Wow. A lot can change in 3 short days. Unless you're living under a rock you know about covid-19 sweeping the world. When last I wrote, 3 short days ago, I was very nonchalant about covid-19. But I'm not nonchalant anymore. My son's school is closed at least through the end of March, possibly longer. Hell, all the schools are closed. Grocery stores are bare, people are fighting over toilet paper. It's other worldly. It's hard to believe.
But I went grocery shopping yesterday for a few staples . . . three stores before I could find a loaf of bread. A loaf of fucking bread. The shelves are literally bare. Everyone is panic buying and hoarding. I was in a state of disbelief.
We all know this, we've all seen this happening in our own towns. So why am I mentioning it? Because any good my TMS session did for me is being completely undone. Undone by stress and fear and anxiety. Yesterday and today I'm having a hard time coping and functioning. My anxiety is rearing its ugly head after it being absent for so long. This underlying current is constantly there, almost making me sick to my stomach. You know that butterflies in your stomach feeling? Imagine having it all the time. Imagine a tremor in your hands, jaw clenched, sense of dread or impending doom all the time. I can't control it. It's just there. It's not obvious to anyone else (at least I don't think so). I'm working so hard to hide it and that is exhausting me.
And what comes with anxiety for me? What goes hand in hand? Depression. Depression does. And I've been feeling it again. After starting to feel okay again last week, depression is sneaking back in. It's insidious. It's taking advantage of my current situation.
And you guys, I can't do this. There's no end in sight. I can't keep feeling like this. I can't. I'm trying so hard. But I have so many fears swirling in my fucked up head right now. Like, I mean, I'm a nurse. What if we start seeing covid-19 cases in my hospital and I have to float to other floors to help out? I won't know what the hell I'm doing! I take care of well newborns and their mothers! Not sick people. And what if we don't have supplies? My hospital is already rationing masks. What if someone in my family gets sick? What if I get sick? What if we run out of food? What if shipments stop coming? What if I can't get my meds? What if I can't get gas? What if we actually run out of toilet paper?
All these thoughts and more are circling my head constantly. I'm having a hard time concentrating. On anything. I want to read, distract myself, get lost in a story . . . and I just can't. I can't concentrate. My brain won't shut up. The only relief I get is from napping. Only then does it shut up.
But I'm trying not to do that. Sleeping all the time isn't healthy and only reinforces the depression aspect of this. WTF. Seriously.
I need this to stop. I need things to go back the way they were before. God help me.
Monday, March 16, 2020
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.
Friday, February 28, 2020
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 18, 2020
Tuesday 2/18/20
I meant to write last night, but I distracted myself with Pinterest. I needed to write last night, but I didn't. I don't really know why I didn't. There's no good reason.
My black cloud is trying to envelop me, trying to consume me. I've had some bad days. Days where I can barely get out of bed to use the bathroom. Days where I see no end to the darkness. I'm trying not to let it get me. I'm fighting as best as I can.
I'm thinking about doing maintenance TMS. It's once or twice a month. But it's $200 a pop and we honestly don't have the money for that. I'm also sticking to an eating plan, calorie counting, and exercising. Maybe if I can lose some weight it'll help.
Maybe it will help.
I'm trying to counter all of my negative thoughts - which is exhausting - and remain positive. I'm trying to stay present, get plenty of rest, and interact with people (also exhausting). Speaking of interacting with people, a few coworkers have noticed my facade slipping and have asked me if I'm okay.
Do I lie or do I open up?
I guess it depends on who it is.
I've been doing some art - paintings. Keeps me occupied, kills the time, keeps me from napping. As of right now I thankfully have a shred of inspiration. Hopefully I can hang on to that. Painting helps.
I haven't studied Spanish for weeks. I can't concentrate. I haven't really read in weeks because I can't concentrate. I try, but I fail. If I lose my inspiration for painting I don't know what I'll do.
Probably nap, which I don't want to do. That's giving in and I can't do that.
Just over a week and I have therapy. Maybe that'll help.
Until then I'll keep struggling against the waves.
