6/18/18

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

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

So I did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it has been all day.

Today is a tough one. 

6/14/18

I had therapy today, and I of course managed to cry, even though I was trying not to. I was telling Mike about how I've been feeling and about what Dr. M told me on Monday.

How I've been feeling: If I'm not feeling down and depressed, hopeless and pointless, I'm feeling like an empty, emotionless husk. I'm flat. I'm just going through the motions. I'm existing - not living. It's a horrible way to feel. It's like life is passing me by. I'm just observing, I'm not participating. I hate it.

And Dr. M told me that this is what stability looks like for me. I'm not having many big swings either up or down and that this is probably as good as it gets for me. How awful is that?? Yes, I'm mostly stable, but it's left me feeling completely flat lined and emotionless. That's no way to be. It's not how I want to feel.

But I don't know what to do. And Mike? He doesn't know what to do either. I told my hubby about this today and he was stumped as well. Why? Because I'm doing everything right. I'm doing everything I should be doing. And I still struggle. It's a bunch of bullshit.

Bullshit.

I'll keep doing the only thing I know how to do - keep plugging along. It's the only thing I can do. Keep trying to find happiness or joy or contentment or something wherever I can. Because if I can't find little snippets of that . . . well . . . I'm really fucked. So I'll keep plugging along and trying. 

6/12/18

I'm not sure how to start this post. I'm not even entirely sure what I want to say. So yeah, well, here goes . . .

I saw Dr. M yesterday in office for my med review. We do this about every 3 months. I go in, we discuss how I'm doing, review my meds, he renews my prescriptions if needed, and that's about it. Sometimes we talk about coffee or horses or work or all of the above (yesterday was coffee and work). But I had something else in mind I wanted to discuss. A couple of things, actually. Number one: my lithium. I've been having some swelling in my lower legs which my primary doc thinks is because of my lithium.Not that I'm toxic on it - my levels are normal - but swelling can be a side effect of lithium. And I saw my dermatologist yesterday morning for a skin scan and about my acne. She thinks my acne is because of my lithium. There's two strikes. Third strike? Lithium causes weight gain and weight retention and over the past 2 years I've gained 70 pounds. Seventy fucking pounds. I also have the increased thirst and urination as lithium side effects but those aren't as big. Anyway, I was inquiring as to possibly switching me from lithium because of all of this. You know, try a different mood stabilizer. Dr. M's response? "We have you stable on lithium. Why would I want to go and change that?" Which yes, that makes sense, I get it. But that doesn't mean I'm not disappointed.

I next asked him about getting a prescription for an "upper" like Nuvigil or Provigil for days I feel really crappy and down. And he said no. He thinks they'll just make me anxious. *hangs head in defeat*

Did you read my last blog post? I told Dr. M about how I've been feeling. About how when I'm not in a mood episode I feel empty and hollow. Like a shell of a person. Like I'm stuck in this mild depression where I have to fake that everything is okay. I'm putting on a mask. And he said he thinks that this is probably as good as it gets. We have my major mood episodes pretty much under control and that where I'm at right now . . . well . . . that's as good as it gets for me. That this is what stability looks like for me. Do you understand how horrible that is to hear? I'm still struggling and this is as good as it gets. I don't know what to do anymore. It makes me feel like, why try then? I can't get any better so why try? It reminds me of what a previous psychiatrist told me: "you'll always be depressed and suicidal so you better learn how to deal with it". Was she actually right? I stopped seeing her because of that comment and now it appears there was some truth to it. How fucking horrible. So what am I supposed to do with this? I already struggle with finding purpose in life and now my hope has basically been ripped out from under me.

Lost. That's where I'm at right now. And I don't like it. 

6/1/18

It's Friday, June 1st. A new day, a new month. How exciting. (Are you picking up on the sarcasm? I sure hope so . . .)

I've been having some weird thoughts and feelings the past few days. Thoughts and feelings that I'm not quite sure how to explain. But I'm going to try because I need to get this off my chest. I need to get it out of my head. 

I've been relatively stable for the past year. Except for being almost hospitalized March 2017, and actually being hospitalized this past February, I've been pretty stable. I've had a few dips here and there. Maybe they lasted one day, maybe they lasted 4 or 5 days, but they were short lived and not as intense. I've only had a few days where I've had symptoms of hypomania. So yeah, pretty stable.

But there's something I've discovered with stability. I still feel hollow. I still feel empty. I still feel lost. I still feel flat and withdrawn and generally down. It's like I'm stuck in a mild form of depression constantly. One that no matter what I do I can't break out of. My emotions all feel fake. I'm putting on a show. I smile and laugh while inside I'm secretly dying.

I guess I shouldn't say all my emotions feel fake. I feel anger. Irritability. Pain. Fear. Anxiety. Negative emotions? I've got those covered. It's the positive ones I can't seem to get. And no, it's not for lack of trying. I try. I fucking try. But they come out feeling fake. Like a mask.

Which is where the weird thoughts are coming into play. I almost wish I would go into a mood episode so I would actually feel something. So I wouldn't just be this husk of a person who's just going through the motions. I of course would much rather have a hypomanic episode. Preferably a euphoric one (not dysphoric - those suck). But I would take a depressive one. Because then at least I'm feeling something real, not just a false mask of my own doing.

Isn't this crazy? It's fucking crazy. I've spent the last 8 years of my life trying countless med combos, ECT, and therapy to try and get myself stable and now I want to throw it all away. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me? I have no idea . . .

