I don't have much to write about today, there's not much going on. Really. It's pretty boring.
Today is day 5 on metformin and day 4 on my new probiotic. These two things make me hopeful that I can lose some weight. I've been consistently working out and I feel good about that. I'm eating better and avoiding all of the yummy snacks in the break room at work (go me! They're my weakness). I colored my hair today so it's a little bit darker. Not much, but a little.
My mood has been stable. I've had "normal" changes in mood (as opposed to more extreme bipolar mood swings), so I call that a win. Hopefully my stability will last longer than 4 months (my current record).
That's really all for today. I don't feel like writing.
Monday, May 1, 2017
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
4/26/17
Well I had my appointments today, one with my therapist and one with my psychiatrist. They both went well.
I went into therapy wanting to talk about my apparent inability to accept my diagnosis of bipolar disorder. And we talked about this, and how I can accept it when I'm not in a mood episode but once I am in an episode, BOOM! I no longer can accept I'm bipolar. Everything becomes unfair, I can't possibly do this again, etc, etc. We discussed ways I can try to work my way around this, even though this thinking will surface most likely with every episode I go through (that's just the nature of depression).
We also talked about things I want to change and what I can do to change them, and the good things in my life. All of this was to remind me that I'm more than my illness, a fact that I often forget (especially with my most recent depressive episode).
Then came my appointment with Dr. M, for which I was nervous. We started by talking about my ECT, and how I'm doing with every 4 weeks and I told him about my recent depression. He seemed a little exasperated and told me that my case of bipolar is on of the most difficult and stubborn cases he's treated. He said it's obvious that we can only manage my episodes and try to keep them to a minimum but I will never be symptom free. I'll also probably never be free of ECT. Oh well. I then asked him about metformin for weight loss. I explained that over the last 10 months I've gained 50 pounds thanks to my meds and have been exercising and eating well and can't seem to lose any. Surprisingly he looked it up real quick, agreed that it might prove beneficial and wrote me a prescription. I was surprised by that, honestly. I figured he'd be a no go on the metformin but he was all for it. Fingers crossed it works!
Mood wise I've been pretty okay today, even, stable. And that's good! I was that way yesterday too. Hopefully this will continue, that would be awesome.
I went into therapy wanting to talk about my apparent inability to accept my diagnosis of bipolar disorder. And we talked about this, and how I can accept it when I'm not in a mood episode but once I am in an episode, BOOM! I no longer can accept I'm bipolar. Everything becomes unfair, I can't possibly do this again, etc, etc. We discussed ways I can try to work my way around this, even though this thinking will surface most likely with every episode I go through (that's just the nature of depression).
We also talked about things I want to change and what I can do to change them, and the good things in my life. All of this was to remind me that I'm more than my illness, a fact that I often forget (especially with my most recent depressive episode).
Then came my appointment with Dr. M, for which I was nervous. We started by talking about my ECT, and how I'm doing with every 4 weeks and I told him about my recent depression. He seemed a little exasperated and told me that my case of bipolar is on of the most difficult and stubborn cases he's treated. He said it's obvious that we can only manage my episodes and try to keep them to a minimum but I will never be symptom free. I'll also probably never be free of ECT. Oh well. I then asked him about metformin for weight loss. I explained that over the last 10 months I've gained 50 pounds thanks to my meds and have been exercising and eating well and can't seem to lose any. Surprisingly he looked it up real quick, agreed that it might prove beneficial and wrote me a prescription. I was surprised by that, honestly. I figured he'd be a no go on the metformin but he was all for it. Fingers crossed it works!
Mood wise I've been pretty okay today, even, stable. And that's good! I was that way yesterday too. Hopefully this will continue, that would be awesome.
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
4/25/17
I'm a bit stuck right now. I'm a bit stuck on something so fundamentally stupid that I should really have no problem getting over it. But here I am, stuck. What is it, you ask? Here, let me tell you.
I have bipolar disorder. A progressive, life long disorder characterized by extreme lows and highs of mood. I've had symptoms of it for probably 25 years but was only diagnosed 6 years ago. I've been on 23 different meds, have done CBT, DBT, group therapy, equine therapy, Al-Anon, meditation, acupuncture, ECT, and God knows what else to help manage it. And that's the thing - you manage it. That's it. There'e no cure. Currently I'm on 3 medications and do ECT once a month to manage my bipolar. But here's the catch - I can go into a mood episode at any time, for any reason. Or for no reason. It just happens. Despite my meds and ECT and exercising and eating healthy and vitamins and and and . . . And that's really fucking annoying. I'm doing everything right and I'm still battling my bipolar. But the thing is, I know this. That's just the nature of bipolar disorder. And I fucking know this.