My black cloud is trying to envelop me, trying to consume me. I've had some bad days. Days where I can barely get out of bed to use the bathroom. Days where I see no end to the darkness. I'm trying not to let it get me. I'm fighting as best as I can.
I'm thinking about doing maintenance TMS. It's once or twice a month. But it's $200 a pop and we honestly don't have the money for that. I'm also sticking to an eating plan, calorie counting, and exercising. Maybe if I can lose some weight it'll help.
Maybe it will help.
I'm trying to counter all of my negative thoughts - which is exhausting - and remain positive. I'm trying to stay present, get plenty of rest, and interact with people (also exhausting). Speaking of interacting with people, a few coworkers have noticed my facade slipping and have asked me if I'm okay.
Do I lie or do I open up?
I guess it depends on who it is.
I've been doing some art - paintings. Keeps me occupied, kills the time, keeps me from napping. As of right now I thankfully have a shred of inspiration. Hopefully I can hang on to that. Painting helps.
I haven't studied Spanish for weeks. I can't concentrate. I haven't really read in weeks because I can't concentrate. I try, but I fail. If I lose my inspiration for painting I don't know what I'll do.
Probably nap, which I don't want to do. That's giving in and I can't do that.
Just over a week and I have therapy. Maybe that'll help.
Until then I'll keep struggling against the waves.
Friday, February 7, 2020
Friday 2/7/2020
Hey there, I'm back. It's been a bit. It's cold and snowy here in Colorado. In fact, it's snowing right now. An unofficial snow day (my son stayed home from school - we're both sick). Well, let's get to it.
I went back to work this week after having 3.5 weeks off for my surgery. I worked Monday and yesterday. Monday was hell - we delivered 9 babies. Not the welcome back I was hoping for (I was hoping for a nice leisurely day *laughs*). I was exhausted and cranky by the end of the day. Thursday I floated to NICU, which I hate doing. I don't work in the NICU because I don't like it, so why would I want to float there?? Second day back and I can't even work on my own unit. I was, again, rather cranky.
Why am I telling you this? Well, because work has become an increasingly larger and larger problem for me. See, I'm burnt out. I was incredibly burnt out before my surgery. I thought having 3 and a half weeks off would help the situation. I thought I would go back refreshed.
That's not what happened.
I went back to work bitter and angry and tired. I went back to work and learned there were more changes made that are out of my control. I went back to work and I struggled. I struggled to keep my head above water. I struggled to keep up. I struggled to care. I'm a nurse - I'm supposed to care. I didn't.
I don't know what to make of this, honestly. I feel like I need to get away. From everything. From adulting. Maybe that would help. Maybe I need a change. I don't know. I just know I'm not happy.
My black cloud is my ever close companion right now. I'm not enveloped - my cloud is on the sidelines, inching closer every day. I still feel the effects though. I thought, maybe this is why I'm hating my job. Maybe this is why I feel overwhelmed. But alas, I was feeling these things before my black cloud came back. The cloud certainly makes it worse, but it's not the cause.
I don't know what to do. I don't know who to talk to. Hubby? Obviously. Therapist? Of course. But who else? I work with my 2 closest friends (can't talk to other coworkers because of gossip). I can talk to my 2 friends but I don't think they'll get the depth of what I'm feeling. I'm not even sure I do.
I feel incredibly lost.
I went back to work this week after having 3.5 weeks off for my surgery. I worked Monday and yesterday. Monday was hell - we delivered 9 babies. Not the welcome back I was hoping for (I was hoping for a nice leisurely day *laughs*). I was exhausted and cranky by the end of the day. Thursday I floated to NICU, which I hate doing. I don't work in the NICU because I don't like it, so why would I want to float there?? Second day back and I can't even work on my own unit. I was, again, rather cranky.
Why am I telling you this? Well, because work has become an increasingly larger and larger problem for me. See, I'm burnt out. I was incredibly burnt out before my surgery. I thought having 3 and a half weeks off would help the situation. I thought I would go back refreshed.
That's not what happened.
