to say I'm doing better. Today was my 16th TMS treatment and I'm already feeling the effects, I'm already getting better. Pretty amazing stuff!
With that being said, it's a very weird experience. Almost like I don't know how to act. I'm so used to being depressed that I'm not sure what "normal" looks like for me. You'd think it would come naturally, but for me, it doesn't.
I was getting ready for work yesterday and it dawned on me that I wasn't filled with existential dread. I didn't fear the day. I didn't feel hopeless and worthless and dead inside. Instead I felt hopeful. I felt as though I was ready to tackle anything. I felt, dare I say it, happy.
I don't really know what to do with this. I tend to over analyze everything and I'm trying not to do that here, lest I ruin it. I'm trying to just run with it, experience it, enjoy it. And thus far I haven't fucked it up so I guess I'm doing pretty good.
I have therapy on Thursday. I haven't seen M in 3 weeks so this will give me a chance to pick his brain. I really don't want to ruin this.
In other news, something I'm struggling with, is getting up in the morning and getting on the spin bike. It was my goal to do this while in treatment and I haven't been able to. Not even once. Which makes me feel horrible about myself and I'm worried that this is the little bit that will fuck everything up. Feels horrible about self = depression coming back. I don't know why I can't just get up in the morning. I don't know why I have to wait till the very last minute. I'm getting myself to the gym now but I need more. I need to lose weight. Not just for self esteem, but for health as well.
I'll get there I guess. I'm going to pick M's brain about this too.
That's all I got. Short post for today. But hey - happy.
With that being said, it's a very weird experience. Almost like I don't know how to act. I'm so used to being depressed that I'm not sure what "normal" looks like for me. You'd think it would come naturally, but for me, it doesn't.
I was getting ready for work yesterday and it dawned on me that I wasn't filled with existential dread. I didn't fear the day. I didn't feel hopeless and worthless and dead inside. Instead I felt hopeful. I felt as though I was ready to tackle anything. I felt, dare I say it, happy.
I don't really know what to do with this. I tend to over analyze everything and I'm trying not to do that here, lest I ruin it. I'm trying to just run with it, experience it, enjoy it. And thus far I haven't fucked it up so I guess I'm doing pretty good.
I have therapy on Thursday. I haven't seen M in 3 weeks so this will give me a chance to pick his brain. I really don't want to ruin this.
In other news, something I'm struggling with, is getting up in the morning and getting on the spin bike. It was my goal to do this while in treatment and I haven't been able to. Not even once. Which makes me feel horrible about myself and I'm worried that this is the little bit that will fuck everything up. Feels horrible about self = depression coming back. I don't know why I can't just get up in the morning. I don't know why I have to wait till the very last minute. I'm getting myself to the gym now but I need more. I need to lose weight. Not just for self esteem, but for health as well.
I'll get there I guess. I'm going to pick M's brain about this too.
That's all I got. Short post for today. But hey - happy.
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
Tuesday 8/6/19
I figured I should give an update, considering I'm 7 days into my TMS treatments.
So yeah. Seven days of TMS (I go 5 days a week, Mon - Fri, for 6 weeks, then 2 days a week for 3 weeks - 36 total treatments). And let me tell ya - it hurts. I should probably explain what happens. I go back into a small room that's nicely decorated and has a decent sized tv. In the middle is a reclining chair, pretty comfy actually. Behind the chair is a large piece of equipment - the magnet. I sit in the chair, leaned back and put in ear plugs. The nurse puts a custom fitted cap on me that has my measurements on it (it looks like a swim cap. Or jock strap. One of the two). The nurse positions a formable pillow around me to keep my head still and the large magnet is placed over my left frontal and temporal lobes. As of right now I'm pretty comfortable.
But then the magnetic pulses start. They come 3 pulses per second for about 6-7 seconds, then there's a pause of about 6-7 seconds before the next pulse starts. How does it feel? Tap on your head in the same spot as fast and as hard as you can. Not bad, right? Now imagine your fingers are metal and have needles coming out of the tips and you're tapping a bruise. That's what it feels like. Over and over again. Luckily, the treatment session only lasts for about 4 minutes. Any longer and I wouldn't be able to tolerate it. It truly is uncomfortable. Hell, who am I kidding, it hurts.
And I have 7 sessions under my belt, 29 more to go. Oy vey. HOWEVER, I think it's already starting to work. Hubby stated I seemed to be talking more and I worked this past weekend and had good days. Days where I was able to talk with coworkers and feel genuine. Days where I was able to laugh and not be faking it. That's something pretty huge. And makes the pain worth it.