But I'm not accepting it. At least I haven't been and I think that's part of my problem. I think I would do better in my depressions if I could accept this fact and move forward. I'm having a hard time with that though. See, the meds and the ECT help to keep me stable. And when I have a mood episode, they help to keep it hopefully not as intense and not as long lasting. I come out of my mood episode and I'm stable again. Until the next episode happens then we manage it, I get through it, and I move on again. This is how it works. This is how it will always work because that's just how bipolar is. And again, I know this. I'm just having a hard time accepting it. I see both my therapist and my psychiatrist tomorrow and I'm going to bring this up with both of them. I think having it reinforced by them will be helpful.
I hope.
I have bipolar disorder. A progressive, life long disorder characterized by extreme lows and highs of mood. I've had symptoms of it for probably 25 years but was only diagnosed 6 years ago. I've been on 23 different meds, have done CBT, DBT, group therapy, equine therapy, Al-Anon, meditation, acupuncture, ECT, and God knows what else to help manage it. And that's the thing - you manage it. That's it. There'e no cure. Currently I'm on 3 medications and do ECT once a month to manage my bipolar. But here's the catch - I can go into a mood episode at any time, for any reason. Or for no reason. It just happens. Despite my meds and ECT and exercising and eating healthy and vitamins and and and . . . And that's really fucking annoying. I'm doing everything right and I'm still battling my bipolar. But the thing is, I know this. That's just the nature of bipolar disorder. And I fucking know this.
But I'm not accepting it. At least I haven't been and I think that's part of my problem. I think I would do better in my depressions if I could accept this fact and move forward. I'm having a hard time with that though. See, the meds and the ECT help to keep me stable. And when I have a mood episode, they help to keep it hopefully not as intense and not as long lasting. I come out of my mood episode and I'm stable again. Until the next episode happens then we manage it, I get through it, and I move on again. This is how it works. This is how it will always work because that's just how bipolar is. And again, I know this. I'm just having a hard time accepting it. I see both my therapist and my psychiatrist tomorrow and I'm going to bring this up with both of them. I think having it reinforced by them will be helpful.
I hope.
Monday, April 24, 2017
4/24/17
I decided I'm going to try and write at least once a week. This once a week will probably happen on Mondays as I'm always off on Monday. We'll see how it goes.
Today I'm feeling pretty hollow and empty, just this empty shell of who I should be. There's no substance to me. The only thing I can say I'm feeling for certain is anxiety. Why anxiety? Well, I see my psychiatrist in office on Wednesday and this is making me anxious. There's a lot to talk about with my recent depressive episode and the fact that I'm trying to space out my ECT sessions. And also that I plan on talking to him about putting me on metformin to help me lose weight (the weight I gained from being on all my psych meds). So I'm nervous. I'm anxious. Especially because my pdoc is pretty rigid in his plan of care. So yeah.
I worked yesterday and actually had a good day. I had good patients, it wasn't overly busy, I worked with good peeps . . . and my mood was pretty okay. It was nice. If only every day could be like that.
Wow. I'm really at a loss for words. It's weird, I was reading over posts on my old blog and I had no trouble writing. I was posting all the time. And a lot of it is really well written. But now, now I struggle to say anything. Everything seems so stupid and inconsequential. There's no point to it. Except historically writing has helped me. Which is why I'm trying to do it now. But I just can't seem to do it. Maybe that will change as the weeks go on. I don't know.
I think I'm done for today though.
Today I'm feeling pretty hollow and empty, just this empty shell of who I should be. There's no substance to me. The only thing I can say I'm feeling for certain is anxiety. Why anxiety? Well, I see my psychiatrist in office on Wednesday and this is making me anxious. There's a lot to talk about with my recent depressive episode and the fact that I'm trying to space out my ECT sessions. And also that I plan on talking to him about putting me on metformin to help me lose weight (the weight I gained from being on all my psych meds). So I'm nervous. I'm anxious. Especially because my pdoc is pretty rigid in his plan of care. So yeah.
I worked yesterday and actually had a good day. I had good patients, it wasn't overly busy, I worked with good peeps . . . and my mood was pretty okay. It was nice. If only every day could be like that.
