Wednesday, 10 December 2014

Stability?

I think I'm doing all right. For the majority of the last couple or so weeks I have been mostly stable. There is still the constant insulting and putting down of myself that goes on in my head but that's typical and normal for me. My moods though have been pretty constant - I think I might have found something that works. This prozac and latuda combo might be the one I've been looking for all along. However, about 1.5hours after taking it I get this extreme fatigue and exhaustion so I switched and started taking it at night so I wouldn't be falling asleep at my desk at work. It's only been a couple days of that change. Andrea is paranoid that it will change how it works, but I felt I needed to try.

Wiggers also sent in the forms for the Viassanna meditation course I want to take. He emailed me and told me I had two (or more) disqualifying conditions but that he asked them to make an exception because he thinks I can handle it. He really is a great doctor. I have the upmost respect for him.

I need to get a hold of my bitchiness - I feel I have been a bitch to most people, including myself, lately. I just feel so aggressive and cranky inside. Right now I am going with still getting used to being back at work - but I don't know how much longer I can use that excuse....

Thursday, 27 November 2014

I don't think I'm ready for therapy

I went for my intro session with a holistic counselor last night. He uses focusing, parts work, and core transformation to help guide people through things. He made some comments that made me think he wasn't a fan of people taking medication, and said he didn't have a lot of experience with serious mental illness. This kind of set me aback a little bit. I don't need someone to be an expert, but I want them to feel confident that they can help me - because I sure don't.

We did some focusing work. I found my happy place (I named it that), found some inner strength and asked myself what it was I wanted to work on. I was bombarded with things and overwhelmed with the shear magnitude of what seemed like all my problems. I didn't know how to pick just one. It felt like there were so many more problems than my storage of inner strength could handle. He asked me to go into that feeling and see what it wanted. It wanted to take all hope, to kill me, and to succeed into oblivion. So that's fantastic.

I realized though, that I am not sure I am ready for therapy. I don't know that I can count on myself to actually do the work that I need to do. For this, it's 15 minutes a day - and I know it doesn't sound like much, but I can't see myself actually doing that. Maybe it's because I don't think it will work. Maybe it's because I'm afraid it will. I don't know. I just don't want to waste time and money on something that I am not going to do the homework for. I'm not sure what to do here.

Monday, 24 November 2014

Ups and Downs

Oh My Life.

So I saw wiggers, and I lied to him, told him everything was okay and that I didn't want ect regularly, but would do it on an as needed basis. I told him where we had moved and he called my life idyllic. He seemed to happy that I was doing well and made the assumption that I was better before I even spoke. So I didn't want to disappoint him. I did email him later and confess, and still maintained that I didn't want ect.

I got quite bad, and quite low. I wrote a letter, it's in my drafts in my inbox, and is still there. It's the first time I've actually completed one, usually I just start them, but this time I did it all. I even tested out knives to see if any were sharp enough - they aren't. And then I chose to go upstairs and hold Andrea really tightly and ride out the awful feelings. And they passed. And now I need to make a place to get through another down. Every time they come - I get closer, and don't think I can get any closer than I was, I need some time to distance myself.

As a fun aside, I feel the beginnings of a hypomanic episode starting - which usually always indicates a crash when it's done. So I am trying to head that off and stop that. Even though I really enjoy the increase in energy, and the feel good feelings. It's nice to feel good, but I know it's not good for me in the long run. At least right now I know that. If I get 'higher' I may not know that, and may just want to ride it out like I have in the past, that's really not good for me. So I'm keeping tabs on it, checking my thoughts and actions.

This is my life - and it's exhausting. I emailed wiggers about that meditation course I want to go to and he said he would fill out the forms for me, so I put myself back on the waitlist. I also emailed several counselors and therapists and am meeting with one of them this wednesday - we will see what comes of that. I am not sure how I feel about doing therapy again - for a variety of reasons, but everyone things it will help me so I will try. I do want to get better, and in my better moments I believe it's possible. That's why while I'm feeling good, but not too good, I want to try to do everything I can and set up everything I can to keep myself this way. I am no help to myself when I am down.

Every day is another series of breaths.

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Somethings Off

I have another appointment with Wiggers tomorrow. It's a follow up appointment. He said at the last one that he thought I may do better if he was keeping closer tabs on me, well, he didn't say it like that - but he feels he needs to be following me closer. So I need a babysitter.

Andrea says that it's night and day from my last appointment. And it is. I have had ECT twice now. I've been confused, disoriented, and just really not all there after both of them. My anxiety is back in full force, I'm a grown woman who is afraid of the dark, and the weird perception issue I have (I learned it's called Alice in Wonderland Syndrome) is back quite strongly and annoyingly. Yes, things are better. I am glad to be moved, I am glad to be working again to have something to fill my time - but really, I wonder what has changed?

