Thursday 10/6/22 Ketamine

 Today I have my first ketamine infusion. It's scheduled at 12:30 so I'll be leaving the house in about an hour. I figured I'd be more anxious than I am - I'm really quite bored. Maybe as the time gets closer or when I actually get there . . . But for now, bored. Numb. Withdrawn. Flat. I have an hour to kill and I don't know what to do with myself. Drawing, painting, sewing, reading . . . all sound horrible. I have no desire to do any of that. I was looking through landscapes on Pinterest, trying to find inspiration, and all I got was frustrated. I hate this. I hate this numbness and lack of motivation/drive to do anything. I end up just sitting and staring at the wall. Or laying in bed doing the same. 

I haven't been getting anything accomplished. No housework (save for laundry), no hobbies, no nothing. I just don't care. I need to be figuring things out for the craft fair I'm doing in December but I just don't care enough to. I should be sewing or painting. But I don't care. I should be reading or cleaning. But I don't care. I wish I could at least read, because reading can be an escape. But I can't stay focused long enough to comprehend anything. So mostly I end up staring off into space or scrolling social media as a way to pass the time. Neither of which are good options. I feel like such a failure because of this. 

So hopefully the ketamine will help. I decided to write before the infusion as I don't know what state I'll be in after. Maybe I'll feel loopy or sleepy. Maybe I'll feel fine. I don't know. Perhaps, if I don't go to work tomorrow, I'll  hop on here and write about my experience. Yeah. I'm considering calling in tomorrow. And Saturday as I'm on call. Work keeps me busy but it's so draining. It's hard to keep up the illusion that I'm okay. It's exhausting, really. And people have started noticing that I'm not at my best. And I almost feel like a fraud to myself for pretending I'm okay when I'm not. I don't know. It's weird. And I also have a cold, which is annoying. 

Wednesday 12/29/21 Again With The Coffee!

 It's morning. I'm drinking my coffee and wondering what the heck I should write about. How I'm doing - of course - that's a given. But what else? There's nothing exciting going on in my life. Rather, I'm just floating along, trying desperately to keep my head above the turbulent waters. 

The days that I work are becoming more and more difficult. I'm having a really hard time interacting and keeping up the façade that everything is okay. It's been stupidly busy and I manage to work all my shifts and not get called off (I'd like to get called off here and there). I thought about calling in sick this upcoming Friday but it's New Year's Eve and I would feel like an asshole doing that. If it was a regular Friday I would. I hate being at work and feeling so awful. I want to be alone, I don't want to interact. But then people start asking questions as to why I'm so quiet. Not everyone needs to know I'm depressed. 

I'm feeling more and more empty. More and more flat and withdrawn and down and distant. More and more like a hollow shell of who I'm supposed to be. I hate it. I don't want to be back to this but here we are. The only upside to this is that I still don't have an appetite so I'm losing weight. And I've been able to work out consistently. But I'd much rather feel like myself and not be depressed. 

Early Monday morning, like, 0400, I had a hallucination. The first hallucination I've had in years. I was wide awake in bed and rolled over as I was going to get up to use the bathroom. There was a dark figure standing next to me with its arm outstretched over me. It startled me, to say the least. It dissipated, which is when I realized that I was hallucinating. Hubby thought that maybe I was dreaming, but no, I was quite awake when it happened. And it wasn't a shadow - it was solid. So yeah. A hallucination after several years of being free from them. I haven't had one since, for which I am grateful. Hopefully I won't have any more.  

Tuesday 12/21/21 Sipping Coffee

 It's kind of early. At least for me. It's 9am and I've already had my protein shake, got on the spin bike, showered etc, and now I'm sitting here sipping my coffee. Normally I'd just be on the spin bike right now and would still need to shower etc. But I was up early because a friend is supposed to be stopping by as well as my mom this morning. So I wanted to be ready. And ready I am. I guess. 