Honestly, I've probably gone over this before in therapy. This very topic. Only I don't remember it (thanks, ECT). All I know is that my thoughts are a whirlwind of negativity and what ifs. Running through scenario after scenario of what could possibly happen. By the way? None of it is good. No, all of it is pretty shitty.

I don't know what to do anymore. I keep plugging along, day after day, putting on my mask, forcing myself to interact, forcing myself to appear that I'm feeling . . . Forcing myself to appear normal when my mind is truly a hurricane of confused negativity. What do I do? I'm trying so desperately not to self sabotage but I need to know . . . what do I do?  

5/27/18

It's almost 10pm. I'm sitting on my couch, home alone right now. I'm kinda feeling like crap. Not physically, but emotionally. Why? Well, my hubby is down the street at a block party with our neighbors. And, well, I'm not there.

You may be thinking well why don't you just go there? Why aren't you there with him? Am I right? I'm probably right. Well, see, there's this little thing called social anxiety and I happen to have it (because apparently bipolar disorder wasn't enough). You know what really sucks though? I haven't always had social anxiety. It's only developed in the last few years (I think it's because of the bipolar disorder).

Social anxiety can be different for everyone. For me, I start by feeling anxious and overwhelmed. I suddenly lose my ability to talk to people. I can't remember names or events, I forget how to make small talk. I become quiet and withdrawn and tend to find an area where I'm able to be by myself. I feel awkward and stupid, depressed and anxious. I want nothing more than to leave the situation, to curl up in a ball and not exist, but often times I can't.

Take last night for example. We went to a friend's daughter's graduation party. Of course, to make things worse, it was after I worked a full 12 hour shift. But we go, and as we drive there, the closer we get, the more anxious I get. We arrive and I'm instantly overwhelmed by the size of the place and by the fact that I really don't know anyone other than our friend and his wife. I tried making small talk with a few people, I did, but I was at a loss for words so I went and sat down away from people. I did my best not to interact with anyone other than my hubby and our son. I did better than I thought I was going to do but it was all still just too much.

So back to tonight. Our neighbors invited us over to the block party. I was still exhausted from last night and couldn't imagine interacting with people and putting on the mask that I'm a normal person, so I opted to stay home. But staying home carries it's own drawbacks. See, now I feel left out. I feel like an outcast, like a loser, like I'm less than human. I feel empty and alone. I've had these feelings since our very good friends abandoned us because of my illness but the feelings become more pronounced in situations such as these. And I don't know what to do. I want human interaction but at the same time it's completely draining and exhausting and anxiety provoking to the point of making me want to curl  up into myself and die. So what do I do?

I guess this is something I really need to bring up with my therapist. The fact that I haven't before is pretty unbelievable. And kind of stupid on my part. Oh well. I know what our next session will be about. Too bad it's not for 2.5 weeks. 

5/21/18

Well hello there. I'm not quite sure how to write what I want to say. My brain is in a bit of a jumble right now. Racing thoughts, intrusive thoughts . . . it's a mess. Anyway, I was feeling a bit depressed again yesterday, just not right. I wanted to not exist and those feelings have carried over to today.

Yay. Go me.

But I had decided that I was going to do things today, namely, cleaning the house and working out before taking my son to school. I had decided last Friday that I would clean today, period. But when I woke up this morning all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Just sleep. Sleep as long as I possibly could before taking Ayden to school. What did I do? I got my lazy ass out of bed and got on my spin bike for 20 minutes. That, my friends, is a solid win.

But lets talk about the cleaning. On a normal day the task seems daunting. I mean, there's a lot to do. And on a normal day I would break things down into steps and do things one by one, checking them off of my list as I went along. But on a depressed day? Oh no. It seems I'm incapable of doing this, no matter how hard I might try. Everything seems so overwhelming that I want to just sit and stare at the wall.

See that's a thing I think people don't get about bipolar disorder. My brain functions differently when I'm depressed (when I'm manic too) than when I'm "normal" or stable. I can't control these changes (if I could, I would). When I'm depressed everything slows down. It takes me longer to process information. It's like walking through waist high mud. And incoming information has to compete with my negative self talk, not an easy task.

Today though, today I was on a mission. My ass got up and got on that spin bike. I was going to get shit done!

Or so I thought.

Well, I got a little bit done, but not as much as I wanted. Why? I was overwhelmed. My brain was working against me. I did about half of what I had planned. I'm hoping to do the rest on Thursday. Maybe my brain will cooperate with me then.

And I didn't really write everything I wanted to. Because my brain is an asshole.

5/19/18

So you know, I've been pretty stable over the last month, except when I haven't been. I've been mostly stable, with a couple little blips here and there.

Damn you know what? This is completely off subject but I'm sitting here on my couch and the heat just kicked on and it smells like my damn dog. Like my icky dog's scent is coming out of the vents. How gross is that? Now the whole house smells like my dog. Ugh.

Anyway, back to these blips.

I had one dysphoric hypomanic blip that only lasted a day. Thank goodness, cause I'm a real bitch when I'm like that. Then, last Saturday night I apparently forgot to take my pills. No big deal, right?

Wrong.

I worked on Sunday, Mother's Day, and I was horribly depressed. Like hiding, sobbing uncontrollably, cutting myself, suicidal thoughts . . . it was bad. All for forgetting to take my pills one freaking night. This whole past week I've been recovering from that little episode. And it's been harder than I thought. But I'm doing it, slowly but surely.

On a plus note, I've taken care of some really awesome patients. I'm thinking I'm going to start writing about them. We'll see how that goes.