I have follow up throughout treatment with the doctors and classes I go to every Wednesday night. They're very thorough. This is in addition to following up with my own psychiatrist and therapist. It's safe to say that I have a lot of support.
Anyway, that's all that's new with me. TMS. Starting to feel better. But it's huge news. More to come as I continue on this journey.
So yeah. Seven days of TMS (I go 5 days a week, Mon - Fri, for 6 weeks, then 2 days a week for 3 weeks - 36 total treatments). And let me tell ya - it hurts. I should probably explain what happens. I go back into a small room that's nicely decorated and has a decent sized tv. In the middle is a reclining chair, pretty comfy actually. Behind the chair is a large piece of equipment - the magnet. I sit in the chair, leaned back and put in ear plugs. The nurse puts a custom fitted cap on me that has my measurements on it (it looks like a swim cap. Or jock strap. One of the two). The nurse positions a formable pillow around me to keep my head still and the large magnet is placed over my left frontal and temporal lobes. As of right now I'm pretty comfortable.
But then the magnetic pulses start. They come 3 pulses per second for about 6-7 seconds, then there's a pause of about 6-7 seconds before the next pulse starts. How does it feel? Tap on your head in the same spot as fast and as hard as you can. Not bad, right? Now imagine your fingers are metal and have needles coming out of the tips and you're tapping a bruise. That's what it feels like. Over and over again. Luckily, the treatment session only lasts for about 4 minutes. Any longer and I wouldn't be able to tolerate it. It truly is uncomfortable. Hell, who am I kidding, it hurts.
And I have 7 sessions under my belt, 29 more to go. Oy vey. HOWEVER, I think it's already starting to work. Hubby stated I seemed to be talking more and I worked this past weekend and had good days. Days where I was able to talk with coworkers and feel genuine. Days where I was able to laugh and not be faking it. That's something pretty huge. And makes the pain worth it.
I have follow up throughout treatment with the doctors and classes I go to every Wednesday night. They're very thorough. This is in addition to following up with my own psychiatrist and therapist. It's safe to say that I have a lot of support.
Anyway, that's all that's new with me. TMS. Starting to feel better. But it's huge news. More to come as I continue on this journey.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Wednesday 7/24/19
It's been awhile again. And some things have happened. Yes. Things. Where to start. . . .
I start TMS next Monday, the 29th. I'll be having treatments five days a week for six weeks, followed by two treatments a week for three weeks. For a total of 36 treatments. I'm hopeful that this will work for me. I have to be hopeful as it's about the only hope I have. I will also going to group therapy on Wednesday nights to help with depression and the fallout of lessening symptoms. Yes, there is fallout from lessening symptoms - I mean, what do I do with my life when I'm not depressed? I've only really known depression. Who am I without it? The Southern Colorado TMS Center also does auricular acupuncture which they recommend for stress reduction. I'll probably give that a try. Why not, right? It might help and I need all the help I can get.
Next up, my psychiatrist had me tested for the MTHFR mutation. Which, of course, I have. Both copies of it. What does this mean? My body might not be able to metabolize folic acid which is necessary to make serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. So, to counter this, I get to take the activated form of folic acid (L-methylfolate) for the rest of my life. In theory, this will allow my body to produce more of its own neurotransmitters and help with the depression. There's only anecdotal evidence to support this, but I'll take it. My other little ray of hope. I've been on the supplement for a few days now. No changes as of yet, but these things usually take weeks.
Those are the two big things. In other news, I haven't been doing great. I've been the opposite of great, really. I'm struggling, I'm drowning, barely keeping my head above water. I'm trying to find joy in the little things - a new song I like, the smell of rain, bumblebee butts - anything I can latch onto. Anything to help get me through the day. I wake up ready for bed, ready for the solace of sleep. I've found myself napping more and more, showering (or at least washing my hair) less and less. I'm starting to eat less (which may not be a bad thing - I mean, I need to lose weight, haha). I don't care what I wear or what I look like. I barely put on makeup. And all of this makes me hate myself more. Which increases my depression. It's an ugly cycle.
I'm really hoping the L-methylfolate and TMS help. I need them to. They have to - there's no other choice.
I start TMS next Monday, the 29th. I'll be having treatments five days a week for six weeks, followed by two treatments a week for three weeks. For a total of 36 treatments. I'm hopeful that this will work for me. I have to be hopeful as it's about the only hope I have. I will also going to group therapy on Wednesday nights to help with depression and the fallout of lessening symptoms. Yes, there is fallout from lessening symptoms - I mean, what do I do with my life when I'm not depressed? I've only really known depression. Who am I without it? The Southern Colorado TMS Center also does auricular acupuncture which they recommend for stress reduction. I'll probably give that a try. Why not, right? It might help and I need all the help I can get.