Yesterday was a rough day for me. I worked, on the floor, and my assignment was busy. I had a patient with blood pressure issues, a patient who's baby had blood sugar issues, and a patient who was a very needy bitch (in her defense she has borderline personality disorder). And shit hit the fan with all three of them right after report. It was a very busy day for me. And my mood was trash. I was very down, flat, withdrawn. I tried to connect with my patients and coworkers but everything was fake and forced. It was a long day. My saving grace was that I got to leave early - at 5:30 instead of 7. I'll take it. I just felt pretty rotten yesterday. And then knowing I work tomorrow, am on call all day on Thursday, and then work Saturday and Sunday (yep, I work Christmas day), is enough to make me shrivel up. 

I haven't been creative since my two paintings last week. And I don't feel like being creative. I don't feel like doing anything. Now that I have "extra" time today, I don't know what to do with myself. I'll probably nap today cause I don't know what else to do. That, and I slept like crap again last night. I've slept like crap the past few nights, which I'm sure doesn't help my mood. 

I still have no appetite. I'm still primarily having protein shakes for breakfast and lunch. And then kind of forcing myself to eat dinner. I haven't had sweets in a while. Yesterday at work there were all kinds of chocolates - truffles, chocolate covered pretzels (which I love), caramels . . . so much junk. None of it looked appetizing. I didn't touch a thing. I'm averaging a 600-700 calorie deficit every day. Sometimes more. I just don't want to eat. 

Anyway, that's all I've got right now. 

Tuesday 12/7/21 Shit's Getting Real

 Why is shit getting real? Well, yesterday I texted my therapist and made an appointment with him. I haven't seen him in about a year because I had been doing so well. And now . . . I'm not. Luckily he had an opening this Thursday - I was thinking I might have to wait a couple of weeks. So glad I don't have to. 

You may be thinking, "why is it such a big deal that you made an appointment with your therapist?? You saw him consistently for over 8 years!!" And yeah, you're right. Why is it such a big deal? Mainly because I feel like a failure now. Because I can't do this on my own. I need help. I was so proud of myself for doing so well, stopping therapy, going off of Lithium, going back to working full time . . . and now? Now I need help again. I need to see my therapist again. I had to increase the dose of my Wellbutrin. And it makes me feel like a failure which doesn't help the depression at all. 

I worked yesterday, on mom/baby, and it was busy. But the day dragged on and on and on. I honestly didn't think I was going to make it through the shift because I felt so low. Well, low isn't necessarily the right word. Anhedonic is. I was so flat and withdrawn and unfeeling that it physically hurt. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and not exist. I tried interacting with coworkers. I tried really hard with my patients to engage and joke and laugh . . . but everything fell flat. Everything was fake. I often just stared off into space. My bestie was charge nurse yesterday and I could hardly even say anything to her. There was nothing to say. I was so withdrawn I couldn't come up with any conversation starters. The anhedonia is awful. To feel nothing. I couldn't even feel anger or sadness . . . it's just . . . nothing. I didn't care about anything. I don't care. It's like I'm incapable of having feelings right now. And I don't know how to describe how horrible that is. To not feel.

Today I'm feeling more of the same. Flat, empty, withdrawn. I made a list of things I wanted to get done today. Little things. Things that would be easy to check off. I got on my spin bike for 15 minutes, hoping the endorphins of working out would help. It didn't. I showered and shaved my legs. I cut and filed my nails. I started a load of laundry. I still have to go to the post office - and I will - but later. Little things to get done to try and help my mood. I even put on makeup because I was hoping I'd feel better about myself. I don't. And as I'm typing all of this out, reading through it, it should make me feel sad. Or at least feel something. But I'm too empty. There's nothing there. 

I'm considering calling in sick tomorrow. I don't want to leave my coworkers high and dry, but I don't want a repeat of yesterday. We're already short at least one person tomorrow so if I call in sick we'll be really short. Ugh. What to do. I'm sure I'll end up working because of the guilt of calling in sick. That guilt will just make everything worse. And who knows - maybe having to interact with people will help. I doubt it, but we'll see. 

