Monday, 23 April 2012

Wellbutrin

So because the combination of cipralex and divalproex didn't seem to be doing the trick - completely, and since there were some awful side effects (inorgasmia, fatigue, drowsiness, weight gain etc), Dr. Wiggers added wellbutrin to the mix. What's funny about this is that wellbutrin was the drug that Mark (my old psychotherapist) said I should go on from the very beginning. It seems I was the only one who got a kick out of that. The wellbutrin seems to be quite fast acting - my energy level seems to have improved slightly, but I am hoping it increases more...much more. Also, I am experiencing intense hot flashes that seem to go hand in hand with these. I remember them vividly with the cymbalta - it can get rough, so I am hoping that it doesn't get that bad with this. I now take 3 pills in the morning: one blue, one pink, one white and then another pink one at bedtime...so many pills. Who'd have thunk it? Not me, that's for sure. Dr. Wiggers thinks I'm on the plateau now, getting better - and for most days I agree with him. I am much better than I was last year at this time, or even 6 months ago at this time - but its so scary when those dark thoughts start peering in, trying to take hold of me. They still come: the worthless feelings, the life is pointless feelings, the fact that its never going to get better. But - I seem to be able to keep them at bay.

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

What I Need

I've realized something...this is not really mental health related but more...self care related I guess.

One of the things that always attracted me to Andrea, and one of the things I love most about her is how much she nurtures, and protects me. I feel very safe and comfortable with her.

Though that bothered my sometimes. I go for hugs and I curl my arms in and she puts her arm around me, or strokes my hair and sometimes it feels almost like I'm a child. Like I am being mothered. And that bothered me - I am an adult, why not only am I allowing myself to be treated like a child, and more over, why do I thrive on it so much.

Then I started thinking more about the art therapy I did a few months back. We were talking about my mom and how I often felt abandoned or not believed or that I had to take care of myself and her because she was busy trying to support her and her kids and taking care of her own wounds. So as much as I had a good childhood (with some traumatic events), I was never really mothered, never nurtured or protected. And maybe that's why I always had that protective defensive shell around me. That bitchy one who was mean to people and wouldn't let people in.

Then there came Andrea. And she has been there for me, and protected me, and got angry at the things that have happened to me, and done all of those things that someone who has unconditional love (like a parent) would do. And I love her for it. And it feels amazing to feel safe, to feel loved - unconditionally. There have been times I have tested her feelings, and there have been times where she has nearly gone against her feelings and chosen a different path - but I never doubted that she loved me. So I let her mother me, I let her build up that area of my self that was never built up before.

Maybe that's why I had my breakdown too - not at all saying it was her fault. But maybe I finally felt safe and supported and loved enough to let all of my pain out - and it hasn't been easy on either of us, and I am sorry she has to deal with my past issues and traumas.

I got a doll. And it makes me feel a little like a child as well. But I am embracing that side of myself. I am embracing the side of myself that didn't feel safe and secure enough to express my feelings as a kid. My sisters broke my doll, and I was made fun of for showing feelings - so I'm making up for that now. I allow myself to be nurtured and cared for, and I love my doll - and that's okay.

Thursday, 5 April 2012

Tears

Do you know what's awesome - putting your head down on your desk at work and crying because that's all you have the energy left for.

I'm considering taking an Ativan so I don't have to feel. Haven't taken one of those for a while now...

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Excuses

I am retreating into myself. I am alone, and it is both my fault and my own doing. How can I expect other people to support me when I can't even support myself.

All the therapies, everyone, have said that in my dark times I am supposed to remember that it won't always be like this, and I have felt better (not saying I feel as bad I have in the past)...but my logical mind always asks, at what point does it become a game of balance? If you have 3 good days out of every 2 bad - than obviously you have more good than bad. If you get 1 good day out of every 5 bad is it really worth it? Is that one good day really worth suffering through the 5 bad?

Who is to say when a life is no longer worth it? How is it someone else's right to say that because you have some good it makes all the suffering worth it. Maybe the suffering isn't worth it. Maybe all those people who end their lives, or run away or whatever just can't do it anymore. Who are we to call them selfish, or degrade their character for the choice they have made. It is their life - and if they have deemed their life no longer worth it - who are we to say otherwise? We allow people say over every other part of their body, why not this? People who are stricken with a permanent diagnosis, something about their brain or body that is wrong, have to live with that their entire life - it isn't temporary. Treatable - maybe, but there is no cure. Just because we want to keep them around for us, doesn't mean we have a right to.

I'm tired of the fear, I'm tired of the constant threat. I am tired of being unmotivated at work and sitting there staring at my screen for 10 minutes because I can't care, because what's the point. I'm tired of going home with enthusiasm and hope only to have that hope dashed by my own faulty reasoning and assumptions. It's exhausting to me, and must be angering to everyone around me.

Monday, 2 April 2012

Back for good?

I had a really scary weekend. Especially Saturday. It was so rough. Not only was I down, I was outright depressed - crying, hopeless, thoughts of suicide and harming myself - it was awful.

I hate how when I am that low I can immediately go to suicide or getting out that way. I immediately think of ways I could do it, or when, or whatever - and it all seems so reasonable - so easy - so plausible. It's really quite terrifying on my end. It's not like I *want* to feel those things, I would give anything to not feel that way, but I feel like I can't control them.

Andrea was amazing this Saturday. I had forgotten how supportive she could be. I have been trying not to burden her with my problems or my issues because I know how tiring and exhausting they can be. Plus, she has so much on her plate that I hate being an extra thing, not me I guess, but my emotional instability. She kept encouraging me to keep trying, kept supporting me, just hugging me when I was crying. It was wonderful, and yet made me sad that it has to be done at all.

I really hope that this isn't a warning of what is to come. I hope I am not continuing down a road to depression again - it was rough last time. I know I will have bad days, and I know I will have manic days - those are inevitable in my future. I know on my manic days I need to give up my debit card and keys and manage it as best I can. I know the tools for that. But I don't know how to manage the depression. I don't know any other tools other than the ones I am currently trying, but those don't seem to be working when I need them to.

Another day...one at a time