Wow. I'm really at a loss for words. It's weird, I was reading over posts on my old blog and I had no trouble writing. I was posting all the time. And a lot of it is really well written. But now, now I struggle to say anything. Everything seems so stupid and inconsequential. There's no point to it. Except historically writing has helped me. Which is why I'm trying to do it now. But I just can't seem to do it. Maybe that will change as the weeks go on. I don't know.
I think I'm done for today though.
Saturday, April 1, 2017
I'm Depressed Y'all
Well. It's been almost a full 2 months since I've written anything. I've had things to say, I just haven't said them. I haven't been inspired to write. But today I want to focus on what's bothering me now. And that's depression.
I'm in a trough right now, a deep depression. I don't even really know where to start. So here goes:
It started about 3-3.5 weeks ago, before my last ECT treatment. I started having symptoms of depression. They started out mild and then got worse after ECT (aren't they supposed to get better after ECT? Yeah, I thought so . . .). I kept downplaying them, ignoring them, hiding them. I was alright, this was no big thing. But they were so damn persistent. The negative thoughts became all encompassing, they started to take over. Suicidal thoughts crept in, vying for attention, slowly taking over. I let my hubby know, I let a couple of friends know. Just as a safeguard. Nothing serious, but this is going on, thought you should know. I continued to downplay it. I'd make it through.
Then last Saturday (the 25th) I was at work. And I was really struggling. I was so depressed. I was so empty and lost and withdrawn. My mind was complete chaos - negative thoughts, suicidal thoughts all crashing around, making it hard to concentrate, making it hard to breathe. I tried to keep up the facade. I tried interacting with patients, coworkers. I tried joking around. I tried. And then I lost it. I started crying. I started sobbing really. A coworker saw me and came over to help. She asked what was wrong. "I don't know if you know this," I said. "But I'm bipolar and I'm in a depressive episode and I'm having suicidal thoughts and I want to cut and I don't know what to do." She hugged me and told me to hold on. She went and told the charge nurse who called our manager. The charge nurse came up to me and hugged me and got me to calm down and suggested that I go home for the rest of the day. Even at my worst I've never been sent home. This was a first for me.
My hubby stayed with me the rest of the day. He stayed with me all day Sunday. Monday, I worked again. I wanted to go, I wanted to try. I made it through the day but it was difficult and tiring. I spoke with my manager and let her know what was going on. Tuesday I was home and I didn't get much accomplished. Wednesday I had a mandatory meeting at work which was difficult to sit through. I kept thinking about cutting and dying.
On Thursday I had therapy and I told my therapist everything. All about my suicidal thoughts, my plan, cutting, being sent home, everything. And I narrowly avoided being sent to the hospital for an inpatient psychiatric stay. How did I avoid it you ask? I have an amazing relationship with my therapist and we trust each other. I called my hubby and the 3 of us came up with a safety plan. I also called my psychiatrist's office and sadly learned that he is out of the country until the 11th. So no help there. I see my therapist again on Monday.
Here's the thing: My therapist said it and I'm positive my psychiatrist would say it too. I'm in a bipolar trough. The purpose of my meds and the ECT is to keep me as stable as possible for as long as possible but this is part of the natural ebb and flow of bipolar disorder. I'm going to have ups and downs and hopefully the meds will keep those ups and downs more mild and shorter lasting.
And I get that. I do. But I still call bullshit. It's easy to sit back and say that when you're not the one going through it. But when you're sitting on the floor sobbing, wishing your life would end, you don't care if this is the natural rhythm of your disorder. You just want to feel better. And that's where I'm at. I just want to fucking feel better. I don't want to "ride this out". It's been 3 weeks already. It might be another 3 weeks. Or longer. People keep telling me I'm strong for pulling through this. I don't feel strong. I feel weak. I feel like giving up. I have to deal with this for the rest of my life. And I'm not sure I can do that.
I'm in a trough right now, a deep depression. I don't even really know where to start. So here goes:
It started about 3-3.5 weeks ago, before my last ECT treatment. I started having symptoms of depression. They started out mild and then got worse after ECT (aren't they supposed to get better after ECT? Yeah, I thought so . . .). I kept downplaying them, ignoring them, hiding them. I was alright, this was no big thing. But they were so damn persistent. The negative thoughts became all encompassing, they started to take over. Suicidal thoughts crept in, vying for attention, slowly taking over. I let my hubby know, I let a couple of friends know. Just as a safeguard. Nothing serious, but this is going on, thought you should know. I continued to downplay it. I'd make it through.