Next up, my psychiatrist had me tested for the MTHFR mutation. Which, of course, I have. Both copies of it. What does this mean? My body might not be able to metabolize folic acid which is necessary to make serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. So, to counter this, I get to take the activated form of folic acid (L-methylfolate) for the rest of my life. In theory, this will allow my body to produce more of its own neurotransmitters and help with the depression. There's only anecdotal evidence to support this, but I'll take it. My other little ray of hope. I've been on the supplement for a few days now. No changes as of yet, but these things usually take weeks.
Those are the two big things. In other news, I haven't been doing great. I've been the opposite of great, really. I'm struggling, I'm drowning, barely keeping my head above water. I'm trying to find joy in the little things - a new song I like, the smell of rain, bumblebee butts - anything I can latch onto. Anything to help get me through the day. I wake up ready for bed, ready for the solace of sleep. I've found myself napping more and more, showering (or at least washing my hair) less and less. I'm starting to eat less (which may not be a bad thing - I mean, I need to lose weight, haha). I don't care what I wear or what I look like. I barely put on makeup. And all of this makes me hate myself more. Which increases my depression. It's an ugly cycle.
I'm really hoping the L-methylfolate and TMS help. I need them to. They have to - there's no other choice.
Monday, July 8, 2019
Monday 7/8/19
I was supposed to have therapy today. At noon. But my therapist forgot, somehow, and I didn't get to have my session. I sat in the waiting room with no receptionist, classical music blaring, until 12:36 - the time that I called my therapist, M, and left him a message that I had been there, apparently there was a miscommunication of sorts, and that I was leaving. I asked him to call me back so we could reschedule.
And I left.
And I didn't realize how much I needed therapy today until I didn't have it. I didn't realize how much I was struggling and needed to talk until I left M's office in tears. The slightest mishap breaking me down.
All I want to do anymore is sleep. I wake up looking forward to bedtime and that's it. I nap every day I don't work so that I can escape reality and my crummy feelings. Because sleep is like death without the commitment. It's my only escape.
I'm starting the process to be "approved" for TMS. I talked to D today and she sent me the paperwork I need to fill out and turn in. This causes a problem for me. It makes all my self-doubt, self-hate and self-worth issues scream even louder. I can't hum to myself and ignore the cacophony. No, I'm bombarded with a level of self loathing you can't even imagine, which brings my mood down even lower than before.
Why is this? Why don't I feel worthy of treatment? I know that I'm scared. Scared of what stable and well will look like. I've always been scared of that. When you've lived your entire life with depression . . . well, remission is terrifying. Is this why I don't feel worthy?
I'm also scared that I'll fail, that treatment won't work for me. And where will I be then? Because I can't keep living like this. I can't. This is no way to live.
Hubby has this grand plan that I'll start TMS, I'll get back in the gym, and I'll get better and lose weight and everything will be all hunky-dory. And I'm scared that I'll fail him. I don't even deserve treatment, let alone having it work well for me. I'm worried it won't work. That I won't get back in the gym. That I won't get better and/or lose weight.
I'm worried that everything will fall to pieces and I'll be left worse off than I am now because I will have lost my only shred of hope.
Damn I wish I could have had therapy today.
M did call me back, by the way, and apologized. He said I could smack him. And I might take him up on that because I have to wait another week to see him.
In the meantime I guess I keep plugging through, picking myself up by the boot straps. I just wish I knew how to keep doing that.
And I left.
And I didn't realize how much I needed therapy today until I didn't have it. I didn't realize how much I was struggling and needed to talk until I left M's office in tears. The slightest mishap breaking me down.
All I want to do anymore is sleep. I wake up looking forward to bedtime and that's it. I nap every day I don't work so that I can escape reality and my crummy feelings. Because sleep is like death without the commitment. It's my only escape.
I'm starting the process to be "approved" for TMS. I talked to D today and she sent me the paperwork I need to fill out and turn in. This causes a problem for me. It makes all my self-doubt, self-hate and self-worth issues scream even louder. I can't hum to myself and ignore the cacophony. No, I'm bombarded with a level of self loathing you can't even imagine, which brings my mood down even lower than before.
Why is this? Why don't I feel worthy of treatment? I know that I'm scared. Scared of what stable and well will look like. I've always been scared of that. When you've lived your entire life with depression . . . well, remission is terrifying. Is this why I don't feel worthy?