I really hate bipolar disorder. I'd kick it in the junk if I could. 

Wednesday 11/17/21 Yep, again

 Yeah, I'm writing again. A second day this week. All because I'm struggling. Still. It's annoying and it sucks and it's stupid. I'm over it. 

I worked yesterday on the floor (post-partum). My morning was pretty steady, my evening was crazy busy. And in between? Chill. Which was a problem. Why? Because I had time to be with my thoughts. Which are ugly. I was definitely down yesterday. And I had no one to really talk to. Surface conversations sure, but not anything meaningful. Not anything helpful. I was flat and withdrawn and stayed to myself most of the day. I tried to open up and talk, I really did, but it was so hard. It was easier to pull away. Easier to lie.  Because opening up about not feeling like myself means admitting that I'm not doing good. It makes me vulnerable. It makes me feel weak. If I were going through a loss or some great turmoil then how I feel would make sense to people, right? But just feeling depressed? For no reason? Yeah. I hate trying to explain that. So I stayed quiet. Silently suffering. 

And today. Today I feel like I need to cry. I just can't seem to let the tears flow. I'm tearing up writing this but I can't cry. It's not coming. I keep thinking I would feel relief if I could let it out, but nothing is coming. And my anger today. I'm so irritable. At everything. It's not a good feeling. I have no motivation. It took everything I had just to shower and shave my legs. But shower and shave my legs I did. But barely any makeup. Enough so that it doesn't look like I didn't try. And my hair. Well, I blow dried it but didn't use any product. At all. I couldn't be bothered. I don't care. I don't fucking care. I want to sleep the day away. Escape my mind. 

I'm not going to though. 

No, I'm going to read. I downloaded a new book on overcoming depression. I'm going to start reading it today. Maybe it'll have some new tidbits in it. Maybe it'll help reinforce what I already know. I'm hoping for both. 

I've lost my train of thought though - while writing the above small paragraph I had to go pick up my son from school as he's sick. So I'm going to end here.

Monday 11/15/21 Look, it's Monday

 Well it's Monday. A new week. A new start. A new day. 

I'm off today, having worked the last 3 days (and of course I work tomorrow). I haven't done anything today except start laundry. I plan on doing the dishes as well, but I don't know if much else will get accomplished. I've been doing a lot of sitting and staring off into space. I have no motivation. Surprise! That's the story of my life right now. No motivation. Feeling down. Accomplishing nothing. 

I'm over it.

But I don't know what to do about it. I really don't. I'm trying, I really am. And I'm failing. Everything that I did in my mental and emotional mastery program . . . it's not helping. Thinking positively . . . not helping. Trying to change habits . . . not helping. Forcing myself to do things . . . not helping. Praying . . . not helping. I'm at my wits end. 

I'm supposed to see my psychiatrist in December. Maybe I should see him sooner. Maybe I should go back up on my Wellbutrin (I'm on 150mg - I used to be on 300mg). Maybe I should see my therapist. Maybe I should do all of this. And continue doing everything else. Throw everything I can at this. I'm tenacious. I'm not giving up. And I'm not going back to being depressed. I'm not. It's not an option. 

The past 4 days I've been a lifeline for a friend who's going through a rough patch. A really rough patch. She reached out to me and I've been trying to help her. Giving her words of encouragement, pulling her back from the ledge. She asked me about my sparrows and I sketched one for her which she got tattooed on her yesterday. She had a ketamine infusion today and is starting to feel a little bit better. Her trials remind me of what I've gone through in the past. And what I could potentially go through again. It scares me. I'm so glad I can be there for her though. It helps to have someone who understands. 