Then last Saturday (the 25th) I was at work. And I was really struggling. I was so depressed. I was so empty and lost and withdrawn. My mind was complete chaos - negative thoughts, suicidal thoughts all crashing around, making it hard to concentrate, making it hard to breathe. I tried to keep up the facade. I tried interacting with patients, coworkers. I tried joking around. I tried. And then I lost it. I started crying. I started sobbing really. A coworker saw me and came over to help. She asked what was wrong. "I don't know if you know this," I said. "But I'm bipolar and I'm in a depressive episode and I'm having suicidal thoughts and I want to cut and I don't know what to do." She hugged me and told me to hold on. She went and told the charge nurse who called our manager. The charge nurse came up to me and hugged me and got me to calm down and suggested that I go home for the rest of the day. Even at my worst I've never been sent home. This was a first for me.
My hubby stayed with me the rest of the day. He stayed with me all day Sunday. Monday, I worked again. I wanted to go, I wanted to try. I made it through the day but it was difficult and tiring. I spoke with my manager and let her know what was going on. Tuesday I was home and I didn't get much accomplished. Wednesday I had a mandatory meeting at work which was difficult to sit through. I kept thinking about cutting and dying.
On Thursday I had therapy and I told my therapist everything. All about my suicidal thoughts, my plan, cutting, being sent home, everything. And I narrowly avoided being sent to the hospital for an inpatient psychiatric stay. How did I avoid it you ask? I have an amazing relationship with my therapist and we trust each other. I called my hubby and the 3 of us came up with a safety plan. I also called my psychiatrist's office and sadly learned that he is out of the country until the 11th. So no help there. I see my therapist again on Monday.
Here's the thing: My therapist said it and I'm positive my psychiatrist would say it too. I'm in a bipolar trough. The purpose of my meds and the ECT is to keep me as stable as possible for as long as possible but this is part of the natural ebb and flow of bipolar disorder. I'm going to have ups and downs and hopefully the meds will keep those ups and downs more mild and shorter lasting.
And I get that. I do. But I still call bullshit. It's easy to sit back and say that when you're not the one going through it. But when you're sitting on the floor sobbing, wishing your life would end, you don't care if this is the natural rhythm of your disorder. You just want to feel better. And that's where I'm at. I just want to fucking feel better. I don't want to "ride this out". It's been 3 weeks already. It might be another 3 weeks. Or longer. People keep telling me I'm strong for pulling through this. I don't feel strong. I feel weak. I feel like giving up. I have to deal with this for the rest of my life. And I'm not sure I can do that.
Thursday, February 9, 2017
Explosions
I needed to write this because if I don't I seriously think I'm going to explode and that would just be messy and a pain in the ass to clean. I mean really.
Anyway, I'm going through a bit of a downswing but this is one of the few instances where I know why. Or at least I think I know why. Stress. Motherfucking stress. Well it's not all stress, but there's some damned motherfucking stress up in here. What kind of stress? I'm so glad you asked.
Moving.
That's right, hubby and I are moving. But this wasn't our choice, nooooo. Our landlord informed us that the owner of our house wanted to sell so we needed to move. Now, moving is stressful enough without having to scramble to find a place to live on a very narrow timeline. Good news is that we found a place (nicer than where we're at now) and our moving schedule fits within the timeline. Go us. But the stress and uncertainty has reeked havoc on my moods. I've found myself depressed, overwhelmed, anxious, withdrawn, angry, and wanting to hide away. I have no motivation. For anything. Even showering is a task I have to force myself to complete. I can honestly say that I'm fucking sick of it.
But this isn't the only thing, oh no. Right now I think I am at the lowest point in my life in regards to how I feel about myself. I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. My weight, how I look, my complexion, my hair, how I dress, how I do my makeup . . . the list goes on and on. I'm the heaviest right now that I've ever been. I know this is mostly thanks to my bipolar meds as all 3 of them cause weight gain, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm fat, my clothes don't fit right, and nothing I do seems to help. And that makes me feel like complete shit. And I beat myself up over everything which adds to the depression and makes me feel worse. I'm trying to eat healthy and work out but I have no fucking motivation. Seriously - some days I can barely get out of bed to take my son to school.
This is not helping me.
Anyway, I'm going through a bit of a downswing but this is one of the few instances where I know why. Or at least I think I know why. Stress. Motherfucking stress. Well it's not all stress, but there's some damned motherfucking stress up in here. What kind of stress? I'm so glad you asked.
Moving.