I'm also scared that I'll fail, that treatment won't work for me. And where will I be then? Because I can't keep living like this. I can't. This is no way to live.
Hubby has this grand plan that I'll start TMS, I'll get back in the gym, and I'll get better and lose weight and everything will be all hunky-dory. And I'm scared that I'll fail him. I don't even deserve treatment, let alone having it work well for me. I'm worried it won't work. That I won't get back in the gym. That I won't get better and/or lose weight.
I'm worried that everything will fall to pieces and I'll be left worse off than I am now because I will have lost my only shred of hope.
Damn I wish I could have had therapy today.
M did call me back, by the way, and apologized. He said I could smack him. And I might take him up on that because I have to wait another week to see him.
In the meantime I guess I keep plugging through, picking myself up by the boot straps. I just wish I knew how to keep doing that.
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.
Thursday, June 27, 2019
6/27/19
This week has been a rough week.
I worked Monday and Wednesday and both days were busy. I'm having a hard time keeping up the facade at work that everything is okay. It's exhausting. The days are long (and not only because I work 12 hour shifts). I've wanted to cut but I haven't. Yesterday I broke down twice which is something I try so hard not to do at work. But it happened.
On Tuesday I had my appointment with the Southern Colorado TMS clinic. I was there for 2 hours and we went over what TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) is, the research behind it, and how it can help. I also had a medical intake. When Dr. H asked if I had any questions I said I only had one: when can I start? TMS is a treatment that has great success in treating depression with little to no side effects. It works by sending strong magnetic pulses to the regions of the brain identified as being responsible for depression. These magnetic pulses excite the neurons, activate them, and the repeated sessions act like muscle memory and the neurons learn how to remain activated. This is something I want to do.
Except I might not be able to.
See, insurance companies are like a bag of dicks and they obviously don't want to approve something if they can get out of it. TMS is FDA approved to treat major depression and generalized anxiety. What's my diagnosis? Bipolar disorder. So more than likely my insurance company will deny coverage for TMS based on that. Which let me tell you, sucks fucking balls. Because what is it that I deal with the most? Depression. I haven't had a hypomanic episode in about 4 years. But I deal with recurrent depression constantly. The longest period that I've been euthymic is 3 months. Then it's back to depression. But I'll probably be denied treatment based on a label. A fucking label.
So I cried. And I cried again that night at home. Dr. H said that he and his team would do what they can to get me approved and they were hopeful they could do it. Which gives me hope. Now if only I can hang onto that.
I had therapy today in which I cried also. I seem to be crying so much more lately. My depression feels as if it's getting worse day by day. My therapist could tell a difference in me compared to 2 weeks ago. That's not good. But what can you do? I'm trying.
I'm trying, I'm hanging onto hope. It's all I can do.
I worked Monday and Wednesday and both days were busy. I'm having a hard time keeping up the facade at work that everything is okay. It's exhausting. The days are long (and not only because I work 12 hour shifts). I've wanted to cut but I haven't. Yesterday I broke down twice which is something I try so hard not to do at work. But it happened.
On Tuesday I had my appointment with the Southern Colorado TMS clinic. I was there for 2 hours and we went over what TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) is, the research behind it, and how it can help. I also had a medical intake. When Dr. H asked if I had any questions I said I only had one: when can I start? TMS is a treatment that has great success in treating depression with little to no side effects. It works by sending strong magnetic pulses to the regions of the brain identified as being responsible for depression. These magnetic pulses excite the neurons, activate them, and the repeated sessions act like muscle memory and the neurons learn how to remain activated. This is something I want to do.
Except I might not be able to.
See, insurance companies are like a bag of dicks and they obviously don't want to approve something if they can get out of it. TMS is FDA approved to treat major depression and generalized anxiety. What's my diagnosis? Bipolar disorder. So more than likely my insurance company will deny coverage for TMS based on that. Which let me tell you, sucks fucking balls. Because what is it that I deal with the most? Depression. I haven't had a hypomanic episode in about 4 years. But I deal with recurrent depression constantly. The longest period that I've been euthymic is 3 months. Then it's back to depression. But I'll probably be denied treatment based on a label. A fucking label.
So I cried. And I cried again that night at home. Dr. H said that he and his team would do what they can to get me approved and they were hopeful they could do it. Which gives me hope. Now if only I can hang onto that.
I had therapy today in which I cried also. I seem to be crying so much more lately. My depression feels as if it's getting worse day by day. My therapist could tell a difference in me compared to 2 weeks ago. That's not good. But what can you do? I'm trying.
I'm trying, I'm hanging onto hope. It's all I can do.
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.
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