Today I'm down and flat. I just want to sleep. Take a nap until hubby gets home and we go to the gym. Because yeah, I'm forcing myself to go to the gym. I have to. I'll feel worse if I don't go. I'm trying to eat healthy again and count my macros. I'm trying to make working out a habit. I'm trying. 

Anyway, here's my friend's little sparrow:

Sparrows are a symbol of hope for me. I have a few tattooed on me, too. Hopefully this little sparrow can help guide my friend out of the dark. 

Monday 6/15/20 Therapy

Hey there! How are y'all doing today? All of my 2 readers of this blog . . . I hope your day is splendid!

Mine, on the other hand, is not splendid. It's not terrible, but it's not splendid - not by a long shot. It's been rough. I knew it would be when I got up. Just woke up with this heaviness on my chest, in my heart and in my head. I just knew.

But I went about getting ready for the day - you know, hair, makeup, all that jazz. Well, I was almost finished when my phone rang. It was my therapist. I was supposed to have therapy at 9am - it was 8:10. My stomach sank. He's cancelling, I thought. I answered. He had a scheduling conflict and needed to reschedule . . . luckily he had an opening at one. I, of course, took it.

I had breakfast, coffee, and went downstairs to work on a painting I started last week. My emptiness was overwhelming. The depression crushing me but I carried on as if everything was okay. Hubby was working from home today and I didn't want him to worry. I didn't want to be a burden.

Let's skip ahead to therapy, shall we?

I started by telling Mike that I've not been doing well. That I'm struggling. I told him how yesterday I had an okay day but when I woke up this morning I knew. I told him about starting on Wellbutrin (we talked about my appointment with Dr. M as well). Then I had him read Saturday's blog post. We talked at length about it. I cried. Quite a bit. I'm not ashamed of that, I just didn't want to do it. I don't really like crying in front of people. Even Mike or my hubby. But boy did I.

We talked about my emptiness and how I'm trying to fill it (spirituality, relationships, books, clothes . . .). I feel I should specify relationships: I'm trying to strengthen my current relationships. I'm not whoring myself out. So stop thinking that. :) Anyway, Mike really emphasized how relationships and love are central, because the world kinda sucks and is full of suffering. Oh, gee, thanks. The world sucks huh? I knew this already though, just based on what I've gone through in my life.

So yeah, relationships and love. Got it. Spirituality can also be very important, which, yeah, I knew. That's why I'm trying to increase/expand my spirituality. Which is hard since I was never exposed to religion growing up. I've made up my own beliefs. But I'm working on this.

Honestly, none of this made me feel that much better. I mean, knowing I'm on the right path helps, I guess, but I still feel this empty void in me. And it makes me so tired. I'm tired of dealing with it. I'm just fucking tired.

We talked a little about the state of the country/world as well because that  can be stressful to be constantly bombarded with. (For future reference, I'm referring to the Covid-19 pandemic and the protests/riots for black lives matter). All of that crap. It can make one weary and I know it definitely affects me a little bit.

Therapy was difficult today. Hopefully that means it will prove to be helpful. Hopefully some nuggets of goodness are planted in the back of my head and they'll help me feel better. I'm praying for this. Maybe you could too.

Man this post seems to be a bunch of rambling. Oh well. It's good to purge. 

Wednesday 6/10/20 Psychiatrist Visit

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.
 

Tuesday 5/5/20 Cinco de Mayo

Well, it's Cinco de Mayo and Taco Tuesday on the same day! How fun is that? Answer: not really all that fun. At least not in quarantine. Maybe if restaurants were open . . .

Yesterday would have been my normal day for therapy but my therapist and I decided to go 2 weeks this go around. So I don't see him until next Monday. Which actually kind of sucks because I could sure use a vent session. I'm not doing great.

I'm at the point where I'm not really suicidal but I wouldn't mind if I ceased to exist. It's not a good place to be. Everything just seems so pointless and stupid. There's no reason for anything. I hate feeling like this. Especially because suicidal ideation usually isn't far behind. I'm trying to come up with things to help.