That's right, hubby and I are moving. But this wasn't our choice, nooooo. Our landlord informed us that the owner of our house wanted to sell so we needed to move. Now, moving is stressful enough without having to scramble to find a place to live on a very narrow timeline. Good news is that we found a place (nicer than where we're at now) and our moving schedule fits within the timeline. Go us. But the stress and uncertainty has reeked havoc on my moods. I've found myself depressed, overwhelmed, anxious, withdrawn, angry, and wanting to hide away. I have no motivation. For anything. Even showering is a task I have to force myself to complete. I can honestly say that I'm fucking sick of it.
But this isn't the only thing, oh no. Right now I think I am at the lowest point in my life in regards to how I feel about myself. I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. My weight, how I look, my complexion, my hair, how I dress, how I do my makeup . . . the list goes on and on. I'm the heaviest right now that I've ever been. I know this is mostly thanks to my bipolar meds as all 3 of them cause weight gain, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm fat, my clothes don't fit right, and nothing I do seems to help. And that makes me feel like complete shit. And I beat myself up over everything which adds to the depression and makes me feel worse. I'm trying to eat healthy and work out but I have no fucking motivation. Seriously - some days I can barely get out of bed to take my son to school.
This is not helping me.
Monday, December 12, 2016
Ba Dum
It's been awhile between writings again, hasn't it? To be honest, there really isn't anything that exciting going on in my life. My hubby, son, and I went and cut down our Christmas tree yesterday, that's about as exciting as it gets.
I didn't really want to be writing this as I feel like a broken record. I'm saying the same thing again and again and it gets old. What is it I'm talking about? Depression. Yeah. It seems to be creeping back in. Right now I'm at the "not feeling" point. I'm not really experiencing emotions . . . except for anger. I'm really good at experiencing anger. Go me. I'm feeling withdrawn and empty and hollow and down. I feel like I'm the shell of the person I should be. I'm just kind of . . . lost. I'm trying not to be. I'm trying desperately not to be. I force myself to interact with coworkers at work. And not just interact - I put on the show that I'm okay by joking and laughing and being present. I just don't feel any of it, it all feels fake and insincere, and the whole time I'm secretly wishing I could be by myself. But I really fucking try. I've had coworkers and patients even comment on how I look "tired" or don't "seem myself". Yeah, well, you don't know the half of it.
At home I try to stay engaged and talk and joke but I just have a hard time. Hubby and son tend to be more forgiving and I can act like more of myself around them but I still try not to. I don't want to put them through another depression.
I've been having feelings of not wanting to exist. Not necessarily die, but rather not exist. Coupled with that are feelings of worthlessness and pointlessness. This has been going on a little over a week.
Now, I'm going to call this depression mild for now because it's not crippling and I'm managing it rather well I think. It's just that I don't want to have to manage it. I want to just be okay with an occasional bad day here and there. And I certainly don't want it to get worse, which is what I'm worried about.
But seriously - broken record. Does anyone even care about this? Any of my maybe 2 or 3 readers? Oh well, whatever.
I didn't really want to be writing this as I feel like a broken record. I'm saying the same thing again and again and it gets old. What is it I'm talking about? Depression. Yeah. It seems to be creeping back in. Right now I'm at the "not feeling" point. I'm not really experiencing emotions . . . except for anger. I'm really good at experiencing anger. Go me. I'm feeling withdrawn and empty and hollow and down. I feel like I'm the shell of the person I should be. I'm just kind of . . . lost. I'm trying not to be. I'm trying desperately not to be. I force myself to interact with coworkers at work. And not just interact - I put on the show that I'm okay by joking and laughing and being present. I just don't feel any of it, it all feels fake and insincere, and the whole time I'm secretly wishing I could be by myself. But I really fucking try. I've had coworkers and patients even comment on how I look "tired" or don't "seem myself". Yeah, well, you don't know the half of it.
At home I try to stay engaged and talk and joke but I just have a hard time. Hubby and son tend to be more forgiving and I can act like more of myself around them but I still try not to. I don't want to put them through another depression.
I've been having feelings of not wanting to exist. Not necessarily die, but rather not exist. Coupled with that are feelings of worthlessness and pointlessness. This has been going on a little over a week.
Now, I'm going to call this depression mild for now because it's not crippling and I'm managing it rather well I think. It's just that I don't want to have to manage it. I want to just be okay with an occasional bad day here and there. And I certainly don't want it to get worse, which is what I'm worried about.
But seriously - broken record. Does anyone even care about this? Any of my maybe 2 or 3 readers? Oh well, whatever.
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