I went back to work bitter and angry and tired. I went back to work and learned there were more changes made that are out of my control. I went back to work and I struggled. I struggled to keep my head above water. I struggled to keep up. I struggled to care. I'm a nurse - I'm supposed to care. I didn't.
I don't know what to make of this, honestly. I feel like I need to get away. From everything. From adulting. Maybe that would help. Maybe I need a change. I don't know. I just know I'm not happy.
My black cloud is my ever close companion right now. I'm not enveloped - my cloud is on the sidelines, inching closer every day. I still feel the effects though. I thought, maybe this is why I'm hating my job. Maybe this is why I feel overwhelmed. But alas, I was feeling these things before my black cloud came back. The cloud certainly makes it worse, but it's not the cause.
I don't know what to do. I don't know who to talk to. Hubby? Obviously. Therapist? Of course. But who else? I work with my 2 closest friends (can't talk to other coworkers because of gossip). I can talk to my 2 friends but I don't think they'll get the depth of what I'm feeling. I'm not even sure I do.
I feel incredibly lost.
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 . . .
Friday, January 10, 2020
Friday 1/10/20
Well. It's been a long time since I've blogged. Well over a month. Some things have happened, some things have changed.
My last post dealt with the dark cloud hanging over me. And, well, it's still there, but it's a lot smaller. It's not as impressive. It's not as overpowering. That's not to say that it doesn't get bad at times - it does - but it's much more manageable.
Probably the biggest thing that's happened is that I had surgery 2 days ago. In my last post I mentioned my extremely painful pilonidal cyst (a cyst on my tailbone). I saw my dermatologist who referred me to a general surgeon who decided it would be best for me to have surgery to remove it. The weeks leading up to surgery I was terrified and in denial about it. Because essentially, I was having surgery on my butt crack. Okay, literally I was having surgery on my butt crack. I didn't know what to expect of surgery or my recovery. I was scared and anxious. However, the surgery went well. I'm 2 days post op writing this and I'm not having any pain. I'm sore and tired for sure, but I'm not having any pain. I have a JP drain coming out of the surgical site that is draining excess blood and fluid that I get to empty several times a day (it looks like a rubber grenade attached to some tubing). I see my surgeon on Tuesday (14th) and will hopefully have the drain removed.
I have 2 commissions to complete over my time off from surgery (I have the next 3 weeks off). One is for 6 paintings! Six paintings that I really don't feel like doing. If I'm being honest. I still don't have inspiration or motivation to do things. That's one thing that hasn't changed since my last post. So these commissions are a daunting task.
So there you have it, short and sweet. An update since my last post. Goody gumdrops.
My last post dealt with the dark cloud hanging over me. And, well, it's still there, but it's a lot smaller. It's not as impressive. It's not as overpowering. That's not to say that it doesn't get bad at times - it does - but it's much more manageable.
Probably the biggest thing that's happened is that I had surgery 2 days ago. In my last post I mentioned my extremely painful pilonidal cyst (a cyst on my tailbone). I saw my dermatologist who referred me to a general surgeon who decided it would be best for me to have surgery to remove it. The weeks leading up to surgery I was terrified and in denial about it. Because essentially, I was having surgery on my butt crack. Okay, literally I was having surgery on my butt crack. I didn't know what to expect of surgery or my recovery. I was scared and anxious. However, the surgery went well. I'm 2 days post op writing this and I'm not having any pain. I'm sore and tired for sure, but I'm not having any pain. I have a JP drain coming out of the surgical site that is draining excess blood and fluid that I get to empty several times a day (it looks like a rubber grenade attached to some tubing). I see my surgeon on Tuesday (14th) and will hopefully have the drain removed.
I have 2 commissions to complete over my time off from surgery (I have the next 3 weeks off). One is for 6 paintings! Six paintings that I really don't feel like doing. If I'm being honest. I still don't have inspiration or motivation to do things. That's one thing that hasn't changed since my last post. So these commissions are a daunting task.
So there you have it, short and sweet. An update since my last post. Goody gumdrops.
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