I was supposed to work today but I was put on call and then released, so no work for me today. Which is a blessing in disguise. I was dreading work today because I felt so badly yesterday. So I did something with my time: I drew 8 pictures of sparrows. I still need to paint them, but I figure I can do that tomorrow or Friday (drawing them today was as much as I could handle). But that's productive, yeah? And I love sparrows, they represent hope to me. So I actually accomplished something. And that's good!

Except I feel that it was all for naught. Why? Because everything is pointless to me. What's the point in painting the sparrows? What does it accomplish? Do I feel better? (No, no I don't). I feel overwhelmed actually because now I have to paint them.

This pointlessness is killing me. I don't know what to do about it. Positive thinking, countering my thinking, isn't making a dent at all. Right now I'm just stubbornly pushing through. It seems it's all I can do. This is why therapy would have been nice. Maybe get a suggestion or two on how to battle my fucked up mind.

I just want to nap. It's all I ever really want to do anymore. I hate that. It's not constructive. It's counterproductive. It's hiding. But it's all I want to do, and sometimes all I can do. I'll get through this, I keep telling myself that. Depression lies. I've been a lot worse in the past and I made it through. I'll make it through again. 

Wednesday 4/29/20

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

I tried.

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

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

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

But I guess I'm not so lucky.



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

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

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

Tuesday 4/21/20 Why can't I cry?

I'm not really sure why I'm writing. I feel like I need to. I feel trapped. I feel depressed. I feel like I need to cry but I can't. I'm so empty and there's no strong emotion behind the need . . . so nothing comes. Even though I feel like I'll break down any moment.

I truly hate feeling like this. I'm stuck in this no man's land. This dark closet of no emotion. But that's not entirely true, is it? Because there is emotion. There's guilt, shame, hopelessness, worthlessness, and despair. Those are my bedfellows now.

So why can't I cry?

I keep thinking I would feel better after I cry. I cried yesterday, during therapy and then in the evening when I was trying to read. I felt so drained afterwards. But it was a release. I need that release now. But alas, I'm dry.

I also hate being so negative. But it's all I have right now.

Let's change up the pace.

I shaved my legs today - it's been over a week. Nice and smooth. I did laundry, I did two paintings, I read. I watched some uplifting Ted talks and browsed Pinterest while listening to good music. And now, I'm writing because I felt the need. It's funny how I've been so compelled to write recently. When I'm stable and happy I don't write nearly as much, if at all, truthfully. I find that strange. I need to get in the habit of writing when I'm feeling good. After all, my book can't be all doom and gloom, right? 

Monday 4/20/20 Therapy

I just finished therapy via telemedicine (we're still in quarantine due to corona virus). This was a tough one. I started by showing M my latest vent drawing and reading him my last blog post. Reading that blog post was actually difficult and I started to tear up.

And it left M speechless.

He stared at me, a very somber look on his face, and asked if I needed to go to the hospital. No, no I do not. Are you sure, he asked. Yes, I'm sure. Even just for respite? I told him I would rather be with my hubby and son. He nodded and said okay.

I told him about how empty I've been feeling, how devoid of feeling, how bad. I started crying. I didn't think I would, but I did. I didn't lose it, I didn't sob. Just sort of silently cried. Just for a moment or two. It felt good and it felt awful. Necessary.

We talked at length about my lack of emotion and ways to counteract it. We picked objects and ascribed feeling and meaning to them, hoping that by doing this I would feel something too. We started with the wedding photos and family photos in my bedroom. Photos that should mean something to me. Right now, however, I get no feeling from them. I can identify feelings I should have . . . but I don't feel them.

We did this with several more objects, assigning feelings and meaning to them, and each time I couldn't actually feel what I was "supposed" to. So my homework is to do this daily throughout the week so that maybe, hopefully, I'll start to feel.