I was laying in bed last night and I was realizing just how screwed up all of this is. No I am not suicidal, but what has changed? I still don't have a job that makes me happy. I still feel like I'm ruining my kids. I still feel like I'm ruining Andrea. I still feel like an awful person. All the bad things are still there. It's just like my brain isn't smart enough to bring them to the forefront anymore. It's like the ECT and the drugs just kill parts of my brain - they don't actually cure anything.

I'm aware my brain malfunctions. I am aware it doesn't work properly. But the thing is, it's my brain. This is how my brain is - and shouldn't it, on some level, be allowed to function in whatever way it was meant to function in? I think some people need to be on this planet or around just to serve as examples for other people, as a comparison point for their own lives. Not every person, not every brain can function the same. Maybe mine is just one of those that is meant to be sick. I feel less like myself when I am getting ECT or taking lots of drugs. I just feel like I am existing, and sure that may be better and easier - but it certainly doesn't feel like the right thing to be doing. Maybe this isn't my purpose. Maybe I'm doing the wrong thing. I don't know. I don't know anything except that no matter what I do it's never the right thing.

Wiggers will probably increase my dose of Prozac tomorrow. I'll probably be allowed to stop ECT for now and just do it on an as needed basis. Nothing will really come of the appointment tomorrow. I'll just tell him that I'm no longer suicidal and Andrea isn't as worried and doesn't have to stress about me as much anymore - and really it's those things that everyone cares about, not whether or not I feel like myself.

Monday, 10 November 2014

ECT Again *sigh*

So I had an appointment with Wiggers. I was as honest as I could be, but Andrea had emailed him as well, so he pretty much knew what was up. I actually expected him to commit me. I actually hoped he would to be honest. He didn't. I later in read in an email to Andrea that he didn't feel he had enough to commit me. I don't understand what more he needed. Looking back: I hadn't eaten in like 4 days, hadn't had water in like 5, was extremely suicidal. What more did I need to be doing? I'm actually concerned that if I ever get that way again that I won't go see wiggers because he wont be able to do anything. If he can't make me go to the hospital when I'm as bad as I was, what can he do?  All he did was put me on another medication, Prozac, and recommend ECT again. At first I refused ECT, then later in the day I sent him an email saying I'd do it. He got me an appointment for the next day.

I really didn't/don't want to do ECT. I lost a lot of memories, both from before and during my last treatments, and I'm even finding I'm having a difficult time holding onto some memories since my last sessions ended. Plus, I'm not really sure it helped all that much. But then again, I can't remember. Andrea tells me it did help until I out smarted it. So I went again. I was terrified. I don't know, I just really don't like the idea of exposing my brain to multiple seizures. No one really knows why it works, sure they have theories, but no one knows. I woke up from the anesthesia and was so confused. I couldn't remember where I was or what was going on. Of course I played like I did, because they always expect me to wake up coherent and everything. I laid there for a while and then Lisa walked me out to Andrea's waiting dad (whose house I was staying at). The anxiety started nearly instantly. I was afraid of the dark, afraid of being by myself, definitely afraid of sleeping by myself in a bed that wasn't my own. It was awful. There were times I could hardly breathe I was so scared. It wasn't anything Andrea's dad was doing or not doing, it just felt that awful. I felt that out of control. I eventually went to bed that night with the light on in the bedroom. I was terrified, I woke up every hour - and I know it was every hour because I checked the clock every time I woke up praying it was almost over.

I'm supposed to do it twice a week. Andrea is supportive of me having more ECT but because I outsmarted it last time she only wants me to have it once a week. I'm fine with that, it's less. I hate this. I don't want to go back. I don't want to do it again. I just don't want to.

I won't deny that I am feeling better than I was. But honestly, that could be the fear from having to go through this all again. Adrenalin and what not has been known to lift me out of a depression, until it passes. I'm concerned I'm feeling better just because I don't want to get it done again, and I'm scared, not because anything has really changed.

I mean, if I think about it, which I really try not to do, all the 'reasons' I was depressed before are still there, blatantly obvious - and I feel no different about them. I still feel as hopeless for my own future as I did before. Still don't feel like a good parent - at all. Still don't have a job and thus am not contributing to my family in any meaningful way. Life is still as bleak as it was. I guess the difference is that I don't feel suicidal - yet. I still don't really see the purpose of living the life I am living, but I guess I am willing to wait around for changes - maybe that's the difference. I don't know.

This is the final chance though. There is nothing after ECT. Wiggers obviously has no real control. I clearly don't have any control or much say over my own life, and what else is there to try? Maybe I should keep doing this ECT thing then. Keep killing those brain cells. Maybe I'll get so stupid I'll just stop having feelings altogether.