Being empty, not feeling, is horrible. And difficult. It's hard to interact with people when you aren't sure what you should be feeling. Luckily for me I've been doing this my whole life. Hiding my depression behind a well crafted facade. Now I hide my lack of feeling. It's not easy, but I can do it.

I work Thursday and Saturday this week, both days in trans. I'm wondering how I'll do. When I get overwhelmed my anger and anxiety has been surfacing. I'm hoping for calm days. Easy days. Days where I don't have to wear my mask so much. Because wearing a mask, keeping up my facade, is tiring.

And I'm already tired. 

Saturday 4/18/20 Am I Enough

I just kinda feel compelled to write right now. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I've been pouring over old blog posts looking for fodder for my book. Yes, I'm working on writing a book. I actually started it several years ago and didn't get very far with it. Well, I'm revisiting it with some fresh ideas and hoping to actually get it fleshed out. So yeah - I've been working on it for 4 hours now. Go me!

But I don't think that's what I really wanted to write about. No, I think not.

What is it then?

This horrible feeling of emptiness I can't seem to shake. That's what I want to write about. See, I can't seem to get rid of it. I feel so empty right now. I'm not really feeling anything. No good, not even anything really bad. Though when I do feel, it tends to be bad. I'm just existing. Barely. Everything around me is so thick and grey and oppressing. It's sludge. There's no color, no life.

I'm nothing.

I'm stuck.

I don't like feeling like this. This apathy. This anhedonia. Things that I enjoy? Like reading and painting? I don't enjoy anymore. I force myself to try . . . most often leading to failure which makes me feel worse.

I have therapy on Monday morning and I'm a little bit worried. See, I'm depressed, but am I depressed enough?  And what, exactly, do I mean by that? See, people don't seem to care unless you're depressed enough. Suicidal enough. Manic enough. Who says it's enough? Hell if I know, but it seems to be a common thread. I'm mainly flat, withdrawn, down, and empty. Is that enough? I'm not suicidal, I'm not breaking down all the time, I'm still able to work. So, am I enough?

I'm worried that during therapy I won't be able to carry enough weight of the conversation. Because my depression is all I have to talk about. And I'm not horrible. And I know what I'm supposed to be doing and I'm doing those things. All those coping mechanisms form CBT and DBT that I learned so long ago . . . I do all those things. What more am I going to learn in therapy on Monday? That's what worries me. That I'm not enough for therapy, even though it's always been helpful to me.

I don't know why I'm so worried about this. But it's tearing me up inside, which is stupid, I know. I can't help it though. I mean come on - I'm tearing up as I type this. How stupid is that?

I just know that I'm tired of feeling like this. I know I can feel so much better - I've been there. I just need to figure out how to get back there.

Monday 4/13/20

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

Alright, enough gloating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe next week my post will be a bit brighter.

Monday 3/30/20

Another week since my last post, and two therapy sessions under my belt: one last Thursday and one today. Thursday's session was face timed, today was in person, which both M and I prefer. Why such frequent sessions? Well, because I'm falling apart, truthfully.

It's hard for me to describe how I feel right now. I'm nothingness. I'm empty, hollow, withdrawn, flat, fake, a husk . . . This is all more apparent when I'm at work. I'm distancing myself from people (and not just because of coronavirus, lol). No, I'm distancing myself because it takes too much out of me to interact with people. It feels like everything I do or say is a facade. My smiles and chuckles are not genuine. I'm putting up a front, putting out there what people want to see.

But that's not me.

I feel so alone and helpless and small. I'm just so empty. The only feelings I can seem to muster up are negative ones. I'm struggling to even find neutrality. It's so hard . . . feeling so empty and pretending to be happy, or even just okay.

I'm scared, too. Of a lot of things right now. I'm scared of the current state of the world. I'm scared at work - of being exposed, of having to float to another unit. I'm scared of my own mind - I know how dark it can get in there.

Things seem bleak right now.

M helped me today to see the good, see the light. I don't know if it's too little too late. My mind is already a snarled tomb of negativity.

I'm trying though. I'm trying. I'm writing this out, I'll go on a walk today, maybe I'll even draw (I don't know what - I have no motivation or inspiration, but maybe). M wants me to work on my book. I looked through my writing for my book and realized I haven't worked on it for two years. Two years. Holy cow. I wouldn't even know where to start, how to start. With a single word, I guess. That's what M says.

So here I sit, depressed as hell, whining on the internet, not being positive at all. I should really change that. All of that. 

Monday 3/23/20

It's been a week since my last post. Things have changed. My son's school is closed at least until April 17th, but probably for the rest of the school year. The "dine-in" portion of all restaurants are closed - you can only get take out. Gyms, movie theaters, bars, tattoo parlors, hair salons, spas . . . all closed. Our governor is call for a 50% reduction in workforce of all "non-essential" personnel. Everyone is to stay inside, social distancing they call it.

I, being a nurse, am "essential". And I have been working more. I picked up an extra shift this week (tomorrow) and am on call today in addition to my regular shifts. Next week, so far, I've picked up an extra call shift. We've been busy. Lots of people having babies for some reason. We haven't had a coronavirus patient on my floor yet (that I'm aware of), but I know we do on the med/surg floor and ICU. I'm thankful that I work where I work and I'm hoping we don't see too many pregnant ladies with covid-19. I'm also hoping we don't get pulled to work other floors. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn't know what I'm doing. This is one of my biggest fears right now. I pray it doesn't come to fruition.

Depression and anxiety are running rampant through me right now. I'm fighting, struggling, to keep them both at bay. All I can do right now is suppress them, which I know is not good. They're both bubbling up, right under the surface. I'm supposed to have therapy on Thursday, but I'm not sure if it will be happening. I haven't heard anything from M yet as to it being cancelled, but the week is still young. For his safety and for mine he very well may cancel. I'm hoping not. I could really use it right now. And, if I'm being honest, I'm very pissed that I can't go get a haircut right now. I have a pixie cut and I could really use a trim. I'm going to look awful when they can potentially open up at the end of April. First world problems, I know. But little things like a fresh haircut keep me going. I need little things right now to keep me going.

Oh well. I have a feeling all of this is going to get much worse before it gets better. 

Friday 2/28/20

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

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

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

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

Great. Now I'm crying.

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

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

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

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

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 . . .

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?

5/14/19

Ugh. I'm feeling pretty down today. And it's pretty freaking annoying. The past few days I'd been feeling better and then today -BOOM - down again. I'm trying to figure out why.

Let's talk about the good news though.

"Good" news.

We got another dog! Adopted her from a local rescue shelter. She is the sweetest, goofiest dog. We named her Moya. Which if you watch Farscape you'll get (our other dog is Zan). Anyway, we've been sorta looking for another dog for a month or so, checking the shelters here and there. On Saturday (today is Tuesday) we decided to go looking again just for goofs. We didn't expect that we would be coming home with a dog. But we took Moya on a walk and fell in love - my son especially. Long story short - she's ours!

So why the quotation marks around good above?

Well, getting a dog changes things up. It, in essence, throws my routine out the window. Things are different now. We need to get used to Moya and her quirks and mannerisms and she needs to get used to us and especially Zan (Zan is 16, deaf, and doesn't play well with others. Hell, she doesn't play at all). And the thing is, stupid as it may sound, this change up is hard for me to accept. Hard for me to deal with. Change is a hard concept for me to grasp. It terrifies me -  even when it's something as simple as getting a dog. You'd think I'd be happy - and I am, I guess - but I'm kind of struggling with this.

And it makes me feel horrible and stupid that I'm struggling with this. Which, of course, makes me feel worse. Nothing like bringing self hate to the party, am I right??

This is probably why I feel down today. I'm dealing with all of this stupidity in my head.

I'll work through it. Everything will be fine.