Tuesday, 4 November 2014

I dont want to need at all

I have this song stuck in my head for going on 3 days now..

All American Rejects "It ends tonight"

Your subtleties
They strangle me
I can't explain myself at all.
And all the wants
And all the needs
All I don't want to need at all.

The walls start breathing
My mind's unweaving
Maybe it's best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
On this evening
I give the final blow.

When darkness turns to light,
It ends tonight
It ends tonight.

A falling star
Least I fall alone.
I can't explain what you can't explain.
You're finding things that you didn't know
I look at you with such disdain

The walls start breathing
My mind's unweaving
Maybe it's best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
On this evening
I give the final blow.

When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.

Now I'm on my own side
It's better than being on your side
It's my fault when you're blind
It's better that I see it through your eyes

All these thoughts locked inside
Now you're the first to know

When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends

When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.

Tonight
Insight
When darkness turns to light,
It ends tonight.
 -------------------------


I go see wiggers tomorrow. I have spent the last like 2.5 days in bed, only getting out when I have to. I haven't brushed my teeth. Haven't changed my clothes. What's the point? I'm not eating or drinking - I don't even feel hungry or thirsty when I'm around food or water anymore. Part of it is punishment for being such an awful person. Awful people don't deserve food. 

I wonder what the kids think? They don't ask about me a lot. They are probably used to my being broken. I am not the primary caregiver. I am not the breadwinner. I am nothing.

Andrea brought up, again, reapplying or challenging the CPP disability decision. But then what? Sure it alleviates *some* of the financial worry, but it also means I have to admit to myself that I am too broken to work like a functioning member of society. I know already on some level that I am - otherwise I would still  have a job. But to actually admit it. To be one of 'those' people who aren't even strong enough to fight the battles taking place in their own heads. That just screams failure. I already am one.

I don't know what I'm going to say to wiggers. Andrea said she is going to email or call him. I'm afraid of him finding out the truth. Afraid of being put in a hospital. I'm sure I belong there. I can't take care of my own basic needs, and I'm nearly always suicidal. It's unfair. I'm over this. What the fuck did I do in some past life to deserve to be so broken? Why am I not strong enough to fight this? This is all my fucking fault. All of it is. Every single piece of it. Everyone is miserable and suffering because of me.

Thursday, 30 October 2014

Failing in All Aspects

 I started taking my meds again. Actually, Andrea and I made a deal. I was incredibly suicidal for a few days, and had an active plan. The deal was I either start taking them or she was taking my to the hospital. I agreed to take them for a week to see if I felt any  better.

Truthfully? I'm not actively suicidal like I was, which I guess was the goal. But am I any happier? no. I pretty much live in a state of unhappy depression all of the time. Except when I smoke weed. Which I'm doing now. But it's all a fake escape. It's not real. The weed floods my brain with feel good chemicals. The prescriptions just do it slower. It's fake. But fake is, I guess, what everyone wants. Fake is easier. Fake is less worrisome.

Andrea asked if I had considered applying for disability again. I can remember that I was denied, but couldn't remember why. Apparently it was because I was trying ECT, and that would probably help so I wasn't seen as being that disabled. Some good ECT did. Just made me forget all the important things, and made me stupider. Here's the thing though. If I apply and am approved for CPP, then I can't work anymore. Which means staying home. I can't do the at home thing anymore. I suck at it. I don't enjoy it. I feel guilty all the time because I'm not even half the homemaker Andrea is. I need to work, otherwise I will sit at home on the couch and do nothing all day. However, I am nowhere near stable enough to hold down a full time job. I know this about myself. (The fact that right now I have to get one because we desperately need the money is so daunting). I'll end up being fired, or in the hospital, or something. I'm not reliable. I'm not motivated.

I'm essentially useless.

I can't stay home. I can't go to work. I can't do anything. I honestly don't know what the point in me being alive is. I try not to think about this fact too often because it's enough all on it's own to push me over the proverbial (or not so proverbial) edge. I don't know what to do with myself. I wish I had a purpose. I wish I was capable of being good at something. I wish I wish I wish. Truth is, wishing gets you no where, it's the doing that gets you places, and I can't do anything.

I applied for a total of like 16 jobs. Had a few interviews. Got none of them. Save for one that I got a training shift at and then decided I was too above it. That was a stupid move. Even a crappy minimum wage bussing job is better than no job at all.

I'm a failure. I'm failing at working. Failing at being a homemaker. Failing at being a mom. Failing at being a wife. Failing at pretty much everything. The only times I feel good are when it's inorganically induced.

I hate that I'm too much of a coward to do anything about it right now.